Bringers of Doom

by Blake Arthur Peel

  The clawing abruptly stops as the woodsmen close in, and I glance up just in time to see them raise their weapons to attack. One of them blocks the gorgon’s sword with an axe while the others begin to stab and chop, piercing and slicing it from many different angles.

  One of the men gets in a lucky stab, his spear sliding through the chinks in the demon's dark armor and punching deep into its chest.

  The gorgon lets out a long, grating scream as its dark blood spills onto the ground. Then it falls to its knees, its movements growing sluggish as the men continue to stab.

  Eventually it falls face-first into the dirt, body going stiff.

  The hunters cheer, and I shakily push myself off of the bleeding demon’s corpse, grateful that none of their attacks had managed to pierce me as well.

  “Quick thinking there, ranger!” One of the older hunters slaps me on the back.

  I give him a weary grin. “All in a day’s work,” I reply, reaching down and trying to remove my hatchet from the thing’s back. It takes three tries, but eventually the weapon comes free with a sickening crunch, spraying dark blood everywhere.

  “These bastards are hard to kill,” another one of the hunters states, wiping sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand. “If you hadn’t shot him with that arrow, I think he would have kept running for hours!”

  I nod, bending down to wipe my hatchet off on some ferns. “I think that was the last of them,” I reply solemnly.

  Once it is clean, I slide it into my belt loop and take a step back, regarding the dead gorgon with my hands on my hips. “Let’s get him wrapped up and head back to camp. The others are no doubt wondering what’s taken us so long.”

  The woodsmen all mumble their agreement and one of them produces a coarse linen blanket and some ropes from his pack. Together we roll the demon up in the blanket and bind its corpse with the ropes. When the grisly task is complete, we begin our trek back to our encampment, each of us taking turns dragging the thing behind us. The body is heavy, but we manage it well enough on the relatively even surface of the forest floor.

  Slinging my bow over my shoulder, I contemplate the recent events as I watch the midafternoon sun filter through the trees.

  It has been nearly two weeks since the demon Moloch and his horde was defeated, a conflict that the locals have been calling the Battle of Forest Hill. Since that fateful night there has been precious little rest to be had. After the dead were buried, the townsfolk had begun to rebuild, reassembling their homes and their livelihoods in preparation for the coming winter. They mourned the fallen, to be sure, but the people of the Emberwood are a hardy bunch. They understand that the casualties could have been much worse.

  Instead of assisting with the rebuilding efforts, Elias and I have focused on what we do best: tracking down the demons that have fled into the woods, and then finishing them off. It is a grisly task, but one that is extremely important. We are not craftsmen or builders. We are rangers.

  And it seems that now, finally, our task is complete.

  Time passes quickly as we laboriously haul the dead gorgon back to camp. It isn’t long before we enter the clearing and are greeted by familiar faces and the scent of stew cooking on an open fire.

  We deposit the corpse on a pile of similarly wrapped bundles and then disperse into the maze of tents, mingling with the dozen or so other woodsmen and hunters. Nobody has been killed, and so everyone appears to be in good spirits.

  Well, I think to myself, almost everyone.

  I find Elias in the center of camp, leaning over a table where a map of the forest has been stretched out, held down by a couple of rocks. He looks up as I approach, his face a stoic mask that reveals nothing as to what he is feeling inside.

  “You’re back,” he states gruffly, as if he expected nothing less after sending me off to hunt a bloodthirsty demon. “Were you successful?”

  I nod my head. “Yes,” I reply simply, stepping up to him and unslinging my bow. I lean it against the table and begin rubbing my shoulder, looking down at the map. “We slew the gorgon and suffered no casualties. One man was wounded, but it wasn't serious. He should recover fine.”

  Elias grunts, then reaches forward and points to a spot on the map. "I have teams out searching here and here," he says, furrowing his brow as he examines the depiction of the Emberwood. "They are combing the woods looking for any more signs of demons, but I think that we are clear. Most, if not all of them, are now dead."

  "That's good," I reply, unable to suppress my smile. "Does that mean that we can go back to Forest Hill?"

  He looks up at me with a stern gaze, one of his eyebrows arching up. "Are you so eager to be done with our task here?"

  I shrug. "I'm just looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed," I reply, feigning nonchalance. Sometimes it seems like my master can see right through me.

  He grunts again, looking back down at the map and leaning over the table. "For a moment I thought you wanted to abandon your duties as a ranger to spend some time with Miss Dennell." Though his expression remains neutral, I can detect a wry hint in his tone.

  I feel my cheeks starting to flush. "Are there any other parts of the Emberwood that you want to sweep for demons?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

  Elias shakes his head, and for a second it actually looks like the corner of his mouth is twitching up in a small smile. "No, I do not think so. We will station men to watch over the forest for any suspicious activity, but I believe for the most part our work here is done. A good thing, too," he adds, pulling out a folded piece of paper from his cloak and setting it down on the table. "A runner came not long ago carrying this from Forest Hill."

  "What is it?" I ask, my brow furrowing.

  "It is a summons," he explains, looking up at me with his grey eyes. "From the mages. They want to meet with us tomorrow to discuss what our next steps should be."

  "The mages," I repeat, thinking of the stuffy bunch that had come with Zara from Tarsys. "That was good timing."

  "The majority of us will break down camp and head back today before nightfall. The rest will stay behind and remain guarding this section of the forest. We should reach town by midmorning tomorrow, just in time for this meeting."

  "I'll go get things ready," I reply, picking my bow back up and turning to leave.

  Before I go, Elias calls my name. "Owyn," he says, his gravelly voice low. "Great job today. You've done your duty well."

  As always, he seems slightly uncomfortable giving me the compliment, but I take it in stride. Over my shoulder I flash him a grin. "I learn from the best, master."

  He takes the reversed compliment with characteristic stoicism, and that only makes my smile widen as I depart.

  My mind begins to wander as I begin packing up my things, pondering the events that have lead us all to this point. The last month has been extremely difficult for everyone, a trying time filled with danger and death. Mages and rangers teamed up with rebels. An invasion was discovered and defeated. It was an adventure I would have rather read in a story than lived through myself.

  But now the last of the demons are dead, and the world is back to the way it should be.

  I roll up my bedroll and strap it to my pack, my smile returning as I think about Zara. I'm just glad that the fighting is over.

  Now my life can get back to normal.

  Chapter Two

  Zara

  Source energy courses through my veins like lightning, the pulsing energy making my skin tingle and the hairs on my arm stand on end.

  I let out a long breath as I sit cross-legged on the floor. My back is perfectly straight and my eyes are squeezed shut in concentration. It is a primal force that I hold within me, the basis of all radiant magic, and if I am not careful it will completely consume me, burn me from the inside out and leave me a smoking husk.

  Relaxing my shoulders, I try not to think about that as I let it flow through me like a current of liquid fire.

  My teachers at the A
cademy taught me that channeling source energy is like using a muscle. At first a mage is weak and can only channel a small amount. However, with practice the body can adapt and grow stronger, allowing him or her to channel more.

  That is my purpose this morning. To push myself beyond my limits.

  I want to channel more energy than any other mage in the kingdom.

  Clutching my talisman in my hand, I pull more of the power into my body, internalizing it and attempting to control it. It feels like a mental wrestling match, one that requires intense concentration to avoid disaster. I ignore my growing fatigue and continue to channel, forcing control of the flow of energy and taking in a little bit more each time I succeed.

  I crack open an eye and hold my free hand open in front of me, fingers closed together with the palm facing upward. I quietly utter the words for magefyre, “Fos lasair.”

  A blue ball of flame materializes in the air.

  I feed source energy into the magefyre the way I would feed a bonfire, the flickering azure flames growing brighter the more I put into it. As the source energy seeps out of me I am left feeling even more tired, and it isn't long before the floating ball of fire has become so large and hot that it is nearly unmanageable.

  A knock at the door causes me to look sharply to the side, the unwelcome sound almost breaking my concentration.

  "Magus Dennel?" A timid voice calls from the hall outside my room. "I have a message for you."

  Letting out another breath I release my grip on the magefyre, causing it to dissipate in a matter of seconds. Slowly, almost painfully, I release the source energy as well, the pulsing energy draining from my body and into the atmosphere around me, leaving me feeling drained and wrung-out like a wet rag.

  "You may enter," I say after a moment, my voice sounding husky from the exertion.

  The door is gently pushed open and a slight, demure girl steps through the threshold, her hands clasped politely in front of her. She wears the modest clothing of a house maid, and her black hair is pulled back into a bonnet.

  Her name is Bethany, and Governor Prior assigned her to be my personal servant.

  "Hello, Bethany," I say sweetly, pushing myself up to a standing position and smiling through my exhaustion. "We've gone over this before. I am not yet a Magus. You may simply call me Zara."

  As always, she avoids making eye contact with me, but she nods. "Apologies, Zara."

  I release the death grip on my talisman, raising it up and looping the silvery chain around my neck. "What message do you have for me?"

  "I am told that the rangers have returned from their hunt, Ma- Zara." She corrects herself, and her cheeks begin to grow red. "The other mages are gathering in the Nightingale's tent on the green for the meeting, and your presence is requested."

  Despite my tiredness I cannot keep myself from smiling. Owyn is back!

  "Thank you, Bethany," I reply, nodding my head in dismissal. "I will go there at once."

  She gives me a slight curtsey, but hesitates before departing. "Magus – I mean Zara... perhaps you would like me to fix your hair, or bring you a new outfit from the laundress?"

  Suddenly self-conscious about my appearance, I glance down at my night clothes, feeling my cheeks start to flush. Fixing her with an indignant stare, I give my reply in a cool, measured voice. "That won't be necessary, Bethany. Thank you."

  She gives me a knowing smile and then closes the door behind her, leaving me alone in my room once more.

  As soon as she is gone I race over to my nightstand and begin examining myself in the mirror. Light, I look absolutely horrendous. Loose strands of brown hair from my messy ponytail frame my face, accentuating the fact that my eyes look tired and my skin looks washed out. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on my forehead, and my loose-fitting shirt is rumpled from having slept in it the night before.

  Muttering to myself I begin hastily fixing the damage, brushing my hair and cleaning the sweat from my face. I thought they were going to be at least a few more hours, I think to myself as I work. Leave it to Elias to be back so soon after dawn. Bloody rangers.

  It takes far longer than I would like to satisfactorily style my hair, but when I am done I quickly unlace my shirt and move to find a clean set of initiate robes.

  Pulling the grey fabric around my shoulders, I mutter to myself in annoyance at how I wish they had given me more time to get ready.

  I lace up the front of the bodice when a small, wooden box on the nightstand catches my eye. On impulse I reach over and open it, pulling out a small stylus and a little black jar. Although I've never been particularly fond of using makeup, I've always carried this styling kit with me when I travel. Makeup is extremely popular among the women in Tarsys, but I've never really found much use for it.

  Dipping the stylus into the jar, I begin swiftly applying eyeliner.

  "There," I say to myself after a few minutes, stepping back and admiring myself in the mirror. "Much better." The woman standing there looks much different than that haggard initiate who had been standing there just moments before. She looks confident and strong, and even a little pretty.

  Knowing Owyn, I doubt he'll even notice.

  Sighing, I step out into the hall and close the door behind me. As usual, the governor's manor is bustling with activity. Servants rush this way and that, waiting on mages and carrying out orders from the governor's family.

  I silently berate myself as I descend the staircase, making my way to the front door. Silly girl, I think as I stop by the kitchen and pick up a chunk of crusty bread. Wasting time primping when you should be getting mentally prepared for the meeting. The very world may be at stake and you're worried about your hair? Honestly!

  I tear into the bread with my teeth as I step out into the warm, late-summer sunlight, chewing mechanically as I hastily begin making my way down the hill. Channeling so much energy can be dangerous, and I am going to need some food in my stomach if I want to avoid passing out in the middle of the meeting.

  Forest Hill has recovered remarkably well from the demon attack, considering what these people have gone through. Many of their fathers and brothers died defending their homes, and large swathes of the town had been burned during the battle. And yet, after a mere two weeks, the debris has been cleared away and the bodies buried. New buildings have begun construction and the fields that had not been trampled are being prepared for harvest in a few short weeks.

  As I walk the people I pass greet me pleasantly with warm gestures and friendly smiles.

  I wonder idly if the people of Tarsys would be able to recover as quickly or as well as the citizens of Forest Hill.

  Halfway down the hill, on a stretch of grass near the inn called 'the green', is a wide tent that has been erected by the Nightingales. After the battle many of the rebels returned to their fortress at Dagger's Point, but a few still insisted on maintaining a presence here until everything has been figured out. Even though they fought to defend Forest Hill, many regard them with distrust. Everyone seems to give the tent a wide berth as they pass by, and few seem willing to give the Nightingales any help at all, whether it be food or labor or information.

  Some prejudices are so deep that even a common enemy cannot overcome them, I think to myself as I approach the tent. Sad.

  It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom of the tent, but when they do I am chagrined to see that I am the last person to arrive. Everyone is seated around a circular table, and all look up to regard me as I enter.

  "Forgive me for the delay," I say to the group, feeling my cheeks growing red. "I had some matters to attend to this morning that could not wait."

  "No apologies necessary, Miss Dennell," Governor Prior replies with a nervous smile. "Please, have a seat and we can get started." He gestures to a chair next to Owyn and Elias, and I return his smile gratefully as I move to sit down.

  Seated around the table is the governor, a handful of high-ranking citizens, and the newly appointed captain of the local militia,
a man named Avery Kant. Barus, the surly general of the Nightingales, is also in attendance with his retinue, as well as the rangers and Evoker Roth, an austere mage who was close to Elva Tryrande.

  I feel a sharp pang in my chest as I think of the Arch-magister.

  "Better late than never, eh, Zara?" Owyn whispers with a smirk as I sit down.

  I roll my eyes at him. "Not all of us have a master to ensure that we are on time," I hiss in reply.

  This only makes his grin widen.

  Incorrigible.

  "We gather today as leaders to discuss what our next course of action should be in wake of the attack on our town," the governor begins, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing his forehead. "Ranger Keen has just informed me that the last of the demons in the Emberwood have been hunted down. Is that accurate?"

  Elias nods his head. "We still have teams out combing the forest," he growls, "but I believe Owyn and the other hunters killed the last of them yesterday."

  "Excellent," replies the governor. "It is heartening to know that our homes are once again safe from harm."

  "Safe?" Barus bellows, his gruff voice causing the governor to jump in surprise. "Your homes won't be safe until the cause of the problem has been dealt with! If those demon bastards could get through once, they can do it again."

  Several people around the table nod their heads in approval.

  "I find myself in agreement with General Barus, though it pains me to admit it." Avery Kant fixes the Nightingale with a steely expression. "We were able to beat the demons back once, but at a terrible cost. If they manage to get more of those monsters into the kingdom, I doubt we will be able to win a second time."

  More heads begin to nod, and I can hear muttering sounds of agreement as neighbors lean over to one another and begin to whisper.

  "We need a plan!" Interjects a withered old woman sitting next to the governor.