by Adam Witcher
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Her face betrayed no emotion.
“Because your home city’s been taken over by filthy, debaucherous humans.”
She forced a smile. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve befriended two filthy, debaucherous humans.”
Isaac raised his eyebrows. “You’ve done a hell of a lot more than befriend us.”
She shoved him lightly, her grin becoming genuine. “What would my people think?”
“Luckily they aren’t around to see you.”
She gasped, and her eyes grew wider.
“What if I’m the last elf?” she whispered.
“I highly doubt you’re the last—”
“What if they’re all dead? All rotting underground, pointy ears disintegrating and turning into food for the worms and I’m the very last one on all of Avalour. I’d have to repopulate the race with a human and replace them with half-elf hybrids. Oh, they’d love that.” She burst into a fit of giggles. “All that pure elf flesh soaking into the earth while I taint the bloodline with humanity.”
Isaac waited a moment to be sure she was done.
“Umm, yeah.” He forced a laugh. “That’d be pretty crazy.”
Rhotha returned carrying three cups of ale.
“I know it’s only about 9:00, but to hell with it,” she said. “I’m traveling.”
Isaac and Aerin shared a look and shrugged.
“I mean,” Isaac said, “It’s basically a new city for us too.”
They perused the stalls for a few minutes and drank their ales. Isaac and Aerin kept eyes out for the old woman, but Rhotha got far too distracted by the endless stimulation. At some point, she disappeared into the crowd of dancers and left Isaac and Aerin alone again. They returned to the ale stand to return the cups. While they waited, Isaac absentmindedly gazed upward at one of the nearby buildings and saw a familiar face.
He nearly dropped the cups. Just visible behind the morning glare of a third-floor window, the old woman gazed down at the square and grimaced. Isaac quickly pointed her out.
“Go grab Rhotha.”
Aerin ran to fetch her, and Isaac cut to the front of the line—much to the protest of other buzzed patrons—and dropped the cups off. He turned to find Aerin leading Rhotha, whose rosy cheeks now matched the hue of her hair. She giggled, still dancing a little to the fiddler’s tune.
He pushed through the crowds, women in tow, and found a nondescript door that led into the building. Apparently once a luxury apartment complex, the lobby was in ruins. The front desk was overturned, shredded papers strewn across the floor. A few paintings lay destroyed on the ground. Isaac charged upstairs along matted red stairs until he reached the third floor. The ale in his stomach didn’t agree with the sudden activity, and a sharp pain ached in his side. Based on the grunts and pants behind him, the women weren’t faring any better. A long hallway stretched out with a dozen or so doors on one side.
“What…” panted Rhotha. “What the hell are we doing?”
“I’ll… explain in a sec…”
Isaac, hand on his dagger, slammed a shoulder into the first room, trying to remember how far into the building the old woman was and quickly giving up.
There was nobody inside. He nearly turned back to try another door when his brain processed what he saw in the room. A wooden table crusted with dried blood, a pentagram just visible beneath it. The melted remains of white candles lined the sides. On the floor beside it, the shattered remnants of a baby blue vase and a discarded tablecloth. The rest of the apartment looked normal, furnished by fine but unremarkable carved wood chairs, chests, and tables. He approached the table and rubbed a gloved finger across the red stain. It flaked, singing Isaac’s nose with a scent like old copper.
“Gods,” Rhotha said. “What kind of city is this? At least our swamp witches don’t live in the middle of Barbosa.”
“Our mayor follows Scorpius,” Isaac said. “So I probably shouldn’t be surprised.”
Aerin ignored them and strode through the apartment, eyes bulged, running her fingers along the surfaces. She stopped before the table and stared at it.
“This whole time,” she said. “Ritual sacrifice, right above Dorn Square. I can’t believe it.”
“So rude,” Isaac said. “How dare they exclude you from the fun.”
She ignored that too.
“It’s the same exact set up from the Greatwood,” she said. “Down to the last detail. Look, Scorpius’s symbol.”
Etched into the four corners of the table was the scorpion sigil. Though matted with dried blood, they were unmistakable.
“Maybe your father needed an extra space for his dirty work,” Isaac said. “Hidden in plain view, I guess. Been to the square a hundred times and I never even considered what was in these buildings.”
“Well, your hag lady isn’t here.” Rhotha finally caught her breath. “Should we check more rooms?”
Isaac nodded and led them back out into the hallway.
“Rhotha, stay out here. If she tries to leave whatever room she’s in while we’re distracted, kindly encourage her to stay put.”
“Gladly.” She grinned.
The next two rooms were disheveled, but beyond a couple tattered copies of the Occultus, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
They smelled the contents of the fourth room before they saw it. Isaac burst through the door and received an all-out assault on his senses. The stench of decay, of rotting remains. This apartment was completely empty beyond the pile of dead bodies. Around ten men and women—elf and human alike—lay in an undignified pile on the floor. The corpses were stripped naked. Various bits of flesh, and in some cases, entire body parts, had been excised. Flies hovered over them.
Isaac staggered backward, gagging and trying not to retch. He turned his head to avoid the grizzly sight.
“Nope, nope, nope.” Rhotha retreated several doors down.
Aerin, however, held her nose and entered the apartment. She approached the pile of corpses and began to look through them, apparently unbothered by the grotesque display.
“Recognize anyone?” Isaac said, only half joking.
“No,” she responded after a few seconds. “Must be homeless people and drifters. Those that wouldn’t be missed.”
“There are homeless elves?” Isaac asked, now fully outside on the other side of the wall.
“Of course,” she replied. “It isn’t just humans that are poor. Ever heard of Greenwood?”
“No.”
“Not surprising, nobody really talks about it. It’s the elven slum on the southern outskirts of the city.”
She stepped back out into the hallway, and Isaac was relieved to close the door. They moved to the next one. He grabbed the doorknob and immediately retracted his hand. It was blazing hot. He turned to the ladies and nodded to them. They’d found the apartment they were looking for.
“Break through on the count of three,” he whispered to Rhotha, who gripped her hammer harder. “We’ll be ready. One, two—”
The door burst off its hinges and slammed into the wall behind them. Isaac barely managed to leap to his left and dodge it. He saw the old woman’s silhouette for only a moment before a loud hissing called out and flames engulfed his vision. He dove again, grabbing the women’s arms and pulling them away from the blaze too.
The old woman cackled from inside her apartment. Another hissing sound. They prepared to dodge another attack, but the flames didn’t enter the hallway. Instead, a sound like splintering and breaking wood came from inside the apartment. They all shared a look of confusion.
Then, more movement, this time from the apartment they’d just left. Dozens of footsteps.
“Oh, shit.” Isaac drew his dagger.
The door to the adjacent apartment opened, and the first couple corpses shambled out. Two elven men with long hair engulfed in flames. They didn’t seem to notice. Their expressionless faces didn’t appear to register anything. Rhotha
leaped forth and smashed her hammer into one’s face. It fell backward against the wall and thudded against it. Isaac swiped his dagger into the throat of the other. It collapsed to its knees and keeled over. Before Rhotha’s opponent could rise again, he sunk his dagger into its chest.
More corpses emerged. Glowing behind him with purple light, Aerin cast a spell onto the emerging human man and elven woman. They turned their attention on each other and began a pathetic, naked, wrestling match. They fell to the floor in the doorway and blocked the exit from the other corpses.
Isaac turned to the door the flames emerged from. It was open and vulnerable.
“Hold them off,” he told Aerin and Rhotha.
The old woman sat in the center of a pentagram on her living room floor and clutched a knife. It didn’t look like a home. Dried herbs dangled from the ceiling, large pots bubbled in corners, and a wooden bookshelf leaned against one wall, adorned with assorted skulls and black books.
The woman took no notice of him. She muttered something to herself with her eyes closed. Clad only in a large black robe, she looked like a lump of darkness on the floor. She held up a bare wrist and pressed the knife against it.
“No!” Isaac jumped forth and kicked the knife from her hand. The old woman turned to him and hissed; eyes red with rage. He took her shoulders and pinned her to the ground.
Outside, bodies thudded against walls and floors. Smoke burned his nostrils. He turned to see a gaping hole in the wall between apartments, where flames still licked the borders.
“Isaac,” Aerin called. “We could use that dagger right about now.”
He’d nearly forgotten about its advantage against the undead. He put the weapon to the ground and slid it out the doorway to her. The old woman muttered and squirmed under his grasp.
“Stop. Moving,” he said through gritted teeth.
She didn’t listen.
“Damn you,” she said. “Damn you to the depths of Tenebromar!”
Isaac broke into a sweat. The flames were spreading.
“Give me answers and I might let you live.”
“Just kill me, you stupid brute.”
Apparently done re-slaughtering the corpses, Rhotha and Aerin entered the room. Rhotha gasped when she saw the woman.
“Esmelda,” she said.
Isaac recognized the name. He tried to focus and place it.
“Truella’s sister,” she said. “What the hell are you doing in Avalour?”
“I won’t tell you a damned thing!”
“Aerin,” he said. “Anything you can do to help me out?”
“I'll try.” Aerin knelt beside Esmelda and put a finger to her forehead. “I have a new spell that might work.”
Her finger glowed purple, and suddenly, there was a shift in the old woman’s eyes.
“Truella,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
Isaac turned to Aerin and nodded at her, impressed. Her illusion skills were getting better every day.
“Sister,” he said. “Some humans stole my memory. I need your help getting it back. What is this place?”
“Those disgusting bastards. Scorpius needs followers in cities as much as in the wilderness,” she said. “I serve him amongst these filthy elves while you serve him from the Greatwood.”
“Isaac,” Rhotha said. “You might want to hurry this up. I’m not eager to burn to death.”
Isaac nodded.
“Do you know anything about a phantasm mine here in the city?”
The witch’s eyes went wide. “What do you know about that? Did Scorpius tell you something?”
“I need gems,” he said. “For a ritual. What did Scorpius tell you?”
“He came to me in a vision about a week ago,” she said. “He asked about the phantasm mine. He wouldn’t say why he needed it, but I told him. Then I set up the sacrifice, a stupid human thief I found in the square. But something happened. Portals opened all over the city before he was killed. He took his own sacrifices. I haven’t been able to speak to him since. He’s… he’s abandoned us Truella. When the merging happens, I’m afraid we’ll be treated the same as anyone else.”
“A pity,” Isaac said. “What does Scorpius want with the gems?”
“He wouldn’t say exactly. But I think he wants to somehow use them with the merging.”
Isaac shared a look with Rhotha and Aerin.
“Where’s the mine?”
“Beneath,” she started, then coughed on the thickening smoke. “Beneath Homoken.” She cackled a little. “Those stupid humans have no idea what they’re living on.”
“Where?” He asked. “Where in Homoken is the entrance?”
“Beneath a tavern,” she said. “A degenerate hellhole called The Hog’s Mead. The elves built it right on top. There’s a basement that leads to the mine. Once phantasm gems were outlawed, they sealed it up and tried to pretend it didn’t exist. But it’s there.”
The heat became unbearable. Flames licked the insides of the room.
“My dagger?” he called out to Aerin. She handed it to him.
“Thanks for the help,” he said, and plunged it into the witch’s heart.
14
They casually left the burning building and headed back out into the square. The humans had erupted into such a panic that nobody seemed to notice them. The music and dancing were over, and most people were screaming, staring, or running around wildly. Since the city’s infrastructure had all but completely dissolved, Isaac suspected that no firefighters were coming. A couple humans took an ale keg over to a burning corner of the bottom floor and uselessly dumped it, putting out a miniscule fraction of the blaze. They looked far too pleased with themselves.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Aerin said.
They were halfway to Homoken when Isaac noticed Aerin’s ears poking out.
“Shit, Aerin, your disguise is fading.”
“Oh Gods,” she said. “I used all my magic on that witch.”
“Here,” Isaac handed her his glowing dagger, and she absorbed some energy from it. Her ears immediately rounded off again.
“Thanks,” she said. “Not the greatest time to be an elf.”
They trudged onward toward Homoken. The closer they got, the more Avalour looked like the city it used to be. Whogaarden may have been destroyed, but the humans took pity on their own sector of the city. Though it hadn’t been the most attractive part of town to begin with, its shortcomings were familiar—the faded wooden signs, the busted shutters, the grimy sidewalks. He hadn’t been gone long, but Isaac felt the reassuring familiarity of home.
“Where the hell is everybody?” Rhotha asked. “Awful lot of slummy buildings for barely any people.”
She was right. The streets were relatively deserted compared to the other parts of the city.
“All of Avalour is fair game for the humans now,” he replied. “Would you stay in this shit hole if you didn’t have to?”
“Fair point.”
He led them to the Hog’s Mead. Though just a couple blocks from Isaac’s home, he’d never set foot in the tavern. Each time he’d passed it, the place had deterred him. The dumbest, most thuggish human drinkers gathered there—meatheads who worked out all day and drank ale all night, hoping to fight anyone who came by. They always sang obnoxious songs and harassed passing women in the streets. It was disgraceful, but nobody ever did anything about it. Homoken had bigger problems to contend with.
Today, however, the place was sparse. Isaac imagined that the regulars were likely the ones out setting fires and beating up elves. Now, without the usual crowd, it looked tiny and pathetic. Dirty tables lined the walls, which were blank and stained dark yellow from tobacco smoke. A few tattered posters for old boxing events clung to the front of the bar, where an old man with long hair and a shirt stained with black smears absentmindedly wiped a dirty rag across the surface. The only other patron was a woman who lay passed out on her arms at a table, a half-empty glass of ale in front of her. T
he bartender’s eyes lit up when they walked in.
“Welcome, welcome to the Hog’s Mead! What can I do ya for, folks?”
“Not here for a drink, I’m afraid.” Isaac approached him and swung his bag around his shoulder. “But we’re paying all the same. We’d like to have a look at your basement.”
“The basement?” The man’s face flushed. “Just what in the gods’ names do you want to go down there for?”
“Three gold coins are in it for you if you don’t ask any questions. We’ll be in and out quick, won’t disturb anything.”
“Now wait just a damn minute,” the man said. “You can’t silence me with coin. The last time somebody came in here asking about the basement, weird shit happened afterward. I want to know what the hell is going on here.”
Isaac stopped, turned to the others. Rhotha shrugged. Aerin just watched the man closely.
“Who asked about the basement?”
“Now, now, I’m the one asking questions here. This is my bar, damn you.”
“Was it the mayor?” Aerin asked.
The bartender glared at her. “You some kind of mind reader?”
“Some kind, sure, so tell us the truth or I’ll melt your brain.”
The man stifled a whimper. “No please! I need my brain. I’ll tell you what I know.”
Surprised at the man’s sudden compliance, Isaac turned to Aerin and noticed a slight purple glow at her fingertips.
“So the mayor came in here looking for the basement,” Isaac said. “What happened next?”
“Well I didn’t know who it was at first,” he said. “He was wearing these dark robes, but he took his hood down and I saw him. I know this is Homoken, but I wasn’t looking to test my luck. I would have taken him down there for free, but he tossed me some coins anyway.”
“And?”
“And I don’t know,” he said. “He came up about an hour later with a big bulging sack. Whatever was in there must have been heavy, cause he was struggling. I went back into the basement to see what he stole, but everything was still there. Not a damn day later, those portals started opening. Now, I don’t know if it’s connected, but I got a feelin’ in my gut.”