by Ember Lane
Glenwyth tripped and crashed down on her back. The troll raised its arm and closed its hand into an almighty fist. The elf screamed, scrambling back on her elbows as the troll’s fist fell. I jumped forward, slicing my sword up at the falling arm. They clashed, the force of the troll’s arm making my own judder, but my sword held true, slicing its hand clean off, and leaving a bloodied stump gushing. The great fist crashed to the dead forest’s floor, Glenwyth rolling and avoiding it by fractions.
Star took a troll boot in the stomach, sending her flying backward, and Sedge took a clout on the side of his head that near took his head clean off. Mezzerain pushed me out of the way as the troll turned on me. The big man faced it with his sword high in the air. He shouted at me, “Just concentrate on the healing.” He yelled his war cry and burst straight for the troll.
I cast Group Heal, spreading it across the four of them, and I watched from the edge of the fray as they all attacked together. Mezzerain planted his great sword in the troll’s belly. Star hamstrung the beast, and it fell to its knees, screaming a hideous wail. Sedge was on it in a flash, driving his bronze sword into its neck. Mezzerain pulled his sword out of the beast’s belly and shifted to one side, letting it fall forward—face first into the mud. A whimper, and it was gone.
Congratulations! You have defeated Ethelred the Troll. Trolls are the bane of the not-so-civilized mountains. You are awarded 2000/5 XP.
“Did nobody think to bring a bow?” Sedge asked.
Star pulled out her sack. “I’ve got one in here somewhere. I don’t use it because I’m better close-up and personal.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Sedge muttered, and Star gave him a sly wink.
“Mine’s in my sack as well,” Glenwyth said. “I stowed it when we got to White Water, and this fight just erupted. Had you told us…”
I glowered at Sedge. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us?”
“Did you see the look on your faces when I told you where I died? Would you have believed me?”
“Not everyone here respawns,” Mezzerain growled. His voice was packed with threat. “Anything else you’re not telling us?”
“There’s nothing else I know. Never got farther than that tree.” He pointed to a stump that looked like a hunched-over witch. “It was one of my more successful attempts to get past the troll. I ran for it.”
Mezzerain plunged the tip of his sword into the dead ground and sunk to his haunches, his hands resting on the sword’s pommel. We all gathered around.
“So,” he said, his voice laced with a dark tone. “This is either an illusion, or the green valley was. Which is it?”
Well, that scrambled my head.
“This is no illusion,” Glenwyth said. “I can feel the trees screaming in pain.”
“Why does it matter?” Sedge asked.
“Simple,” Star chirped, her mood seemingly unaffected by what had just happened and the dire surroundings. “If this is the illusion, then the troll may well respawn; if its real, he won’t. So, are you sure it’s real, Glenwyth?”
“Sure.”
“In that case,” Mezzerain said, “we have some time. How long, who can tell? Alexa, these spells you keep casting could prove invaluable, but they are weak at the moment. If everyone else agrees, Alexa should try and stay back from any fight and cast her healing spells—level them up. It could save our lives in the long run.”
“But I—”
Mezzerain raised his hand to stay my words.
“No protests. This is about saving me, Glenwyth, and Star, not keeping you out of harm’s way. I have no doubt in my mind further tests will materialize along this valley. If we get any spare time, Star will try and up your stealth. If we don’t, we’ll have to trust chance and hope any threat doesn’t go for you.”
Star nodded and moved closer to me as if she had just been appointed my bodyguard. Mezzerain’s eyes fell on Sedge. “You—while you can respawn, we need you fighting by our side, so fight hard but with caution—you’re no good to us lying on the ground.”
“Sounds good to me. It is something I try and avoid.”
Mezzerain stared at him for a moment, then appeared to accept his words. “Whatever we encounter, I’ll lead. Star breaks from Alexa and takes one of my flanks. Sedge, you take the other. Both Alexa and Glenwyth are behind us in our pocket. While they can, they use their bows, and as soon as things break down, Alexa heals; Glenwyth protects her.” He grunted and looked along each one of us. “Sound good?”
No one argued.
“We need to practice?”
“Seems straightforward,” Star said, and tossed her bow to me, a quiver of arrows a moment later.
“Just wishing I’d chosen magic,” Sedge muttered.
Glenwyth nodded and reached in her sack. A quiver full of arrows appeared in her hand and she shouldered them. “I’m ready.”
“Good,” Mezzerain said. “My health’s recovered. Anyone need more time?”
“All good,” I said, and gulped. I've effectively been put in charge of keeping them all alive, all because an old shaman muttered in my ear all night. It wasn’t like I had the pick of a load of spells.
Mezzerain sprang up. “Then let’s round up our horses and get on with it.”
He marched past me, and his body vanished but then reappeared, leading his nervous mount forward. I walked toward the edge of the illusion. One minute I was in the charcoal black of the desolate valley, the next I was surrounded by the false lush green of the spell. Taking my horse by its reins, I patted its withers and stroked its crest, coaxing him through the illusion’s veil and in among the black, twisted trees, the retched soil and the drab steel sky. I took a breath and fell into file behind Star, mimicking her footsteps—the silent way she moved.
Black ground, blackened trees, craggy rocks, eerie, its heavy silence was all around. The squawk of a raven screamed out and then crawled through my mind. We trudged up. Glenwyth’s horse whinnied, resisting her gentle tug. The elf took a moment, soothing it, calming it. With each footstep, the fear in my heart grew. No one spoke.
I saw a glint of emerald light up ahead, just a flash and then it was gone. Mezzerain stopped. The raven called again. Another glint of emerald, and a man appeared a little way off. He was wearing a dark brown hat, a brown-checked shirt, and heavy-threaded pants. He ran toward us. Another figure appeared, a boy, and the man shouted “Tunpeg.”
Mist began to curl up from the ground around my feet. It’s fingers reaching up, trying to trap my legs. The man and the boy looked like they were floating. My head jerked around. I saw yet another emerald flash, and a young girl appeared. She was dressed solely in a nightshirt with long, black hair cascading around her shoulders. I heard her voice; she was singing a song—a lullaby or some such sweet tune.
But then I saw Mezzerain draw his sword and slap his horse’s rump. Star and Sedge did the same; my own mount reared, whinnied, and then clawed at the now fetid air. The girl screamed, her jaw opening, becoming impossibly wide, and she burst forward, morphing into some god-awful banshee. Star turned to face it. Glenwyth managed to loose a single arrow, but I was caught gawking.
Star screamed out her war cry as she clashed with the rabid banshee. It had no sword, no weapon of any kind, but swirled around Star like the mists themselves. Vast, taloned fingers ripped out from its skeletal, gray body, slashing at her. The man had turned too, and Mezzerain was tangling with him—and tangling it was. The thing spun around him like a horror-filled twister of claws and jagged fangs. Sedge fought the boy, though no longer the boy he was, and in the center of this mayhem, Glenwyth stood helpless—just like me.
Star screamed as a talon ripped through her, and that brought me back to my senses. I called for my mana and my new healing spells, both coming easily now—second nature. Sending Stitch and Stem her way, I mustered my will and cast Group Heal hot on its heels. My gaze lingered for moments, but switched to Sedge the minute I saw Star’s health steady.
Sedge was on
the ground, his sword beside him. The banshee-boy was on top of him, clawing, biting, but at least out of its tornado-like state. Sedge was scrambling back, fending the thing off as it lunged, open-mouthed, for his neck. Glenwyth was on it in an instant, seeing an opening she struck with her sword, a sweeping stroke that lodged in the thing’s chest. She drew the blade across it, and a black foulness gushed out over Sedge. I quickly cast Stitch and Stem over both of them and turned toward Mezerrain.
The big man was turning away from his foe, the man-banshee dead on the ground, split in two. Blood ran from a bite on Mezzerain’s neck, but he shook his head at me and then bounded toward Star. He screamed at her to duck, but Star was tangled in the banshee’s wispy form, the girl’s head darting and ducking, swirling around her. Then I saw Glenwyth sprint away from Sedge, diving at Star. With a sickening crunch, she collided with her, tackling her to the ground. Mezzerain’s sword swiped around in an arc, decapitating the beast. The last of their screams died in that banshee’s throat.
I’d hardly done a thing.
“Better,” said Mezzerain, wiping his bloodied brow.
Congratulations! You have defeated the rabid descendants of Grandma Lumin and freed them from their torment. You are awarded 3000/5 XP.
I shrugged. Free XP, but was actually guilt-ridden by it all. We moved across the valley a few dozen yards and all sat in a circle.
“That’s the last we’ll see of the horses,” Star said, and then winked at Glenwyth and thanked her for the help. “She was a mad ’un,” Star muttered just after. “A mad ’un all right.”
“I’m not doing a great deal,” I said, searching out the judgment in everyone’s eyes.
“Alexa,” said Sedge. “I’ve been a healer before. It’s harder to stay and concentrate than anything else.
It was then I remembered my potion belt, and I took it out of my sack and clipped it diagonally across my chest. “Health in a tube,” I said, now beaming. I could be more use now. “Can’t I fight a tiny bit?” I asked.
“If you’re fighting, then the battle is lost. Stick to the plans, and we might get through this. You can have the next bar brawl.” Mezzerain pushed himself up.
We ventured on. The wide valley hardly changed as we made ground. It was like walking through a forest after a fire had swept through it. The remnants of the trees thinned and then thickened. The stream veered toward us then turned away. Little changes were all we saw; little changes to relieve us from the monotony. Looking upward, I saw the valley doglegged to the right, but could see no farther, and I wondered what doom awaited us beyond it. Mezzerain made his way over to the stream; he bent and tested its water.
“Let’s rest here and eat. I get the feeling we’ll be tested soon.” His gaze strayed toward the bend.
“Tunpeg,” I muttered. “I’ve heard that name before. Wasn’t he a farmer or something?”
“The hag in the tavern said he came down from this valley to trade,” Glenwyth said.
“Aye,” said Sedge. “Those three were probably Grandma Lumin’s family. Heard they was a vicious mob—in life as well as death, it seems.”
“What are you thinking, Star?”
“I’m thinking this is a blight, a crawling magic that afflicts the very soil. I’m thinking this thief has uncovered something sinister.”
I made to say something, to tell them that The Thief was remaking The Prism of Light, but I only had the gnome’s word for that, and this looked much more like a thief’s work. I wondered why the gnome had concocted his fantastical tale.
18
The Family Pet
We stopped and stared up at the valley beyond the dogleg. The river flowed silvery-blue with white crests that swept over weathered, black slates, dove down craggy waterfalls, and barged their way through tumbled boulders. It broke the black barren land in two, but did nothing to lift the mood of the place, or us, for that matter.
It was a seared world of rolling hillocks, stands of ghostly trees, and scatterings of burnished bushes like countless antlers clawing up at the sky pleading for forgiveness, beseeching some god to restore their former glory. The dire land sapped at our will and sucked the life from our legs. We kept our words to ourselves—just grunting, sighing and secretly praying that we could get through with no other confrontation.
Mezzerain led the way; it was daunting just walking in his shadow. Now I’d seen the big man in action, I had nothing but respect for him. He was a warrior to his core: powerful, majestic, and his swordplay was an impossible ballet of finesse and brute force mashed together in a seamless dance of death. He’d needed no help to dispatch his banshee, had just riven the thing in two, and carried on to the next.
Like before, a glint of emerald signaled the valley’s intent to test us again, but this time it was different. Its blink changed to a stare and then another appeared. Two oval, shimmering, emerald eyes stared at us. If there was a body accompanying them, I could not see it at first, but then as we neared, black curves looked out of place—too rounded for the sharp vale.
A flash of pink confused the scene, pink trapped by huge white fangs, and a beast rose up from the blackened earth. I thought a cat at first, then a panther, but then I knew it was no creature I had set eyes on before. Cat-like, certainly, but standing ten feet tall, it’s tail whipping in the air. It hissed at us, washing us in its rancid breath, and we each glanced at one another, rallying our reserves, maxing our courage.
I unslung my bow. Glenwyth took up hers. Nocking my arrow, I imbued it with Tungsten Tips, drew my string back and waited while the beast walked lazily toward us. I noticed Glenwyth’s arrow was flaming mauve and wondered what magic infused hers. We loosed as one, not waiting to see if our arrows hit home, but nocking, imbuing and loosing again. The huge cat reared, horrific claws springing out of its furry paws. They flashed silver like deadly curved sabers. The cat sprang forward.
“Keep firing!” Mezzerain screamed, his sword in the air, his legs pumping as he burst forward.
Bakeneko Cat. Name: Sir Ratter. Level = 16. Status = Hostile
We nocked, we fired, retreating as we went, Glenwyth at my side. I changed my spell from Tungsten Tips to Straight Shot as Mezzerain’s vast torso narrowed my target. Glenwyth’s flaming arrows changed from mauve to red.
Mezzerain danced to avoid the cat’s swiping paws, to avoid the slice of its claws. He skipped, he rolled, he stabbed, and he sliced. For a moment, I thought it would be over in seconds. Star had flanked one side, Sedge the other; both were attacking the beast but having trouble getting close enough. I ignored my alerts but they came one then the next.
Damage! You struck Bakeneko for 65 damage. Bakeneko has 586/740 Health remaining.
Ten, fifteen more arrows and we were home free, and that was without the others. Or so I thought. The cat suddenly shimmered and blurred as if its movement had suddenly stilled but then quickened, stilled, and then quickened. Then three more of the creatures appeared. Smaller, like kittens in comparison, they dropped from the thing’s body and each lunged for an attacker. Mezzerain went down, the miniature Bakeneko attached to his throat. Star backed away as hers sprang, its vicious claws just a blur of death. Sedge caught his with a lucky strike, skewering it on his bronze sword. I heard him yell in victory. I saw him pump the air. Then I saw the huge cat leap for me.
It came at me like a bullet. Glenwyth rolled to one side to avoid it. I loosed my last arrow and threw the bow aside, sweeping my sword from its sheath. The Bakeneko landed right in front of me, globs of spittle spraying from its fangs as it hissed and spat at me. I sliced at its outstretched paw, but it just rolled to one side and sprang up onto all fours. The fur on its mane stood tall, it’s back arched, and it circled me. Without a hint that it was going to strike, its head lurched for me, its mouth wide, and before I could reach, it clamped its jaw on my upper leg.
I screamed in pain, the blood instantly pumping, and the beast jerked its neck to try and topple me. I swung blindly with my sword, the pain in my
leg consuming all my thoughts. I blinked fast, and brought everything back into focus, instinctively smashing the pommel of my sword on the side of the cat’s mouth. It howled and let go of me, and I saw Sedge clinging to its back driving his bronze sword into the beast.
Damage! You have received 150 Damage. You have 400/550 Health left.
I staggered away, my back smashing into a twisted, black tree. Casting Stitch and Stem on myself, I saw my blood thicken, but my health dropped by another 50 as it still pulsed out. I ripped one of the health tubes out of my belt, drank it and then jumped back into the fray, screaming at the top of my voice.
Lost in the fury of hurt, I slashed and sliced my sword at the beast. It hit home time and again. I felt its blood on my face. I heard its howls as the ancient sword drove vast rents into the beast’s skin. I saw its open mouth and cleaved down at its tongue, my blade scattering its fangs in its wake. But I wasn’t done yet, driven by some kind of red mist, I plunged my sword into the beast time and again. It reared, and then it fell. A billow of dire breath encompassing me. I struck on, wanting to end every last morsel of the thing’s evil, until I felt hands grasping at me, pulling me away. I rounded on my new attackers, screaming defiance in their faces, raising my sword to strike down death upon them.
Glenwyth looked up at me, screaming: “It’s over…it’s over,” and I fell to my knees.
Danger! Your health is low. You have 150/550 health. Your health can rejuvenate but resting, eating or drinking one of those potions on your belt!
