by RG Long
“You alright? You were closest.” came an unfamiliar voice.
Ealrin opened his eyes a fraction, just enough to see someone standing, definitely standing in front of him. And yet he was looking him in the eyes.
A halfling?
“Jurrin?” Ealrin croaked.
“Over here, sir,” came a voice from the other side of the room.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen one of my own,” the voice said again. “But we’ve got bigger problems here.”
Ealrin blinked several times until the figure came into focus. It was indeed a halfling who stood before him. He had dark hair and a scarred and weathered face. This halfling had seen and experienced much, Ealrin could tell. From his clothes to the way he stood in the barn, surrounded by destruction and death but seemingly unbothered.
“Name’s Szabo,” he said, turning to look at the crumpled heap where Blume had stood just a moment ago. “And you’ve got a demon problem.”
Ealrin slowly got to his feet, steadying himself against the wall as he did so. Ambling over to the heap, he got back down on one knee to feel Blume’s pulse.
He let out a great sigh of relief as he found that it was still beating strongly there. Closing his eyes, Ealrin felt the weight of their journey crushing down on him. How far had they come? What had he done to protect this girl?
And what dangers had he put her in by letting her follow them from fire to oven?
“Who are you?” Ealrin asked.
“Szabo,” the halfling said again. “I’m seen my fair share of magic and demons. But this is something new.”
“A girl half obliterating a barn is new?” Holve asked, looking at the halfling with a raised eyebrow. “You haven’t seen as much as you might think.”
“Bah,” Gorplin spluttered from the corner. “Show off.”
“Not her,” Szabo said, looking down at Blume. “Though I must say, she’s got a fire in her to pull off that kind of magic. Looks like her rimstone broke, though.”
Looking down at her hand, Ealrin saw that her ring had in fact finally broken off of her finger. He picked up her hand. She looked a little burned along the finger, but it wasn’t anything serious if they could treat it.
“No,” Szabo said again. “I meant her.”
He pointed at another heap along the wall of the barn. It wasn’t Blume he was talking about. It was Olma.
Ealrin gasped and shuffled over to her. She looked... different.
“Her hair,” he said, looking down at her with a puzzled expression. Olma had very blonde hair, just like the rest of the citizens of the Theocracy. But the flowing hair from her head was not a sun-soaked color anymore. It was red. Fire red. Ealrin then noticed the rest of her had changed as well.
“Look at her skin!”
“You’ll notice those markings are moving, ever so slowly, but all the same, the surest sign of possession,” Szabo said, almost like he was appraising a horse or other farm animal.
Ealrin felt for her heartbeat as well. It was strong but erratic and quick. He didn’t know what that meant. He wished there was a healer on the continent. But knowing how Ladis had killed or exiled every Speaker they met, they had very few options.
“You say she’s been possessed by a demon?” Holve said. “How can you know for sure?”
Szabo turned and looked up at Holve with a smirk.
“I”ve seen my case or two of those killed by demons. Sometimes they have very similar markings on them once they’ve been touched by one. But she’s still kicking. Or at least she is for now.”
“For now?” Ealrin said, turning to Szabo.
Szabo shrugged his shoulders.
“As I said, this is new territory for me. I’ve never seen anyone survive to this point.”
It was at that moment that both Blume and Olma began to stir. Ealrin looked from one to the other. It was hard to tell.
Rivius, however, began moving to Olma. She skirted around Galp, who seemed fine, but unwilling to move at the moment. Ealrin nodded at her and got back over to Blume. Her eyes were no longer blue and glowing. In fact, they seemed unfocused and blurry. Ealrin tried to help her up to a sitting position gingerly.
“Blume?” he asked her in what he hoped was a calm voice. “Are you ok?”
She blinked, and her eyes began to come into focus. But she wasn’t looking at Ealrin. She was looking past him. He turned his head and saw the two bodies of Gregory and Maccus. Tratta was weeping over Maccus’ form, sobbing and saying his name over and over again.
Slowly, he brought his attention back to Blume.
Tears were welling in her eyes.
“I... I did that, didn’t I?” she said, choking up.
There was no point in denying it. Ealrin sighed.
“You weren’t... You weren’t yourself, Blume,” he said. “Something came over you. It’s like you were...”
“Possessed,” Olma replied.
Ealrin looked back at Olma. He knew it was her voice. It sounded like her. And then, it was different. Altered. He could see something in her eyes that made him shudder.
They glowed with a slight bluish tinge.
Blume looked at Olma and Ealrin could see something pass between the two girls. Something more than a look. A deep feeling. Whether it was understanding or hatred, he couldn’t tell.
“How do you feel, Olma?” Holve asked. Ealrin could hear the reservation in his voice.
The girl looked down at her hands, now covered in markings Ealrin had never seen before. Markings that moved slightly, as she did. It was as if she had tattoos that were alive.
“Strong,” she replied, jumping to her feet and making Rivius gasp in alarm.
The little girl flexed her arms and fingers as if trying them on for the first time. She scrutinized her hands and her hair, poking a bit and taking a lock into her fingers. Ealrin felt a sense of unease as she did it.
What was going on inside her mind? What was happening to her?
And was it something she was going to survive?
Szabo spoke before anyone else could offer their opinion on the matter.
“Up in a cave nearby I have a contact who supplies me with... the necessities of my work,“ he said looking sideways. “He’s a knowledgeable man. He may be able to discern what’s going on with her. I trust him when it comes to anything dealing with these... demons.
Ealrin looked up at Holve. The old man stared down hard at Olma.
“Is it really you in there?” he asked her, sounding to Ealrin like he was talking to an enemy, rather than a little girl. “Or is there someone else we’re dealing with?“
Olma spent a moment longer examining her own body before looking up at Holve with an innocent expression on her face. The atmosphere in the room grew tense.
“It’s me,“ she answered.
Ealrin felt thoroughly unconvinced. But he also knew the right thing to do was to help her. No matter what it looked like or cost them. Hadn’t they helped Blume over and over again? What difference was it to help Olma now?
“Bah,“ Gorplin said. “ I don’t have a mind to trust anything tainted by a demon.”
Miss Rivius stood up and dusted herself off. She folded her arms and furrowed her brow down at the dwarf.
“So quick to abandon a friend?“ she asked. Ealrin heard the disgust in her voice.
“Well... No... I'm not planning on leaving her soon," Gorplin muttered, losing himself in his beard.
A shade of shame covered his face, and he faltered.
“If I may,“ Galp said. Ealrin had nearly forgotten he was with them. “I recall before I was locked in that terrible dungeon, I heard tales of a man who was experienced in the lore of demons in this area. If our short friend here is telling the truth, we may benefit more than just to help our young Olma.“
“What makes you think I need help?“ Olma asked, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow.
That very question was all the reason Ealrin needed to seek out the man Szabo spo
ke of.
“And what makes us believe that you won’t murder us in our sleep?“ Holve asked.
Both Ealrin and Blume looked up. Ealrin was startled. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard Holve speak that way to anyone. Even his enemies.
“We have to help her,” Ealrin said.
He felt like he was pleading with the man who had mentored him in what was right and wrong. The one who had led armies against the injustice of racism and genocide.
“You can’t possibly mean to leave her to die?!” Ealrin shouted at Holve, standing to his feet and squaring up his chest. Surely Holve just wasn’t thinking right. Well, he would change that.
Holve didn’t return the glare Ealrin was giving him. He was looking down at Olma, covered in black markings that seemed so intimidating that Ealrin thought to take a step away from her. But he couldn’t. He had to defend her.
“We cannot allow all of us to perish for the sake of a girl we hardly know,” Holve said, his face hard and his eyes narrowed.
Ealrin couldn’t believe his ears.
“We’ve done so a dozen times for Blume,” he said. “What makes Olma any different?”
“She’s been possessed by a demon!” Holve fired back. “Who knows what might happen?”
“Wasn’t Blume carrying around that ring just as bad!” Ealrin shouted.
It seemed like Holve wanted to continue to yell at Ealrin. As far as he could remember, in the two years, they had known each other they had never had such a disagreement. Not this loud or this intense. Their argument was interrupted, however, by a sound by the wall.
There was a big sniffle from behind them. Ealrin turned to see Tratta looking out the barn door.
“Fellas,” came her raspy, rugged voice. “I hate to have to cut this short, but we have a problem, ya know?”
Ealrin spun to see what Tratta was talking about. The haunted girl woman opened up the door to the barn just enough to let them see outside.
Along with the dawn, an army was coming over the horizon.
19: North
Pul was not impressed with the speed they were marching north towards Prommus. They had been attempting to get to the capital as quickly as possible. So far they had only been able to make it to Arranus. And even that had taken longer than it should have. The jungles were crawling with the lizards who had slept for generations. At every turn, they were fighting them off or being ambushed by the creatures who could blend in with their surroundings.
They had not lost many men to the beasts, but any losses at this point would be felt later down the road. This was supposed to be reinforcements for Her Holiness herself. Losing troops wouldn’t do.
Captains and generals alike were anxious to keep moving north. But no matter how quickly they moved, an army would always need to restock and supply. They had cut off their supply lines from the south when they crossed the Rift. Rations were running low, and so were men’s spirits. Pul had seen it time and time again in the Disputed Lands. When food was available, the soldiers fought with renewed vigor. When food was scarce, men didn’t throw themselves at their enemies as readily.
And so they made to resupply and to set up enough food to last them until they reached Grellis. Then they would be where the Isolians had attacked. Pul wasn’t sure on their information. Some seemed to believe that Grellis had fallen to Isol already and that Arranus was ripe to be attacked as well.
But since no Isol soldiers or Speakers had been seen anywhere near the city, Pul didn’t know if that was true. He hoped it wasn’t. They didn’t have what they needed for a siege of a city. And if Isol had Grellis, where else might they have attacked? And would their attempt to come to Her Holiness’ aid be futile?
Pul sniffed at his cup. The clay fired ware was not in the best shape. But that couldn’t be helped. Every inn and pub inside Arranus had been taken over by the officers of the reserves. This was one where several of the captains had made a small claim. The “Vigilance Inn” seemed to be about anything but vigilance. Mud and leaves lined the edges where it had been eventually swept or kicked aside by patrons and those who worked at the inn alike. The table had crumbs all over it from the previous occupant. The cup Pul drank from had a small crack that he had overcome by placing his dirty napkin around it.
The building, like all the ones in Arranus, was made mostly of stone with some wood here and there. A long call back to the glory days of Ladis. The rafters were made of the long, heavy wood of the trees outside and they showed their age as well. Not a single step could be taken upstairs that didn’t break or crack. It was not a nice inn.
The rooms upstairs were small and cramped. Pul shared one with three other men, despite there only being one bed. But since he outranked each of them in time served, they gave him the mattress.
It was odd.
The men slept just outside the city in tents. It felt strange not to be out there with the regular soldiers. He had to keep reminding himself that he had been promoted.
Sheerly by surviving longer than his battle brothers.
And by no other virtue.
He took a sip of the liquid the bartender had given him. He had never tasted it before and didn't really care to know what it was. His jungle village had been destroyed. His hopes of one day returning to his little quiet part of Ladis was destroyed. So until he was called on, he would drink this mixture and think about what the days he had left had in store for him.
It wasn’t a pleasant experience.
“Captain Pul?” The call came from the door of the pub. Pul hadn’t even recognized that it had opened. Looking up from his mug, he saw Tars. The young soldier had been given over to him and his company. There didn’t seem to be anything that could quell his spirits or bring him down.
Pul both admired that and hated it at the same time. Not because he was jealous. But because he knew that in time, it would fade.
Just like it had with him.
“Yes, Tars?” he said, turning to face him.
“The Generals are meeting,” Tars said. “They’d like the captains to be there as well.”
ARRANUS HAD EXACTLY one nice inn. That was the one the generals had taken over. Pul couldn’t blame them. If he were such a high ranking official, he’d certainly want a few of the comforts that could be found in a city of this size.
Whereas the Vigilance Inn was falling apart, the Purity Bed and Breakfast at least looked like it was cleaned every so often. The high traffic of the soldiers and commanders could do little to keep the place immaculate, however.
Pul shuffled in with the other captains and officers in the army and found a spot towards the back of the room. He still felt like he didn’t belong in this group. He asked Tars to come along with him, which he thought was going to be alright by the protocol. Several other soldiers milled around outside, waiting for their officers.
He at least would be able to discuss the meeting with one of his men. That gave him comfort. Looking out a window, he could see the man towering over the other recruits and nodded at him. At that moment, General Brand called the room to order.
General Brand had been in charge of Pul’s battalion since he first came to the Disputed Lands. Despite all the odds and the number of other generals who were field promoted when they outlived their own commanding officers, General Brand was a man who was appointed by the king himself and had served alongside the great General Oranius.
Brand was a man others respected and wished to be accepted by.
He was their leader, and Pul found himself with a large amount of respect for the man. He went into battle with his soldiers, not pushing them out ahead and hoping they made it. A charge with General Brand was one where you knew he had as much chance of surviving as the rest of his men.
Pul saluted along with the rest of the captains in the room.
“That will do,” Brand said in his usual curt tone. He was not a man of many words.
“We have a few weeks left before we arrive at Prommus,” he continued. “Intelligence
says that Isol had been hard at work capturing the cities of the Theocracy. We have a long road ahead of us. Grellis and Meris have fallen to Isol.”
Pul breathed in sharply. He had feared such a thing. There was a collective murmur at this news, which General Brand responded to by giving out hard stares. The noise died away quickly.
“But intelligence also tells us that in each city there are a good many survivors and that Isol left a skeleton crew behind to handle the city and see to its defenses. It does not yet know that we plan to come north. Whether word hasn’t reached them or they feel they can invade Prommus before we arrive isn’t known.”
Pul nodded as thoughts invaded his mind of strategies and timelines. Perhaps he was a decent captain after all.
“Regardless, we’re going to give them a beating once we meet up with them. The plan is to make it to Grellis, liberate the city and set up supply chains there, and then do it again with Ravus. From there, we head to Prommus and defend the king at any cost.”
A small amount of shuffling and moving about ensued as captains and the other generals looked around to see the reactions of the others.
“We leave at first light,” Brand said. “Prepare your men.”
The clatter and scraping of chairs and dishes overtook the Purity and Pul got out as quickly as he could. He didn’t need any clarification. The mission was clear, and Brand was sure not to add any unnecessary words.
Tars met him as soon as he walked out into the light of the suns.
“Did you hear everything?” Pul asked, walking with purpose to put some space between him and the crowd that was forming outside of the inn.
“Most of it,” Tars replied. “We’re heading north?”
“Through enemy territory,” Pul finished. “We need to inform our company. There’s still a difficult road ahead.”
20: Snart in the Dark
After days of searching, Snart was surprised to have found evidence of something living deep within the caves.
The cool temperatures had slowed him down at first, but using his glowing stones, he created heat around himself that had allowed him to move as if he were standing in the sun.
