Sword of the Scarred

by Jeffrey Hall

  “You first,” said Glassius.

  “Fine,” said Requiem, sick of arguing. He went to the rope, tugged on it, found it sturdy and watched as Glassius wrapped his hands around it.

  “Just in case this tree isn’t as sturdy as it looks.”

  “See you down there,” said Requiem, and before he could think himself out of it he was swinging himself over the Edge of the world.

  The rope went taught. His feet crunched into the stony side of the cliff. He almost smiled as he dangled there over the Abyss. He had returned, finally, yet still he could not let go.

  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to let go.

  “What are you waiting for?” said Glassius.

  “Wanna see if the Abyss remembered me or not,” said Requiem.

  “Quit stalling and get moving.”

  Requiem descended. Keeping his eyes on the stone in front of him, trying not to make eye contact with the void beneath his feet. It wasn’t the first time he had been over the Edge, climbing the side of Moonsland. During the Brimling Wars he oft scurried down the side of it in search of eggs and the monsters breeding close to the Abyss. A wave of familiarity washed over him.

  He had done this before and he was doing it again. Maybe if he lived long enough he’d see that most of life was nothing but retreaded steps, a set of footprints walked before that would be walked again.

  A harking bat flew out from a nearby shaft, taking him from his thoughts and returning his focus. He was a fool to let his mind stray from his climb, especially as his arms and back began to burn from trying to keep himself upright.

  He looked up, and could only see the featureless face of Glassius peeking over the edge far away. He was down deep now. A few hundred more feet and he was sure he would be flirting with the bottom of Moonsland.

  He was thankful when the wide mouth of the abandoned shaft Lord Bep had pointed out opened up beneath him. He dropped into its shadowy entrance, a small echo from his feet touching stone announcing his arrival.

  “Are we good?” Glassius’s voice travelled down into the tunnel.

  Requiem peeked out of the edge and waved down. He waited to ensure that Glassius saw him. When the commander’s feet were dangling over the edge he returned to the hole.

  He looked around, barely able to see in the darkness. But as he poked around he saw the thick black chord dangling off the side of the tunnel. He tried to see where it ended, but the Abyss and the darkness consumed it, cancelling his vision before he had an answer.

  Further on he could see a faint green glow deeper in the cavern.

  Glassius arrived not long after, swinging into the tunnel with barely a grunt. He noticed the black chord before Requiem said anything and nudged it with his boot.

  “What do you think that is?”

  They both knelt to investigate. The exterior of it was hard, as if it was encased in stone. It had been painted to look like the vine of some Abysmal plant, a common occurrence on the side of the world, but no vegetation was so hard.

  “My guess,” said Requiem, “the way they’re pumping in the Abyss.”

  “Then let’s cut it and be done,” said Glassius.

  “Don’t know if we’ll be done after cutting it. Who knows how much they’ve filtered in.”

  “It’s a step,” said Glassius. He pulled the sword from his back and cut at the tube. It sparked, but barely a dent was put in the stone. “By the Abyss.” He tried again with only the same result. “What the hell is this made of?”

  “Let me try,” said Requiem, gathering himself to endure another round of pain.

  “You sure it’s not going to take your other eye?” said Glassius.

  “I hope you’re ready to hold my hand and lead me out of here if it does,” said Requiem.

  “I’d rather push you over the edge to put us both out of our miseries,” said Glassius.

  Requiem flashed a smile, stood back, and cut two slashes into the air. The magic left the tip of Ruse and ran towards the chord. It severed the thing, its end falling to the gas below.

  A new wound opened up just above Requiem’s left knee. He grunted and fell to the ground to address the pain.

  Glassius took no interest in his new anguish. “Looks you might have been right.”

  He pointed at the severed chord. From where it was cut a hazy, colorful gas rose from its insides, like the mouth of a man just done smoking from his pipe.

  “That probably put a damper in their plans,” said Requiem, trying to get a better look at the chord with his one eye, ignoring the pain still radiating from his leg.

  “Come on, let’s see what else they have going on down here,” said Glassius.

  Together the two pushed further into the dark tunnel. With the faint glow growing larger the deeper they went, they could see the innards of the shaft more clearly. It was rutted and smooth, a clear indication that the mine had been carefully picked through and examined by the town of Road’s End. A dark moss had taken over some of it, making it look moldy and old. They would have been able to see further if not for the mist that inhabited it, a thick fog that Requiem and Glassius tried to swipe away from their faces.

  “What is this?” said Glassius, annoyed.

  “The Abyss,” said Requiem. Though it was difficult to tell its colors thanks to the lone source of light in the tunnel, he could tell by the way it hung, by the way it shaped and undid itself, that it was the same gas that swirled just outside. They battled it to find the green light, and when they arrived to it, they saw it to be exactly what Requiem had feared.

  A brimling egg.

  “How?” said Requiem. “They were eradicated.”

  “Can you ever truly eradicate a beast?” said Glassius. “This land is too big to know for sure that one’s not hiding somewhere.”

  Requiem stared at the thing in disbelief. He remembered coming across clusters of the eggs in the deep recesses of Moonsland. Troves of them that glowed so bright together that they lit an entire tunnel. A collection of gestating monsters, powering up to unleash their devastation upon the world. He and countless others had worked through the shafts of Moonsland one by one. Destroying the eggs, facing off with the adult versions of them that guarded their nests.

  Many lives were lost. Many parts of Moonsland were destroyed. It was a bloody, long slog of a fight. The worst war he ever thought he would witness until the Shamble came along. But it was a fight they thought they had won. It was a battle declared victorious by all three of the Larkens, by all the other lords across the land, as mine after mine, cavern after cavern, tunnel after tunnel were deemed cleared.

  Yet here was another egg, glaring back at Requiem like a gesture meant to remind him of the futility in his life’s work.

  How could this be? he shouted inside his head.

  “Well?” said Glassius, and before Requiem could answer, he raised his boot and brought it down into the egg. It smashed, letting loose a green and red goo onto the rocks. A small leg popped out of the mess along with a tiny squeal. “Disgusting.” Glassius wiped his boot on the nearby stone, watching the gross result of his violence.

  “What now?” said Requiem. “We walk this entire line, smashing each one as we go?”

  “At least until we meet up with the fools responsible for this,” said Glassius.

  Requiem turned to face the tunnel flooded with Abysmal gas. Did this shaft really go the entirety of Moonsland?

  His hand went instinctively to the hilt of Ruse as if the tremendous tunnel were enemy preparing to do battle with him, and as he did, a loud crunch sounded further down. The noise was so voluminous that the ground shook and Requiem and Glassius went to their knees to keep their balance.

  “What the hell was that?” shouted Glassius.

  And before Requiem could answer the crunching stopped and the ground stilled. What followed was a growl that could only compare to an explosion.

  Requiem stepped back as he saw the silhouette of a giant figure form behind the veil of the gas. It
had shoulders so broad they filled the tunnel, and a large, boxy head. A single one of its paws was separated from the darkness of its shadow, raised slightly above the rest of its body. Its claws looked like pickaxes bent on striking through the thick wall of gas that stood before it.

  Requiem unveiled Ruse, and Glassius followed his lead, pulling his sword.

  “What is that?” whispered the commander.

  And Requiem answered, though, he was sure the man knew. It was the horror he thought was long dead. One he thought he was done facing. A beast that had forced him to cause dozens of scars upon himself.

  “A brimling.”

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  Also by Jeffrey Hall

  The City of a Thousand Faces

  The Nation of Madness

  The Golden Sea and Other Tales from Chilongua

  The Crumbling Kingdom

  Dragons of Elsewhere

  One-Eyed Eben and the Planet Jumping Giant from Outer Space

  Heroes Wanted: A Fantasy Anthology

  Lost Lore

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my family and friends for their constant love and support. Without you all I would never have the strength to lift a world from a blank page. I love you more than any words would do. Special thanks to my cover artist, Lawrence Mann, for giving the story an incredible face, to Tamara Blain at A Closer Look Editing, for hunting down my typos and grammar mistakes with vengeance, and to the Terrible Ten, you know who you are, and you know that you are truly amazing and inspiring.

  And last but not least, thanks to you, my Fellow Creatures, for reading. You are all wonders!

  -Jeff

  About the Author

  Jeffrey currently lives in a suburb of Massachusetts with his wife and two young sons. He has been writing fiction since 3rd grade and doesn't plan on stopping anytime soon. When Jeff isn't exploring different worlds through the written word, doodling, or spending time with his family, you can find him playing basketball, reading, trying new restaurants, and thumbing away at a videogame or two.

  Find out what's happening down the hallway and receive a free novella which originally inspired the world of Chilongua by signing up for his mailing list at www.hallwaytoelsewhere.com