by Logan Jacobs
I decided to walk along the northern perimeter of the kingdom so I wouldn’t end up taken in by the antics of the town. I headed along the dusty path until I reached a back road that ran beside the edge of the forest, and dense, ancient trees rose up from my right along with the back of the sylph estate.
The sylphs were the purest of creatures who roamed the Kingdom of Ocadia, and they were not completely visible since they had almost transparent skin and stood only a few inches tall.
I could just barely make out the winged entities rushing up into the sky and darting back down again, but I saw they wore dresses that merged with the wind, which helped them glide through the air as lightly as a feather.
Both the males and females had pointed faces and elf-like ears while long, white, wavy hair followed behind them. A few even came over to buzz around me, and they stopped in front of my face to study me for a moment before darting off again.
As I continued to walk north the forest became even thicker with brambles and nettles while the mist seemed to transcend from the floor upward. I could see why people gave it the name the Succubus forest. Even in the broad daylight, it was eerie.
I’d walked through the Forest of Hud only a handful of times. The first was in training, and the Master made sure I was protected during my travels. The point of the journey was to expand my scope of the world, and it worked. I saw the various entities of the woods fly around me while screams sounded from the treetops. I had the task of collecting berus berries from one of the shrubs only found within the forest walls, and once I returned, I felt stronger than when I’d first entered.
The second time I went into the forest was when I was on a mission several years later, and I decided the best position to be in was on top of one of the ancient trees. As soon as I started to scale the trunk, a force shot me down and pressed against my chest, and I was unable to go any further than a few meters before I was forced to turn back.
Still, I enjoyed exploring, and although I hadn’t gone to all corners of the kingdom, I’d discovered most of it by now, and my yearning to delve into the Forest of Hud grew more and more every day.
Everyone in the kingdom had been taught from a young age that the forest was not a place a person would escape from. Word had it, if you didn’t die in the woods, you would surely go crazy in there, and the very few people or creatures who entered the forest without a strict deal with the trees ended up wandering around the kingdom in a strange state because of it. Unless they had the tools to combat it, they would grow into stone-like figures of themselves and stagger around town until they were taken and put in a facility.
The only exception to the rule were the exiled creatures who made it to the mountains beyond. Apparently, the king had a deal with the forest that allowed the safe passage of exiled beings, but their survival meant they would live out the rest of their days isolated in the middle of nowhere and never be allowed to return. Not that they would survive trying to get back.
The forest was a truly lethal force in our lands, and I always wondered how such a sweet kingdom managed to thrive so well inside of it.
I took a last glance into the dense nettles and fronds before I passed the next estate. It was griffin territory and far more destructive than the sylphs’ space. Instead of walls, the whole estate was made from a collection of nests where the griffons slumbered under the light. Feathers larger than myself covered the ground in an array of reds, browns, and yellows, and I walked on the outskirts of the nests while I admired the griffon talons gripping the logs that made up their huge, wooden homes.
Griffins kept to themselves around here, and they weren’t usually considered deadly beings, but there had been many instances where they’d mistaken a human for prey and used them to feed their young.
So, I treaded carefully behind the nests and tried not to disturb them.
I continued to walk along the boundary line of the kingdom and traveled for quite a ways before I noticed the sun had lowered a bit. I wasn’t as far along as I needed to be by now, and if I was going to return to the estate by dusk, I would need to take some transportation.
After I headed toward the interior of the kingdom, I found a huddle of land nymphs gathered in the street. Each one’s hair was tinted pink as the delicate strands flipped across the ground, and they talked about the ever-changing nature in the land.
“Excuse me,” I said as I passed them.
They all stopped dead and let me pass them without hesitation before giggling to themselves and brushing their dainty hands through their pinkish hair.
Then I continued until I reached a local merchant’s carriage. I was still a fair distance away from the town centre, but there were always transporters around the whole kingdom waiting to cart villagers from one end of Ocadia to the other.
As I approached, though, I realized the man in the cart was someone I knew.
His name was Web, and he’d unsuspectingly hired me for a job around four months ago, though neither of us could ever mention it to each other. Because I always acted undercover, most people were none the wiser when they saw me, and Web only considered me a local man who liked to often walk around the town eating fruit.
And yet, I’d been the man who killed his sister’s husband. The man was a raging drunk, and this left the sister in the perils of homelessness. He wouldn’t work and left her to bear the young children alone and without help, and Web had decided enough was enough.
When there was no justice, Master was the jury, and I was the executioner.
One day I would be both.
I’d actually met the husband of the sister a few times before in passing, and it was always an odd situation to be in when I had to kill someone I’d become acquainted with. Before I was told of his actions, I believed him to be a happily married man who liked to drink at the inn every now and then, but on closer inspection, the Master learned Web was true with his word, and the husband was in fact a horrible family member with a hideous temper around his wife.
I killed him with one shot, of course, but it was always strange to know more information about a man than he would ever dare to tell you, especially when he was sitting right in front of me.
I hopped onto the simple wooden carriage and tapped Web on the shoulder.
“Ah, Mr. Morgan,” Web shouted as he turned around to see me. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Hiya, Web.” I smiled. “Can you take me to the Western Quarter, please?”
“Sure thing,” he boomed as he stroked his handlebar moustache. “What do you wanna go over there for?”
“Ah, nothing really,” I returned. “I heard about some tainted fruits that are supposed to be nice and thought I might as well use a nice day like today to go on an adventure.”
“Watch what those younger alchemists give you, won’t you?” Web muttered as he flicked his reins for the horses to start moving. “They’re getting a bit too innovative lately, if you ask me.”
I sat in the back of the carriage and looked at the tight, graying curls that formed at the back of Web’s head. Slung on top of them was a tweed flat cap I’d never seen him without, and he wore a jacket made of the same material. The nape of his neck was wrinkled and red from where the sun had damaged his skin, but his shoulders were as strong as ever, and he held the reins with a tight grip as he guided his creatures onward.
Web was nearly sixty years old, at least I thought that’s what I remembered him telling me on another trip I took with him. He had been a deliverer since a child, and his horses, who were simple Arabians, had been with him for most of that time, too.
The carriage glided past the different estates cluttered together on the outskirts of the forest and then through the town centre and behind the stalls where I’d killed Lord Emory the day before. I leaned over the side as I looked for evidence of his body, but nothing and no one remained in that place. Instead, the grass had used the minerals from the body and created an even brighter tuft of grass than what was there previously.
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We continued west, past the king’s castle, and through the outskirts of the Goblins’ Estate. Like many others, it was made of stone, but the structure was much shorter than most. To the left, the druids’ houses were scattered around the perimeter of the town. These modest buildings had turreted ceilings and only fit a bed and a bathroom, and they were all identical with only one window and a small door to enter through. The druids always left their doors unlocked, so if someone needed help in the town, they could call on them in an emergency. The faeries lived next to the Goblins’ Estate, as well as other smaller estates that I knew nothing about.
The air became colder and less inviting as we drove on, and I could feel it in my bones that we were entering the darker side of town. The sunlight dimmed and became a deep purple while a gray smog filtered through the town.
“I wondered why I hadn’t visited this side of the kingdom in a while,” Web remarked. “Now, I remember. It’s a shithole.”
“Hmm,” I agreed. “Can’t say I really remember it being like this.”
We got to the Alchemists’ Estate, which was just at the edge of where the smog started. The manor house was completely hidden from view and encased in the haze, which wasn’t unlike the alchemists, but I couldn’t recall ever seeing the foggish barricade looking so dark before.
The entire area gave off an atmosphere of dark, stagnate energy, and I began to think Web may have been right about these new, younger alchemists.
They certainly seemed to be brewing up a whole different strain of magic in the environment.
“I can’t take you much deeper,” Web admitted and halted the horses. “I don’t want my stock to get sick. You understand, don’t you?”
“Of course, Web.” I gathered my things and passed him a few coins. “Here’s perfect.”
“Alright, but be careful,” he hummed under his breath.
“Of course.” I smirked and jumped down from the cart.
Then I crossed into the edges of the grounds surrounding the Alchemists’ Estate, and it wasn’t long before the smog became so opaque, I couldn’t see my feet in front of me. I decided I should find someone to mirror as quickly as possible, though, just in case the cloud suddenly lifted, and the people around saw I wasn’t a man from this estate.
I still had my garb from my own estate seamstress to change into, as well, and then I hurried to a row of gnarled hedges before I knelt and dug into my satchel. The disguise consisted of a familiar deep-umber robe made of velvet, and I recognized the traditional garb of the alchemists’ residents. They didn’t always wear the umber robes when they worked in their stalls around the kingdom, but within their grounds, every alchemist dressed the same regardless of age.
I wouldn’t be dressed entirely identical to them all, though.
My estate also gave me a stout tunic of chainmail to wear beneath the disguise for protection against this dragonkin, and I hefted my cloak and bow down into the fog-drenched grass before I pulled the chainmail over my khaki tunic. Then I donned the umber robe, tied the satin roping around my waist to secure it, and returned my longbow to my back. I slipped my chosen arrow within the belt so I could reach it at any moment, and then I pulled my travelling cloak back on and buried my satchel in the hedgerow.
I checked my attire real quick and then guided myself through the hazy grounds, and a few minutes later, I heard a pair of voices about ten yards away. I kept my head down and walked in their direction, and as soon as their vague outlines were clear through the smog, I shifted my course and bumped directly into one of them.
The back of my hand struck against the hand of a man in alchemist’s robes, but I didn’t get a clear look at his face. It didn’t matter, though. One brush of our skin was enough.
“Oops, sorry,” I remarked without stopping.
“Watch where you’re going,” a haggard voice scolded me.
I kept my head down and continued to walk in a straight line until I could feel my body start to transform.
I began to shrink by a few inches, and my neck and spine started to curve forward as my skin prickled all over. The change only lasted for about five seconds, but after I had fully transformed, my hands and joints felt arthritic and sore like an old man’s, and my body ached like I was centuries old.
I felt around my face and touched the coarse, wiry hair that sprouted from my chin before I felt how long and wild my eyebrows had become. Judging by the crevices on my face, I was now the mirror image of a much older man from the Alchemists’ Estate, which meant I could cross their grounds without any interference from here.
I continued through the grounds with hobbling steps until the mist started to ease, and I could see my hands clearer now as I stretched them out in front of me. They were coarser than mine, and the nails were stained yellow. I tried to remember the scroll that the Master showed me on the desk of his office, and I looked around the area to get my bearings.
Now that I was deeper into the estate grounds, the smog turned from black to a pale green, and even though it still lingered densely around me, it was nothing like the barrier I had walked through so far.
Visibility was still pretty poor since dusk was fast approaching, but I managed to catch sight of the bricks that were strewn across a pathway just up ahead. If I had judged it right, this path would take me over a hill and to the stream where the dragonkin committed his most recent crime.
I envisioned Master Abbot’s finger tracing my route on the map, and I concluded the dragonkin’s home would be a less than a fifteen minutes’ walk beyond the stream.
I followed the brick path of the estate for another ten minutes, and I only passed three groups of umber-robed alchemists strolling through the misty grounds. None of them did more than nod a greeting to me with dour expressions, and I mimicked the gesture with my aching neck and wobbly head. Then I made it to the farthest reaches of the Alchemists’ Estate, and the strange haze slowly lifted.
I crossed beyond the barrier of their lands, and as I heard the trickling of a stream up ahead, I knew I was closing in on my destination. I followed the winding water for a ways as a cold, damp breeze kicked up around me, and not two minutes later, I came to the spot where the elven servants had been mauled.
There were no remains, and no blood or tattered servants’ wear could be seen, but I had a sharper eye than most for this sort of thing.
I recognized the newly regenerated grass that had fed off the blood of the fallen, and the extent of the new growth proved how gory the scene must have looked a few days ago.
Almost exactly fifteen minutes later, a dilapidated structure appeared between the thick gray trunks of a charred stand of trees, and the mangled walls surrounding the place were so broken down, they only reached about five feet high. A wrought-iron gate stood crooked at the entrance, and a loose silver chain and lock wrapped around it.
I stooped my shoulders as I moved toward the shadows of the trees nearby, and even though my objective was to not be seen, I made sure to walk with the hobbling limp of a wandering old alchemist as I approached the dilapidated walls.
With creatures as volatile as a dragonkin, being mistaken for an easy meal was safer than being seen as a threat. It meant I could feign shock and fear if I was discovered, and this bought me enough time to alter my plans if need be.
As soon as I reached the half-wall, I peered over to see if the dragonkin was slumbering, but among the destruction, there was nothing but a wasted yard and a rugged home.
The house looked like it had been destroyed and rebuilt multiple times, and wads of clay patched up the broken bricks. Singed grass surrounded the building, and a shattered stone walkway led up to the shadowy entrance.
The whole place was ominously quiet, with only the sound of the ravens that called in the distance, but I caught a faint glint of firelight in one of the lower windows.
I crouched lower and made my way around the perimeter of the wall to scan for any other sign of the dragonkin’s exact whereabouts. Nothing st
irred in the yard or in the darker windows of the house, but as I reached the back of the wall, I found another entrance.
This time, it was a weathered, wooden door with black steel fixtures that bolted it closed.
Then I heard a long, hollow creak echo through the air around me.
I immediately crouched, threw off my cloak, and drew my bow from my back. Then I strung my arrow, and the foxglove pollen lacing its steel and Pluto rock head glistened yellow in the dim, misty light. I kept myself hidden behind the dilapidated wall as I twisted to face the stones, and I strained my ears to listen for another sound.
More ravens started to flock in the sky, and they swirled above the dragonkin’s home and squawked in a way that sent a thrill of adrenaline through my body. A full minute passed without any sound but the calls of ravens and their flapping wings, and I remained static in my position for a few moments longer until I wondered if there was a distant thudding of heavy footsteps in the area.
I pressed my ear closer to the wall as I prepared to risk another glance over the stonework, but then deep exhales rushed through the air and warmed the temperature around me.
A shiver ran down my spine, and I knew I had been focusing in the wrong direction.
I braced myself, tightened my grip on my weapon, and turned around.
Facing me, from just behind the shadows, was the beast I had heard so much about but had never seen before.
The dragonkin was much larger than I was, not only in height, but in bulk. He stood around eight feet tall with a thick hide, rounded body, and chiseled appendages. His clawed feet had been chipped and nipped at over who knew how many years, and his six-inch talons were stout and yellowed with blood dripping from them. The strange blue skin and scales on his form reflected an otherworldly, purple sheen, and his long tail fell to the forest floor behind his huge body with a tip that looked as sharp as a knife.