Genrenauts: Season One

by Michael R. Underwood

  “To the farm!” Declan called, setting off at a run.

  Roman shouted “Wait!” and followed the man.

  Mallery sighed. “And we’ve already split the party.”

  Another cluster of skeletons walked onto the path from the other direction, boxing them in.

  King lifted his voice and his sword as one. The blade came alive with the same golden light as Mallery’s holy symbol. “Form up by the tree there. We fight together!”

  Leah moved to Mallery’s left, letting the woman’s big shield cover her as well. She held her sword at the ready as the skeletons advanced. The first squadron of skeletons split into two ranks: the first wielded swords and shields; the second held halberds high, ready to crash down over the shoulders of their brethren. Deadren? Whatever the collective-buddy noun for skeletons was.

  Mallery raised her mace high and called out, “In Felur’s name, turn!” A bolt of golden light arced from Leah’s mace and forked into five glowing lances. They shot out and disintegrated the first rank, their bones vanishing and armor clattering to the ground. Purple light seeped from the dead, fading into nothingness.

  But the second rank took their place and continued to advance.

  Behind them, Shirin raised her voice, speaking in what sounded like fakey Latin mixed with fantasyland gibberish. A wave of heat hit her from behind, and Leah sneaked a look over her shoulder, still covered by Mallery’s shield. A beach ball–sized ball of flame shot forward from the gem atop Shirin’s staff, detonating another three skeletons. That left only two ahead of them, but a full squad still behind.

  “Look to the rear!” King said, stepping up to Leah’s left. Standing in the center, she was covered on both sides, and felt way less intimidated by the glowing-eyed skeletons bearing down on her.

  “Prepare to receive their charge. Watch the halberds!” he added as groups crashed together. Leah swung as hard as she could, her sword clanging off the shield of a skeleton. The halberds scraped and slid off of Mallery’s shield, and the fight broke down into chaos.

  Leah cut and parried and thrust as best as she could. But slashing/piercing weapons against skeletons? Not so good. Mallery fared far better with her mace, the weapon smashing through bones and metal both. And even cooler, the mace’s glow left strobing afterimages as she swung, like dancing with glowsticks in the night.

  A pair of skeletons pushed past King’s defenses and knocked him to the ground. Leah stepped up, seeing her moment. She cut straight through one of the skeleton’s necks, sending its head flying. She turned the follow-through into a parry to block another skeleton’s halberd. The heavy blade bit deep into the soft dirt inches from King’s knee. Leah grabbed the weapon’s haft with her free hand, stomping and hacking the skeleton’s arm off to the beat of her song.

  This was fun. The dangerous and irresponsible kind of fun, like skydiving, or like what she assumed skydiving would feel like. It was biking without training wheels for the first time, driving without Mom in the passenger’s seat. It was letting go, putting years of formal practice into lethal reality. It was terrifying and intoxicating at once.

  She sang louder.

  * * *

  Roman was a blur, greatsword dancing between blade and shield and haft. He parried a skeleton’s sword aside and then caved its face in with his heavy pommel.

  “Come get some!” he added, jumping ahead to the obligatory Army of Darkness reference. It was the least out-of-genre one he could think of.

  Declan waved his lantern at a skeleton, doing nothing. He’d be better off using the thing as a club in both hands. Roman fought a retreating battle, giving ground slowly, inevitably, but slow enough to give Shirin time for her spells.

  “Igneo Uthia Magnus!” There was a flash of volcanic red light, and the ground in front of him cracked and tore open. Four of the skeletons lost their footing and were crushed flat as the ground rejoined like the closing maw of a blue whale. The sound of crushed bones brought a grin to Roman’s face as he continued his dance of death, keeping the three remaining skeletons all busy.

  A halberdier smashed through his defense and pushed him back. At the same time, one of the skeletons broke off from the pack and charged for the rest of the team.

  “Flanker!” Roman called, lashing out with a kick to drive back the halberdier as his sword danced back and forth with the third skeleton.

  “Got him!” King shouted from behind him, taking some of the weight off Roman’s shoulders. He shoved the sword-and-shield skeleton back, then spun and beat the halberdier’s weapon far off target. He spun the blade over his head and slashed down at the skeleton’s collarbone. The magically animated soldier crumpled, dark light going out of its eyes.

  “Last one back here!” Roman called, closing on the final skeleton.

  “We could use some help!” Mallery called.

  “Coming!” Shirin answered, leaving Roman with the last skeleton.

  “You could just give up.”

  The creature’s mouth opened wide, revealing a purple-tinged empty maw as it swung its shield at Roman.

  “I tried.” Roman ducked under the shield, then slashed up under the skeleton’s helmet and cut the skull clean off.

  He turned and saw the rest of the party facing down another squadron of skeletons. This group was led by a skeletal giant with a club as big as Roman was.

  “Well, this is something new.”

  He grinned and then charged.

  Chapter Five: Giant Bone’s Connected to the Fear Bone

  Leah considered the pros and cons of the current situation.

  On the one hand, giant skeleton. Not great for their team.

  On the other hand, that meant giants were a thing! And that was awesome!

  Which was about the extent of time Leah had to spare on the giant before the rank of skeletons hit them, turning the loose lines into a straight-up mob.

  She tried to stick close to Mallery, but when two skeletons knocked the comedienne back and down to the ground, Leah jumped back and turned, smashing a skeleton’s leg into two pieces, sending it tumbling.

  “Coming!” Shirin said somewhere behind their group.

  Good. Help is on the way, she thought.

  First, the other skeleton. “Hey, bucko! Forget about me?”

  The construct turned, glowing eyes looking confused, like “What did you say?”

  But the confusion was all she needed. She thrust the sword straight through the skeleton’s eye socket. Her blade cracked through bone and then went tink on the other end, stopped by the helm.

  She twisted her grip and wrenched forward, pulling the skeleton to the ground by her feet. She was hoping for a decapitation, but she’d take what she could get.

  Leah offered a hand to Mallery. The woman’s armor meant she nearly pulled Leah off her feet as she came up to a knee.

  “Thanks. Back to back?”

  “Got it.”

  They shuffle-stepped back to the mob, covering one another. King was being overwhelmed; five skeletons surrounded him, hacking at his shining armor.

  “With you!” Leah stepped up, hacking and slashing to knock aside one skeleton’s weapons and clear a way. Two turned to face her, and she took their tempo to crush one’s arm, and then swung at the other’s neck with a back-edge cut.

  Leah switched to “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” as she tried to pull the attention off King. Mallery joined Leah, pushing the skeletons back.

  Off to her right, Roman charged into view, banging his sword on his armor and yelling at the giant.

  King got to his feet, and the three of them formed up to face the skeletons.

  They set a tree as their anchor on one side to prevent flanking. Mallery’s mace swung like a wrecking ball, and King spun his sword in devastating arcs and turns. Leah, in the middle, occupied herself with keeping as many of the skeletons busy as she could, knocking aside weapons, distracting them with the song, as well as some sneaky trips and kicks along the way.

  Next tim
e, I’m bringing a hammer, too, Leah thought as her sword chinked and deflected off skeletal armor and bone. It was like trying to break apart a ten-pound chunk of ice with a butter knife—you’ll get there eventually, but there were so many better ways to do the job.

  “Step back!” Shirin said from behind them. Leah felt the wind pick up, and then a ghostly green foot stomped down from the canopy and crushed half of the remaining skeletons.

  “Gadzooks!” Leah shouted as the team advanced on the remaining monsters. Once she got into the swing of things, Fantasy World lingo was just as fun as the rest of it.

  Once the grunts were dispatched, the team moved to help Roman, who was playing David-and-Goliath with the giant skeleton, dodging its massive swings and working the skeleton’s tibia like a woodcutter with a hand axe.

  Together, they surrounded the giant and kept it distracted while Roman climbed the monster’s back and unscrewed the thing’s head like a lightbulb. A giant, terrifying lightbulb.

  The giant’s head popped off with a crack, and then the purple light went out of its eyes, and the thing collapsed to the ground in a heap.

  Roman crushed the bones beneath him as he landed, then held the skull aloft, grinning. “This one is going in the trophy room.”

  King nodded, as if to say, “I’ll allow it.”

  “Declan, are you still there?” Mallery asked into the darkness of the woods.

  A moment later, a light emerged from the brush, followed by their guide. “Are they gone?”

  “Aye,” Shirin said. “It is just us and the owls.”

  “Thank Felur for that. But now I know two very important things. First, you are truly heroes capable of facing this task. And second, the Night-Lord may already be aware of our plan. Quickly, to the cabin!”

  * * *

  The cabin was homely and homey both, a bit cluttered but entirely plain. The furniture looked carved by the same hand that had shaped the logs of the walls. Mallery imagined the craftsperson that had made the home, the time it must have taken to build an entire house by hand.

  But inside, there was only one figure, robed and hunched, prodding at a low fire with a poker.

  “I’ve brought them, Master Ioseph,” Declan said as he stepped inside.

  The wizard turned, the firelight playing across his craggy skin and hooked nose. He had ruddy skin that on Earth would have indicated Middle-Eastern heritage. “Inside, quickly. The wards are weakened with the door open.”

  Declan closed the door behind them as they took their seats. “This is Ioseph Bluethorn, Court Magician, Keeper of the Azure Soul, and companion of the late Theyn Lighthall.”

  The Wizard snorted derisively. “Ioseph will do. Not much of the rest of that means anything anymore. The Company is shattered, our hero fallen. What matters is what we do next.”

  King stepped forward. “I’m called Kane. My companions and I would see the Night-Lord deposed and peace returned to Fallran. But given that we were just assaulted by twenty skeletons on the open road, it looks like that will be no small task. What do you propose?”

  “First, you must know what transpired. The tale of the rise and fall of Theyn Lighthall. For only in knowing his doom can you understand the fate that plagues Fallran.”

  Leah jammed Mallery with a playful elbow to the ribs. “Time for exposition,” she whispered.

  Mallery shushed the junior Genrenaut but didn’t hold back the smile. She’d been thinking more or less the same thing. Most any wizard you met had several hours of tales and legends they were desperate to share, like when you got a choice role but weren’t allowed to announce it until finally, the right people came along and you could spill your guts.

  Ioseph reached deep into his robes and drew out a handful of sparkling golden dust. He tossed it into the fire, which crackled and burst, creating a circular field of shimmering gold. It faded to black, then shifted and created a 3-D holographic image as Ioseph began to speak.

  Leah looked to Mallery, gesturing to the magical hologram. Mallery smiled, and squeezed Leah’s hand.

  “Centuries ago, when the Daineg dynasty was founded, my great-grand-predecessor granted the first king the gift of a prophecy.”

  The field showed a storybook image, like high-quality papercuts but animated. Mallery had spent years studying magic off and on for work, had crafted and called a great deal of it herself. But it never ceased to amaze. When witnessing magic, she couldn’t help but become five again, watching fireworks from her parents’ van for the first time.

  “The prophecy stated that a scion of the dynasty would be its undoing. And so it has been that each generation, the children of the Fallran have distrusted one another, the heir always wary of his siblings. Some Kings exiled their younger children, some sent them on impossible quests, others managed to only have one child, gambling that their heir would live to continue the line.”

  The field showed short vignettes of each generation, the bold knights battling dragons and rescuing imperiled nobles, the exiled heirs living out their years in waiting in small cottages and mountain hermitages, and more.

  The magical holograph transitioned into a great battlefield, pikes and war machines in rows upon rows. Mallery was reminded of the snowflake papercuts where you cut and then unfolded an entire banner of identical shapes.

  “Fifteen years ago, during the war against the Akkara Legions, King Uros of Fallran fell in love with a Serani sorceress and broke his wedding vows. He returned home, ashamed. Less than a year later, two children were born to the King of Fallran, younger brothers to Crown Prince Eos.”

  The hologram showed two figures, back to back, one bright, one dark. “One child, Armand, was born to Queen Valari. The other was the child of the Serani sorceress, Lucenne. As the King’s advisor, I reached out to the sorceress and implored her to never bring the boy back to Fallran. He was to be well taken care of, so long as they did not come to our shores.”

  This much she knew from the surveillance records Preeti and the rest of the teams maintained. But she had a feeling there were more details in store.

  A tall figure rushed through the woods, a small bundle under one arm.

  “As a precaution, Prince Theyn was spirited away by a trusted member of the royal guard and raised in seclusion.”

  The magical field showed a boy of maybe ten years old swinging a sword still too big for him at a tree. Beside him, a broad-shouldered man. And beside him, a papercut version of Ioseph himself.

  “I visited the boy often, training him in secret so that he could succeed the throne if anything happened to Prince Eos. Or if Lucenne and her child sought vengeance.”

  “Wasn’t the queen even a bit upset that the king cheated on her?” Leah asked.

  The Wizard looked up. “The King and Queen keep their own counsel. It is not for us to question.”

  We’ll see about that, Mallery thought. Best file that away as a plot thread to pick up if needed.

  “Please, continue,” King said.

  “Barely six months ago,” Ioseph said, “the Night-Lord came to the shores of Fallran, leading an army of the undead clad in Serani colors.”

  The spell conjured up roiling seas and a fleet flying dark flags. Rows of armored skeletons stomped across the beach. The field panned to reveal the shining forces of Fallran, all polished armor and chivalric bluster.

  “He met the armies of Fallran on the fields of battle and routed them as if they were children playing with wooden swords.

  “I quit the field and returned to Prince Theyn. His time had come. While the undead army made its way to Fallran castle, the prince and his teacher Nolan set out to seek a weapon that could defeat the Night-Lord. The fabled Sun-sword.”

  The magic showed a young hero lifting a magical sword to the sky. It caught the sun and bathed the vision in golden light.

  Chosen One prince raised in secret, magic weapon. So far, this is all going by the script, Mallery thought. But they wouldn’t be here if it had ended according to plan.
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  “But even with the Sun-sword, Prince Theyn could not best the Night-Lord. The prince fell, and our fellowship scattered to the four winds as the Night-Lord consolidated his control over the countryside.”

  The magical vision showed a map of Fallran, beige parchment turning purple shade by shade as Ioseph finished his story.

  Mallery said, “So, if Theyn and the Sun-sword couldn’t defeat the Night-Lord, how will we?”

  Ioseph’s expression darkened. “Theyn was not able to use the Sun-sword to destroy the Deathstone, which turns light into necromantic energy. The Deathstone was once the Hopestone, an ancient artifact of immense power. Now turned, it is the reason the sunlight runs purple now across the kingdom of Fallran.”

  “The same power that animates the dead,” Roman added.

  The Wizard nodded.

  “Is there another way to destroy the Deathstone?” Leah asked.

  “That, my new friends, is what we must find. We will need to search far and wide. Xan’De, one of my former companions, hails from far beyond the sea and knows of many secrets beyond my ken. It is my hope that he will know of something that can best the Deathstone or negate its power long enough to cast down the Night-Lord.”

  Leah’s face scrunched up in frustration. “Are you saying the answer to overthrowing the Night-Lord is ‘Let’s ask my friend’?”

  Ioseph’s face tightened into a sour mass of wrinkles. Leah had gone out of genre. It must be hard to keep to the made-up fantasy dialect when her internal monologue was squeezing at the cheesy perfection of everything around her, Mallery thought. I mean, I still have a hard time keeping a straight face here, even after a half-dozen visits.

  She jumped in for the save. “You said Xan’De might know another way we could destroy the Deathstone?

  The wizard picked right back up, like a skipped record finding its place again. “If I knew how to best the Deathstone, I would have done so already. And Theyn would still be among the living. I have given you all the hope and knowledge I have to give. Xan’De and his people, the Matok, may be our best hope, unless one of you happens to know more of artifacts than I.”