Downfall And Rise

by Nathan Thompson

  “Well look who's back in time for lunch,” the tall woman said cheerfully. “Did you already finish your first Challenge so fast?”

  “Uh-huh,” I nodded dumbly. “Why is there food?” I asked. Another full sentence. My brain was probably back.

  “Because we need to eat, silly,” Breena interrupted before Guineve could reply. “Guineve, is there enough food for him? He won, but he overworked himself and was bitten and stabbed and cursed and yelled at and flirted with too much. So we broke him. Food fixes guys, right?”

  “As I recall, it does. Sit down dear and have some bread and fruit. Sorry there's no coffee yet.”

  My stomach took over for my brain and directed my actions here on out.

  That was fortunate, because I was still working out what would happen if my projected body ate here, and my stomach was smart enough not to bother with any of that. If I could bleed, I could eat, and that was that.

  Still, after a couple of bites of really, really good bread topped with all kinds of tasty sausage and cheeses, I began to wonder something.

  “Guineve,” I said after swallowing. “How do you cook here? And where do you get the cheese and meat?”

  “They come from animals, dear,” The raven-haired woman said sweetly. “And I have all kinds of methods to cook. Here, have a glass of mist-juice.”

  “Oooh! Can I have one too?” Breena asked with a flutter.

  “Of course, darling. I already made you one.”

  Mist-juice somehow tasted clear like water and sweet like fruit at the same time. It was incredibly refreshing.

  But was it really safe to drink? My mind wondered. These things are made on another planet and-

  Brain, my stomach interrupted. Shut up and let me eat.

  One light yet incredibly refreshing meal later it became much easier to think coherently. I realized that I had been in this place much longer than I had the previous times I had gone to sleep. In fact, I remembered that I hadn't even gone to bed before I had come here.

  “How are you feeling now, dear?” Guineve asked in a motherly tone.

  “Much better, thank you,” I replied, examining the goblet I had drunk from. Breena was currently inside a similar goblet, slurping loudly.

  “How did your first Challenge go? Did everything turn out alright?” Guineve asked, her gray eyes studying me as she spoke.

  I sighed. Now that I had food in me it was a lot easier to go back to my earlier strategy of taking the things I couldn't understand in stride.

  “It went... okay. I guess. People got hurt, so I wish I had gotten there faster, but no one died, and everyone told me they'd make a full recovery. I got bitten once, and I messed up and let another monster stab me a couple times in the thigh. Apparently, he was able to curse me as well. Breena thinks I've recovered from everything but the curse.”

  A hint of concern flashed in Guineve's gray eyes.

  “Was Breena not able to fix your curse?”

  “I was able to stop the blood-loss component,” my fairy piped from her cup.

  “But I'm seeing names of dead Icons, apparently,” I finished. “If Malus existed at all.”

  Guineve flinched as she stood over me. She hid it so well I barely noticed. If I hadn't been watching for her reaction I would have thought she was just turning to look at something.

  “I see,” she said simply. “We'll take care of it. Stell's busy right now so I'll run some magic on you while you rest.”

  “What's Stell doing?” I asked. I didn't comment on the fact that she probably knew I saw her reaction.

  “The Icons of the Woadlands apparently found your Challenge noteworthy. They wanted to talk to Stell about it.”

  “It was!” Breena piped again. She actually stuck her head out of the cup for that. “It was Horde, Guineve! And Wes killed them all! I only got to help with a couple!”

  “Horde,” Guineve said calmly, and there was another subtle flinch. “You're sure, Breena?”

  “They look exactly like I remembered,” my friend squeaked. “It was just the small ones though. We were lucky.”

  “Indeed,” the tall woman replied quietly. “Would you like any more food, Wes?” She sounded distracted, which was abnormal for the stately woman.

  “No ma'am. That was perfect, thank you,” It was really filling, despite being a light meal. “I take it Stell might want to talk to me now? Should I go during her meeting or wait afterword?”

  “You were right,” Breena squeaked. “He's much smarter when he's not hungry.”

  “Quiet you,” I replied. I slid over the rest of my mist drink as a distraction. Breena made a happy chirp and took the bait immediately.

  “Stell will want to see you now, Wes.” Guineve replied, pointing out with one hand. “Don't worry about interrupting the meeting. The Icons will mostly just thank you for your work and will ask Stell all the hard questions. Walk through the path between the trees out in that direction and you'll get there within thirty steps.”

  “Thank you,” I said while standing up. I noticed that there was actually a trail this time, though it was made of tiny white pebbles. I said my goodbyes- Breena opted to stay with the mist-juice- and headed for the path up ahead.

  As I walked by, Guineve took my arm in a gentle, but firm, grip.

  “Do worry about mentioning Malus to the Icons,” Guineve said quietly. “The Icons are going to be agitated enough with the reappearance of the Horde. Avoid mentioning Malus to Stell for now, also.” Guineve's voice changed again, as if it was quivering. “The name is a bit of a trigger for her, and she won't want to explain why.”

  “...Alright,” I said quietly, and carefully. “I'll keep the details to a minimum.”

  “Just tell them the types and numbers of Horde you found, and their local champion,” Guineve whispered. “The Woadlands' Icons are a decent group, but the Horde triggers many dark memories for them. Don't make anyone over-speculate.”

  “I'll try,” I promised, and when she loosened her grip I nodded farewell and walked off.

  Thirty steps later, I had arrived to the location Guineve mentioned.

  There was another open clearing, with white marble-tiled floor covering most of the ground. Here and there were broken columns, and in the center were five giant pillars of light- green, gold, pink, brown, and in the very center was azure-blue.

  I walked forward slowly, noticing that four of the pillars formed a semi-circle around the blue one. As I walked closer, I could see the shapes in each.

  The shortest figure was my height, while the rest were from eight to a dozen feet tall. The green light had a shapely eight foot tall woman dressed in leaves, with flowers blossoming in a circle around her auburn hair. The figure in the gold light was the most muscular man I had ever seen, easily twice my height and bronze-colored as if he was made out of that very metal. Silver chain links formed a hauberk over his chest and shoulders, and his powerful arms were crossed over his chest. Adorning his feather-like brown hair were the two most impressive antlers I had ever seen, making the Horde wretch I had fought earlier look like a cartoon mascot on a mug. Next to him, in the pink light, was what looked like that fairy godmother out of that ancient movie about Oz. She was my height, clothed in a sparkling white dress, with similarly colored gauze wings flapping slowly behind her. Her hair was a rainbow of shimmering colors adorned with a white tiara, and her face seemed to be etched in a permanent smile. She even had a tiny glass wand in her hands.

  The brown light had a figure about nine feet tall, but was floating in the air, lying down as if he were on an imaginary couch. He looked utterly relaxed, with boyish blonde hair and a rogue-ish grin etched onto his face. His chest was bare muscle, toned except for his belly. His legs ended in brown-furred hooves that hung in the air as if they were resting on a footstool.

  They were all circled around Stell, who stood in the blue light. She still had her earlier dark-skinned appearance, but superimposed over her body was a giant blue outline that suspiciously
resembled Guineve. As they talked, the outline mimicked most of Stell's gestures and movements, but did so in Guineve's composed way. I almost blurted out a question, but then realized that Stell was probably maintaining the appearance for any number of reasons.

  “Here he is.” Stell said, and as she did so the outline confidently pointed over to me. “I had allowed him a bit of rest to recover from the ordeal, but this is the man responsible for ending the threat on your world. Wes Malcolm, of Earth.” Now the outline's head turned to acknowledge me, pointing to each light as she spoke.

  “Wes Malcolm, before you are the Icons who oversee the world you just visited: Mother Glade,” the woman wreathed in flowers nodded. “The Stag Lord,” The massive armored man inclined his horns. “Lady Titania,” the fairy queen actually stepped forward and curtsied. “And last, but not least, Great Pan.”

  The hooved floating figure made a lazy wave, and then spoke.

  “Lady Star-sown is too kind. Prithee, Challenger, pay me no such extra respect.”

  “Noted,” I replied with a bow. “It is an honor to meet all of you. Even you, last, definitely least, but-still-Great Pan.”

  The first three Icons either smiled or quietly chuckled (or tittered, in Lady Titania's case). Stell's Guineve outline just smiled, while Stell herself hissed at me with shocked eyes. But the goat-man started hooting.

  “Oh, I knew I'd like him,” the goat-man laughed

  You have gained more favor with Great Pan. He holds you in even higher esteem.

  Under her calm outline, Stell sighed in relief.

  “No more jokes, okay?” she begged. “That won't work every time.”

  “I'll move to my best behavior,” I promised. But I knew I had made the right call with the guy who looked like a satyr version of Peter Pan.

  The fairy queen stepped forward again, wings fluttering slightly as she glided closer to me.

  “I understand I have you to thank for the rescue of my great-great-grand-children, young Challenger. My servants have just recovered them. Though harmed, they are all whole. Had you not been successful, we would have assumed they would have still been safe, since most Challenges are not harmful to the fairy folk. Had you not been so swift and brave, some of my children would have been permanently lost, which is also rare for a sprite.” The sparkling queen lowered her head, closing her eyes briefly. “We had become comfortable in our security and had thought old foes to be gone for good. We were wrong, and but for you it would have cost me my dearest children.”

  Her voice had a musical tone to it, and I couldn't help but detect a faint kinship to Breena in the queen sprite. How it existed, I had no idea.

  Stell and her projection stepped forward, making a gesture with her hand.

  “Indeed. I had thought the Horde to be gone for good as well. I had no idea I was sending my newly Risen Challenger into an ancient evil's nest, and so he knew less of the Horde than any of us. We must all be more careful in the future.”

  “He knew nothing at all, and was still victorious?” The giant antlered man rumbled. “He was either very fortunate or very skilled.”

  I could feel his golden-brown orbs search over me, trying to measure my strength.

  Sensing permission from Stell, I stepped forward to answer him, shaking my head to do so.

  “I’d have to go with fortunate,” I answered honestly. “Though sadistic and disgusting, the creatures I fought were the size of small children on my world and fought just as badly. Their champion barely came up to my shoulder, though he was armed.”

  “Whose champion was he?” The Stag Lord asked.

  “After his death I learned he was marked by the Bloody-horned Huntsman.”

  “That ill-bred dog dares to surface again,” The giant man growled. “And to ally with the Horde. You have done me a personal favor, Challenger. Bloody-horns is an old enemy of mine.”

  “He has done us all a favor,” The woman with flowers in her hair uttered. “The Horde's presence alone harms my woods like no other. In saving Titania's blood-children, preventing my domain's direct corruption and in slaying a champion of the Stag's mortal enemy, you could say that he has personally done us each a great boon.”

  “Eh,” Great Pan said. “I had no true stake, but I really like his style. He didn't even let any of us know he was visiting our world. By the time we found out he had arrived he was halfway done with solving our problems for us!”

  “That's... one way to put it,” Mother Glade muttered.

  “I must apologize,” Stell said quickly. “I did not have time to instruct him on greeting a world's Icons, so I assumed it would be best that he was sent to deal with the problem directly. I then notified you all personally. But I was as surprised as you to discover the Horde's existence.

  “What level of Horde would we classify this nest as?” The horned giant rumbled again.

  Stell looked at me, so I answered the question.

  “I identified the smallest monsters as something called Ilklings, while the champion was apparently an empowered Wretch. There were no more than thirteen monsters total, and I saw no other types.”

  “A Smear then,” Mother Glade said simply. “At that size, the nest had been in existence for less than two days. You were right in moving so quickly, Lady Starsown.”

  “Thank you,” Stell's projection nodded at the Icon regally. “I will now explain the names we are using to the Challenger.”

  She turned to look at me, and continued speaking.

  “The different groups of Horde are classed by both species and population. A Smear usually consists of a dozen or so Ilklings, like the ones you have encountered, led by a Wretch who is empowered both by the Smear's Pit and by a local Dark Icon to serve as its Champion. Know that every Horde Pit will have one champion. The champion will both protect the Pit and work to make it grow, because the champion will grow in power as the Pit does.

  “A Smear grows rapidly. If it stays unchecked for enough time, no more than a month but as little as a week, depending on the prey and resources available, it will grow into a Stain. A Stain consists of over a hundred Ilklings, a dozen or so normal Wretches, and one empowered Mongrel. In as little as a month, or no longer than a season, a Stain will grow into an Outbreak, consisting of thousands of Ilklings, hundreds of normal Wretches, scores of normal Mongrels, a dozen empowered Mongrels, and one empowered Spawn. An Outbreak usually requires a small army to deal with and there will always be heavy casualties, even if the Outbreak is repelled. If it is not, several population centers will be lost before the end of the year, and the outbreak will progress to a Contagion. A Contagion consists of at least ten thousand Ilklings, thousands of Wretches, several hundred Mongrels, scores of Spawn and one empowered Brute. These numbers assume the Horde have only overrun one population center. They will increase drastically for every settlement overrun, and I have seen this number increase by as much a thirteen times. At this level the local country will be considered to be suffering an invasion and usually must mobilize its entire army to deal with the threat. If it fails, then the Horde will conquer, consume, and enslave the country- in that order- and the Contagion will progress to a full-on Plague. Plagues have hundreds of thousands of both Ilklings and Wretches, thousands of Mongrels, hundreds of Spawn, dozens of Brutes, and one empowered Terror with his own dozen Dark Champions. A Plague will constantly replenish its losses and will attempt to conquer an entire continent, growing further with more conquered territory and population.”

  Both Stell and her projection looked at me with a steady gaze. “A Plague needs a minimum of five years to form. It is realistic for a Nightmare,” she paused before mentioning that word, “The next category of Horde size, to form after claiming a continent and conquer the rest of the world, in as few as ten years. That's just what we've seen. Keep in mind that if the Horde manages to conquer territory faster, it will grow more quickly than the above projections.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That sounds extremely bad. How often is the Ho
rde successful at conquering territory?”

  The Stag Lord, who I was quickly taking to be the military man of the bunch, spoke up.

  “The largest tribe in the Woadlands is just over a hundred thousand strong, and only half of that number can serve as warriors of any sort, meaning they are able to hold a weapon and have the strength to swing it several times. Only a third of that number would be a match for the average mongrel, and only the champions would be a match for most spawn. The tribe's king or hero may be a match for a normal Brute, but I doubt it. Therefore, know that the largest of Contagions are easily a match for the largest nation in the Woadlands, and that a Plague would almost certainly ravage a great part of our world.”