The two heroes galloped at full speed down the winding road, ready for what would await them.
The bright moonlight shone off Gladius’ silver helmet as they closed in on the rising hillside. As they ascended the hillside and neared the top, a small settlement: Wheat Town came into view.
Old stone houses with thatched roofs, and cobble streets of the town were quite quaint. There was something missing however.
There wasn’t a single soul to be seen.
Gladius and Fletcher’s horses strolled slowly into the town the only noise heard was the wind. A dry fountain stood in the center of the town square.
“Hello!” Gladius called out into the empty town. His voice echoed through the empty streets. The town seemed to be abandoned.
“This doesn’t seem right,” Fletcher whispered to Gladius.
“Look over there!” Gladius pointed, dismounting his horse. He crouched down by a doorway to notice a small patch of blood; it was thick with what appeared to be slobber.
“I don’t like this, boss, let’s leave!” Fletcher called over to him from atop his horse.
Gladius held his ear to the door. Heavy breathing emanated from within. Gladius raised a finger to quiet Fletcher, who had dismounted to crouch behind him.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“There’s somebody inside,” Gladius whispered back. He stood up and carefully pushed the door open with a creak.
Umbra entered the illuminated chamber. It was circular with a sandy ring in the center; the room was filled with snarling ogres. The crowd of ogres stood around him, jeering at him. Through a window above he noticed the orange glow of the sun rising.
Umbra walked into the middle of the sandy ring, the lanterns flickered and shook. The crowd fell silent, parting to reveal a hulking form stomping into the room.
The eyes of this monster flickered white. A demon! Reptilian scales covered the demon’s muscular body, his black-clawed hands tensed. His head resembled that of a dragon, wings folded behind him. He wore a red tunic and held a hooked, blood-browned sword in one hand.
“Bow before Lord Pride! The grand demon king and future ruler of Turbulus!” announced one of the ogres followed by another blowing into a trumpet.
The ogres bowed down to the massive demon. Pride grinned to reveal his black razor-sharp teeth. He resembled the statues Umbra had seen in the hallways.
Filling his lair with statues of himself appealed to Pride’s narcissistic character. “We’ve been waiting for you, boy” he hissed, revealing a snake’s tongue.
“Have you now?” Umbra retorted, acting casual. He clenched his teeth. His dark robe flickered from the wind of Pride’s sulfur breath.
“Word is that we have a new recruit soon to join our ranks,” Pride hissed. “I know about your deal, and I know what you are. You’re a monster just like me. In time you will serve our interests,” he continued confidently.
“I’m nothing like you!” Umbra shot back, his anger rising. The purple markings on his body flickered sporadically.
“All you require now is a little pushing!” Pride yelled as he charged Umbra. He swung his hooked sword at Umbra, who barely managed to dodge it, a single sliced hair floated down towards the dust.
His speed is incredible! Umbra was beginning to sweat. He drew his dagger.
Pride swung again, his blade made a buffering thud as it hit the sandy ground.
Umbra rolled past Pride, stabbing him in the back of the knee, the blade burnt up and melted as it broke his skin. Umbra staggered backwards into the edge of the crowd. The ogres shoved him back into the circle.
Pride extracted the blade and tossed it the floor.
“That almost tickled,” he snickered.
Umbra’s eyes widened. I have to use my magic, but will that turn me over to their side if I do?
Pride swung at Umbra once again with his hooked blade. Umbra dodged it; Pride stopped abruptly and stood up straight.
“Bring out the prisoner!” he commanded.
Two ogres disappeared behind the crowd, returning with Marin in shackles.
She rolled her head limply, her hands were bound and her staff was nowhere to be seen. Her face was as white as snow and her eyes were a glazed grey.
“Marin!” Umbra called out to her, beads of sweat ran down his dusted face. “What have you done to her?!” Umbra demanded, casting a fiery glare at Pride.
“It’s just a little curse to sap her life. You’re too late to save her, she’ll be dead soon,” Pride snickered, licking his lips.
Marin gurgled and tried to choke out a few words. “Umb… no,” was all she could manage.
“I’ll tear you apart!” Umbra growled through clenched teeth.
“Go ahead and try, boy. Just see what happens to you. That demonic power pumping through your veins will take over,” Pride replied, walking towards Marin.
“Get your filthy hands off her!” Umbra threatened as he climbed to his feet.
Pride stroked her hair and grabbed her head roughly.
“Let me tell you something about your little friend here,” he grinned evilly. “Can you feel that evil force in him, my dear?” he inquired coyly.
“Uhh” Marin moaned her head hanging, her blonde hair covered her face.
Pride lifted her head in his hand and pointed her gaze at Umbra.
“You came all this way and plan to eradicate the demons when there was one right under your nose the whole time ready to sell you out!” Pride hissed into her ear.
“That’s not true!” Umbra insisted.
“Keep watching, you’ll see soon enough. The last thing you’ll witness before you die is your friend revealing his true self,” Pride’s face darkened as he turned to Umbra “You can’t fight it; you are destined to serve us!”
“I’m not going to let you turn me!” Umbra affirmed.
I can do this! I just can’t give into this demonic power! Umbra’s face beaded with sweat.
“You’ll die for what you did to Marin!” he clenched his fist lightly. His scar lit up as he tried to hold back his full power.
“It will be my pleasure to turn you,” Pride grinned. He clutched his hulking sword and loomed closer to Umbra.
THIRTY SIX
The door opened slowly with an eerie creaking noise. Gladius and Fletcher looked down. There was a trail of blood smeared across the wooden floor leading to the basement.
Gladius and Fletcher walked across the creaking wooden floorboards. They moved cautiously over to the basement door, carefully avoiding the blood. Gladius reached for the door-handle and turned it carefully. Fletcher shifted nervously as Gladius slowly opened the door.
The old wooden house was lit up by the now bright sunlight outside.
The old wooden staircase leading to the basement was still wet with blood. Gladius was about to descend the stairs when Fletcher tugged him back.
“I’ll go. I’ve had plenty of practice sneaking up on people,” he reminded Gladius.
Gladius nodded and stepped back.
Fletcher slid his bow over his shoulder and crept down the stairs.
The basement walls were covered in bloody smears and the air smelled stale.
He crouched to look around from the bottom of the stairs. He scanned the dim room; cobwebs covered the small windows blotting out the sunlight. There was a tall wardrobe in the corner; there were scratches on the stone floor—it had been moved recently.
“Hello?” Fletcher inquired, his bow raised and loaded. “I know you’re behind there,” he took a step forward.
“Don’t, please, I’m sorry! We didn’t have enough food this month. We can barely feed ourselves. You’ve killed everyone else, please just leave me alone,” a voice called out.
“We aren’t going
to hurt you,” Fletcher promised as he lowered his bow. “We are members of the Golden Sun.” He motioned to Gladius to join him.
“We mean you no harm,” Gladius insisted.
A young woman stepped out from behind the wardrobe. “You aren’t with them,” she sighed in relief. Her white apron was spattered with blood. Her eyes were lined with a tired expression.
“Are you hurt, ma’am?” Gladius queried reaching out his hand.
“The demon came, and his minions,” she stuttered with a grim expression. “They demanded we give them our grain stocks… we didn’t have enough,” she began to cry.
“What was the demon’s name?” Fletcher inquired softly, trying to soothe her.
They put their weapons away. “Do you know where they went?” Gladius added.
“It was Gluttony! Gluttony! He summoned locusts to ravage our town, and then his men collected the survivors to be taken for his next meal!” she cried out. Tears poured down her face.
“We’ll slay that demon and rescue your village! Where is he?” Gladius insisted.
“To the north; he lives in a fort atop the tallest hill around, but his guards are everywhere,” she explained tearfully.
She collapsed into a fetal position and began rocking back and forth. “Everywhere, they are everywhere,” she whispered. She had clearly lost her wits.
“Ma’am?”
“Everywhere. Everywhere.”
Gladius and Fletcher looked at each other. “We’ll find your demon and give him what he deserves!” Gladius promised sternly.
“Everywhere. Everywhere.”
The two heroes left the woman in the basement and stepped out into the bright daylight, covering their eyes.
“Those guards could be watching us right now, boss,” Fletcher whispered.
“Then they should be worried,” Gladius retorted as he donned his helmet.
They raced to their horses, leaping on them. They snapped their reins and sped off northwards, leaving the desolate town behind them.
The golden fields all around rustled in the wind as they scaled a large hill.
Gluttony’s keep came into view far off. Black clouds swirled around the stone fort; the land surrounding it was a dead wasteland. They looked down to notice a trail.
“It looks like people were dragged to the keep,” Fletcher concluded, staring thoughtfully at the marked trail.
“They’ll see us coming a mile away. We have to walk through the crop-fields and sneak the rest of the way through that wasteland,” Gladius delegated as they dismounted.
They left their loyal steeds concealed at the edge of crops and pushed their way past the tall grass.
A ragged scarecrow towered over them. Fletcher released a flurry of arrows, pelting the lifeless scarecrow.
“What was that for?” Gladius demanded. “You’ll give us away!”
“Sorry, was just checking,” Fletcher chuckled. The scarecrow hung ragged and broken, but lifeless.
Gladius shook his head with a long, drawn-out sigh.
“Well, that’s where we need to be,” he pointed at the scattered rubble in the wasteland. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to infiltrate a town; I hope I haven’t lost my touch,” he sighed.
“Either way this demon has to pay for what it has done!” Gladius clenched his fist in determination as the two heroes disappeared into the tall labyrinth of the golden crop-field.
THIRTY SEVEN
Further East in Rumble Mountains, the slayer Robyn stood atop the cliff face overlooking The Lava Fields.
Her anger was still fuming, but after years of intense training by her mentor she had learned to channel it into a powerful weapon.
The swift breeze from the altitude blew swiftly by, her red hair flailed wildly in the wind. She contemplated her next move.
I’ll need some help here, she realized, disgruntled at the prospect of asking for help.
There was a town to the north named Canyon Cove. Located in the Dry River Gorge, it was the home of her former teacher.
Once word circulated about Umbra she would surely rally support. Her old master, Cleo, a fellow slayer would surely help her.
She had made her decision and changed course north to Dry River Gorge. Her destination was Canyon Cove.
There is no way that necromancer can fend off two slayers! I’ll have his head above my mantle in no time!
She strolled onto the trail heading north, and with renewed vigor she sprinted towards her destination. The weight of her weapons felt like nothing as her adrenaline pumped.
“You’re mine, Umbra!” she growled.
Back in the squalor of The Wetlands, War Chief Groll marched impatiently through the camp his army had set up.
The many fires burned with the wooden bodies of the leshy that had confronted his army. Their damp bodies popped in the heat. Goblins and trolls crowded around them roasting anything they could find to eat.
The sounds of life in the surrounding area had been silenced, nothing but the roar of fires and deep voices of the soldiers was heard.
Groll snatched a boar shank from a nearby goblin. The goblin looked up fiercely, but shrunk back into his seat when his glare caught Groll’s.
Groll strolled away taking greedy bites off the shank before tossing it casually over his shoulder.
The goblins and trolls munched their meat and chatted, the skeleton soldiers stood lifelessly on the outskirts of the camp as sentries.
The land around them emitted strange echoing noises; the rising sun shone fiercely at the destruction below. The wooded clearing was ravaged and bare.
A handful of goblins and trolls were still hacking down trees with their rusted axes and cheering gleefully as they fell.
“This place is so much fun to destroy,” cackled one goblin. Their faces were lit up with delight when one of them suggested they burn the trees down.
They ran off to grab some lit tinder from the campfires, returning with blazing torches. One goblin who wasn’t looking where he was going ran smack into the hulking body of a troll, dropping his torch into the muck.
The troll turned around. “You dare hit me?” he grunted. The goblin shook his head, insisting it was an accident, his fear evident. “Then I do this, little goblin,” the troll smiled reaching down to pick up the torch.
The goblin stood frozen in fear wondering what the troll was up to. The troll swung at the goblin with the lit torch until he burst into flames.
“Eeeee!” the flaming goblin squealed, running around frantically.
The fire caught Groll’s attention as he stomped towards the commotion.
The trolls and goblins stood around the distressed goblin laughing as he rolled around trying to put out the fire. Groll crouched down, gathering a hand of muck. He slung it at the goblin, smothering his entire body and dousing the fire.
“Enough of this foolishness!” Groll boomed. The laughing spectators stopped silent and dispersed.
Groll reached into the muck to extract the limp, burnt goblin. Shaking him wildly, he realized the goblin was dead and slung him into the undergrowth, watching him hit a tree and crumple limply to the ground.
“We march now!” he ordered. The camp fell silent and turned to him.
“Right now, Chief?” piped up one of the goblins nervously.
Groll glared at him, the goblin looked down. “Yessir,” he muttered quietly.
Life returned to the frozen silence of the camp as they assembled their gear returning to formation. The skeletons assembled stiffly into their perfect square positions and awaited orders.
“Move out!” War Chief Groll demanded.
A hidden figure watched from the edge of the wilderness, letting out a sigh of relief that the invaders were leaving. “Parasites!”
The figure growled.
THIRTY EIGHT
The run from the mountains to Canyon Cove was a short one. Robyn finally saw the town as she walked over the rising terrain.
The colossal canyon walls towered either side, casting a shadow over the town, darkening it more than midnight ever could. Small lights dotted the town from street oil-lamps.
Robyn marched into the darkened town. Her shadow danced from lamp to lamp. Her destination was the local tavern.
She wasn’t going to drink, this was purely business.
The shaded wooden houses all around cast shadows on the street; the horizon was dominated by the rising cliffs of the canyon.
Robyn shoved past a local drunk who stumbled towards her. The drunk grabbed her by the waist and spun her around.
“How about a kiss, sweetheart?” the drunk slurred. He was incoherent of Robyn’s deathly glare.
“No thanks, I’ll pass,” growled Robyn as she impaled him through his stomach with a sharpened blade. She leant over his shoulder. “That’s not how you address a lady,” she whispered, before extracting her dirk and walking away casually.
The man collapsed on the ground, bleeding out as Robyn strolled nonchalantly towards the bar.
An old wooden sign reading “The Rusted Nail” hung above the old tavern, illuminated by a dim lamp swaying gently. Robyn had not been here in a long time, yet she knew it well.
Robyn burst into the tavern. The joy and merriment froze as she scanned the tables. A crimson-robed man, tried to conceal his face from her, but she knew who he was immediately.
He noticed her as she loomed closer to him. Ditching his drink, he sped for the door.
Robyn tackled him to the ground just outside the pub and held a dagger to his throat. The silence was laced with fear as the gathering crowd stood quietly.
“Where is Cleo?” Robyn demanded, forcing the knife against the man’s neck. She pulled back the hood to see a frightened young man staring back at her. His lips trembled, but he said nothing. “I’m not going to ask you again,” she threatened.
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