The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga)

by Gary F. Vanucci

  “But we have faith,” he whispered to himself in a reassuring tone, calling the celestial aid of The Shimmering One once more and driving a beam of divine holy energy right through the creature’s skull. It slumped upon Mathias’ sword. He glanced at Garius, nodding in thanks, before receiving the next zombie which he drove back with a slam of his shield followed quickly by a wide swing of his blade.

  Garius moved to assist the fallen Marcus, as Bralon hacked down the last of the zombie threat.

  As he approached, he witnessed Divah kneeling beside him introducing a burst of regenerative energy into the man while he prayed, bravely and loudly to the sun god through trembling lips. The timorous halfling that had once run from the undead creatures was gone, leaving behind someone more courageous, it appeared.

  “I thought you feared for your life?” Garius questioned.

  “I was more afraid for this man than for my own safety,” Divah answered with an implacable contempt behind her green eyes. They were hard in their reflection of the warpriest, whether in response to his words or in an attempt to quell her own fears, Garius could not tell. Perhaps it was simply her detestation of the undead zombies that propelled her.

  Marcus coughed and shivered as the divine light coursed through him. Garius knelt in prayer, away from the halfling, and prayed for help in fighting the disease that now ran rampant throughout his fellow companion.

  Moments later, Garius stood and removed his helm.

  “These things are called Blood Rot Zombies—Blood Rotters to some,” Garius explained to Divah. “They have not plagued our world since a time before the reign of Ashenclaw. Something wicked has been sent to Wothlondia.” As he spoke, the warpriest knelt and examined Marcus. “Something wicked, indeed. This was no random act. Something summoned these things and set them free upon our lands.”

  “Some-thing or some-one?”

  “That is something I intend to find out. You have done all you can and I appreciate that,” he thanked Divah kindly. “I must rid him of the contagion now or he will die.”

  The Paladins surrounded the warpriest and offered support in the form of prayers while Divah willingly moved aside to allow them the space.

  This was something she had not anticipated, and though she had dealt with disease and poisons before, she conceded the warpriest his prerogative without a word. She watched in awe and wonder as the warpriest chanted spells and invoked the regenerative energy into the fallen body of Marcus over and again for the next hour and more, attempting to quell the deadly infestation that consumed him.

  It was for naught.

  “We need to burn his remains so that he does not return from the dead,” Garius stated with pain in his voice. “He deserves a hero’s burial. Yet, here I am faced with burning him instead of sending him off rightly in a glorious ritual.”

  Silence and dejection filled the empty air. The warriors formed a semi-circle around the body of the fallen Paladin which they had stacked up high on neatly piled branches in a clearing. Garius started mouthing a prayer in remembrance of the valor of the man named Marcus while Bralon struck the tinder twice. The kindling caught quickly.

  They all stood silently in reverence and watched as the Paladin was consumed by the flames.

  “It is never easy to lay a loved one to rest,” Divah announced softly to the warpriest.

  “He deserved a champion’s funeral and instead we have to take the practical precaution.” There was a brief pause and she regarded him sympathetically. “It comes with the territory, but we do not have to like it,” he replied. “I thank you for your condolences in the matter.” He saw the look of concern on her face, though his stare returned to her nothing but hardened features and eyes as cold as ice.

  After an hour passed, the ceremony was concluded and a proud servant of The Shimmering One lay dead.

  “You did your best,” Bralon assured the warpriest, slapping him on the back.

  “Aye” he nodded. “We all did. But where in Pandemonium did these foul things come from?”

  “I am not sure,” responded Bralon from beneath his helm. “But we have to get moving. Our supplies dwindle with each day and we need a break from the road.”

  Garius nodded his consent and they all mounted up and sped off toward Dhegg, the halfling propelling her own pony to its limits.

  At one point, Garius looked back to see the pyre burning, smoke billowing into the night sky, even though they were several miles away by now.

  Within the hour, Garius witnessed a light coming from a burrow hidden deep within the soil and realized that they had wandered right into Dhegg and had not even realized it.

  The town was mostly subterranean, structured slightly below the uneven grounds of the Stonehill region, with one or two of the dwellings extending on into a huge grove of trees that grew harmoniously adjacent to one another. Garius was aware that the gnome’s defenses were their stealthily concealed burrows, granting them the element of surprise against would-be invaders.

  It was then that he abruptly perceived the shadowy figures, short of stature and hiding behind the crests of the surrounding hills. Some were even in the trees above. Gnomes stood or crouched with crossbows cocked and ready to fire upon them. However, it seemed that they were awaiting a command to discharge their weapons, for they restrained their volleys.

  Garius had been so preoccupied with his own guilt at having let Marcus die that he hadn’t noticed any of it. He thanked The Shimmering One that his folly hadn’t cost them even more lives.

  “Hold!” called a voice from overhead. It was wheezy, yet forceful.

  “It be very late, strangers,” said a smallish man, who slowly came into view, descending from high above in the shadows.

  Before them stood what could only be a gnome, with thick white hair covering his head and a neatly trimmed beard surrounding his chin and lips. Bright blue eyes peeked out from under bushy white eyebrows and he had a bit of a belly on him.

  “I am Larwinckle and I assume ye’ mean us no harm. At least that’s what I be advised.”

  “Aye,” Garius confirmed. “Apologies, my lord, but we have been traveling for months with no rest and sought you with purpose. Please consider allowing us to remain in your village.”

  “Of course ye can stay,” Larwinckle answered, signaling for all of the gnomes to put down their weapons. They all gathered around and looked the humans and the halfling up and down curiously and then scattered back to their homes.

  “Follow me and I’ll be showin’ ye where ye can bed for the eve,” stated the white bearded gnome, moving as he spoke.

  He showed them to a smallish burrow, which was large according to gnome standards, and which would sleep all five of them, albeit uncomfortably.

  “Many thanks, Larwinckle,” said Garius kindly, nodding to the gnome. “I am Garius Forge, warpriest to The Shimmering One.”

  “Pleased to meet ye, Garius Forge,” replied Larwinckle as he backed out of the burrow. “We’ll speak on the morrow when we break our fast.”

  Garius nodded and closed the door, unaware that a pair of spiteful eyes considered him curiously.

  Garius removed his armor methodically over the next hour before lying down. He barely slept at all as the face of Marcus haunted his slumber.

  Garius focused on the door when he heard the footsteps approach, light though they were. He was awake, but hardly refreshed. He had already refitted his armor meticulously, prayed and meditated in the cramped confines of the room and had done so quietly enough not to wake the others.

  The expected knock sounded on the door, echoing in the room as his companions began to stir. Garius opened the door and beheld a hunched gnome. He looked impatiently into the room, and then stared up at Garius and began mumbling something to him. The warpriest bent to one knee before the bald gnome and placed a hand to his ear.

  “I said, Larwinckle be ready for ye,” the unnamed gnome repeated more clearly and then waddled away along a scarcely perceptible path that was wo
rn into the grassy meadow. It was barely visible now and had gone undetected all of last evening, especially after the sun had fallen into the clouds.

  “I will accompany this one. You will seek me out once you are dressed and ready,” Garius called back to the others, but Divah was already up and out of her bedroll wearing a long gown made of a thin, yet durable fabric that Garius assumed was meant to be slept in. The halfling was so excited to get moving that it seemed she did not care about the state of her undress.

  “I am coming with you,” she told Garius eagerly, her green eyes filled with wonder and joy at her obvious expectations of finally exploring the gnome village. With that, she snatched up her shoes and began moving hastily out of the burrow. The Paladins began to move about in the shadows of the room, donning their clothing and then their armor. Garius shook his head and a smile cracked his face as he watched the halfling, hopping forward on one foot and then the other, trying to put on her shoes while hurrying after him.

  She is quite impulsive, he thought, allowing the smile to remain until it left of its own accord a few moments later.

  The gnome led Garius and the female halfling to a smallish door that appeared to be anchored to the ground. It was partially hidden by brush and foliage, Garius observed, as the gnome knocked loudly on its hard, wooden surface. Garius also noted that there was no knob to be seen or any other obvious way to pull the door open from the outside.

  With that thought in mind, he saw the door open outward slowly as a gnome pushed it ajar and then waved them all in. Garius watched as the gnome and halfling strode easily through the opening, then he stooped, having to bend low in order to navigate the space. It was well lit inside by a combination of lanterns and a brilliant, magical light coming in from above them that appeared to hover and move about on its own. The warpriest wondered if the wisp of light was something sentient.

  Larwinckle sat at a large table by himself and waved Garius and Divah over to join him.

  “Havin’ some duck eggs, curds and bread for the breaking of our fast,” he informed them as another gnome placed a plate of food and a basket of bread in front of them. Another, a female gnome this time, came over and handed them both a mug of water and another of milk. Garius nodded and accepted them before turning his attention back to Larwinckle. He observed quietly as the gnome ate his food with a seemingly ravenous hunger until moments passed and he was gulping down the last of his mug’s contents.

  “I cannot wait to see your market!” Divah said excitedly between bites of her food.

  “Ye are welcome to see all of our wares,” the gnome responded. “Berengel and Zulmatten over there will certainly be happy to show you their latest inventions.” He pointed at a table where two gnomes sat alone. One had floppy brown hair all about his face and the other was bald on top, with silver follicles lining the back and sides of his head.

  “No one really talks to ‘em except one another,” he laughed.

  “Is your whole village present?” Garius asked him, scanning the room and noting that there were literally hundreds of gnomes milling about. This structure was one of the few that extended above ground, making practical use of the tight grouping of trees outside.

  “Not even close,” Larwinckle giggled. “This is Hedgewin’s Tavern,” he continued, indicating a gnome behind the bar who hurried about, wiping mugs and giving instructions to the others under his employ. The bar itself was a massive construction of fine wood that wrapped around behind them and disappeared out of sight. “This place is the biggest building in the whole town and goes up seven more floors.”

  Garius looked surprised as he peered up to the wooden ceiling but then saw a sturdy set of steps that obviously connected to the floors above and another set heading down.

  “Where do those lead?” Garius asked about the stairs leading to a lower level.

  “Aren’t we full o’ questions this morn?” Larwinckle answered with a smile. “Eat yer food ‘afore it gets cold and we’ll talk after.”

  Garius nodded and did as he was told, with a look of curiosity upon his face. He had never really intermingled with the gnomes before and was finding their customs quite different. He looked to his right to see that Divah had already finished eating and had joined the two inventors at the other table. A moment later, the Paladins entered the room ducking and squatting under the roof. They found seating and settled themselves uncomfortably on a bench at another table as the gnomes brought them their food. Garius watched as Matthias, Bralon and Micah each gave thanks to The Shimmering One and clanked mugs in respect for their fallen brother before eating their meals.

  He slowly finished his own repast in silence while Larwinckle told a story of how he and his kin came to master the repeating crossbow. Garius listened intently.

  Randermotten did not leave his burrow this day for the morning meal, nor did he want to share anything at all with the gnomes that would surely gather throughout the day at Hedgewin’s Tavern. He was, however, very interested in the strangers that came calling last eve... he and the newly summoned demon, Zan’kuros, that is. Zan’kuros was an avatar demon from Pandemonium and servant to the demon lord, Amon. He had responded to the pleas of the warlock the day before last.

  Randermotten was an ambitious gnome and habitually excluded himself from most activities enjoyed by his brethren. He had been a hermit for several decades since his wife of many years passed away from a sudden illness. He kept to the shadows and eyed his fellow gnomes with contempt. The inhabitants of Dhegg generally respected each other’s privacy and so left him alone for the most part. However, they did consider him quite strange. He walked with a limp, a defect he’d had since birth, his hygienic habits were not usually well kept and he could often be found muttering to himself. Many of the villagers would whisper about the peculiarities of the hobbling gnome and gossip amongst themselves about his unusual mannerisms. This angered the misguided gnome, and instead of pursuing help from any of the Gods of Order, he instead begged for aid in the night to the demon lords and pursued the black arts of the warlock.

  From the abyss called Pandemonium emerged the fiend Zan’kuros, a demon that smelled of sulfur and brimstone. It did not have a corporeal form, but instead was a thing of mist and smoke, shimmering and fading in and out, and its eyes shone bright red in the darkness. It hovered in the shadows, whispering and planting seeds of treachery within the thoughts of the gnome, sometimes sending images into his mind's eye.

  “Weeee muuuusst fiiind a host foooorrrr meeeee,” it hissed to him in a very broken tongue. It spoke to the gnome in the common trade-speak, or Wothlondian as it was called.

  Randermotten had been dabbling with the dark arts in secret for a year now and was beginning to harness that magic, especially the necromantic spells associated with the Degenerative Plane.

  “I’ve a host in mind,” stated Randermotten, sweeping a mop of hair from in front of his dark eyes which harbored a palpable hatred. “We’ve been set upon by a group of Paladins. You must possess one of them!”

  “Yyyeeeeesssss,” it whispered, its red eyes glinting in the shadows. “Giiivvveeee meeeeeee a tasssssssste offf flleeeessssssshhhhh.”

  “I’ll bring one close enough and ye should have the time ye require ta trap his soul,” Randermotten informed the creature, seeing its eyes flash a bright scarlet at that comment.

  With that, Randermotten opened the door to his burrow and squinted into the sunlight, surveying the scene. He set off toward Hedgewin’s Tavern and then stopped as a fortuitous event occurred—one of the Paladins emerged from the tavern… alone!

  “Help!” called Randermotten suddenly, waving to the Paladin to follow. He was able to yell it loudly enough that the knight heard him across the short distance, yet softly enough as to not disturb anyone else. Or so he thought.

  “What be the problem, my lord?” asked a female gnome passing by, a neighbor to Randermotten, whose name eluded him. He ducked back into his burrow and she pursued him. She had long silver hair and
the bluest eyes he had ever seen, so full of warmth and hope.

  That look changed to shock, and possibly despair, he thought, as he thrust a dagger straight through her heart with a crazed look in his deep, dark eyes. As he dropped her to the floor, her warm blood still fresh on his hands, the Paladin entered.

  His facial features distorted slowly beneath his helm, converting from puzzlement and wonder to sheer horror and disgust as he registered what had happened here. His gaze slowly adjusted to first regard the limp gnomish female on the floor lying in a puddle of blood, and then the dark-eyed gnome standing with a bloody dagger in his hand.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Bralon blurted out in absolute revulsion at the sight of the dead gnomish girl. But as the holy warrior unsheathed his weapon, intending to enforce the will of The Shimmering One upon the obvious and base murderer set before him, he froze. He jerked back suddenly and began to convulse as his helm flew from atop his skull to reveal the blonde hair beneath. His wide eyes showed a clear struggle within and turned to regard Randermotten, whose face widened with a wicked smile.

  Bralon’s brow began to bead with sweat as the demon Zan’kuros asserted his will from within the holiest of holy warriors. The Paladin felt the darkness closing in on him, wresting control of his soul.

  Randermotten watched intently, growing nervous as the internal battle seemed to go on for what seemed an eternity. He continued observing, beginning to wonder who would emerge victorious.

  Bralon fought with the will and power of a true warrior of the sun god, but in the end it did him no good against this foul demon from Pandemonium. Now he was no longer Bralon the bold. In his stead was a demonic creature, the likes of which Wothlondia hadn’t seen in decades.