Eldritch Assassin

by Adam Witcher

  “That dagger of yours is something special, boy. Do you know how many of us have died at the hands of that witch?”

  Isaac shuddered as he remembered the five sacrifices in the pentagram, the dozens of skeletons and ghouls.

  “I have some idea.” He gulped down some more ale.

  “Why didn’t you leave?” Aerin said. This silenced the group. “You’re a nomadic people, right? If she was terrorizing you for so long, why not just go somewhere else once the crops are harvested?”

  Benthum and many of the other barbarians glared like she’d just cursed their mothers.

  “You’re asking us why we aren’t cowards?” He rose to his feet and slammed his fists to his chest. Gregoroth stood beside him and did the same. Soon every barbarian present besides Tonya and Rhotha were on their feet, banging their chests, women and children included. The question was quickly lost in a sea of cheers. Rhotha rolled her eyes and kept looking into the fire.

  “Ain’t no cowards in Barbaros!” Benthum cried.

  “Yeah!” the horde echoed.

  “We don’t run from no fights!”

  “Hell no!”

  “No dark magic swamp witch bitch can stop us!”

  “Damn right!”

  Isaac stifled a laugh. He wondered if it was the ale, the victory against Truella, or simply their barbaric nature that riled them up so thoroughly. Judging by the lack of surprise in Rhotha and Tonya’s faces, it was likely all three.

  Nobody bothered to answer Aerin’s question, and soon the barbarians were carried away by more drunken cheers. Beyond Rhotha and Tanya, the only one who wasn’t totally wrapped up in the festivities was Gregoroth. The young barbarian cried out with the rest of them, but he kept looking at Isaac with looks of thinly veiled contempt.

  Soon, Rhotha looked at Isaac and Aerin and nodded away from the fire. She motioned for Tonya to join them. The four strode away across the dark field while the cries faded in the backdrop. Nobody noticed them leave.

  “Charming, aren’t they?” Rhotha asked, not hiding her contempt.

  Isaac shrugged.

  “In their own way,” he said. “Can’t blame them for celebrating.”

  “It’s fascinating,” Aerin said. “That they exult so much in death. You’d hardly believe they lost so many people to her.”

  “Do not speak ill of your family, Rhotha.” Tonya said. “They are celebrating you. They care for you.”

  “They aren’t cheering for me,” Rhotha said. “It’s for these two.”

  “Yeah, what gives?” Isaac said. “I’m not the one who smashed Truella’s head in.”

  “They don’t think I could have done it on my own,” Rhotha said. “Unfortunately, they’re probably right.”

  “Can we just call it a team effort?” Isaac stopped when they reached the post where the horses were tied up. He stroked Moonlight’s soft black fur.

  “Tonya,” Aerin said. Isaac couldn’t tell if she was oblivious to the tension or trying to change the subject. “Rhotha told us you know about enchantments. Do you know how to re-enchant something like this?”

  He pulled Saldana’s dagger from his hilt and handed it to her. The old woman examined it closely, though it was too dark to see much of it.

  “Fascinating,” the old woman said. “A dual enchantment. I’ve never seen one in person. You claimed to have read the Arcaneum Occultus, right?”

  “Yes, of course.” Aerin stood at rapt attention.

  “I’ve… skimmed it,” Isaac said.

  “Then you must know that it can only be replenished with the souls of what it kills.”

  Isaac remembered the lightning that Saldana charged it with.

  “Nothing else?” Aerin said.

  “In this dimension, I’m afraid not,” the old woman said. “Dark magic infusions are very tricky. There isn’t a way around it. Well, unless...”

  “That’s in the Occultus?” Isaac asked Aerin.

  “I was hoping something was left out,” she admitted. “Tonya, what were you about to say?”

  Tonya froze and turned to her, features distorted by fear and darkness.

  “There may be another method, but I do not recommend it. Wretched things called phantasm gems.” Tonya shook her head. “But they are nasty, evil things. Very dangerous. But very powerful, and perhaps more versatile than any other magical item.”

  “What are they?” Isaac asked.

  Tonya sighed.

  “I learned enchanting from a man named Garramuch back in Avalour,” she began.

  “Avalour?” Isaac said in shock, trying to imagine this woman fitting in the city.

  She nodded.

  “Not many know this, but the city gained its initial wealth as a mining settlement. There’s a network of phantasm gems below the surface. Nobody knew the true significance of the gems at the time, but they sold for a fortune. People became obsessed with them. Sorcerers and witches came from all over Sarcosia to purchase them, and the locals sold them to anyone with enough coin. But the gems had a terrible effect on those who were around them too often. Many were driven to madness. They are dark minerals, indeed. I believe Garramuch eventually lost his sanity to them too. I do not know what happened to him.”

  “How did you end up in Avalour?” Rhotha asked. She’d apparently never heard this story either, so she stood at rapt attention.

  The old woman considered her reply.

  “I love Barbaros. I love my family and this horde. This is my home. But when I was your age, Rhotha, I longed for more. I was like you, strong in spirit and character, but not in the flesh like the others. I learned enchanting for the very same reasons you are learning it from me.”

  “You told me it was just a hobby,” Rhotha said. “Something to learn about as an old woman.”

  Tonya patted her on the back. “It is difficult to talk about, young one. But now I feel that I must share the truth with you. There was nobody to teach me magic of any sort, so one night I prayed to any gods that would listen. A voice heard my prayers and told me to find Garramuch. I do not know whose voice it was, but I was so desperate for a teacher that I left in the night to find him. I arrived in Avalour in a daze, overwhelmed by it. And, it pains me to say this, but I do not recall how I found Garramuch or how I won his favor. It feels like a long-forgotten dream. But he taught me what I know. Perhaps, if he is still alive, and if you can find him, he will provide you with the phantasm gems that you need. But you must be careful. If I didn’t believe that what you and Saldana say about Scorpius might be true, I could never in good conscience recommend using them. Perhaps even murder is a better enchantment method than those things.”

  The four stood in silence, took it all in. Cries of revelry echoed across the plain, and Moonlight whinnied softly. An unspoken tension hung between Rhotha and Tonya. They strode off, speaking to each other in hushed voices, so Isaac and Aerin headed back toward the bonfire.

  “Back to Avalour, then,” she said. “Can’t say I’m homesick yet.”

  “We don’t have to go right away,” he replied, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s worry about it tomorrow. We’ve made some progress. We have a lead. If we can get some of these phantasm gems, we’ll have plenty of enchanting power to go to and from dimensions without getting stuck anywhere. Plus, you’ll have a potentially unlimited magic supply too. If we’re going to take on Scorpius eventually, it sounds like these are just what we need.”

  “Unless we’re driven to madness by them.” Her gaze drifted toward the moon, a pale blue crescent among a sea of stars.

  “A risk we may have to take,” he replied. “Let’s just enjoy tonight, shall we?”

  Enjoy it they did. Isaac did, anyway. After a couple more pints of ale, he found himself having a damn good time with the other barbarians as they partied through the night. Aerin turned in soon after, retreating to the spare tent they’d been offered on arrival. An hour or so later, Isaac went to join her. His mind swam through a sea of ale, and he felt his ex
hausted muscles crying out for sleep. He was so tired that when he undressed and settled in next to Aerin, he didn’t notice that Saldana’s dagger was missing from his hilt.

  11

  Isaac dreamed that Aerin mounted him in the night, an uncontrollable lust sweeping through her and filling her with relentless desire. She fumbled with his clothing, her hands shaking. Her tongue darted into his mouth as she touched him. He glanced over at the corner of the tent, where Rhotha sat watching in fascination. Her hand crept toward her inner thighs.

  Then he awoke to a confusing commotion, his cock rock hard. Shouts of terror permeated the tent’s thin walls. Clinks of metal and heavy footsteps. He nudged Aerin awake. She sat up, listening.

  “What’s going on?” Her voice was slurred with sleep.

  He shrugged, then crawled forward to peek out of the tent. There was no trace of sun; it was still the middle of the night. In the distance, he saw panicked movement.

  “Something’s wrong,” he told her.

  He reached for his clothes and noticed the empty sheath.

  “Oh, shit.”

  He got dressed quickly, his thin black clothes feeling woefully inadequate for the unseen threat. Aerin threw her robe on and got to her feet. She didn’t ask any more questions, which he appreciated.

  A strange sound rang out through Barbaros—a beastly cry unlike anything from nature. Isaac shuddered.

  They burst out of the tent and ran toward the source of the sound. Distant torches illuminated a battle on the outskirts of the settlement. Strange shapes he didn’t recognize. When he was closer, he saw something that made his blood freeze.

  An open portal.

  Two dozen barbarians swarmed otherworldly enemies. A group of insectile beasts challenged them. They crawled on six spindly legs each that dug into the dirt. Torsos and heads were a single massive entity, mandibles spread wide enough to swallow a man whole. Their bodies were segmented into three dark ovals that contorted in the moon’s glow. Huge round eyes reflected firelight.

  They lurched forward, jaws at head height for the largest of the barbarians. Isaac watched in horror as one dug its mandibles straight through a barbarian’s torso, bursting out through his back as the man screamed in pain and terror.

  Another barbarian swung a battle axe at the attacker, but it sunk into a shallow gash on the beast’s side that did little to deter it. More barbarians approached, their weapons made of feeble, unenchanted metal, but their hearts full of rage and viciousness.

  Isaac turned to see Rhotha and Benthum running at their side, faces flushed with panic. Rhotha carried her hammer; Benthum had a torch in one hand and a longsword in the other.

  Suddenly, Isaac remembered Gregoroth’s piercing gaze at Saldana’s dagger. The man was nowhere in sight. Could he be the thief? The reason for this? If so, perhaps his only hope in stopping these horrible things was finding him.

  Benthum turned and saw him and Aerin running beside them.

  “What have you done, boy?” he yelled, voice marred by rage. “We trusted you!”

  Isaac didn’t respond. This was no time to protest his innocence. Rhotha’s face was flushed in the torch light. She looked at him too, her expression one of distrust and confusion.

  “Where is it?” Aerin gasped, glancing at his empty sheath.

  He started to answer but was cut off by another of the creatures’ cries. His arms chilled with gooseflesh. Saldana’s words echoed through his mind: Were Scorpius or one of his minions to enter your realm and one were to kill them with an ordinary blade, they would only be sent back to their own dimension, and they could easily come back through.

  He had to find the blade and a way to re-enchant it. It was the only way to exile these horrible things permanently.

  “I’ll look for it,” he said. “Distract them. Protect the barbarians as long as you can.”

  Aerin nodded. They reached the battlegrounds, and she split into two, then three. Isaac kept his distance from the fighting, but furiously searched for Gregoroth.

  The fighting continued. A barbarian screamed in agony as one of the beasts bit his legs off. Blood squirted like a fountain, nearly black in the firelight. None of the monsters had fallen.

  Isaac ducked and moved quickly and steadily around the fray. The open portal beckoned him from the opposite side. He looked into it and froze when he saw Tenebromar—the jagged mountains, the desolate landscape, the massive, slow-moving creatures. He didn’t see Scorpius, but he had no interest in waiting for his arrival.

  Luckily, the raging battle kept him from being noticed. He circled a woman who swung a battleaxe into one of the monster's legs, severing it while it hissed and shrieked and flopped on the ground. It still swiped viciously with its jaws, narrowly missing her.

  Beside the portal, a dark figure was slumped on the ground. He dashed toward it and saw a familiar face staring wide-eyed up at Tenebromar. A faint blue light emanated from beneath his body.

  Gregoroth was still alive, but he was grievously wounded. Blood seeped from his torso, where his armor was split apart. His breaths were shallow. His eyes flickered toward Isaac.

  Isaac reached under him and took Saldana’s dagger.

  “What—what have I done?” the man rasped.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “For-forgive me.”

  The dagger’s glow was dull. Regardless of how the man had enchanted it, he’d used most of the magic opening the portal. There was no way he could close it with what was left.

  Sweat coated his fingers, and the dagger slid around in his grasp. Another barbarian screamed in agony behind him. Every moment he hesitated, more innocent people would die. He knew what he had to do. Gregoroth was dying anyway, and he’d dug his own grave the moment he stole the dagger and opened the portal. Isaac glanced behind him. Nobody was watching. Nobody would have to know it was him that stole Gregoroth’s final breath. And it would be an act of absolution, of justice.

  Isaac took a deep breath and plunged the dagger into Gregoroth’s heart, right in between two segments of his breastplate. Gregoroth grunted, then moaned and died.

  The dagger glowed brightly. Isaac turned to his enemies, feeling power flow through the hilt of the blade and into his arm and parts beyond. For a moment, he forgot about the still-open portal behind him. He felt alive, full of rage, like a harbinger of death.

  He bolted toward the woman, who was now pinned beneath the creature and awaiting a mortal blow. Isaac grunted and leaped onto the horrible thing’s back, plunging the blade into its flesh again and again. It slid into its flesh easily, but not so easily as the ghoul’s. Forgetting the woman, the beast bucked and screamed, black fluids drenching its back and Isaac.

  It soon collapsed on its legs and stopped moving. Isaac didn’t stop stabbing. It began to vibrate. Soon, a stab sunk into its flesh and it stopped moving entirely.

  There was another shriek behind him. He turned to see another monster halfway through the portal. He charged it, screaming a battle cry, and sliced at its extended jaw. The creature shrieked again and retreated. Isaac quickly flipped the blade and used the hook to catch the outline of the portal. After slaying the monster, it glowed more brightly than ever. Strange, he thought. Undead souls don’t charge it, but these monsters do? Perhaps he hadn’t needed to kill Gregoroth after all. He pushed the thought from his mind.

  More beasts charged toward the portal from Tenebromar’s hellscape, but using all his strength, he dragged the dagger all the way around until it was closed, and the purple light faded.

  He turned, ready to fight more.

  Several more barbarians had fallen, but Benthum and Rhotha still held strong. They flanked one of the monsters, and it seemed torn in its attention. Meanwhile, three different Aerins kept the attention of two monsters and several bewildered barbarians. She dodged attacks, twirling like a badass dancer, disappearing and reappearing to keep the monsters guessing.

  Isaac, invigorated by the dagger’s power, lun
ged toward the nearest monster and sliced off its two hind legs. It screeched and turned around just in time for him to swipe its lower jaw clean off. He jumped and jabbed the blade through its eye, hoping the sharp edge would find its brain. It collapsed and died.

  He tore through the rest of the monsters, the dagger shredding them to pieces like they were made of paper. Whatever these things were, they were powerful, but their defenses were weak. After a while, the barbarians stopped fighting, seeing how weak their weapons were against the beasts. Within a few minutes, Isaac had reduced all of them to a pile of disgusting limbs and mandibles on the ground.

  When he was done, he wiped his blade clean in the grass and stuck it back into his sheath. He breathed heavily. All was silent.

  Then the barbarians erupted in cheers. They swarmed Isaac, lifting him above their heads. Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but enjoy it. He’d been afraid that he’d be blamed, but apparently his slayings had proved his worth.

  The cheers soon faded, and the barbarians were met with the solemn reminders that more of their people had died. They bowed their heads before each body before picking them up and taking them outside the settlement to burn. They were careful and respectful with the dead, but none cried or mourned openly. Isaac got the sense that death was less of an unexpected tragedy in Barbaros than it was in places like Avalour. They were constantly surrounded by it, and it showed.

  Sometime later, Isaac’s adrenaline wore off and exhaustion resumed its place. He took Aerin by the hand and led her back to the tent, where they slept well past sunrise.

  12

  They waited for daylight to burn the bodies. Including Gregoroth, seven members of the horde died. In the late morning, all of Barbaros gathered around a funeral pyre just outside the settlement. Aerin and Isaac kept a respectful distance during the short ceremony.

  Benthum led the group in a prayer.

  “We offer their souls back to you, Mothus,” he boomed as the bodies burned. “May they serve you in the great beyond as they served you in life.”