The Crimson Claymore

by Craig A. Price Jr.

  “Don’t count on it! I am weary as I have traveled hundreds of leagues the past week and drank too much last night.”

  “Ah, Searon, always excuses! It was the same when you led us to victory against the cities. Every excuse as to why we didn’t ride to victory with one less death on our side. It’s good to see you again!”

  “Yes, yes, it is. We shall catch up later, but for now, let’s help the poor citizens of this village.”

  “Aye, but do not fall to the ground this time, my friend. Attack them swift but unexpected. They know all the moves, so you have to change the order of natural attack.”

  Searon nodded, and the two of them dashed farther into the village. In the midst of battle, Searon noticed there were fewer than a dozen daerions, but their power was overwhelming most of the village guard. Karceoles stood ahead twirling his zylek to strike from one creature to the next. He would back away every now and then to shoot orange glows of light from his zylek that tossed the creatures backward. His blasts of energy and fire killed at least five of them before all of them turned focus to him.

  Searon dashed up and fought alongside the wizard, paying heed to his old friend’s advice. He was much more effective with surprising blows of intermixed fighting styles. Sometimes, he would knock them back with the hilt of his claymore instead of a deathblow because it was easier to surprise them with. One daerion stood behind the rest with a crossbow and began firing arrows. A few men around him fell from the bolts, and he fought harder to try and reach the creature.

  The creature noticed him and shot two bolts that hit his breastplate and bounced away. One of the arrows slipped down, and the backside slid up and smacked Searon in the jaw, so he nearly tasted the feathers attached to it. His teeth gritted, and he growled, growing angry before striking down another in front of him. He leaped to the daerion with the crossbow, but the creature tossed it to the ground and withdrew two long daggers. Searon slashed his claymore from the side, but it was blocked by both the daggers. The creature leaped forward and stabbed one of the curved daggers into Searon’s stomach, breaking several links of chain mail. Searon gasped and stumbled backward in pain.

  Searon fell to his knees, coughing, but he kept a hard grip on his claymore still. The daerion in front of him croaked a snarling laugh and leaped forward in an attempt to kill him. He rolled to the side and swung his claymore along the ground to an uppercut that split the creature’s jaw in two. Thick blue goo dripped from the creature as it hit the ground with horns separated by split face. Xython was at his side in moments, defending him against any other creatures that came. Karceoles shot several balls of fire at the remaining three creatures before they fled from the village.

  Searon stood there for a long moment before turning around to look at Xython and Karceoles. “Why does this not surprise me?”

  “What’s that?” Xython asked.

  “That we finally get to a village after traveling for so long, and the wizard has all the fun while I get stabbed in the stomach. It doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

  Karceoles cackled as he walked up. “Come, my friend, if the daerions are truly back, then there is much to discuss. I fear these raids on the north and south from two separate creatures are more than mere coincidence. I fear war is coming.”

  “You call yourself Karceoles the Wise, and yet I have assumed as much before this. When do I get to see this wisdom you so speak of?”

  “Watch that mouth, boy.”

  Searon smiled. “Karceoles, this is Xython, an old friend from my battle days.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Karceoles said, shaking his hand. He turned back to Searon. “Is he to join us?”

  “That depends,” Searon said and turned to Xython. “Would you like to help us unite an army to rid the land of these daerions of the south and the draeyks of the north? It may turn into a full-scale war, but if these creatures are no more, there can finally be peace in the cities.”

  Xython thought for a long moment before nodding his head. “Yes, if you seek to destroy these creatures, then I think I ought to at least hear you out.”

  “Come then,” Karceoles said. “The three of us have much to discuss.”

  He turned and walked back through the city toward the Dancing Donkey. People scattered through the village, disposing of the bodies of both men and creatures alike. Many of the guards that were helping in battle were heading for treatment of their wounds. The silence that had once filled the city was no more, and through the rest of the night murmurs could be heard from every corner.

  Chapter 22

  The next two days of travel toward the villages went by swiftly and quietly. Both Starlyn and Andron were silent during their journey as they reminisced about and mourned Erenuyh. The long plains they traveled across were dull and weary without so much as a wanderer to come by. Birds were scarce through the tall tan hay and grass. There weren’t many goats or sheep throughout the terrain, and Andron found that odd. Usually, the last few stretches before the villages was covered in sheep, goats, donkey, and several more animals. He hoped the draeyk attacks hadn’t scared them off, or that all weren’t claimed as food by the creatures.

  As they neared the first village from the field, Andron’s anticipation grew with excitement at first. He was excited to see the few friends he had in the village, and for a fresh pint of ale. It’d been many long months since he’d set foot in home, and restlessness overcame him. The excitement didn’t last long for as they neared closer to the village by a few hundred paces, he noticed all was silent. It was midday as they neared, and the village should have been humming with life. Yet an uneasy dread seemed to douse the village in gloom, as if the entire place was cast in shadow. He began to feel uneasy and slowed down, feeling at the hilt of his sword as they neared.

  Starlyn noticed his uneasiness and touched the shaft of her hammer. “Something is wrong.”

  “Yes, very wrong. This is too quiet.”

  “These past few days have been too quiet.”

  The wooden gate was made of tall thin trees held together with metal plate at the top, middle, and bottom. It wasn’t closed but pushed a quarter open without any guard to stand before it. A lone sign hung by the opening of carved wood in black letters that read, Gythero. Andron walked up quietly and unsheathed his sword before he entered. The sound of crows was distant but still disturbing. Starlyn trailed him closely and held her hammer in her right hand.

  Inside, the streets were bare, without destruction, and without man. The silence was beyond eerie, and it unsettled Andron. He shivered as he inspected each street, yet nothing moved. There was no pattern to the buildings in the village, and most were made of wood with only a few stone. The ones made of stone were the large white-and-black octagon barracks and the rectangular city hall of red and black. Everything else was made from thin trees pressed tightly together in the same fashion as the gate. Some of the doors were open, but nobody was inside.

  “No bodies; it seems they fled,” Starlyn whispered.

  “I hope with whatever came that they made it in time. There is no time to waste; let’s leave this place and check on my village.”

  Dread filled Andron’s mind as he lead the way northwest through the next village of Nygenquy. It was a close neighboring village—only a league’s march—but they found it quick. Andron was no longer walking since he saw the first village. He nearly tripped over himself as he kept to a full sprint. With each new bit of scenery, he observed his pace only quickened. Nygenquy was as abandoned as Gythero with gate pushed open as well. Still, to his relief, there were no bodies to count along the streets or inside any homes as he could find. There was a defensive plan for the villages in case of great need to hasten to the great city of Wesiet north of his village of Guerettos. He hoped with all this might that his family had made it if there without peril.

  The third village of Igurilena was empty of person and animal. It should have brought comfort to him that the three villages before his own were abandoned in
the same fashion. However, Andron felt no comfort as he traveled warily. He wanted to travel throughout the night to reach his village, but Starlyn stopped him. She was still hurt and needed rest before going on. It was well past midnight as they camped in Igurilena. He found a familiar pub that he used to come to when he visited, and found it empty of patrons but not ale. Pouring himself a large mug, he made a fire on the outskirts where he and Starlyn rested. He lit his pipe and sat smoking it for a half an hour before he was able to find rest.

  * * *

  When the dawn rose on the fourteenth day, Andron was already up and packed. He was ready to set out and already had the fire out with the extra wood already cleaned up. Starlyn arose a half an hour after dawn and saw Andron ready and staring toward the north. She quickly packed her provisions and clasped her hand on his shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I just hope they’re all right.”

  “I know.”

  “Part of me wishes to see them there, yet the other part hopes they’re safe in Wesiet. It is still a day’s march past Guerettos. I still dread showing up to our home. What will I find?”

  “Then let’s head forth and find out, shall we?” She smiled.

  He nodded but didn’t turn back to her. With a long, deep breath, he finally began walking at a swift pace north. She trailed next to him and appeared to have a struggle keeping up with him, when only days before it was he that had grown weary while she seemed fresh.

  The day was the hottest day they had come across during the whole journey in the dead middle of summer with the longest day of the year. There was still little to no life in the fields, but the grass grew greener the closer they came to the sea. After a few hours of , the sea could finally be seen in the distance. The crisp water made both of them thirsty, and yet both had already finished three-quarters of their water skins from the hot day.

  Even through the hotness of the day Andron did not stop but continued on. His mind was clearer than ever, and his ambition was unstoppable. Vultures cried out in the skies above as they circled them, but he wasn’t going to let the heat or the birds get to him. He had a mission, and he would see it done no matter what.

  It wasn’t until dusk that they finally reached the stone gate of Guerettos. Unlike the rest, it was not pushed open but held solid. Yet there were no guards in front or behind as far as Andron could tell because his yells went unheard.

  “The gate cannot be opened from the outside,” he whispered.

  “Lace your hands tight, and hold them out.”

  “Starlyn…I can’t boost you that high.”

  “Just do it.”

  He reluctantly agreed but instead of coming toward him to step on his hands, she began walking backward. She didn’t stop until she was at least twenty paces from him. Her lips moved as if counting to herself when she stopped, and then she began running. Andron almost flinched but kept his hands held steady. He could barely feel as her feet touched his hands and she leaped into the air.

  She leaped high in the air and grasped at the seams of the stones in the wall and climbed with incredible speed. With a few swift reaches, she was up and over the stone. Andron stared at the sky where she had been in amazement. It wasn’t but a few more minutes when the stone gate finally opened.

  Starlyn stood blocking the entrance with a solemn expression. “Andron…I’m sorry.”

  “What for?” he asked but fell silent as he walked inside.

  The village was of unorganized stone buildings sorted with no order throughout curvy rows of dirt paths. There were no buildings or homes of wood, yet if there had been they probably would have been burned to a crisp. It seemed each building had been of a white hue, but each was stained black from where they’d burned. Not one building had been left unscathed. Andron’s eyes lit up in horror.

  He couldn’t feel his legs, his chest, or his head. Everything was lost, even thought, as he stared at his village in disbelief. His right hand twitched, and for the first time he thought he could almost feel his pinky once again. When he looked down at it, all that he saw was a stub. It was a scarred piece of flesh that had once been whole, much like the village that stood before him.

  Skeletons with burned clothing were scattered all about the ground. None were piled, but all seemed to have died where they now lay. The bodies were less than a hundred and mixed with skeletons of draeyks as well. It wasn’t the entire village, but it was a great number of them. Each body held a weapon as if in defense before their ultimate demise. All of them seemed dressed for battle like they knew it was coming.

  Fear shook him, and his sword left his scabbard and held tight in his hands as he ran through the town. He didn’t use caution as he ran and stepped upon many skeletons, hearing them crunch under his steel boots. His body trembled as he ran, but he did not stop. Starlyn followed close behind, but she was cautious to avoid any bodies as she sprinted.

  He finally stopped before a charred gray wood door and knelt to his knees under the three stone steps. Tears clouded his eyes, and he began to weep openly. His home was destroyed. Everything that he knew and loved was gone.

  “I’m sorry, Andron.”

  “Everything I know,” he whimpered.

  Starlyn’s hand rested on his shoulder, and he clasped it in his. He wept openly for many minutes before rising to his feet and walking up the three steps. His hand paused on the doorknob for a long while before he finally turned it.

  Inside, nearly everything was burned to a crisp. A large and wild fire had been set from within and destroyed all the furniture and everything else in its path. There was no light inside the home, only blackness. He walked a few steps and paused, looking at an overturned frame below a half-burned black-and-gray rug. Slowly, he walked toward it and picked it up.

  It was a faded painting of a happy man with long black hair holding a woman with a fiery red mane. Next to the two of them were two young girls and a baby boy. A smile came across his face as he stared at it for a long moment. He tore the frame apart and held the thin paper painting in front of him to treasure.

  Starlyn watched him from a distance as she inspected the carnage within. She didn’t move or attempt to go to him. “I don’t see any bodies.”

  Andron awoke from his trance and rolled up the painting. He glanced around before stuffing it in his armor. The place was completely destroyed, but it was true that there were no bodies anywhere, not even draeyks. He searched the home in each room and upstairs but still found nothing but charred walls and burned furniture.

  “Perhaps there is still hope,” he whispered.

  He stepped outside and looked toward the sea, with Starlyn following him. She gaped as she looked at the vast body of water. A single dock stretched out into the water, and Andron went to it. It was still solid, and he walked out to its edge before sitting down.

  The sun was setting across the western horizon, and its red rays glistened across the sea. Andron smiled as he watched the sun set. A mild sea breeze tickled his face. Starlyn stood behind him with her left arm wrapped around a tall wooden pole that stuck out from the side of the dock. Her eyes were transfixed on the sea as wide as they could be. Dolphins and small fish jumped from the water, making large splashes. Some of the dolphins began making hoarse, scratchy calls to one another as they jumped and played. Eagles soared through the skies and dodged the hundreds of seagulls that fluttered about.

  “It is beautiful,” Starlyn gasped.

  “Yes it is,” Andron whispered.

  “There’s something in the water!”

  Andron looked carefully, seeing only a darkened shape in the far distance. He let his eyes focus on it for a few minutes before he could distinguish sails above a large ship. It was so far toward the north that he could barely make it out.

  “A ship heading for Wesiet,” Andron exclaimed.

  “There is yet hope,” Starlyn encouraged.

  Andron stood up abruptly and swept past Starlyn back toward the village. She st
ayed for a few more moments to stare at the sea before she followed behind. He stalked toward the center of the village, unsure what he was looking for. They would have to camp there that night, yet his adrenaline was pumping so hard, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to. In one more day, they would reach Wesiet and find out what was going on. The excitement and dread was nearly unbearable.

  Chills ran down his arms, and he clutched at his hilt back in its scabbard. He turned east and saw nothing down the curved road. The chills seemed to come even sharper, and he abruptly turned to the west where the sunset was still blinding. He saw the shadow of a man in cloak and hood in the distance.

  Unsheathing his sword, he sprinted toward the unseen foe and began running faster once he saw that whoever he was didn’t look human. He had human traits in appearance with rounded ears, long straight blond hair with a deeper-yellow hue blond than Starlyn’s, thick bushy eyebrows, and square jaw. Yet he also seemed inhuman with blazing green eyes to match his robe and cloak of deep green. He seemed to stare past Andron at something unseen. Andron didn’t hesitate but continued running forward, preparing to fight and ask questions later.

  As he neared within fifteen paces of the man, the stranger’s focus found Andron, and he raised both of his hands in the air. His hands began to glow a soft green that quickly darkened as Andron could not feel his body anymore. He was lifted from the ground into the air and seemed to fly like a bird over the man clad in green. His sword grew hot, and it fell to the ground near the strange man as he passed over his head. He skidded in the dry dirt on his back as he watched the man in horror with the wind knocked from him.

  When he was finally able to move, he got to his feet and began staggering down the dusty road toward the man. He was defenseless, but what weapon could cause any harm to such a foe anyway? As he neared, he noticed a thin dark-green cloth wrapped around the man’s forehead that was tied at the back of his head.