by Eden Redd
The serpent kept its mouth clamped onto the shrieking horse. A tail swiftly rose up from the water and coiled around Shyla’s waist. The orc entwined her powerful legs as the serpent tried to pull her off. Trystan stood helplessly as the orc continued with blow after blow. One strike hit the serpent hard enough for it to let go. Turning its head, it tried to shake and pull the orc off. The horse collapsed and Lori rushed to its side.
Shyla glanced at Trystan and threw one of her maces to him. Spinning, the mage caught the mace and bashed it across the serpent’s midsection. The creature turned its attention on Trystan as he reared back. Just then, a spear stabbed into the serpent’s throat. The creature hissed as Shyla slammed her mace into its head three more times. The water serpent, having enough, threw its body back into the river. Shyla was knocked off and in the water as the creature slithered away upstream. The mage splashed into the water and took hold of the orc, helping her to her feet. Both dripping wet, the orc with pigtails grinned at the heaving mage.
“Not bad for a spell user.”
Trystan heaved and smiled. Turning to the edge of the river, Lori was on her knees before her horse, the light gone from its eyes. The druid pressed her hand against the wide eyes and closed them, whispering to the forest spirits to guide the horse spirit to the next life.
Sord grimaced when he saw all the other horses mulling about in the forest. Whistling, his horse came right back to him. Trystan and Shyla stepped out of the river and onto dry land, water dripping from their travelling clothes. Reeko put a green hand on Lori’s shoulder as she silently continued to pray to the forest.
Sord opened his backpack of holding and began pulling short spear after short spear, tossing each one on the grassy floor. When nine spears cluttered the ground, the captain picked up the whole batch and started handing one off to each person in their party.
“I know some of you have experience but I’m going to say what I’m going to say so we are all on the same level. The wilderness is a dangerous place. Let this be an example that we cannot let our guard down for a moment. You have spent much of your time behind walls but out here, everything and I do mean everything is trying to kill and eat you. I don’t care if you are comfortable or not with the use of force but out here, you will use these weapons to protect yourself and everyone else. Do I make myself clear?”
Silently everyone nodded with the images of the serpent fresh in their minds.
“Let’s gather the horses and continue on. We still have a long way to go. Lori, double up with one of your companions.”
The druid stood up, tears streaking down from understanding eyes. Reeko put his hand on her shoulder again and she took hold of his, squeezing his fingers. The group spread out to gather their horses, the reality of their quest sinking in further.
Twelve
A chill whispered into bones. The travelling band of orcs halted their advance. The sun touched the horizon again, ready for its nightly slumber. Haggard green bodies dismounted and began setting up camp. A wolf howled in the distance.
Trystan moved mechanically, eyes and hands pulling out his tent equipment and setting it up. They had been travelling for four days and the strain was beginning to show. No one spoke as tents were erected. With night falling, senses were dialed to eleven. Every night in the wilderness, they heard strange beasts moving about. It was maddening when the companions tried to sleep only to be awoken by something moving in the brush.
The young mage had moved beyond fear to tired vigilance. He started to see why monsters all over Lurth were against humanity. The wilderness was truly a horrid place, filled with fear and death. Spending a few nights in it caused the mage to think back to the walls, helping him feel safe. The mage had spent time in the wilderness before but he never travelled this far north. The air was crisper, colder. The nights seemed to last longer.
“Trystan, you have first shift,” Sord grunted.
The mage now turned orc nodded his head. With camp set up, the group sat in the dirt, eyes and shoulders wilted. Shyla came from the forest, thick branches in her powerful arms. Placing them in the fire pit, she knelt down, pulled her dagger and a piece of flint from a belt pouch. The chill seeped in further until sparks flew and the kindling caught. Relief washed over the band of orcs as they huddled a little closer to the flame, the last rays of sunlight fading from the sky.
After a short meal and small cups of wine, the orcs retired to their tents. Sord sat against a tree and whittled away at a branch with a sharp knife. Trystan stood up and walked to the edge of camp. Mist flowed from his arm. Sylk burst into view, her oval eyes watching her haggard master.
Trystan said nothing as he took a familiar stance. The siren moved to her master’s side and they began practicing the chimera ritual. Time flowed on as master and familiar performed the hand signals and the words, stopping short of the last word to complete the spell. The mage had no idea if it would work but they had to stay ready.
Pain flared into tired muscles and the young mage fell to one knee. The siren’s webbed hands took hold of her master’s shoulders and helped him to his feet. Even with her magical body, Sylk could not keep her arms and legs from shaking. Trystan eyed Sord. The orc captain nodded his head as he took over Trystan’s shift.
Slipping into his tent, Trystan crumpled into his sleeping bag. The siren set about removing her master’s clothes. Hunger gnawing at her body, she closed her blue lips around her master’s now green member. Gentle sucking sounds filled the tent as the familiar bobbed her head, tongue helping his manhood to rise. Trystan didn’t even pick up his head as Sylk teased his come and mana to the surface. A short moment later, the mage’s cock thickened and hot jets of come spurted into the siren’s throat. The siren greedily drank it down, mana filling her weary body.
Sylk moved to her master’s side and lay, pressing her body to his. The warmth between them was enough to send the mage into deep dreams, far away from the cold reality of their journey. A final image of red hair flared in his mind before the weight of darkness closed in.
The night grew eerily quiet. Trystan opened his eyes and stared at the side of the tent. Shadows moved against the fabric like twisted hands, clawing to get in. The mage blinked a few times, a frosty mist billowing from his lips. Why was it so cold in the tent? Sylk lay against him, her body warmth enough to keep the chill at bay. The mage slowly sat up, untangling the familiars scaled arms from him. Looking around, the dim light from the campfire outside his only light source, the mage moved his hand toward ripples of cold. Reaching out, he took hold of his backpack and pulled it closer. The cold seemed to spill from the open flap of his own pack.
A muscled hand reached in, the chill creeping up his arm. Taking hold of something flat, the mage pulled out a black book. Eyes wide, Trystan stared at the Libro Nocte in his very hands. It pulsed with alien power as whispers licked his mind to open it and read.
Sylk opened her eyes and turned her head to Trystan, “Master?” She asked with sleep in her eyes.
“Sylk……I ……” The orc stammered.
The siren looked to his hands and immediately was on her knees, fear stabbing into eyes, “Master…..the book…”
“Sylk….please….take the book from me, take it into the forest and bury it,” Trystan said with wide eyes.
“Master….I….” the siren remained frozen.
“If you do not take the book from me, I will read it. I don’t know what it will do to me but we cannot chance it. Please my familiar, take it and bury it so I cannot find it. No matter how much I ask, beg or command, do not tell me where it is.”
Sylk reached out with a webbed hand, the book filling the tent with whispers and dark power. Trystan’s senses were open, dark knowledge calling out with its seductive power. The mage knew if Sylk didn’t take it soon, he was going to open it and read. Their quest would end with him going mad.
The siren pushed away her fear and grabbed the book. Trystan at first didn’t let go. Webbed fingers uncurled his
fingers from the black tome. When it was free, the siren crawled out of the tent. Sord watched as the blue siren ran naked into the forest, holding something in her hands.
Sylk breathed heavy as she ran into the dark and foreboding forest. Branches lashed her skin as she pressed on, not sure how far she was going. Eyes wide and terror pushing her legs faster, she ran until she reached a patch of dirt, glowing in the moonlight. Falling to her knees, she began to dig. The book lay by her leg, calling out to her, telling her to return to her master with the book in her hands. The siren ignored it, knowing full well if she thought about it, she would return to her master with the book.
Hole dug, the siren took a fallen branch and moved the book with it. The black book tumbled into the small hole. Webbed hands worked feverishly to push dirt onto it. When it was covered, a wave of relief flowed over the siren. The hole covered, Sylk was back on her feet and running through the forest, back to her master.
Crawling into the tent, Sylk gazed at her master as he sat with his knees to his chest.
“Is it buried?” Trystan asked with fear in his tone.
“It is, master,” The siren nodded.
“The book found its way to me again. It has some new dark design and I seem to be its centerpiece.”
“Then I will continue to bury it until it cannot find you again,” The siren said with conviction.
The orc looked to the siren, patches of dirt covering her light blue skin. Sylk moved in close and they held each other. Trystan stroked her hair as the siren pressed her face to his chest.
“Should we tell Gwen?” Sylk said as the warmth of her master comforted her.
Trystan was silent for a long moment before speaking, “The book destroyed her relationship with Damon. The mere mention of it causes her so much pain. I don’t want her distracted since we are so close. I will tell her but we will have to keep it between us for now.”
Sylk’s eyes stared off, “I understand, master.”
“I know how you feel. Once we save Nia and Sunara, things can go back to normal.”
The siren snuggled in closer, “I don’t think things will go back to how they were. We have endured so much. I worry that we are travelling to our doom. I will follow you into the pits of Hell but I’m scared for you, for us.”
Trystan continued to stroke her lustrous blue hair, “I’m scared for us as well but we will make it. We have fought undead armies, giant slimes, shadow mages and managed to make it through. We will overcome and be better for it.”
The siren’s lips curved into a slight smile before it faded, “I noticed you haven’t been writing your poetry. I worry your creative spirit is being snuffed out.”
Trystan held his familiar close for a long moment before he spoke, “We should get some sleep. We have two days of riding before we are at Fallen York. We need to be rested.”
Sylk let out a deep breath, “Yes master,” The siren said simply.
Master and familiar lay down and cover themselves. With the chill in the tent gone, the body heat between them chased away the cold in their bones. Eyes closing, master and familiar fell into troubled sleep.
Thirteen
Forest turned to roads. The overcast afternoon cast a gray light across the landscape. Trystan shifted in his saddle, eyes moving side to side as monsters walked and rode next to their band of orcs. Goblins, succubi, incubi, trolls, orcs and various other creatures the mage did not recognize streamed alongside, eyes looking off in the distance to the biggest stone bridge ever built since the cataclysm. Fortress walls lined the water’s edge to Fallen York with buildings and structures rising just beyond them. It would have astounded Trystan if paranoia didn’t creep into him, waiting for the moment a monster realized that he was not like them.
“You appear nervous. Talk to me so we don’t bring any attention to us,” Shyla whispered as she rode along the mage.
Trystan glanced at the female orc and attempted to play off his nervous eyes, “I had no idea so many creatures were coming to the city. You hear the stories but to actually see it is another matter entirely.”
Shyla nodded, “Damon has promised a safe place for all monster kind. Like a moth to the flame, even monsters seek a safe place to call their own.”
A troll hunkered by and looked to the orc in pigtails, “Damon has come to deliver us from the darkness. There is food, warm lodgings and safety. We will learn magic and take back the world once again,” The troll said with fevered reverence.
Shyla scowled, “You act like you never lived in a monster town. Tell me troll, did you live in a cave before coming here?”
The troll’s gaze remained bright as she spoke, “It is not just the lodgings and warm meals. Damon and Theena will unite all of our people for a greater glory. We will rebuild like the ancient legends, into a paradise.”
Shyla stuck out her chin, “I will believe it when I see it. Keep moving, troll.”
The troll bowed his head and quickened his pace. Trystan turned to Shyla, unsure what to say. The orc gave a manic grin to the quiet mage.
“Most walking into the city only want a safe place to lay their head or drink from Damon’s table. I find it hard to believe there are more like that troll in the city,” Shyla said as they trotted along.
Trystan leaned in closer and spoke in a hushed whisper, “I grew up knowing that outside the walls, the world was a dangerous place. Monsters were the ones attacking and pillaging any place without a wall.”
The orc stared forward as she rode, “It’s not the monsters walking along us anyone has to fear. It is the larger beasts that lurk in the wild. The lack of sufficient magical training makes living in the wild that much harder. Without magical protections and walls, larger monsters can freely attack any settlement. Most of the human towns and cities have enough magic users to repel any monster attack but humble little towns can be wiped out in a single night. What Damon has done is provide a safe haven, greater than even the mighty city of Stukarr. You can see why he attracts so many.”
“I wish we could all live together, without the threat of war,” Trystan sighed.
Shyla looked to him and laughed, “You are a dreamer. My father spoke highly of you but I didn’t believe him. Now I can see why he thinks well of you.”
Trystan smiled. The crowds grew thicker the closer to the bridge they were. The sky seemed to darken as bodies moved, packed tightly along the road. Trystan would look to Gwen. The female orc would turn and wink back. It stabbed at his heart that he kept his recent experience with the Libro Nocte to himself. Part of him wanted to ride up and tell her what happened. Another part didn’t want her hurt or feeling betrayed. He would spill his guts when it was over but now they had to focus on saving their friends.
The road narrowed until the group of orcs trotted their horses onto the bridge. Trystan looked around at the size of it. Cables and stone rose up around them, holding the mighty bridge together. The engineering that went into it must have been staggering. Looking over to the green river below, the mage made a mental note that he had to find out how deep the river went. When they make their escape, they will have to be sure not to tunnel into it, or the mage will have to do some fancy spells to keep that much water at bay.
A wall in the middle of the bridge separated the newcomers to the city. Orc and troll guards worked the checkpoint as robed figures moved among them. Trystan peered at the robed figures and noticed small tentacles moving out from their darken hoods. The mage snapped his reins and moved closer to Hart and Sord as they led the group.
“The robed figures,” Trystan said simply.
Professor Hart nodded his older looking orc head, “We see them. They are Mind Drinkers, a reclusive race with psychic abilities. I’m sure they are looking into each creature’s mind as they pass through.”
“If they can read minds, we may be stopped,” Trystan shook his head.
“With this many creatures coming into the city, I’m sure it must be taxing on their abilities. They may make only curso
ry glances at our minds and ask a question or two. Pull back and warn everyone to keep their mind focused and blank, the quicker we are through, the better chance of us not being probed any deeper.”
Trystan nodded and pulled back. He moved to each member of their group, telling them what Professor Hart told him. When he reached Gwen, the orc female stared with wide eyes at the robed figures.
“Are you alright?” Trystan asked with concern.
Gwen lowered her eyes, “I may have compromised our quest. I see those are mind drinkers. My magic is not just spell based; I use psychic abilities as well. It is trained to each ink witch and warlock to use magic and the powers of the mind. They are going to sense I’m psychic.”
“Is there a way to hide it?” Trystan reached over and put his green hand over hers.
“If I had more time, maybe,” Gwen looked to Trystan, “Tell Professor Hart I cannot continue. I have to turn back and find another way into the city.”
“We don’t have time to find another way. We need you in the city with us,” Trystan squeezed her hand.
“Psychics are drawn to each other. They will know I’m no ordinary orc. They will stop and question me. I have to turn back now.”
“We have been in each other’s mind. I know you’re strong enough to block them out. We need you.”
Gwen grew silent for a long moment before she pulled on her reins. Trystan reached out and took hold of those reins, keeping her horse from turning. The witch looked to Trystan with uncertainty in her eyes. The young mage looked forward, not giving her a chance to change his mind.
