by Aya Knight
Kale felt a refreshing sense of confidence after his successful kill. There were only two opponents left—he had a chance. Kale gripped the rod with both hands, prepared to finish the fight. His palms were emitting even more heat than before as he swung the rod fiercely toward the next closest creature. Its disgusting mouth hung open, preparing to rip a chunk of flesh from Kale’s bicep. The rod struck the monster’s jaw with amazing force. Kale’s eyes grew wide as the upper half of the creature’s head spun through the air. Blood and chunks of innards that resembled maggots flung in every direction. The creature’s body fell lifeless and limp to the ground.
The remaining monster took a step back, now intimidated by Kale.
From his peripheral vision, Kale could see a faint orange glow along the iron rod, the same appearance as metal heated to an extreme temperature.
What is happening? Kale thought. He blinked, quickly shaking the thought from his mind. There was still one creature left to fight—he had not yet won the battle and this was no time to become reckless, or allow his mind to wander. He dug his toes into the mud as he prepared for another swing. His calf muscle flexed and pain seared through his body from the open wound. Kale could feel blood trickling from the gaping hole where the monster had torn a chunk of flesh. He gritted his teeth and forced his eyes to focus on the monstrosity before him.
The creature lowered its lids as if pondering where to lash out for an attack. The skin above the creature’s top set of teeth raised as it snarled, wrinkling its nose. Then, unexpectedly, it parted its pointed teeth, releasing an ear piercing scream.
Kale was momentarily stunned. He had not yet struck the monster, and thus, there was no reason for it to cry out in what sounded like bone-chilling agony. The creature soon ceased screaming and began to chatter its teeth together. Kale was baffled by the gesture, unsure of how to react.
Is this abomination attempting to surrender to me? Kale wondered.
The creature continued to hammer its top and bottom rows of teeth together in a repetitive, steady rhythm. Within seconds, Kale heard multiple splashing sounds as a dozen pairs of yellow eyes blinked along the shore of the lake, positioned in a perfect circle—surrounding him. Kale realized the scream had been a battle cry, used to summon more of its kind to aid in the fight. He swallowed hard, knowing that swarmed by such a large number, and already injured—things were not going to be in his favor.
Kale looked toward the sky. Pan, I hope you’re watching over me… he thought while wistfully praying to the mighty dragon god said to live among the stars. He took in a deep breath, holding it as he ducked before springing back to avoid another swing of the creature’s long arms. The surrounding monsters began to rhythmically chatter their teeth in unison as if it were their drums of war.
“What did I do to deserve all this?!” Kale yelled out in anger. The veins on his neck pulsed as he tightened his jaw. “At least when I was to die as a dragon I could have kept some dignity!” He began to recklessly swing the orange glowing iron rod in a mad frenzy. “I’ll kill you all!”
The rod struck the creature standing closest to him. As it made contact, the weapon sliced through the monster’s torso with ease. Its smooth skin singed and the smell of burnt flesh filled Kale’s nostrils. The creature staggered toward him, still determined to attack as if hunger was the dominant thought on its mind. It stepped forward, a long string of intestines trailing from its gut, and fell to the ground in a bloody heap.
Kale barely found the time to inhale before many of the surrounding creatures thrashed angrily through the water toward him. The chattering of teeth ceased; they were now hissing as they closed in on him.
“It looks as though my time has come, my brethren.” Kale whispered into the air, speaking to the fallen dragons. Although Kale intended to fight until his last breath, the thought of death weighed on his mind, causing the joyful times he had spent in life to flash before his eyes. He pulled back the rod, readying himself for his final battle. The creatures were only feet away when Kale noticed a spark of light, followed by a loud snapping noise—something approached in his direction.
“Kale, do as I say and do not move!” a voice bellowed above the hissing. Kale immediately knew it was Thomas.
“I sure hope you know what you’re doing!” Kale yelled. He knew that with one false move he would become a feast for the creatures. They were so close now that should Thomas delay Kale would meet an inevitable demise.
Kale froze in place—his mind swarming with doubt as half a dozen creatures advanced toward him. He pinched his eyes tightly shut, placing his life within Thomas’ hands.
Thomas’ open palm rose to the sky. “Mischenda lok vixairea.” He then tightly balled his fingers into a fist and struck the ground. A large, red nova of light flashed brightly outward around Thomas’ body. It hovered inches above the ground as it made way for the island at an outstanding speed. Brief cries rang out as the red blast struck the creatures and seared through their flesh as if it were a sword made by the finest blacksmith and sharpened to perfection.
Kale slightly lifted his eyelids. He viewed in amazement as the red blast split directly in front of where he stood and created a V-like shape around him. The magical barrier deterred the spell from striking him. He watched as the creatures’ skin turned to ash, beginning in the area where the attack first struck and expanding in both directions until their ugly faces disintegrated. The pieces fluttered down in grey flakes to coat the surface of the murky water. It looked as though snow had fallen before the ashes melted away, sinking below the surface. Kale widened his eyes; the nova was gone—so were the creatures. He glanced around to view the damage done by the blast. To his surprise, none of the surrounding foliage was harmed. Everything stood as it had when he first arrived— completely untouched by Thomas’ spell. The attack was able only to affect breathing organisms with flesh and bones.
Thomas pointed at Kale, shaking his finger, “You should count your blessings that my bladder isn’t what it used to be! I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I awoke, only to see you were nowhere to be found!” he called out from the bank of the pond as his grey brows descended over his eyes in anger. “Just what were you trying to prove by running off alone? You’ve only just become a human; it’s amazing you survived as long as you did before I arrived. These creatures are called monsloths. You’re incredibly lucky they didn’t rip the flesh from your body and feast upon your innards.”
“Those things were monsloths?!” Kale remembered a story Thomas once told him about the creatures.
They had ambushed a very small village to the west of Mirion many years ago, slaughtering men, women, and children—there had been no survivors. The King dispatched a small, but elite group of knights to hunt the attackers. At the time, a description was unknown other than the assumption it had been a sizeable animal. After three days on the hunt, they had finally managed to devise a plan to lure the beast out by roping a sheep to a tree. The knights’ plan proved to be a success as hours later, two monsloths emerged from the brush. They appeared hungry and prepared to indulge upon the helpless animal. The knights were utterly repulsed. They had never seen nor heard of such a monstrosity prior to this encounter. The knights watched in silence as the two creatures walked toward the sheep. The men had no doubts the monsters were responsible for the horrible murders, judging by the savage look they bore. The warriors jumped out from their hidden location and ambushed the two creatures. The end result was a victory and both monsters had been slain—however, it came at a price. They lost one of their own men, along with the sheep. It was a bittersweet ending.
Kale’s memories were interrupted by the sharp affliction in his calf that felt as though his lower leg was on fire.
“We’d better head back to camp, Kale. You’re soaked and need to dry by the fire. I’m afraid the only spell I know that allows an individual to walk across
liquid is limited to only myself.” He sighed regrettably, feeling sorry that his friend would now have to wade through the remnants of monsloth particles. Until this point, Thomas had not foreseen becoming part of a war in which he would have needed to know such a spell. He now wished he had dedicated more time to the study of spell books in his youth.
Kale nodded as he began to trudge through the water. Once he arrived at the deepest section of the lake, his leg felt cool and relieved from pain. This lasted briefly as the agony soon returned. With every step he took, he could feel a chunk of loosely attached meat from his wound swaying in the water. The sensation felt as though the flesh was being tugged from his body, slowly ripping away. Kale had never been so glad to stand upon dry land as he made his way up onto the shore. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to return to their camp to enjoy the comforts of a warm fire and rest. It had been the worst day in all one hundred and twenty six years of his life. Between General Jedah and the monsloths, he couldn’t tell which was worse; both were equally ugly and vicious—then there was the whole being transformed into a human issue. He sighed, grunting and groaning, as he limped his way back to the camp.
When they arrived back at the ransacked caravan, Kale had a much better understanding of what really happened to the travelers. He tried to shake the thoughts, knowing he needed to rest his mind and body. The once cozy fire had dwindled to nothing more than hot coals and embers. Thomas began to gather nearby twigs and sticks in order to salvage the dying fire, instructing Kale to rest and warm himself. After the fire began to feed off the small pieces of dry wood, Thomas carried a small log to the flames, gently laying it on top of the coals; as he did, his eyes widened. Thomas jerked his hand back, pulling it under the sleeve of his robe thankful Kale was so exhausted he did not notice the blackened veins which ran through his hand.
Thomas knew he had exceeded his magical limits. Even supreme spell-casters such as sorcerers had boundaries on how much power they could expend within a certain amount of time. Each caster was different and had their own extent of what would push them over—Thomas had met his. When a caster went beyond what their physical and mental strength could handle, the magic would react against them, absorbing into their body as a poison.
“Can’t you just conjure us a fire? It’s a bit ridiculous to watch a sorcerer tending to a fire as if he were an average human.” After seeing him in action, Kale felt confident Thomas had his strength back.
Thomas glanced up toward Kale, who still sat in his sopping clothing. “Magic is not to be used recklessly, Kale. It’s not wise for a skilled spell-caster to ease their way through life using only their magical abilities. Any decent sorcerer should be self-sufficient without the need to use spells on basic daily tasks.” He tossed another small bundle of twigs on top of the flames, gently blowing onto the sparkling embers until the fire’s intensity increased. The larger flames now hugged the logs placed into the pit. “I think it would be best for us to sleep inside the caravan tonight. It will provide cover against any unexpected weather and it is much less of a risk in case there are further night creatures roaming about.” Even with the door missing, the caravan would provide better shelter than sleeping in the open.
Kale nodded in agreement, so tired at this point that he truly did not care where they slept. They spent a brief time engaging in conversation before neither of them could hold their eyelids up any longer. They slowly made their way toward the wooden caravan. Thomas gave a final glance over his shoulder to ensure there was no debris surrounding the pit which could catch fire while they slept. The last thing they needed after such a horrible night would be to wake and find themselves surrounded by flames.
Suddenly, Thomas paused, stopping in his tracks as he pointed toward the inside of the caravan.
“I’ll leave that to you, Kale.”
Kale could immediately see that Thomas referred to the corpse of the woman traveler within the wooden vehicle. He had forgotten all about her until now. Her body hung halfway through the side window, as though she had been trying to escape when the monsloths attacked. Her attempt to flee had failed horribly. Kale sighed at the inconvenience as he made his way around to the side of the caravan. All he wanted to do was sleep. He wrapped his arms around her torso, tugging forcefully in an attempt to dislodge her from the small square opening she had tried to squeeze through. His muscles ached as he battled his fatigue. The deceased body inched forward, until the woman’s feet slipped down from the window frame. Kale released his grip around the torso as her body crumpled to the ground in an abnormally grotesque position. Her neck bent to the side, and Kale could see that beneath her auburn locks was a hole where her face had been eaten away from the skull. He cringed. Even for a dragon who devoured animals whole, this was disgusting. A single eyeball remained, sagging loosely in globs of thick, oozy blood.
Thomas peeked around the corner of the caravan, “How long must an old man wait?” As he saw the woman, he choked back the vomit that slid up his throat like a scorching volcano about to erupt.
In a poor attempt to cover the bloody remnants of what once was a face, Kale picked up as many pine needles as he could fit within his grasp and tossed them onto the woman’s head.
Thomas smacked his palm to his forehead in disbelief at his friend’s shameful method of hiding the corpse. He wrinkled his nose as he eyed Kale’s blood-smudged arms.
“You are sleeping on the opposite side of the caravan, young man.” He waved a finger as he spoke. “Tomorrow we will need to find a clean source of water to hydrate and wash.” Although friends, Thomas often behaved as the adult and father figure of their relationship. Kale had lived longer than most humans; however, he was a juvenile among his kind with a great amount of immaturity and reckless behavior.
Kale paid no attention to his sticky hands as he walked back toward Thomas. “Why do you think the monsloths ate only portions of these people? From the story you once told me, and from what I’ve seen tonight, I would think there would be nothing left of them.”
“Well, I’ve never encountered their kind prior to tonight—I’ve only heard stories as well. I would assume they rummaged through the caravan and found that between the chunks of meat they indulged upon already and the stocked food within the vehicle, it was enough to satisfy their temporary needs.”
Kale then explained to Thomas about the one who stalked him as he slept.
“I’m sure they were returning to recover the bodies and bring them back. Then to their surprise, fresh meat had arrived.” Thomas shook his head, attempting to remain awake.
Kale limped his way over to the caravan, planting his bottom onto the wood as he scooted toward the far end. He was completely exhausted.
“Jumping balt toads, Kale, why didn’t you tell me you were wounded?! How did this happen?” Thomas earlier assumed Kale’s stagger to be due to the adjustment into a human body. “Let me have a closer look,” he demanded.
Kale rolled his weary eyes, explaining to Thomas it was just a small wound and he would be fine after a little rest.
Thomas dismissed Kale’s sorry attempt at pretending to put on a tough exterior. He firmly gripped Kale’s ankle and pulled the leg toward him to better analyze the injury. He pulled out his spectacles, placing them upon his face as he maneuvered himself to allow the light of the camp fire to illuminate his view.
“My goodness…you hardheaded dragon.” He exhaled, “You were bitten by a monsloth—and don’t you dare try to deny it, boy. I once read a book which spoke of various venoms across Ravondore, and this is most definitely from a monsloth. I can’t tell whether your brain is filled with pride—or stupidity.” He continued to investigate the open wound, gently pressing against the sides as he watched a green pus-like substance squirt down Kale’s calf. The wound, having become infected at an accelerated rate, had already begun to fester and smelled putrid. Thomas increased the pressure on
the red swollen tissue of the wound and Kale moaned in pain. “My, my.” He removed his spectacles, returning them to his pocket. “You’re in for a rough night, dear friend.” Thomas’ green eyes narrowed sympathetically. “From what I’ve read, those who are bitten by one of these creatures will suffer with symptoms for a day at the least. You can expect severe vomiting and temporary hallucinations. I can however, offer you a bit of relief.” He held his hand up above Kale’s wound, ensuring the sleeve of his robe shielded the blackened veins from sight. He knew using even more magic in his current state would not be wise, but he could not allow his friend to suffer in agony. Healing spells of this magnitude were fairly easy. The wound was not extremely large and he was only going to use a little of his strength to ensure comfort, not cure the entire opening in the leg.
“Xaranthium mendona.” With a painless zap the red inflamed tissue returned to normal and the pus seemed to evaporate. Though the chunk of flesh was missing, the opening was much smaller in size and the pain relatively gone. Thomas informed Kale it would still need more time before fully healed and his body would naturally run its course to do so. The old sorcerer could feel the veins on his hand pulsing as the black magical poisons ran up into his arm. He would need to refrain from using any spells over the next couple of days if he wanted to survive.
“Thank you… I mean it.” Kale yawned heavily. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had… Well, the only friend—but still the best.” He smiled as his tired eyes finally closed.