Monster Age: A Fantasy Epic

by GR Griffin

  “Kill human…” they mused, now as one. “Kill human… Kill human…”

  Just after Fleck scrambled to their feet, the right hand of the amalgamation of dust burst outwards in a stream of grey, striking Fleck and pinning them against a cross of roots. The blast smothered the human, slamming piles of ash against their entire body. When it ended, Fleck was left shaken and hurt, covered head to toe once more in dust, now appearing as sickly grey as the quartet of monsters.

  Meekly, Fleck raised the sword and shield and activated them. “Default blade activated.” The silver blade sliced through the darkness, stopping inches away from the monsters’ chest, to which the four of them reacted oddly, namely by not reacting at all. Not even a flinch.

  The heads grinned and chuckled at the same time.

  “You can’t kill us…” Four voices spoke as one. Without hesitation, they stepped forward before Fleck could lower their weapon. The sword sank into their chest, all the way to the handle. The monsters exhibited no signs of pain whatsoever; their focus continuously locked on the human. “We’re already dead.”

  Thinking fast, Fleck thumbed a button on the hilt. “Laser sword activated.” The searing, red energy appeared excruciating as dust scorched off their wavy skin, burning a clear hole through their sternum all the way out the other side, and yet still failed to garner a single twitch. No internal organs to damage. No skin to slice. No nerves to tear.

  Fleck’s thumb acted before they could process it. “Electricity blade activated.” Fleck braced themself one second too late as their sword transformed into their own tesla coil. Streaks of white flashed outwards from within the monsters’ body, breaking it down piece by piece, forming a mess of mole hills. With a few strong swings, Fleck broke them down into piles of ash; there was nary a scream as the undead monsters returned from whence they came.

  From the mess made, the long snouted monster’s face formed. “That tickled,” he said, smiling.

  The socket puppet looking thing rose from the biggest pile in the bunch – a satisfied smirk upon his lips. “That itch… had plagued me for five hundred years…” Two arms formed, pushing out as lumps only to form into detailed limbs with fingers and thumbs. “My thanks, human.”

  As the other two swam to the surface, Fleck deactivated their sword and made their escape, shambling under roots and over mounds of trash, more concerned with getting away from this thing before it made this human child deader than they already were.

  The cauldron monster, Dunmore, rose, dragging his own being out, separating himself from the rest. “Quick, form a barricade! Cut off all escape routes! Stop that scout, no matter the cost!”

  From beyond the circumference of light, Fleck witnessed a lonely, grey pile ripple before two hands burst from beneath and out clawed another monster of ash, crawling out like a demon absconding the Underworld to terrorise the mortal realm – a zombie clawing its way out the grave seeking human brains. From afar, all around them, the same scratching, moaning, and shifting resounded from the darkness. It came from here and it came from there and some were accompanied by the crunch and clatter of garbage, and the scratching of dull nails against wood.

  The rising figure took shape, yet the substance that compiled it shredded and leaked as it rose, not wanting to in the slightest, detesting. Shavings grew in small mounds only to be drawn back to its body, creating this cycle of which there was no end, in life or death. Ash took shape into its muscular arms and barrel-chested frame. A bullish face could scarcely be made out where the light was cast. It growled in short, dog-like huffs – a noise that, in itself, so guttural, wanted nothing more than to die.

  “Rex… kill you… human…!” it growled, dragging molten legs forward. Dust dripped from his lips like saliva. “Rex… eat your heart…!”

  He charged, screeching an ear-splitting, grating war cry and thundering with the speed and strength of a rhino; his body broke upon the obstacles in his path, totally uncaring for his own wellbeing and bent on annihilating this intruder to their land. Unable to run and unable to hide, Fleck, obstructed between the roots, raised their shield and the apparition by the name of Rex charged headfirst into it, exploding into a sandstorm.

  When the dust literally cleared, there was an even spread of him on the ground behind Fleck, with a clean spot in the shadow from which they stood. Fleck barely had time to worry whether this being was dead or not before the thin blanket began to shuffle, forming several mounds which all grew a different part of Rex: there was his arm and over there his knee; his belly one foot away from his feet and his head resting against his shoulder.

  “Rex… will rise… Always rise…” Not only did he look like someone who had lost their mind, but he sounded like someone who had lost every trace of sanity. “Rex… never rest… ‘til you dead…”

  From around, more of… those things… emerged from the darkest corners of the Forest floor. The deep silence that existed before was broken by heckling, shouting, screaming, yelling, laughing, crying, hollering, and howling. They came in all shapes and sizes, dragging their sandy, powder appendages behind them, some better than others. Many were whole enough to be mistaken for monsters still alive, at least from a distance; many, many others had long lost what resemblance remained of their former selves, reduced to unidentifiable amoebas.

  Suddenly, Fleck’s entire body got wrapped in something, dragging them off their feet and through the thicket. They bounced off a couple of roots before being released and tossed into a cushion of trash.

  Stood before the bruised human now was another of these dead monsters; as disgustingly thin as it was tall, contorted to an uncomfortable level. A long, grey strip weaved around and within its ashes. Bandages: they were no longer white, but grey and weathered from age. Dirty and clinging with dust, they wrapped loosely around it from head to toe, trailing out pulsating legs and twitching fingers. A few strands hung limp from his hands, which were used on Fleck just now to pull them here. In the unfocused light, it appeared as deathly as the Grim Reaper.

  Its head bent so far to the side that it was in danger of crumbling off its neck; dust poured out the ear. It had no features, whatever was visible outside of its dreadful wrappings: no eyes; mouth; nose; anything. However, Fleck knew it was staring right at them.

  It gave Fleck no time to act before the bandages rose to life, reaching out and wrapping around their body. It picked up Fleck and pulled them up into a low hanging branch before immediately throwing them back down, hard into the littered ground. Hurt, Fleck tried to crawl away, but it snatched them by the ankle and dragged them back. Fleck was held upside-down and six feet off the ground, all the blood rushing to their head, and face-to-face with the mess of dust and bandages.

  “…You… aren’t invited here…” It hissed. Low. Menacing. Dangerous. “Your kind never are…”

  “Honey… Dear…” came a gnarled, womanly voice from out the darkness. From behind this monster, another just like it emerged; shorter, but just as sickly thin, also sporting grey, dirty bandages. “Do you like… my new shoes…?”

  “Not now… Darling…” It replied to her, speaking from a non-existent mouth, twitching its head ever so slightly. “Go back… to bed…”

  “What have… you got there?” she asked.

  Fleck needed to act or else they probably would not be able to in the future. With a press of the button, the sword extended and Fleck swiped it up at the bindings holding them, severing them with one swing. No sooner after they were sliced did they plummet head-first toward the ground. The female monster stretched her arms and caught Fleck with her own bandages.

  “Awww…” she moaned, actual empathy laced her rough voice as she pulled the child closer. “…Poor thing… looks scared…”

  The other jerked to life in a sudden fit, moving so fast that excess dust whipped off. “Don’t touch that…!” He shot more bandages out from his wrists, wrapping Fleck up like a mummy. “It’s filthy…!”

  The lady pulled on her end tw
ice as hard. “Don’t tell me… what I can’t and cannot do… Mister…!”

  Between the two bickering former monsters, Fleck was pulled harshly back and forth, the bandages tight around their legs, body, arms, neck, and head. Fleck tried to move, tried to draw breath, but it was futile. Their body screamed with pain as it wanted to go in two different directions at the same time, squeezing the skin tight and cutting off the flow of blood.

  Fleck cried to let them go, but their pleas were lost to the couple arguing, their pull becoming more vigorous with each tug. The male pulled, so the woman pulled with greater force, so the man pulled even harder than her, to which she responded by showing that she was merely holding back.

  With what little air they had left and their vision fading, Fleck managed to get out some last words: Sam an’ Rita. Sam an’ Rita!

  The pair halted as if a switch on their backs had been flipped. They ceased their fighting and faced the child caught in their tug-of-war.

  “…Ri…” the man tried to say. “…Ri… Ritie…?” His arms went limp, his entire body slouched.

  Fleck was released from their hold, splaying to the ground like a dead fish. Their clammy skin began to regain its colouring with the added enjoyment of pins and needles prickling every square inch. Honestly, they would have been better off dead.

  “So… long ago… Long, long ago… Amazing girl… Made me proud…” Rita’s father broken voice formed larger cracks. “Miss her… so much…”

  Rita’s mother was the same. “How… is she…? How is… wonderful Ritie…?”

  Pulling themself off the ground, Fleck responded that she was fine and healthy, and had been a great help.

  “…Marry… Sam…?” the lady asked. “Such a fine… young man… he was…”

  Fleck nodded and told them the two were happily married. No kids, though.

  Rita’s father broke down to the ground, gripping his featureless head. “Oh, Ritie…” He began to cry, even though he had to tears to shed. “…Ritie…” His wife pulled herself across and slumped over him, holding him tight and succeeded in merging with him slightly.

  The combined noises drew closer still and a squad of the dead emerged into the compact clearing, shifting their frames in the most bizarre manners, having shed their skin, scales, feathers, fur, elements and minerals long ago and chanted whatever tumultuous call they were accustomed to. They were so tightly packed together that they merged into a single entity, just like the one – or ones – Fleck encountered earlier.

  The sword was still out, the blade a sight to behold, to be threatened by, and yet the tidal wave reacted as if it weren’t even there. Whatever common conceptions these monsters possessed in life – fear, dread, anxiety – they were gone, lost in a sea of madness.

  Fleck turned and ran, rushing as fast as they could through the thickets and leaving the mummy couple to their unyielding sorrow. The advancing monsters remained at their slow, intimidating speed, knowing full well that this creature was trapped in their world with no quick means of escape. From all across the floor, dust rose and monsters awakened from their slumber – deep slumber from which they prayed for release which they feared may never come.

  All around, they were closing in on the human child, tightening like a net. There was nowhere to run, but Fleck’s determination urged them on, to never give up, believing in no such thing as an unwinnable scenario and that there always existed another way, just like in the Underground. Fleck always found a way. Always. There had to be a way… they had just not found it yet.

  The human pushed their way into the clearing under one of the massive trees; the low hanging ceiling still giving them chills of being crushed – a fear not even the hundreds of thousands of the undead could extinguish.

  From out the side, one of them emerged. As he stood there, snickering, hissing and shuddering, another rushed over and jumped on his back, followed by a second monster, and then one more, forming a dogpile of ash which formed a larger pile of ash, at first. The pile grew into a giant body with thick arms, thick legs, and four heads merged at the top, just like the first.

  Fleck pressed left on the hilt twice, switching to the blade made of ice. To their not-so-great surprise, none of the monsters reacted.

  The heads squirmed at the shoulders, rotating atop one another. After a short scuffle, a bear head scrambled to the top, above the other three. “Me first,” he said. The left arm raised and the fist deformed and took the shape of a giant axe.

  He swiped across with the axe made from dust, aiming high for a clean slice off the shoulders. Fleck ducked it. After the first swing, he brought it back across, this time aiming low. Fleck jumped it.

  Suddenly, the right arm reached up, grabbed the bear’s head and pushed him down into the torso, allowing the head of a chicken to take its place. “My turn…! My turn…!” she insisted, now resting at the top.

  She reached for Fleck with an open claw. Fleck poised the sword and jabbed the tip into the palm, freezing the arm all the way to the shoulder. The unification of dust gazed upon their frozen limb – the looks on their faces indescribable.

  The chicken looked puzzled. “Wasn’t… expecting that.”

  Suddenly, the other arm swung up and punched her directly from the top, mushing her head down between the others on the chest. The heads argued amongst themselves, fighting for dominance between the shoulders.

  The head of a fox took her place. “This is nothing…” he said before grabbing the icy arm with the other hand and tearing it off, wielding it like a club. From out the stub, a new arm grew.

  Fleck’s resolve faltered, having failed to halt this monster and unintentionally giving them a new means in which to batter them. Fleck jumped back as the monsters rose the club and smashed it down, breaking a chunk off the end.

  Fleck pressed the opposite button on the hilt and reignited the fire blade; flames of brilliant red and orange licked at the darkness which expanded, scattered by the searing flames as if afraid of getting burnt by them. They swung their sword at the exact moment the monsters swung their club. The blade sliced clean through, reducing the weapon to a handle. The fox responded by gripping what was left and crushing it into shards.

  The fourth head which had not had his turn yet, a rabbit, gained control of the arms and used them to grab the Fox’s head and tear him out of their combined body.

  “Heads up…!” the rabbit shouted before throwing the entire handful of dust at Fleck. Fleck, not expecting that in the slightest, took a toothy grin of ash to the body, knocking them flat.

  When the dust cleared, Fleck was covered in a layer of dust, and the fox was hollering away as he reconstructed himself a couple of feet away.

  The giant, now with the rabbit at the wheel, stomped over to the human, looking to crush them dead. Fleck got up, turned their sword back into ice and sliced the left leg when it drew close, freezing it instantly. As the monsters lost balance, Fleck ducked past them and delivered a swift, deep stab into their back. The ice spread out, to their legs, their arms, and eventually to their heads, freezing every particle of ash into place.

  “…This… sucks…” the rabbit mumbled through unmoving lips a second before their body toppled and shattered into fragments of frozen dust. No matter, the three frosted monsters still chatted away madly. Eventually, they will defrost and be back to their routine.

  Fleck’s victory over this amalgamation was nothing, however, as the chanting of a thousand more descended from every direction. Turning north, monsters of the grey dust seeped through the darkness, taking their first steps into the light. South, just as many, laughing, crying and shouting. East and west, clawing closer with undead fingers – fingers that should not be there, which should exist as featureless piles of ash.

  Fleck traipsed further into the centre, crushing the remains of those they had faced moments ago who could not care less, in fact oblivious to being trodden underfoot. The light revealed a metre of space at a time, closing in Fleck’s view. Every
time they turned the light, the monsters were closer, their shifting bodies closer; voices closer; presence closer.

  The human child was surrounded. The circle grew smaller with each second that passed. Five metres. Four metres.

  Fleck brought their shield close and the sword outstretched. Three metres.

  They drew one stale, stinking breath through teeth. Two me—

  “ENOUGH!”

  Everything stopped. All monsters snapped straight and turned to the origin of that yell. Visible from the edge of the clearing, stood one figure, as tall and straight as an arrow.

  “That’s enough!” Despite being constructed from the same steely sand found amongst the garbage, he appeared the most whole. No dust leaked from his frame, and he was as shaped as a sand statue with strong arms and defined torso which may have been stronger once upon a time. Wisps of grey that made up a crown of hair flowed around a proud face with hard eyes and a stern frown. “Kneel before your general!” the newcomer commanded. Proper authority filled his tone. “Bow before your emperor!”

  Every dead monster, both the sane and insane, obeyed, dropping down to their knees or whatever could be passed as such. Among the sea of genuflection, only one figure remained standing: Fleck. The child looked upon this ‘general’ and was unable to shake one thing about him…

  He looked like Emperor Zeus.

  * * *

  The frog boatman ascended the steps to the upper floor of the cosy inn, finding that charming goat couple comfortable before the fire; two empty glasses on the table between them. After the argument and slap from earlier, it was strange to see these two so calm and relaxed next to one another.

  “Excuse me, sir and madam,” he got their attention, “we’ll be ready to go when the rain stops in exactly…” He glanced down at the waterproof watch on his wrist. “…One minute and four seconds.”

  The two rose from their chairs in a reluctant fashion, taking a glance out the wide patio windows. The rain had been coming down at the exact same velocity for an hour, showing no signs of stopping. The mist remained as ominous as ever; Castle Highkeep still an eerie outline drawn in the grey.