by Troy Osgood
“I seen ’em,” the boy said quietly.
All eyes turned to him. His mother’s glare moved from Hall and Dain to her son.
“Dere,” she growled, causing the boy to shrink.
“Sasha,” Jeric said, a note of command in his voice, “let the boy speak.” She glared at Jeric but relented, looking away. “Tell us what you saw,” Jeric said to Dere, his voice calm and soothing.
The boy looked from Jeric to Hall and to Dain, purposefully avoiding looking at his mother. Hall didn’t think he was older than thirteen, maybe even only eleven. Young. But he was like all boys that age, wanting to explore, heedless of the danger. Not heedless, just not thinking it could come down on them.
“I went out to the hill,” the boy started. “Curious what was there. I’d heard ’em, just like the rest.”
“Dere,” his mother said, her voice shocked and loud, “I told you not to leave the village.”
The boy winced. Jeric nodded that it was okay for him to continue.
“I wanted to see what made those noises, so I went out. Didn’t see nothing ’til I got to that hill. Saw some of them green-skinned folk, one of the white-skinned. I thought that was it; then this wolf thing appeared. Big and ugly. Saw some others behind it. Some thing looked like a pile of moss, another a bunch of stones. Couple more, but that was when the dog started sniffing. It’s head turned right to me.”
Sasha gripped his shoulder tighter, a look of fear on her face. Hall didn’t blame her. Dere had come awful close to dying.
“It scared me. I ran.”
He fell silent. Jeric looked to Hall, who nodded. He’d heard enough.
QUEST COMPLETE!
After freeing Cliff’s Walk from the Expedition Lumber Company occupation, you have found a young boy who can tell you the location of Warfang Hill.
FINDING WARFANG I
Find someone in the Northern Territories who can provide directions to Warfang Hill 1/1
Rewards: +300 Experience
Now that you know where Warfang Hill is located, you must go there and defeat the Desmarik and any demons they have protecting the hill.
FINDING WARFANG II
Journey to Warfang Hill 0/1
Defeat the Desmarik 0/1
Find the source of the corruption 0/1
Rewards: +300 Experience
Accept Quest?
Hall quickly read the notifications. He accepted the quest, noting the unfocused look on Dain. The Ranger’s own quest log was updating.
“Thank ya, Dere, that be enough,” Jeric said, motioning to the boy. “Off with ya.”
“Yes, thank you,” Hall said to the boy. “You’ve given us vital information.”
Dere stood up, looking proud that he’d been important, until he saw the look his mother was giving him. He hung his head, sighing.
She grabbed his shoulder, almost pulling him out of the room. “We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
Dere looked over his shoulder, eyes pleading. All three men turned away, focusing on the map. None wanted to get between a scared and angry mother and her child.
“Did it help?” Jeric asked once the boy and his mother were gone.
Hall shrugged. “Sounds like a Mosic, Stontle and Bargha. I doubt that’s it.”
“Sorry couldn’t be more help ta ya.”
“Any is better than none,” Dain told the old man.
Nodding, Hall rolled up his map. The three men walked out of the town hall, down the steps and onto the hard ground. Hall saw darker patches of dirt where bodies had been. The villagers had gone a good job of clearing away the dead. A pile of armor and weapons was off to the side.
There hadn’t been much on the Expedition soldiers for loot, not even much coin. The interior of the town hall had been used as a barracks, bedrolls laid out randomly in the space. All those, along with whatever items had been in packs near them, had been collected by the villagers. Roxhard and Sharra had gone through them all, looking for anything magical or potentially dangerous.
It had been decided that the villagers would get to keep everything. No one complained. The villagers had been treated decently, but had still lived in an occupied state for months. And could return to that in the near future. They’d hide the armor, weapons and coin to have when they were finally and truly free.
Hall wished they had a couple of days to give the villagers some basic lessons in swordplay, but they didn’t. They didn’t even have hours.
He looked up at the sun. It was starting to set, a red glow over the peaks of the mountains. Hall didn’t want to head to Warfang Hill in the dark, but they couldn’t delay.
That one soldier had gotten away. He’d be at the Hill by now, telling the Desmarik and whatever else was there about the attack on Cliff’s Walk. The longer they waited, the more time the Desmarik could prepare their defenses. Even delaying for a day, to rest up and restore Vitality, would give the Desmarik that much extra time.
They had to leave now.
Chapter 36
They delayed long enough for the three Druids to regain all their Energy. Leigh and the two from the Hedn Circle had almost fully drained all their Energy healing the group. The hour felt much longer to Hall, but it was necessary. Going into battle against an unknown number of soldiers and demons with low-Energy healers would be suicide.
Dusk had fallen, the shadows deep and long under the thick canopy.
Ganner led, a good thirty feet in front of the rest of the group. Avril and Lissie were in the rear.
It was very slow going. The Hill was a half day’s walk, but Hall knew they had to be cautious. There was no telling what kind of guards there would be.
But if Dere, a young boy, could have gotten to the Hill without being seen, that would indicate there were no guards or patrols. The kid could have gotten lucky, but Hall doubted it. There would have been no reason for patrols; there were no enemies in the area.
Until now.
The runner had had a good couple of hours’ head start, but because of the time it took to get to the hill, Hall hoped it wouldn’t give the Desmarik that much extra time to lay an ambush.
But they were going through unfamiliar terrain. The Desmarik had been here for months. They knew the area, had already fortified it.
West of Cliff’s Walk, the forest was dense. He lost track of Ganner a couple of times, the Ranger’s dark cloak hiding in the shadows of the trees. Even with his Limited Night Vision, it was hard to see the Ranger. That was the other reason they had to move slow. Very few of them had any form of night vision.
There were reasons to push the speed and reasons to go slow.
He was thankful that in the poor light he wasn’t able to see the extent of the corruption. He knew it was there. Just touching a tree, his hand had come away slimy, some kind of mucus on his fingers. It was sticky, hard to get off. Now it made a spot on his leather armor. Hall did his best not to touch anything after that.
They stopped for a break, halfway to the goal judging by his map, gathering together to eat and drink.
“How bad is it?” Hall asked Leigh in a whisper.
“Bad,” she replied, visibly shaking. “I can feel the trees and plants crying out. They’re fighting and losing. It’s cold.” She grabbed herself, stopping her body from shaking. “I feel sad, like all the light is draining out of me.”
Hall reached over, pulling her into a hug. He glanced at the other two Druids. They were huddled close, talking quietly, not appearing to be suffering as much as Leigh. It had to do with her being the Custodian. Somehow that made her more open to feeling the corruption.
“It’ll only be a couple more hours,” he told her, kissing her on top of the head. “We’ll stop the source, and everything will be fine.”
She smiled up at him, Hall able to see because of his night vision.
Dain got them moving soon after.
He sent Avril to the front along with Ganner. Lissie went to the left side, and Dain took the right. None of t
he Greencloak Rangers had night vision, but it didn’t seem to bother them. Hall wondered if there was some magic in the cloaks or some kind of special training they’d received. There had been nothing pre-Glitch, but as Hall was constantly reminded, this wasn’t the same game anymore.
The moon rose into the sky, its light barely penetrating through the trees. Hall barely heard any noises. There was none of the usual nocturnal activity. They were quiet enough that the animals should have still been out.
There weren’t even any howls of wolves in the distance.
Nothing wanted to be this close to the source of the corruption.
Hall could smell decay on the wind. Not the smell of leaves rotting. This was something worse. Sicker, making him almost gag. He glanced at Leigh, seeing her stumble. She felt his look, tried to smile, one hand resting on Angus’s back for support. He wanted to go to her but knew the best thing for her was to end the corruption.
The smell got worse the closer they got.
Hall could feel it in his body, slowing him, weighing him down.
He glanced at his Health bar, expecting to see a debuff, but there was nothing.
They pushed on.
An hour later he saw lights ahead. Flashes between the trees. Bright flares that died down. Very far away, just at the edge of his vision.
Opening his map, he saw they were nearing the area that Dere had marked for Warfang Hill. The boy had been very accurate. Could he have some affinity for Cartography? Right now, it didn’t matter. They were getting close.
The Rangers pulled in closer, only ten feet away. They walked with an arrow nocked to the bow, eyes constantly surveying the woods around them.
Even with everyone vigilant, they all missed the ambush.
The Bargha came out of nowhere. One second the large bush fifteen feet ahead was just a dark shadow, the next a demon burst out of it. Growling, it flew through the air. Ganner fell to the side, dropping his bow, the demon landing just beyond him. It turned, ready to attack the Ranger, when arrows slammed into its tough hide.
Growling, it snapped at the shafts sticking out of its shoulder.
Jackoby rammed it. Running across the wood under the power of Battle Rush, leading with his shield, Jackoby almost broke the Bargha in half with the momentum behind his attack. The dog demon tried to lift itself up from the ground, not succeeding.
The heavy wooden hammer slammed down on the Bargha’s back. The snap of bone was loud in the silent evening.
So much for sneaking up, Hall thought, activating Leap.
He recognized the shadowed shape of a Desmarik warrior stepping out from behind a tree. It held a crossbow in hand, aiming for Jackoby. Hall’s spear stabbed down, knocking the crossbow to the ground. Landing, he spun the spear around his body, driving the butt end into the Desmarik’s stomach. Stepping back, he gave Hall needed space.
The spear’s tip burst through the armor and out the other side.
With a gurgle, blood dripping from his mouth, the Desmarik died.
Pulling the spear out, Hall saw more forms running through the woods. Darker shadows against the black that was the trees. Everything in shades of gray. He lost count, the shapes blending together. Some he recognized as Desmarik, the spikes rising from their shoulder armor distinctive. A couple looked to be Expedition soldiers, and he saw at least two demons, too far away and lacking details to tell what kind. They spread through the woods, no longer keeping silent, running towards Hall’s companions.
A warrior yelled before him, rushing him, heavy sword swinging. The Desmarik let out a war cry, the speed of his swing increasing. Hall ducked to the side, avoiding the weapon. The blade was all one piece, the handle wrapped in leather. It appeared to be roughly chiseled stone, but Hall knew it to be some kind of metal. They’d found enough of the blades in Greenfire Depths, brought them back to Skara Brae. Sharra just called it blood iron, somehow forged with the blood of demons.
Thin at the bottom, just big enough for the Desmarik’s large hand to grip it, the blade widened as it lengthened, the top curving back. The edges were sharp, the whole thing a dull black. Hall knew the weight alone could break bone.
Twisting around, Hall slammed the butt of the spear into the knee of the Desmarik. Grunting in pain, the Wartalker stepped back, bringing the sword down to block another attack. Hall didn’t have to, he had rolled forward out of the way. Confused, the Desmarik followed him, not seeing Pike streaking through the forest. With a screech, a blue-white bolt of lightning slashed into the face of the surprised Desmarik. Smoke rose from the impact, the Desmarik screaming in pain. The sword fell, the warrior using both hands to swipe at his face. Streaks of energy spread around his head. His scream was loud until cut off, Hall’s spear slamming into his chest.
Hall lost Pike as the dragonhawk flew through the forest, darting around trees, unleashing blasts of lightning, attacking with talons. He ran after, engaging an Expedition soldier, spear leading. He caught the soldier by surprise, the man not able to put up a defense. The spear and Hall’s momentum drove the soldier to the ground. He didn’t get up.
Yanking the spear out, Hall pushed forward with the butt end, slamming it into another Expedition soldier. The man had tried to attack from the side, missing and giving Hall an opening. Head snapping back, the soldier stumbled. Lowering the spear, Hall slid it between the soldier’s legs, twisting, knocking the man to the ground. Rotating it around his body, Hall drove the tip into the Expedition Bladeswinger’s chest. The man jerked, reaching up weakly to grab the weapon. Arms fell limp to the sides.
Grunting, Hall pulled the spear out, looking for his next target.
It stepped into a shaft of moonlight shining down into the forest. Even in the dark, Hall recognized the body of a Mosic. Four feet tall, almost that wide. Long arms that hung almost to the ground, the long body on two short but stout legs. Three claws on each arm, the head wide and squat with no neck. The entire thing was covered in long, scraggly thick fur. Hall knew from experience that the fur acted like armor.
The Mosic growled at him, stomping forward. He pulled a throwing knife from the Quickdraw Bracer, launching it at the demon. Metal turned to lightning, the blue-white bolt bright in the gathering darkness. It flared on impact, streaks spreading around the Mosic’s body. It didn’t appear harmed, Hall catching a faint whiff of singed fur.
It wasn’t slow at all, the Mosic barreling ahead. Hall set his feet, waiting. He timed the jump, waiting for the long arms to reach for him. Soaring over the Mosic’s head, Hall stabbed down with the spear. He scored a solid hit, the tip disappearing in the furred shoulder. Landing, he pulled the spear, losing his balance when it didn’t come loose. Twisting, he grabbed the shaft with both hands, pulling hard. The tip was tangled in the thick fur of the Mosic.
The demon turned, ripping the spear from Hall’s hands. He cursed, drawing his short sword. Not how he wanted to fight the demon. With its long arms, the Mosic had the reach on him. To use the short sword, he’d have to get in close.
Taking a step toward him, Hall stepped back. Drawing another knife, he threw it at the Mosic. The blade was lost in the thick fur where head met shoulders, blue-white light barely visible. The Mosic twitched, growling, but didn’t appear hurt.
“Come on,” Hall said, holding his sword across his body, setting his feet.
The Mosic listened, one long arm swinging down at Hall. He raised the buckler, sliding his body to the side. He felt the impact as the heavy arm hit the shield, sliding away as Hall angled the buckler. Slashing with the sword, slicing across the exposed arm, Hall drew a line of blood. Bits of fur fell to the ground, cut by the blade. Adjusting his grip, Hall went for another strike against the arm but fell, hit from behind.
The Mosic’s other arm slammed into Hall’s back, knocking him to the ground. He didn’t think he’d cracked any ribs or received lingering damage, the hit had been glancing, but it had hurt. Hall rolled, hearing both arms slam into the ground.
Pushing himself up
almost ten feet away, he could feel the bruise on his back. Stiff and sore, he faced the Mosic, spear hanging from its shoulder, his back to Warfang Hill in the distance, hoping nothing was coming behind. Hall heard fighting behind the demon, metal on metal, saw the flashes of spells. He tried to find Leigh but couldn’t see her.
The demon roared, charging at him, spear bouncing with the motion, its arms wide. Hall waited, watching the enraged Mosic come closer and closer. The arms swung in, hoping to catch Hall between them. He dove down and to the side, feeling the pressure in the air when the arms struck. Hitting the ground, he slashed out with the sword, slicing across the back of the Mosic’s leg. It roared, stumbling as the blade bit deep.
Hall jumped up, grabbing the spear shaft with his free hand. He twisted and yanked. Still caught, the tip pulled at the Mosic, shifting the body. Holding the sword out straight, Hall stabbed forward, the tip cutting through the fur.
The blade caught the Mosic in the shoulder blade. Roaring, the demon tried to swat at Hall, who kept a step ahead. He drove the sword in deeper, pulling back on the spear to pull the Mosic’s shoulder onto the sword more. Twisting the blade, Hall tried to do as much damage as he could. The arm fell limp, the blade severing something vital.
Twisting too fast, the Mosic’s cut leg buckled, dropping the creature. Hall almost went with it, but let go of the spear, the shaft smacking him in the head as it fell with the demon. One of the rare times Hall wished he wore a helmet.
Growling, the Mosic tried to stand. Hall didn’t let it. Jumping onto the creature’s chest, he drove the point of his sword straight down, aiming for the head. It pushed through the heavy fur around the creature’s eyes, hitting bone. Grunting, Hall leaned down, pushing as hard as he could. There was a crack, the bone shattering, the blade plunging deep.
The Mosic roared, the body shaking, almost knocking Hall off; then it fell still.