Conqueror

by Isaac Hooke

  That shut them up, and he was able to close his eyes and find respite from the world.

  Two hours later he awakened feeling worse. His muscles were stiff all over, and he felt immensely groggy.

  “Who thought it was a good idea to rest again?” Xaxia asked. “Shit, my feet have swollen so much I can’t even slide my boots on!”

  Weyanna went to her and held a palm to her distended feet. Small white mist emerged from her fingers and the swelling receded somewhat.

  “Thank you,” Xaxia said, finally able to slide on her boots—with difficulty.

  Malem transferred stamina from Hansel to Weyanna, because even that small amount of healing had drained her greatly.

  Then the lot of them donned their packs, mounted their horses, and returned to the road. They left behind the forest and pressed on into the plains. To the west, the monsters followed alongside, just out of view beyond the horizon, but well within his beast sense.

  The road traffic continued to be non-existent.

  “You know,” Gwen said. “If the road continues to be empty like this, we could probably have your monsters travel with us.”

  “Not yet,” Malem said. “We don’t need to alert any spies Mauritania has out there that a man who can control monsters has come.”

  There were farms and estates up ahead, in the distance, judging from the outlines of the well-spaced buildings Garibaldi spotted on the horizon. Malem instructed the four monsters to give any country houses and ranches in their paths a wide berth. Turned out he needn’t have bothered.

  Gwen was sniffing loudly beside him on her mount.

  “Do you smell that?” the half gobling said.

  He tilted his head back to get in a good inhale. “Yes. Charred wood.”

  He sent Garibaldi forward to get a better view of the buildings in the distance. “It’s the farms. All the crops have been burned. Cattle lie slain and rotting in the fields, surrounded by flies. The house and other outbuildings are blackened, burned out husks.”

  “Looks like we didn’t have to worry about your monsters causing a ruckus after all,” Xaxia commented. “Maybe we should bring them in closer?”

  “No,” he said. “We’ll leave them afield, for the same reasons I told Gwen: I don’t want Eldritch spies to know a Monster Breaker has come. Besides, it’d spook the horses.”

  “That’s true,” Xaxia said.

  He considered for a moment. “And another thing. If anyone ambushes us, when the monsters arrive for a flanking attack, I want it to be a surprise.”

  “I can just imagine the faces of our ambushers when that happens…” Gwen said with a cruel grin.

  “Our cooking pots will be full tonight!” Rathamias agreed heartily. When the orak realized the other members of the party were giving it disturbed looks, the black mage added: “Oh.”

  “This is why I normally don’t let you speak,” Ziatrice commented.

  Abigail turned toward Malem. “The question is, given that any spies are most likely to be lurking within sight of the road ahead, do we follow that road, and deal with potential ambushes, or do we get as far away from it as possible and instead make our way through the countryside to Tartan’s Vale?”

  “We’re going to have to follow the road, I think,” Malem replied. “Unless any of you are familiar enough with the territory to lead us to Tartan’s Vale from memory?” When no one answered, he added: “I thought not.”

  “We’re not actually going to stay on the road, though, are we?” Ziatrice asked.

  “No,” Malem said. “We’ll follow along from afar, and mirror the route. With Garibaldi in the air, I can still see the road up to five miles away.”

  And so he led the group west by five miles, instructing the monsters to move an equivalent distance west so as to maintain their two-mile gap from the main party.

  As the party continued its southeasterly course, every other country house, farm, and village Garibaldi spotted below was also burned down. Apparently Mauritania had ravaged the countryside all along the outskirts of the Midweald during her march to Tartan’s Vale. And why not? After she had sneaked her troops around the front lines, there were no other appreciable armies left in the territory to oppose her.

  Her sentries probably hid within the ruins of different villages and other buildings along the way, watching the sky, and the road. Occasionally estates appeared along his chosen path five miles from the road, and he simply led the party well around them.

  They made good progress, and in half a day, the burned-out farms and countryside estates around them began to increase. Malem knew they were getting close to Tartan’s Vale, because of that. As they passed beyond the outskirts of an abandoned farm, he was just thinking he’d probably have to start sending Garibaldi ahead to scout the different estates, because soon there would be so many, they’d have to start cutting through them.

  Yes, he was thinking that when the attack he had been dreading came.

  Malem had expected the Eldritch to be waiting in ambush inside a village, or perhaps one of the abandoned farms. But the attack subverted all expectations, coming from a time and place he least anticipated.

  The very air above the grass ahead came alive, and streams of green magic tore toward the party.

  20

  Before those green streaks of magic could touch him, Malem was knocked out of the saddle.

  Gwen landed on top of him.

  She’d saved him.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “They didn’t hit me,” she replied.

  Weyanna lay on the ground next to them. Her horse was rearing, and as he watched, its underbelly dissolved as green veins spread across its hide. Without skin and muscle to support them, the horse’s insides spilled out onto the ground below, and the animal promptly collapsed.

  Capilet fled, as did Gwen’s mount.

  Ziatrice had positioned her steed in front of the three of them; she sat unharmed as the deadly streaks repeatedly struck her energy shield. Abigail, Xaxia, and Rathamias quickly steered their mounts in behind Malem, also seeking the protection of that shield. But it wasn’t wide enough to protect them all.

  Malem quickly boosted the night elf’s vitality, transferring big bursts from the monsters.

  Make the shield bigger! he told her.

  She did, extending it in a wide elliptical pattern around herself so that everyone was protected behind her.

  He urgently recalled the four monsters and had Garibaldi fly rotations overhead. The eagle helped him pinpoint the source of the attacks—a region of empty air.

  At first he thought it had to be some magical trap the team had triggered, but when the attacks didn’t let up, he began to suspect there was an actual assailant out there. From what he knew about magical traps, they quickly used up whatever magical essence the caster had imbued them with and ceased operating. This one, on the other hand, was maintaining its attack for far too long.

  A moment later he felt the creature responsible for the lethal magic with his beast sense, confirming his suspicion. The beast had a strong mind—the tendrils of his will couldn’t touch it.

  He peered past the legs of Ziatrice’s mount in front of him, toward the source of those attacks; he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could just make out a silhouette of green that seemed to delineate a vaguely humanoid shape set amidst the empty air. The outline grew stronger with each passing moment, as if the invisible monster was vying against the rules of reality to keep itself hidden, and was slowly losing.

  Dark mist flowed from Ziatrice’s eyes, and she flung out an angry arm. Ghostly chains of mist flung from her hand and pummeled toward the source of the green magic, wrapping around the invisible attacker there. She yanked on those chains, pulling whatever it was that sourced the attack toward her. The green magic instantly stopped coming at her; a depression appeared in the ground in front of her where her attacker had landed in the dirt, and she chopped down with Wither. When she lifted the blade, it was thick wit
h glowing green blood.

  A lifeless creature faded into view, lying sprawled and bloodied on the ground before her.

  It was humanoid in shape, though it looked a little like a Balor: its legs were goat-like, with cloven feet, and it had horns on its head. It didn’t have wings, however, though judging from the leather membranes joining its elbows to its rib cages, it could probably glide if it leaped off a cliff, perhaps similar to a flying squirrel. Its face was disturbingly childlike, reminding Malem of a young boy. The creature was much taller than a human, and paler, almost completely white—well, not counting the green, gaping wound in its chest.

  “This is an Eldritch,” Ziatrice confirmed. “I’d recognize the too-young face, and that twisted body, anywhere.”

  Malem realized he could sense the creature. “It’s not dead.” He released Hansel and reached out and Broke this one instead. He commanded it to awaken.

  The Eldritch stirred, and coughed green blood. It was quickly weakening. He gave it stamina, but that didn’t help.

  “It’s close to death,” Malem said. “Which is too bad. I was hoping to interrogate the thing.”

  Malem quickly drained it of its stamina, giving it a merciful end. Then he re-Broke Hansel.

  Ziatrice dismounted, and approached. She knelt, then began lapping up some of the blood that was dripping from underneath the dead creature.

  “Eww,” Gwen said. “What are you doing? You’re disgusting.”

  Ziatrice glanced up, her lips stained green. “I heard if you drink their blood, their invisibility won’t work on you. For a few hours, anyway.”

  Movement drew his attention to a nearby copse. Three more Eldritch were dashing away on those cloven feet. As soon as he saw them, they suddenly registered on his beast sense. He tried to Break them in turn but couldn’t wrap his will around any of them.

  Rathamias launched streaks of black magic their way, but the Eldritch easily outran the ghostly projectiles, moving as fast as horses at a gallop. Their bodies flared a bright green as they fled, and they became invisible a moment later.

  “So, can you still see them?” Gwen taunted Ziatrice.

  Ziatrice narrowed her eyes, gazing into the distance. “I can.”

  “You’re joking?” Gwen said.

  “Nope,” she told her.

  Malem went to the carcass, grimaced, and then held his head underneath the stinking body. He hesitated, hoping the fluid didn’t kill him: it was possible Ziatrice had some natural immunity to whatever toxins it contained courtesy of her monster side, after all.

  Dismissing the thoughts, he quickly licked some of the dripping green blood. He cringed when the flavor hit his tongue—it reminded him vaguely of iron mixed with plant material—and forced himself to swallow. He thought he was going to gag, but somehow managed to keep it down.

  He sat up, and looked toward where his beast sense told him the Eldritch were fleeing. Sure enough, he could see the green outlines of the three Eldritch and watched their rapid retreat.

  “I see them,” he said. “Ziatrice is right.”

  He wondered why the enemy didn’t bother to launch green magic at him, and realized they probably weren’t mages like the dead one. But if they could make themselves invisible, that meant the ability was inherent to most, if not all, Eldritch. Then again, maybe they were mages, and just wanted to get away as quickly as possible. It wouldn’t do to be slain before they could make a report to their queen.

  “Should we follow?” Gwen asked. “I mean, you’ll lead. I’m not drinking that blood…”

  He shook his head. “No, we’ll just run our horses into the ground if we do. Besides, they could be leading us into a trap.”

  “Whatever the case, more will be coming, soon,” Ziatrice said. She remounted her horse, and it began to dance uneasily beneath her. “I suggest relocating. Preferably even farther away from the road.”

  “Probably a good idea,” he told her. “Five miles wasn’t good enough, apparently. We’ll just have to navigate the rest of the way to Tartan as best we can by the sun.” He glanced at Ziatrice. “So you knew the Eldritch could become invisible? Is there anything else we should know about them that you’re not telling us?”

  “I apologize for not mentioning that. It was something I’d only heard vague rumors about, rumors I wasn’t quite sure I believed. Just like I wasn’t certain I believed the blood part. But I do like to consume the blood of my enemies now and again, so I wasn’t averse to trying it.” Ziatrice squeezed her knees slightly to control her dancing horse. “But otherwise, as I mentioned, I never really interacted with any of them.” She reached out with Wither, and wiped the glowing blood from the tip of her halberd onto the grass. “Until now.”

  The footfalls of his approaching monsters slowly rose in volume, and he suddenly understood why the horses were beginning to dance; he promptly ordered the monsters away so as not to spook the mounts. He also instructed the creatures to remain within one mile out this time, rather than two, so that they could get to him faster in an emergency.

  Malem scrambled to his feet and stared at the corpse of the Eldritch. “At least we know we can beat them.”

  “One of them,” Ziatrice clarified.

  He nodded grimly, then retrieved his canteen and knelt to collect the glowing green blood.

  “You’re mixing it with your water?” Gwen asked.

  He nodded. “Hopefully that will make it last longer. Plus, it can only make it more palatable.”

  When the container overflowed, he capped it, wiped the excess blood on the grass, and started to store the canteen in his pack.

  “Here.” Rathamias rode over, and held out a hand. Dark magic flowed from its fingers and into the container.

  “What are you doing?” Malem said, rather angrily. He didn’t want to jerk the canteen away, because he was worried the dark magic would swerve and strike him instead.

  “This will help preserve it,” Rathamias said as the dark streams faded. “You’ll still want to shake it vigorously before you drink.”

  “Who knew?” Xaxia commented. “Dark magic can preserve blood.”

  Rathamias nodded. “It’s a work we use sometimes to make our enemies bleed.”

  Malem had everyone else with a canteen collect the Eldritch blood, even Gwen.

  The half gobling grumbled as she knelt. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

  “It could save your life someday,” he told her.

  She sighed, then filled her canteen until the blood overflowed the lip. Then she quickly tightened it, grimacing, and wiped her hands repeatedly on the grass until there was no trace of the green substance left. She tossed the canteen in her pack as if it was contaminated.

  When that was done, he turned to regard the gutted carcass of Weyanna’s horse. “I can understand now why that magic can take down dragons.”

  “Yes, it’s not pretty,” Gwen said.

  He swiveled toward Weyanna. “I’m sorry about your animal.”

  “It’s all right,” Weyanna told him. “I didn’t get attached. I purposely didn’t give him a name for that very reason.”

  “You’re cold-hearted,” Xaxia said.

  The other two horses had bolted, and Malem reached out with his beast sense.

  “The steeds of Gwen and myself are nearby,” he said.

  Ziatrice offered him a hand and pulled him into the saddle behind her.

  Weyanna doubled up with Abigail, while Gwen temporarily rode with Xaxia.

  They headed due south, and after topping a small rise, he found the two animals foraging in a heath beyond.

  “Figures they’d be eating at a time like this,” Xaxia commented. “After what, for them, must have been the scare of a lifetime.”

  “The resiliency of animals knows no bounds,” Malem said. “We humans would do well to take after them.”

  “Well, at least they’re not mating,” Gwen commented. She glanced at him and added with a mental wink: Something we should be doi
ng.

  He smiled, shaking his head. No, now is definitely not the time.

  He mounted Capilet, while Gwen took to her own steed. Weyanna remained paired with Abigail.

  “We can probably change out of our monk robes?” Gwen said.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Just in case they don’t entirely know who we are.”

  Abigail frowned. “Oh, I’m sure they know.”

  “They have their suspicions, yes, but they’re not quite sure,” Malem told her. “For all they know, we could be monks possessing dark magic, no more. Let’s keep them guessing to the very end.”

  He continued south for a ways before turning east once more. Garibaldi scouted the skies above, helping guide him from a bird’s eye perspective. Intuition told him to stay close to where the farms clustered, because Tartan’s Vale couldn’t be far beyond: capital cities needed a lot of food to feed the hungry populations gathered inside their walls.

  He didn’t spot any signs of pursuit. At least not yet. Eldritch reinforcements had probably already returned to the attack site, however, and were no doubt hunting them at this very moment.

  Soon the charred farms and estates ahead became too frequent to avoid.

  “We’re going to have to start crossing these estates,” Malem said as he studied the view Garibaldi sent him. “But I won’t be caught off guard by waiting Eldritch. I’m sending Garibaldi in to explore each farm, first. It’ll slow down our progress, but hopefully we won’t have to deal with any further unpleasantness.”

  “Except from behind,” Rathamias said.

  “I’ve positioned the monsters a mile behind us,” Malem said. “If any incoming Eldritch avoid the eagle’s detection, Hansel and the others will give us ample warning. In fact, I’m confident they’ll take care of any Eldritch interlopers for us.” He paused. “Actually, it makes more sense to send the monsters ahead of us. Or some of them.”

  Ophid?

  Yes? the basilisk replied.

  We need you on point.

  In a few minutes, Ophid arrived. The basilisk gave the party a wide berth so as not to scare the horses, and then went to the outskirts of the first farm ahead, where it waited for Garibaldi to finish scouting.