“I was going to say, this is quite an impressive place,” Becca chuckled, looking around and noticing the poorly constructed floorboards were coated in dirt, and the roof had small gaps that let in the moonlight.
“I should be going, Chieftain,” Cora quickly suggested, wanting to leave the family alone. “Goodnight, Becca.”
“Yes, get some rest, Cora. We shall discuss more tomorrow,” Chieftain Yarmot replied, waving weakly at his advisor.
“Goodnight, Cora,” Becca added.
Becca didn’t speak again until Cora left, not wanting to accidentally spark a new argument with her news. She knew it would be difficult to convince her uncle that she had to follow the Seer, and Cora would likely be even less enthused with the idea.
Given the fact her father had disappeared at sea when she was young, and her mother had passed from sickness only a couple years later, Becca had been raised primarily by her uncle, who had already become the chieftain by that time. Cora had also already been an advisor, and often helped take care of Becca when he was too busy with his duties.
“So, what brings my favorite niece to me tonight?” Chieftain Yarmot asked, his mind still partially occupied with his previous conversation.
“Seer Mordou wants me and some of the others to follow him east tomorrow morning. He thinks we can find … a weapon or some magic to aid us in battle,” Becca explained, finding it hard to summarize something she didn’t even fully understand yet.
Chieftain Yarmot’s eyes went wide upon hearing the news, instantly torn away from his other thoughts. He tried to speak a couple times, raising his finger as if to object. However, each time he stopped himself, remembering that Becca was old enough and smart enough to make her own decisions. Finally, he found the words he sought.
“Becca … there is much I do not understand right now, though I am continually convinced by overwhelming evidence to trust those fellow clans that we stand with. However, the risks of traveling that way with a small group are obvious. What does the Seer hope to find? Why does he need you?” Chieftain Yarmot slowly questioned.
“Well, from what I understand, it’s more the fact he has foreseen it that makes it important. When he sees this path using his magic, it means we must follow it if we hope to win. He saw me, Anna Myhre, the former Highrock Prince, Garon, the Forud Champion Goreth, his apprentice, and himself all standing at a strange place to the far east, just beyond the Cursed Lands. It is there we will find some sort of magic that can help us,” Becca explained slowly.
“I see … So, if the Seer is to lead us to victory, we must follow the path he sees. I don’t quite understand it fully, but there is much about all of this I do not understand. Let me ask you this final question, then. Is your gut telling you to go?” Chieftain Yarmot asked.
“It is. Something in me tells me that I need to go,” Becca replied.
Chieftain Yarmot simply nodded, the smallest of smiles appearing on his face as he looked at the ground. He appeared almost sad, which confused Becca. It took a moment, but he finally looked back up at her, a small tear in his eye.
“When the voice within you calls out, you must listen. Your father ignored that voice the day he disappeared out to sea. I remember him being torn, his gut telling him to stay behind and his sense of duty telling him to go out on the fishing boat with his men. I didn’t weigh in at the time, wanting the decision to be his own. So, I will tell you now what I should have told him then … trust in yourself, Becca. Trust your inner-voice and go with Seer Mordou. I believe in you,” Chieftain Yarmot explained, trying hard to keep his emotions in check.
Becca teared up at her uncle’s words, barely able to remember her father. She quickly wiped away the tears and ran forward to hug her only living family. She couldn’t ask for a better uncle, or a better chieftain.
“Thank you,” Becca quietly said as they let go.
“No, thank you. You’ve always done more than your share for this Clan, Becca. I know we’re different than the others, not having the same warriors, the same fighting culture …We haven’t had a Linta Clan Champion for well over a hundred years, perhaps longer. I cannot even remember the name of the last champion. Perhaps it’s time we change that,” Chieftain Yarmot began, pride in his eyes.
“What do you mean?” Becca slowly asked, wiping away a final tear.
Chieftain Yarmot turned toward his chair, searching for something. As he looked around, he muttered to himself, unable to find what he was looking for. Finally, he took the empty chalice from where he had been sitting and turned back toward his niece.
“You’ll have to excuse my lack of formality here, but I seemed to have misplaced my sword. Anyway, this will do,” Chieftain Yarmot chuckled, holding the wine encrusted chalice high before him. “Becca Yarmot, I, Chieftain of the Linta Clan, hereby dub thee the Champion of the Linta Clan.”
Becca couldn’t help but smile as he slowly tapped each of her shoulders with the chalice, chuckling at his actions as an uncle, but also feeling extremely honored by his declaration as a chieftain. She couldn’t have expected such a response, but felt more confident than ever before.
“Thank you, Chieftain. You honor me greatly,” Becca replied formally.
“And you honor not only this clan, but our family. Your parents would be so proud … I have kept you long enough. Now go, Champion Becca Yarmot, and succeed in your quest, and get some rest before tomorrow.”
“I will not fail you, or the Linta Clan. Thank you, Uncle, for everything,” Becca replied, filled with emotion.
She could feel more tears coming from various emotion and didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of her uncle. She turned, walking toward the door and leaving her uncle behind. As she opened the door and began to walk through, she turned to see him sitting back in his chair, raising the chalice toward her with a large grin on his face. She smiled back and closed the door behind her, seeing her uncle for what may be the final time.
Chapter 19
Chief King Mace stood in absolute darkness, only red eyes visible in the distance. Had he not been full of such vengeance and hatred, he would surely be fearful of where he was. However, his clan needed him to be strong, and he had found someone who could make them all strong.
Having heard whispering, he had called out loudly to speak with their leader. Now he waited, glancing back over his shoulder at the sunlight far in the distance. He took another step forward on the fleshy surface, calling out once more.
“I am Chief King Mace of the Highrock Clan! I know you’re out there! I can see your eyes! I can hear your whispers! I want to discuss an alliance!” Chief King Mace yelled, still filled with enough righteousness to override his sense of fear.
He watched as a set of red eyes neared him in the darkness. As they came closer, he rested his hand on the axe he now kept in lieu of his mace. He watched as the humanoid figure approached him, now wishing he had brought a torch.
“Reveal yourself!” Chief King Mace yelled, wielding his axe.
Suddenly the pitch-black forest erupted in a deep red and green color. The flesh-coated trees glowed through the artificial darkness that had been created around them. Chief King Mace froze, stunned by the unnatural and disturbing sight, though he quickly realized the man standing before him wore Narsho armor and colors.
“Narsho! What are you doing here?” Chief King Mace yelled, wanting to strike down the strange looking man with his axe.
The man chuckled, slowly moving his hand down his smooth purplish, veiny cheeks and then through his golden blond hair. He took a step closer, smiling with sharp teeth and staring into the eyes of the chief king.
Chief King Mace froze, stunned with the man’s appearance. Through the red eyes he thought he could see the smallest hints of blue. It was apparent this was no real Narsho man, at least not anymore.
“Chief King Mace,” the man spoke.
As the Horror-infused man spoke, a deeper, darker voice echoed throughout all the forest around them like a sinister ec
ho. Chief King Mace felt his blood run cold but stood strong and eyed down the strange man.
“Yes. Are you the leader?” Chief King Mace asked, easing his grip on the axe slightly.
As the man laughed, so did the entire forest. The dark, disturbing cackles cut through the chief king like the sharpest of blades. He felt terrified, but still sought an audience with the enemy the Narsho feared so much.
“I am. I am everything you see here. Every human, every beast, every tree; they are all mine,” the voice boomed.
Chief King Mace looked to see dozens of beasts emerging from behind the trees, with a few more sickly humans following.
“Who … What are you?” Chief King Mace asked, his voice lowering slightly.
“I have had many names from many tongues, but I prefer my birth name, Xerannu. It is a pleasure to meet you, Chief King Mace,” the voices boomed as the man standing before the chief king extended his arm.
The chieftain begrudgingly shook the man’s incredibly warm, unnerving hand. He quickly wiped his hand on his clothing afterward, a warm slime stuck to it. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he could tell whoever this being was, it had power, power that he wanted.
“Xerannu … I seek an alliance. The Narsho clan, they are our ancestral enemies. Together my clan of warriors and your … creatures, can defeat them,” Chief King Mace offered.
“You think I need an alliance?” Xerannu’s many voices boomed as the man in front of him laughed.
The red and green glow from the trees vibrated as the entire forest erupted in sickly, chaotic laughter. The mocking tone made the chief king angry, but he knew he needed the being’s assistance.
“No, I need an alliance. Perhaps if you help us achieve victory, I can help you,” Chief King Mace spoke over the laughter.
The laughter stopped, and the man in front of him curiously scratched his chin. A sharp, toothy smile warped over the man’s visage as he began working out details in his head.
“Chief King, I hear your plea. If you accept my gift, I can make both you and your people stronger than you could ever be on your own. In return, all I ask is for you to aid me in the great battle I shall someday face,” Xerannu spoke, completely stable and without any tone.
“Your gift? What do you mean?” Chief King Mace asked suspiciously.
“Do you want to defeat the Narsho or not, chief king? My gift will make the Highrock Clan the strongest clan of humans this world has ever seen. All you have to do is accept it,” Xerannu explained with a strangely delighted tone.
“I do want to defeat them. I accept your gift, Xerannu, and so do my people,” Chief King Mace proudly said, standing straight and staring into the red eyes of the man before him.
“Just as I predicted,” Xerannu said shortly. “Now kneel.”
Chief King Mace slowly knelt on the fleshy surface, hating to kneel before anyone. He felt the urge to vomit at the nasty sensation, his bony knee pressing deep within the purplish black floor of the forest. He stared up toward the man controlled by Xerannu and waited for the supposed gift.
“It may be more effective when the host is still living, but not quite as enjoyable,” Xerannu said quietly as the entire forest silenced.
Suddenly, the man lurched forward and tackled Chief King Mace into the fleshy ground. Before the old man could act, a hideous fleshy tube shot out from the man’s mouth into his own. Chief King Mace could feel it latching onto the back of his throat, and he tried to cry out in terror, but he couldn’t speak as his mouth was pumped full of foul ichor.
“Calm yourself, Chief King. This will give you the power you seek,” Xerannu’s voices chuckled from the forest.
The glowing red trees began to dim, and Chief King Mace felt his own strength fading fast. In that brief moment, all he could feel was a combination of regret and terror. As the man pressed his body onto the chief king, Xerannu laughed.
“Now you can give all your people my gift, and you will do so as soon as you return!” Xerannu commanded. “Just as I planned!”
Chief King Mace’s eyes teared up as he thought of his ancestors. They would be disgusted by him, even disturbed. Where was his honor, his pride? He was going to die here and fail his ancestors. He closed his eyes, feeling the world fading around him.
In his very last moments of sickening reflection, he thought of Garon; he had failed his son, had failed him ever since he was a child. He pictured Garon’s face, trying to cry out as he slowly suffocated. The last words the chief king tried to speak were, “I am so sorry, my son.”
Chapter 20
Garon winced as a gush of hot, tarry blood splattered his face. He quickly wiped it off with the back of his hand as he stepped back from his foe. He stared at the gurgling Horror, its malformed head barely hanging by threads of putrid flesh. As it fell, Garon took the smallest moment to savor his brief victory before looking to the next target.
Even with the magic of Seer Mordou and Valon, the fight against the Horrors was taking everything they had. Garon looked over at the two mages, who were now looking fatigued as they assaulted their foes with deadly magic. Sharp streaks of blue and an accompanying crackling sound blasted through Horror after Horror, but their numbers were too high, though they appeared to be holding their own, Garon realized.
“They never end!” Goreth yelled over as he bashed a Horror with his heavy shield.
“Keep fighting! We have no other choice now!” Anna replied, her skill with dual wielding looking sharp.
Garon looked back to a shambling Horror closing on him, practically foaming at the mouth. This particular one had three arms, two being on the same side, all of which had bladelike claws emerging from the end. It hissed at Garon as it swung at him.
Garon prepared to attack, not afraid of his enemy. The Horrors may have been designed to fight, but they all had a flaw of some sort that could be exploited. Some of them were slow, others were clumsy, and a few were just weak. Plus, fortunately none of them seemed too smart. So far, none had used any weapons beyond their body either. He figured their strength lay in their great numbers.
“Garon! Behind you!” Becca yelled as she released an arrow toward her target.
Garon turned to see a smaller Horror running on all fours at him. He had to fully dive on the ground just to avoid it, tumbling over a corpse of a recently slain monster. He quickly stood just in time to parry the sharp claw of his foe.
The Horror hissed again, flailing all three of its arms at the former prince. Garon parried a few of the blows before finding an opening and cutting all three of the being’s arms off in quick succession. More tarry, black blood burst out, and the beast roared in pain. Knowing that wouldn’t finish it off, Garon quickly decapitated this foe as well, sending it toppling over into the rocky ground.
Just as that one fell, the smaller one jumped at him again. This time, Garon was not quick enough, and was knocked on his back on the rocky ground. He couldn’t help but let out a brief cry of pain, and gasped as the air was knocked out of him.
The Horror jumped on his chest and brought its head close, howling at him. Garon tried to grab for his swords, but they had both landed just out of reach. As the beast tried to pin Garon’s arms, it lunged its head towards the former prince’s neck.
Garon managed to break his arms free and stop the beast from tearing into his neck. He barely held back the ravenous beast, rancid saliva spraying on his face. Gritting his teeth, Garon tried to push his foe off, but was failing. The beast’s head was closing towards his exposed neck.
Suddenly, a crackling bolt of blue energy struck the beast’s head and sent it flying off Garon’s sore body. Hitting so close to his face, the magic had assaulted Garon’s own senses, causing his vision to go white before readjusting, and he could smell a something vile from the impact.
He stumbled to his feet, seeing it had been Valon who had saved him. The two made eye contact and nodded, knowing their fight was not over yet. There were still more Horrors, but Garon noticed their
numbers were thinning.
“They’re almost defeated! Keep fighting!” Garon yelled.
As he looked to each of his companions, Garon noticed Anna’s skill with two swords was improving greatly. He smiled slightly, finding her form alluring, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted by a more primal looking Horror that ran at him, growling madly.
The group fought with all their might and finally found themselves victorious. The last of the attackers fell to the bow of Becca Yarmot, who gracefully struck the gnarled head of a Horror dead center. As the final foe fell to the ground, they all stood in silence, waiting to see if any more would run out from the nearby treeline. Fortunately, none did.
“We’ve strayed too close to the corrupted forest,” Anna said over tired breath.
“I believe you are correct. Come, we should traverse farther away before we rest,” Seer Mordou agreed, looking so fatigued that even his glowing blue eye seemed less intense.
They continued their journey, keeping just out of sight of the newly infected forest at all times. Tired from the unforeseen fight, no one spoke and simply continued to walk where the Seer led them.
Garon trusted the Seer but wondered if the man knew where he was leading them. They were deep in the Cursed Lands now, far deeper than he figured anyone had been in a long time. In fact, the landscape itself showed no signs of human interaction. Besides the ever-growing corrupted forest, the rest of the trees, boulders, and other resources were untouched. The grass was long, the peaceful wildlife abundant, and they constantly had to create their own path through the overgrowing flora.
They had been traveling for days now, and that had been the second fight with Horrors they had encountered. The first had only been against a few of the creatures, but this time they had slain easily two dozen, if not more.
Garon had also noticed the Horror-afflicted forest grew in an equal circle. Having kept track of their path against the stars at night, it seemed the forest was growing quickly. No doubt, the epicenter of the horrible place was what Anna had seen. The worst part was Anna claimed the corrupted forest had grown immensely in diameter since the last time she had been to the Cursed Lands not long ago. It was obvious this wasn’t a problem they could ignore, as with each creeping moment the corruption of the Horrors engulfed more and more of their world.
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