The dozen nightbirds circling high above the shadow fell to the earth, their lives snuffed out in a heartbeat. The cry of the NaZuth was one of its most potent weapons that incapacitated and even killed victims. The goblin charm now destroyed saw the dark concealment cloud vanish. Directly in front of the NaZuth stood several panicky goblin mages trying to unsuccessfully recreate the magic cloud. Outlines of several tortured faces appeared briefly in the NaZuth form and looked beyond the goblins to see ranks upon ranks of hounds. One face resembling the defeated witch Cedonia grinned and disappeared. The NaZuth sighed, fell to earth like water and flowed without hesitation towards a large number of lesser beings standing before it.
Goblin mages, their heads and faces aglow with pale glyphs wielded their enchantment daggers hysterically in front of them and yelling verses. They called down a severe array of lightning strikes from the heavy black sky upon the NaZuth. The series of strikes lit up the atmosphere always revealing many nervous and panicky hounds. The power of lightning had little effect; however, as the void shadow simply absorbed the strikes. It did serve, however, to cause it to move faster and eat the mages first, who disappeared into the black breath of the void shadow screaming horribly. In the Bloodwood Grove, goblin reavers holding clubs, knives and short swords looked around nervously as the air was now mysteriously silent, following a rain of lightning strikes in the distance. They stood, dispersed with a good number of the largest most ferocious brawler hounds ordered to guard the coven entrance till their death.
The Rust-Serpents paced back and forth on their short, muscular legs and hissed loudly. Their strong jaws lined with large teeth snapped at any hound or goblin that got too close to the entrance. Strala knew that the NaZuth could not be destroyed by physical force. However, the hounds and goblins served a purpose to merely slow it down while she prepared her most important enchantment. The howling and screaming above came closer to the ears of the witches’ in chambers below. This was usually music to their ears, but not on this night. Hounds and goblins attacked the shadow as it flowed over the ground and engulfed anything in its path, removing all life and leaving soulless corpses behind. The reavers struck at the NaZuth desperately; however, they would have had as much success as if trying to fight smoke. They did, however, slow the Shadow down as it occasionally paused to divert left and right to consume fleeing hounds and goblins. The shadow cut a swath through the milling lesser beings between it and the coven entrance. The Rust-Serpents lunged ferociously at the shadow, with one even breaking its chain. The Shadow paused only momentarily as it dispatched serpents, leaving behind smoking crumpled piles of scales and mangled flesh.
The NaZuth poured in through the coven entrance. Numbers of surviving hounds and goblins above milled around in confusion within the Bloodwood Grove. They had never been granted access to the coven in the past and believed they could not follow the Shadow inside. That’s what they told themselves anyway, being grateful that they had not been destroyed as they had just seen that fate befall a number of their comrades. Strala, Salum and other powerful witches’ stood in the lady’s chamber, each upon a designated hieroglyphic symbol carved intricately into the ground in the shape of an octagon. In the centre was the squat stone altar and overhead rotated the Planetarius, with Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune directly above each witch. Several fire torches that sat randomly in the walls threw orange light and shadow around the chamber.
Strala stood in the middle of the Octagon below the altar staring up at the blood-red moon surrounding a now pulsing black sun. She held her sweep in one hand as did the other eight witches’ with the jewels in each throbbing bright green in a tempo to match the pulsing black sun. Strala also held in her other hand several white glowing scrolls from her library behind the throne. She had been studying these for some time now and had learnt a most powerful enchantment she hoped would be enough to send the NaZuth back to the Abysm. She was only missing one aspect to fulfil this black sorcery, and she risked all in the timing of its execution.
Screams of lesser witches’ came closer to her ears from hallways and tunnels nearby as she and the other eight witches’ recited the cipher over and over. A wicked dagger with a curved black blade embossed with miniature lightning strikes and a handle fashioned in the like of a Rust-Serpent’s upper body lay at the head of the altar. This had been a gift from her patron Daemon ‘Dalgaith the wretched’. It was one of few remaining weapons of light forged by the Druid smiths a millennium ago, and not in the elves possession. The glowing runes on her cloak moved about frantically, mirrored by the runes on the capes of the other witches’. She laid the scrolls next to the dagger at the head of the altar. They unfurled in unison and cast a white light directed upwards to the palpitating black sun. The fire torches either side of the chamber door were inexplicably blown out as the air became cold. Outside, the adjacent hallway went quiet. A strange loud wet smacking type sound reached their ears as a dreadful feeling of impending doom and anguish entered the room. Several witches’ wavered upon hearing this, but quickly gathered their senses and continued reciting the cipher.
The NaZuth flowed lazily into the chamber and once it was entirely within, raised itself up to a height of ten feet and paused to view the collection of higher souls before it. The sweet smell of the target soul was also there, and it was about to enjoy a magnificent feast. The light cast from the remaining fire torches seemed to stream through the cold air to be absorbed into the black shadow of the NaZuth. It moved forward as several witches’ fell back from the octagon screaming, their swirling green mists of protection dissipating quickly on contact with the shadow. The outline of a tortured face appeared again within the shadow and grinned in recognition of the witch Strala.
40.
BRINETOWN
Barney ‘Speckles’ Critchem and Ronald the young archer held their coats tightly around them where the odd button was missing in an attempt to block out the cutting cold wind. They carried small packs on their backs, which contained a few rescued belongings they had managed to save when they were forced to flee the burning inn. Several hours ago, after not hearing or seeing any danger, they cautiously made their way out of the ramshackle stable and put as much distance as they could between the smouldering pile of rubble and themselves. Ronald’s bow and quiver of arrows were hitched over his pack while Barney carried his short sword in his right hand. His white knuckles indicating his unwillingness to let it go as recent memories of the night’s events haunted him repeatedly.
They stood on the overgrown Wandering Souls Road at Woods End and looked back into the distance at the smoking remains of the Whalecove Inn. The vast seemingly impenetrable woods dominated the scenery directly behind it. They had seen the houndmen run this way and that into the woods looking for them, but so far, the creatures had not come back out. They finally located their pony tracks which showed that they hadn’t been casually strolling along but galloping flat out. With disappointment, Barney sighed as the ponies were nowhere in sight and even worse the tracks led back towards Saltwood. If they started now and didn’t get eaten by some monster, they could reach Brineburg in half the time it would take to get home to Saltwood. This is why Barney had never left the sanctuary of Saltwood, he kept telling himself, nothing this bad ever happened there.
The weary pair talked rarely and stopped less frequently. Usually just enough to take a quick sip of water from a stream here and there and eat some cured dried meat and fruit from their packs. But that soon ran out, and they relied on the familiar red berry found in generous proportions on vines everywhere near the road. The Wandering Souls Road still headed north along the edge of the sea cliffs. After another 2 days of what seemed like endless walking, the woods receded further and further away to the east as they left Woods End behind and the area gave way to open grasslands and quagmires that marked the edge of the moors. From a safe distance, they saw that the wetter areas of the moors were full of white birds flying around in large flocks s
quawking constantly. They snatched some occasional sleep near the rocky pillars marking the road edge, finding whatever shelter they could from the battling cold winds, frequent rain and spraying seawater.
The moaning sea had certainly earned its name, through the constant low vibration in the ground and the water and wind smashing against the cliffs to make eerie mournful sounds. They did, however, feel much safer and confident as they put a reasonable distance between themselves and Woods End where the remains of the inn that had claimed the lives of their comrades lay in a dishevelled heap. It was on the eve of the third day that they saw it. Up until now, the only life they had seen were ocean birds, white moor birds, a distant string of ponies and some swine. This suited them just fine. Oh, and a rabbit or two. As hungry as both men were, Ronald was reluctant to fire an arrow in the event he lost it. He decided that he could not afford to lose an arrow in case they had…. another encounter.
They walked with their heads down, as the sky darkened suddenly and a peculiar grey chunky cloud rolled up from behind them and spread quickly. They had just been thinking about where to sleep on another wet and cold night. Then they heard the sound before they saw the source. Barney clutched Ronald tightly by his arm and stopped. It came to them as a distant high-pitched squeal above the distance din of birdsong, which almost sounded like cackling laughter. Looking around in alarm, Ronald saw it first in the distance over the moors, and running parallel with the road were two figures in black garb flying through the sky on what looked like brown poles. Both had long black hair that streamed out behind, their legs were below them with their feet hooked up over the poles. They were holding onto the pole in front of them, though one was now pointing with one had to something in the distant moor. They were talking loudly and laughing at each other periodically. Ronald rubbing his eyes stood and stared open-mouthed. He whispered, ‘That’s impossible.’ Barney knowing better grabbed him with his other hand as well and dragged him low to the ground so as not to make a visible silhouette.
Both men crouched in the cover of bushes and long grass and felt sufficiently concealed from view. Barney whispered quietly in Ronald’s ear’ Yes if all the stories we have heard are true, they are witches’. I have never seen one, but they fit the description all right. How many other people do we know that can fly about like that?’ ‘I heard that they eat babies and cast wicked enchantments on men.’ Ronald replied in a shaky voice. ‘Then best we’re not seen.’ Whispered back Barney, his voice barely audible. At that, both men nestled deeply into the grass to lie in the mud. They didn’t mind, of course, as this was better than the anticipated alternative of having enchantments cast upon them if discovered. They watched as the witches’ went further north to finally disappear from view, their incessant cackling fading away with them. ‘Blast it’, said Barney. ‘They are heading the same way we are, towards Brineburg.’ Barney continued ‘By my reckoning, we are only a day and a bit away from the village.’ Ronald thought about the comforting feeling of safety in the village. A decent meal, a bed and even some pretty girls that he could embellish some stories of bravery that he had endured on his journey here. Barney continued, ‘we can talk to the elders who will send a detachment of guards back there and clean up those horrible dog monster things.’ Strangely enough, after a half-hour had gone by, the tail end of the strange grey cloud vanished out of sight behind the witches.
Their faces and clothing were coated and white stained in salt grime. The heavy soakings of rain they had endured had failed to altogether remove it from them. They made their last night’s camp among a rocky outcrop sitting on a significant section of the cliff. A thick hazy grey mist lay to the north concealing the location of Brineburg and the road after several miles for that matter. It seemed to swirl around giving glimpses of the road beyond before obscuring their view again. It was strange thought Barney that the constant wind blowing over the clifftop from the sea below did not seem to affect the mist at all. He dropped his shoulders concerned about what lay between them and Brineburg and looked at their final camp tired and footsore. The rocks afforded the two some shelter from the cold wind and salt spray. However, the break-in breeze brought thick swarms of hungry flying mites out of the ground and rocks that bit into their exposed skin all night long. It didn’t rain though, and with that, they stayed dry at least and caught an hour or two of sleep.
The wind kept up all night that gave them a little respite from the night insects. Then came daylight, and both men were mildly excited. Barney commented that this was the only positive thing that had happened to them since leaving Saltwood. To arrive at Brineburg would mean the end of this nightmarish journey. After delivering news to the Brinetown Council, he would surely be appointed an armed escort to take him and Ronald safely back home. A frown came upon his face as he rolled up his groundsheet and looked to the north. His eye followed the road again, and it ran for several miles before disappearing into the same thick grey swirling mist that was there the evening before. It completely obscured any view past that point. It hadn’t changed its appearance at all despite the gusty sea breezes that kept up all night. ‘That’s weird; the mist should have dispensed with the first light I would have thought.’ He said to himself rather than to the listening Ronald. Ronald was scratching at a multitude of red welts that had appeared on all his exposed skin. He did not have a comfortable night with the bugs and biting mites. They made the short walk from their rocky mite-infested lodgings to the overgrown road and started walking northwards towards the wall of mist.
By midday, as they neared the mist, they noticed that it indeed appeared unnatural and artificial. The constant whirring and buzzing of insects had disappeared, and even the sea below them had subsided from its regular pounding. Barney did not have any desire to walk into it for fear of what it might be hiding and looked left and right along its southern front. This mist stood between them and the safety of Brineburg. To the left, it stopped at the edge of the cliff face and did not go over the sea. However, the steep impenetrable cliffs ensured they couldn’t get around it that way. To the right, it stretched as far as the eye could see across the moors and to the distant wood line beyond. Ronald looked to Barney for guidance on what to do. Barney stared into the distance as if contemplating his next move. The mist had no smell, did not seem to have a change in temperature and apart from reducing one’s vision, appeared harmless enough.
A distant loud boom suddenly came to their ears out of the mist from the north. Could this mist be just a glamour created by those witches’ he saw? Barney shivered at the thought of what that could be. He turned to Ronald to discuss their options, which were very limited at that point. Before he could speak, a chorus of victorious howls came from behind them. They both turned and at the sight before them, their hearts sunk. About half a mile down the road behind them came bounding along four of those hound creatures from the Inn. They had scented these mankind animals responsible for killing a few of their family, and now they were finally within reach to exact their revenge. Barney desperately ran the short distance to the left and peered over the edge of the cliff where the mist stopped. He looked down a long-distance of a steep rock face to a green coloured, relatively calm sea. The drop to the water was the least of his concerns. It was the myriad of large jagged black rocks protruding out of this water that had him worried.
‘There’s naught for it boy,’ he yelled ‘we must continue along the road into the mist and hopefully find help. The village must be close now.’ Again, a distant boom came at them out of the mist, causing both men to hesitate. The houndmen’s victorious howls sounded much closer now, and without looking back, they ran into the wall of mist. Immediately they noticed the silence and stillness in the air, even though it was blowing quite strongly several feet away in the open. The mist here appeared to be swirling very slowly, though from the outside it was now still. They did not stop to work out the logic of it all but ran forward, and after what seemed like an eternity, both men stopped to catch their breath.
>
Ronald whipped out an arrow and faced behind him. Whist Barney drew his sword and held it with both hands. They listened for running feet but could not hear anything over their gasping breaths. After a while they lowered their weapons when their arms became sore and looked puzzlingly at each other. By now surely those things would have caught up to them? But they didn’t. The Dead Bite Canines knew the mist and its smell. They knew it meant death, and they stopped short to pace along the outer edge and were careful not to touch it. Barney and Ronald turned and continued forward, to walk at a fast pace trying to reserve some energy in case they needed to suddenly fight or flight.
The visibility wasn’t as bad as they first thought, as they could see a hundred yards or so in all directions. Outside of their field of vision, the smoky grey mist continued swirling slowly around them. After another hour or two of walking and jogging, several large dark shapes suddenly loomed out on either side of the road in front. Both men jumped before they realised that the forms were merely outlines of timber buildings. They had come to the outer edge of the village of Brineburg. Again, a distant boom followed by a shout, only closer this time and somewhere in front. Barney grabbed Ronald by the arm and pulled him off the road to the nearest building, which was a squat cottage of sorts.
Looking fearfully around them, they walked cautiously up the small stone path to the front door. It was almost dark now, which Barney hoped the cause was the sun was going down and nothing else, but one couldn’t tell in this mist. He had no intention to spend the night in the open air again, though the afternoon had sped by much quicker than he thought it should have. Was it something to do with this mist? What was happening? And where was everyone? A neat flower garden ran along both sides of the path. The flowers, however, were all drooped over, grey in colour and looked nearly dead. He knocked quietly on the front door with the pommel of his sword. Soft enough in fact, that no one would have heard it anyway. The small window shutters were closed, so they couldn’t look in.
Realm of Druids Page 25