Secrets of the Elders (Chronicles of Acadia: Book I)

by D. M. Almond

CHAPTER 4

  Baetylus’ Acadian form grew dim; it would soon gather its energy inside, creating two days of dim light followed by three days of total darkness across the kingdom of New Fal. The people of Riverbell were celebrating, singing songs of the Great Crystal’s time of sleep. When their god’s sojourn was over it would awaken to a brilliant glow of greens and blues, a multitude of colors dancing over the many facets of its keen-edged surface, once again warming the land with the promise of a long growing season.

  The feast had begun with much excitement all around. This year they had a rare treat, having fireworks imported from the nearby kingdom of Malbec. Elder Morgana blessed the plentiful bounty that was brought before her into the village circle, praising that the hunters had done extremely well this year securing enough food to last long through the time of darkness.

  A flash of light billowing with smoke shot forth from the circle high overhead, teasing the villagers with a momentary pause before bursting into a brilliant crimson flower. The spectacle drew the usual oohs and ahs from the crowd. As the petals drifted back toward the ground and dissipated, it left behind a smoldering silhouette, replaced by another burst, this one bright purple outlined in soft yellow like a lotus blossom.

  The villagers were singing and dancing all around the bonfire as the Coilden Boys kicked into gear with their upbeat banjo and fiddle.

  Logan was quickly swept away by his friends, forgetting to show any pretense of an injured foot. Elise threw her head up and laughed raucously, showing him she couldn’t care less, as they interlocked arms, merrily dancing in a circle and trading off with those nearby.

  “Looks like things are getting started, eh, Buck?” Watt said, clapping his friend’s shoulder, causing him to spit the ginger root he was chewing over the edge of the village guard tower. Staring down from the railing, the two watchmen began tapping their feet to the rhythm of the music. It was not a great night for guard duty, but at least they had the best seats in the house.

  “Aw shucks, Watt, I just can’t wait to get down there and dance with Sally Mae tonight!” Buck whined as he tried to peer up around the thatched roof and get a glimpse of the firework display.

  “Be shift change before we know it!” Watt said optimistically, expressing his enthusiasm by slapping a knee as his foot tapped in beat to the music.

  Buck took his friend’s cue, jumping around and dancing a clumsy jig. He was trying to stay in time to Jonny Coilden’s drumming below, but one of the boys was throwing off the beat something fierce. Bouncing around in his jig, Buck spun to look down past the wall toward the village circle. He probably enjoyed music more than anything else in the world, taking whatever chance came his way to listen to the performers that came to the village. Last year he had even tried joining the Coilden boys, one of his favorite groups, but they turned him down, saying he was not good enough with an instrument just yet. Buck did not hold any grudge, though. He knew there were no instruments he could play with the skill the Coilden boys possessed. However much he still needed to learn about playing the drums like Jonny Coilden, he did know what rhythm should sound like, and these boys were throwing it off with an awful racket.

  “What is it, Buck? Sally down there dancing with someone else?” Watt teased with a wink as he sipped his ale.

  Buck was only dimly aware of the question, scratching his head as he craned his neck to see what was going on. He could barely make out the high pitch of another instrument over the sudden cheering, and was trying his darnedest to place the strange sound.

  “That’s odd. The longer I look over there, the louder those boys are playing…and the worse it’s getting,” Buck brooded, more to himself than his friend.

  “What did ye say?” Watt shouted, covering his ears. “I can’t hear you over that awful racket!”

  By the time it struck Buck exactly where he had heard the awful sound before, it was already too late. He turned to shout a warning to his friend, only to see a skex crashing into the tower. The insect’s shiny plates of black armor reflected the fireworks above in a morbidly mesmerizing way, sparkling in stark contrast to the ravenous glow in its red eyes.

  There was not one thing Watt could have done to protect himself from the sword-like insect legs that skewered his body, splattering Buck from head to toe with the blood of his best mate. The horrified watchman never even had time to scream his friend’s name as the entire tower came crashing down, crushing a section of the wall beneath in a shower of stone and splintered wood.

  The skex attack came on hard and fierce, with not a single warning. Even as the watchtower fell, more of the man-sized insects zipped down into the dancing crowd, a flurry of buzzing wings and black claws.

  Logan knocked Elise forcefully to the ground, out of the way of a swooping attack. She hit the dirt so hard he worried he may have broken some of her bones. The monstrous creature did a mid-air turn, coming back down for him instead, thinking to carry away the meddling man for a light snack. The skex was nothing if not surprised when Logan suddenly spun on the balls of his feet, and jumped out of its path, leaving it to crash head first into the great bonfire behind him. The creature let out an eerie screeching noise as its eyes burned away.

  Logan tried to make sense of what was happening. Skex? Here in Riverbell? Why would they be this far to the north? And what in blazes are they doing traveling in a swarm? His mind raced to understand. The insects were normally lone hunters, and it was common knowledge that it was not in their nature to attack a town or village for food.

  But there was no time to ponder the implications of this further, not when his entire village was steeped in the throes of a vicious attack.

  Some of the villagers had enough sense to run for any weapons they could find, but it was sheer chaos everywhere he looked. His people were being torn apart and mauled by the skex on the ground, while others were carried away into the air, their blood-curdling screams echoing from the cavern ceiling above. Elise did not move from where Logan had thrown her, but he saw her flinch when a shattered corpse fell from the sky, thudding to the ground beside her.

  He quickly unhooked a set of bolas from his belt. Normally he would use the weapon to knock fruit loose from high branches or to stop a runaway goat from escaping the herd. However, at this moment, he intended to use them to try to take down one of the vile skex. Spinning the cord like a lasso to his side, the weighted balls humming through the air in a blurred circle, he sought the nearest monster. One was descending to his left, chasing a screaming child. Without hesitation, Logan let the weapon fly. The momentum of the throw spun the balls in a perfect circle directly into the monster’s fluttering wings, part of it cracking through the veins holding together the thin layer of translucent chitin material. As the broken wings bound together, the skex crashed to the ground behind him.

  Logan ran to retrieve the bolas, which rolled to the ground, sighting another of the creatures rapidly approaching. The eager monster swooped low for him, twitching its rows of sword-like legs. In pure survival mode, Logan flattened out on the ground, feeling the hot breath from a chittering craw slide by, just barely grazing his back. His stomach lurched at the rotten stench the foul creature emitted.

  No time for a weak stomach, he told himself, already back on his feet, spinning the bolas and readying for the insect’s return. The hairs on his neck rose, tickling across his skin, as a chirping sound demanded his immediate attention. Logan glanced fearfully over his shoulder, his eye twitching to see the fallen skex rise with its many red eyes glaring hatefully at him.

  This was exactly why he hated hunting; the creatures of New Fal were never fair. Quickly making a choice between the incoming skex and the fallen one behind him, he let the spinning weapon fly. This time it wrapped tightly around the incoming insect’s wings. He scrambled quickly across the dirt in a desperate attempt to escape the other charging beast. His toe hit a rock, and Logan tumbled to the ground. The skex closed the gap between itself and the juicy morsel in a de
ad rush, and Logan could do nothing more than scream in defiance, enraged at the beast, as he turned to face his death head on.

  From over his shoulder, a solid beam of blue light lit the area and pierced the insect’s armored face. Its crimson eyes bulged before popping with a loud crackling sound, spewing forth the skex’s gelatinous, cooked brain.

  Logan stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed, having never before seen the effects of a laser rifle up close and personal. In fact, as far as he or anyone else knew, the weapons had long since become a thing of lore, another technology lost to the ages. Yet here was Elder Morgana holding a large, white laser rifle in her frail, bony arms. The weapon looked two sizes larger than it really was in the village leader’s hands, but she wielded it as easily, as if she were carrying nothing more than a bag of mushrooms. Elder Morgana would be damned if she was going to watch the boy she raised be murdered.

  “Morgana, what in the nine blazes are you doing?” Logan shouted, scrambling to his feet and running over to her.

  “Watch your mouth, lad, or I’ll have to wash it out for you when this is all over,” she scolded, pointing the rifle at another of the insects and gritting her teeth. An arc of blue light flashed, and she blasted the skex from the sky.

  The tide was turning now for the villagers, but so many were lying dead or in pieces that Logan did not know what more he could do without a weapon. Elise was on her feet again, gathering any children she could find and herding them toward the village community hall. Four of the men surrounded the insect whose wings were bound by Logan’s bolas, poking it with spears. They pressed forward, backing the skex up as its thrashing pincers attempted to block their blows. The skex fell for their trap, walking right into the waiting swing of the blacksmith’s sledgehammer, which crushed its head.

  All around Riverbell, hunters had retrieved ranged weapons, firing off a barrage of arrows, bolts, and spears to fend off the remaining raiders. There was no rejoicing when the swarm of predators finally began to flee the village in search of easier prey elsewhere.

  Their merry festival had turned into a bloody massacre, a flurry of death rained down on the village from above, leaving behind nothing but anguish and carnage. Logan spotted Corbin on the far side of the village, arriving in the midst of the chaos.

  Elder Morgana was shouting orders to her people, holding the heavy rifle upright as easily as a toy slingshot, with the butt of it resting in the nook of her arm. She was completely oblivious to the incoming skex making a beeline for her exposed back.

  Logan screamed to warn her, running to push the old woman out of harm’s way. For him it was as if time slowed to a crawl, moving in slow motion. He watched in horror as the monster swooped straight down. Talons tore right through Morgana’s torso, stealing the village elder away into the air.

  Logan howled, unable to form the words for what he was feeling. He was helpless to do anything more than watch as the woman who had raised him disappeared into the shadowed reaches of the cavern ceiling. He flinched when the rifle went off, lighting up the stalactites around her and the skex. Elder Morgana had fought on, denying the monster its cruel feast.

  Charred pieces of the creature rained down hard as stones, clattering across the bonfire circle along with Elder Morgana, who landed heavily on the ground, bones shattering loudly.

  Logan was quickly at her side, begging the old woman to hold on, promising through tear-stained eyes that he would get help. He knew in his heart that it was already too late; one look at her would tell anyone there was no hope.

  “Silly boy, my sweet, sweet little Logan,” she groaned, weakly stroking his cheek. “My time to join the All-Father’s light is here now.”

  Logan rocked back and forth, cupping her hand to his face and shaking his head in denial.

  “Enough of that, young man, you calm yourself now. Be brave like I taught you,” she said, all the while trying to firm up her resolve.

  Her voice was brave and peaceful, and it shook him out of the mounting hysteria. Logan tried to gather his composure, ashamed of his behavior.

  “That’s my boy.” She smiled at him before a flash of pain crossed her face. Blood began to run from the corner of her mouth and Logan whimpered.

  “Morgana, please…what should I do? What can I do?” he implored.

  “Get yourself to Fal. They must be warned...ugh. T-the implica—ugh.” The old woman convulsed in pain.

  Logan removed the rifle from across her chest, revealing the gruesomely twisted torso beneath. She had already lost so much blood. He did not even know that much could fit inside a person. It was thick and sticky and pooled all around. Elder Morgana suddenly gripped him hard by the collar. She pulled Logan close to her face with an alarming amount of strength that no dying person had the right to possess.

  “The council must be warned,” she groaned, slapping the rare weapon into his hands as a whirring sound built up in her chest.

  Logan tried to make sense of it all, but she flung him through the air away from her like he weighed no more than a ragdoll, then rolled over onto her belly.

  “Run, you fool!” she screamed, as the high-pitched whirring grew louder, hurting his ears.

  All around, people covered their ears as they frantically fled from the Elder. A massive explosion rocked the area, shaking the ground as fire billowed from where Morgana’s body had been. The force of it rolled Logan another two feet, leaving him face down in the dirt.

  His world was made up of ringing and blinding lights. Logan felt someone moving him from far away, down a long tight corridor. Their words were like a whisper and a roar at the same time. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to remember which way was up, reorienting himself in a double vision of Corbin, who was shouting for him to speak from somewhere just beyond that incessant ringing noise filling his skull.

  Logan could see Elise had joined them, her eyes blood red from the dust of the explosion. She said something he could not comprehend and he thought it was time he took that nap now, as everything turned black. Slumping back, Logan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his lids began fluttering.

  Elise snapped him out of the stupor with a desperate slap across his face, opening his eyes wide.

  “Owww…what are you trying to do, take my nose off?” he yelped, fully aware of his surroundings once more.

  Elise was so overwhelmed with relief that she let all of the emotions she had pent up during the wild attack out in one gushing wail and crashed into Corbin’s arms. He did not look so well himself. He knelt in the dirt beside Logan, wearing a glassy, shell-shocked expression. He was trying to take in the surreal scene of carnage, but the spectacle was more than anyone should be forced to bear in their lifetime.

  “What are we going to do?” Elise sobbed.

  “Um…well, I…,”Corbin began, gasping for air. Elder Morgana had always and ever been the one person everyone rallied behind in the village. Corbin realized he would need to be strong for their people and squared his shoulders. “First we should set up an area for the wounded, probably the community hall, then we should start getting a head count and moving the injured indoors. Also, I would send someone to get water. Then we can—”

  “Morgana told me what needs doing just before she…she…,” Logan trailed off, unable to process what he had witnessed.

  “Exploded,” Elise finished for him, her lips still trembling.

  “Yeah…exploded.” He felt the word on his tongue like a taste you could not place.

  Corbin shook his head, denying the absurdity of such a claim. “Logan, this is important, stay focused. What did Morgana say before she died?” He grabbed Logan’s shoulders and forced him to look him in the eyes. Even though Logan had been drifting back into that dazed stupor, he shrugged Corbin off, scowling.

  “She didn’t die. She was murdered by that disgusting creature,” Logan said, bracing himself against his brother so he could rise with a grunt. “Morgana told me I have to get to the capitol and warn them rig
ht away.”

  Corbin tilted his head, searching for something.

  “Really? You think I would make that up just to go to the city at a time like this?” Logan snarled, rolling his eyes at his brother’s silent accusation. He waved his free hand toward the villagers, who were running around, trying to find their loved ones amidst the screaming and groaning.

  Corbin thought little of his brother’s willingness to do his part, but even Logan could not be so callous that he would ignore their people in this moment of need. “No,” he admitted.

  “If this is true, you will both need to leave at once,” Elise said.

  Some of the villagers were supporting Gunter and heading for the trio. Corbin ran out to meet them, offering his assistance.

  “Elise, what do you want us to do?” one of the men named Rygor asked, bent under Gunter’s ample weight. Her father was out of it, blood flowing freely from a head wound and staining his beard red.

  “Oh, Pa.” She stroked his cheek, cupping a hand over her mouth. Logan feared she might pass out and he would scarcely blame her, seeing her father’s wound. He reached out to support Rygor, as did Corbin.

  “Madame Elise…please,” Rygor urged, “we need to know what you want us to do.”

  That was when it hit the three of them. Logan gazed at his childhood friend, with her soot-covered curls and pale cheeks, and watched as the expression on her face changed. She too was accepting this new reality. For all her life, Elder Morgana had been grooming Elise for this day that she never truly expected to come, the day she would become the village elder.

  Elise pulled herself together, mustering up enough bravery to face her village’s hour of need, and began reciting all of Corbin’s ideas to Rygor and the other villagers nearby, who eagerly gobbled it up and began to assist. She left the brothers, moving through the crowd and shouting orders the way she knew Elder Morgana would have done if she were still with them. Within a short time, the village was returning to some semblance of order, the people all organized into tasks and duties to help their loved ones.

  Corbin moved to assist his fiancée but she turned, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “No, my love, you must get to Fal and warn the high council of the impending attack.”

  “But…there must be someone else who can go. My place is here by your side, helping our people,” Corbin said.

  Elise shook her head slowly. “There is no one else; you and Logan are the fastest runners in Riverbell. You want to help me? Then please do this for me… no, not just that, do this for the people of New Fal,” she said, appealing to his sense of honor. She could see in his expression that Corbin had given in and pulled her fiancé down to kiss him on the forehead.

  Logan pulled Corbin back by the shoulder after he and Elise broke their embrace. “We have to get on the road right away; there is no time to lose,” he insisted, agreeing with Elise.

  Corbin looked at a loss for words, feebly trying to counter the idea. “But you’re too weak from the blast; you should stay here and recover.”

  Logan brushed off the notion, firmly shaking his head and looking Corbin straight in the eye. “Oh no, you don’t, I’m fine. It’s just a little bump to the head.”

  Without waiting for Corbin to follow, he turned to run toward their cabin for a quick scavenge of supplies.