The wind whipped through the sparse alpines, carrying the sounds of hard labor upon its back. The normal serenity of the majestic mountain range buckled under the sweat and determination of the twelve man team. The men worked tirelessly on a patch of gently sloping rock with pickaxes and shovels piercing the thick skin of the earth. Motivating them was Thedon and Lukas, a pair of cruel taskmasters ready to chase off the idea of loafing with a crack of their whips. Four guardsmen patrolled the perimeter of the dig site in shifts, their sharp senses directed at the surrounding rock and brush.
The Dhugdhurn mountains were known to be infested with beasts, natural and, if the stories are to be believed, unnatural in origin. It was the refuge for a number of goblinoid tribes, fleeing the human scourges after the Horn Lord war. So far, there had been no sight or sound of any of these threats. This only made the tension greater for everyone.
It was a warm spring day despite the cool wind blowing across the range. The blaze of the afternoon sun felt good on Morris’s face. He looked over the dig site from a large jutting rock and yawned deeply. He remembered briefly the excitement he felt on his first mining survey and how gradually the excitement drained away over the past ten years.
He knew his work was important and served a higher purpose. They were employed by one of the bigger mining companies of Salex. A successful survey of a new vein of ore would determine whether hundreds of migrant workers had work for the upcoming season. Not to mention the nice bonus he received; yet he still felt as something was missing from his life. His gaze drifted East, following the skyline the Dhugdhurn mountains made across the clear blue sky until it was abruptly severed by an enormous wall of grey mist. It was known as the Grey Wall and not much was known about it except that it predated all known history. It stretched North and South farther than anyone was brave enough to explore creating an unnatural border along the Eastern side of the continent.
This was the closest his work had ever brought him to the wall. He stood paralyzed by its unique beauty and the excitement of the unknown. It wasn’t often that surveys went this high into the mountains. Normally, the ores they were searching for were found deeper and lower in the mountain. However, more and more surveys have been finding large ore veins higher in elevation and closer to the surface the closer they moved toward the Grey Wall. This phenomenon baffled scholars and sages for decades.
“They say it’s because these peaks were not always here – they were created by a great upheaval,” Morris called down to the rest of his survey team. He imagined the great cataclysm as he overlooked the vista.
Down below, Landon nudged one of his colleagues. “They also say that the closer you get to the wall, the worse the smell of death and decay. And that if you stare into it deep enough you can see the faces of dead loved ones. But most of'em are crazy loons.”
“And here I was thinking that smell was ol’ Thedon there.” Rogen said a little louder than he expected.
Laughter erupted from the three remaining surveyors as they walked to the lunch tent. A couple of the laborers chuckled as well but were silenced quickly by scowls from Thedon and his brutal partner.
Morris looked down to Landon and his crew, shaking his head with a smirk. Landon, whom he had known since childhood, was always quick to dismiss the words and visions of sages and scholars. Morris could not fault him, it was the main reason he had requested Landon for the trip. Morris needed someone to ground him from his flights of fancy and he trusted no one more than Landon.
Morris knew not to take what he had read or heard during his youth as nothing more than legend and myth; yet seeing the Grey Wall, even at this distance, excited his sense of exploration and adventure.
So what of it that no one who has ever breached the Grey Wall has never come back? What if paradise lies beyond and they simply did not want to leave? Morris climbed down from the rock before pulling his leather gloves off to adjust his jerkin and apron and stole one last long look at the long wall of grey. It has to exist for a reason. Morris joined his colleagues who were finishing lunch despite the hysterics Landon had put them in. Morris smiled. He would let them have their fun for now.
The sun crawled to midday before the surveying team finally had enough rock samples to begin work. Immediately they became all business with their tools of trade. Landon and Rogen used compasses to triangulate their position, comparing their findings to the land charter given to them by headquarters. The charter ensured their work would not be hindered by land disputes between other mining companies. Competition was high for quality veins and disputes often turned deadly while waiting for the High Courts to pass judgment.
Morris took the remaining teammates and set upon the loads of rocks freed from the earth by the labor team testing them for the metals they searched for and the purity of the vein. Morris focused on his work and if not for the call from Thedon walking quickly towards him, he would have surely missed the commotion happening amongst the laborers. The look on the taskmasters face did not sit well with Morris. Concerned, Morris pulled himself from his alchemical lab and jogged to meet the taskmaster, who was now wheezing and wiping the sweat from his brow.
“What’s wrong, Thedon? What has all the men riled up?” He stared past the taskmaster, searching for something to cool his worry.
“The men - They found something in the earth. You should come see, Mr. Morris.” Thedon blustered nearly out of breath from the short trot.
Morris followed Thedon back to the dig site. He tried to keep himself calm, “Its probably a large vein. That always gets them going.” When he arrived, he staggered backwards, his imagination sparked alive as the other surveyors crowded around him. Landon gasped and it was then that Morris knew he was not dreaming.
The object in the earth, partially uncovered, was definitely not a vein of ore. It appeared to be some sort of worked stone or metal and large. The image generated hundreds of theories within his mind’s eye.
Eyes wild with excitement, Morris grinned, “Dig it up.”
Morris divided the laborers into shifts so they could dig through the rest of the day and through the night. With a little coaxing, a couple of his colleagues volunteered to help dig as well.
Landon pulled Morris aside, “Morris, have you gone mad? We should report this to Salex headquarters.”
“No, we report this and some scholar from Olycor will swoop in and take all the credit for the find.” Morris pulled away from Landon and stared deeply at the object which by then was beginning to take on more of a rectangular shape. “Like an altar or sarcophagus,” Morris imagined.
“Look at it, Landon. This is old – I mean really old. Look at the designs and the way it’s shaped. I wonder what it’s made of.” Morris reached out to touch it and suddenly pulled away, “We should run some tests.” Morris was a mile a minute and was already on this way to the work tent before Landon could give a retort. Landon did not like the way this was progressing.
Morris finished gathering his supplies and was heading out of the work tent when he spotted Landon entering the main surveyor tent. He desperately wanted to work on the object, but he was suspicious of the way Landon had been acting earlier. Morris moved towards the tent, “What are you up to, Landon.”
Pulling back the tent flap he saw Landon and immediately understood. His friend finished whispering to a wooden token shaped like a bird and tossed it into the air. Magically, it transformed to a living version of visage and fluttered south.
Morris felt as if his heart was trampled on, “I know you are trying to protect me, Landon. This is not Waysfair or Tenton - this is real. It’s not junk like all the others. You’ve got to know that. Why are you not supporting me on this?”
Landon’s face twisted with rage, “Support you, Morris? Do you remember how many times have I had to pull your head out of a pool of your own depression-induced-drinking-binge vomit? How many lies have I told? How many excuses I have given to cover for your ass after you crawl into that dark hole of yours after another failed ‘adventure’?” Landon pounded his fist on a nearby table. “When are you going to accept that you are a surveyor? Just as your father was and just as his father was before him? A surveyor and that’s all!” Morris clinched his fists, seething with anger but Landon continued, “Kaeruna help him, the Sisters have bewitched another poor soul with the will’o’wisps of fortune and fame.”
“I should have never asked you along, Landon. You are through here. This is my dig and I want you out. Pack your things, you leave in the morning.” Morris said bitterly as he marched out of the tent and back to the dig site.
The laborers now had the entire top and first foot of the sides uncovered. It stretched ten feet long with intricate designs and hieroglyphs etched into the stone and metal. Stone-like vines swirl across the top and sides like a real vine would creep up a tree trunk. Morris stood amazed at the level of detail and bizarreness of the hieroglyphs. He was sure given enough time he could decipher the story it was attempting to tell him. Time, however, was not something he had a lot of at the moment so he had to work fast. He dismissed the laborers for the night and set up his lab upon the top of the container. He quickly arranged his tools and was soon lost in documenting his findings.
“Damn you, Landon. Damn you all. They don’t realize what you are to me,” Morris traced the top designs with his hand sliding it down the side closest to him circling a spiral design of stone vines.
Suddenly, the design clicked and Morris quickly pulled his hand away, examining it. Blood trickled down his palm, “Cael take me. It’s trapped.” He took a step back to grab a bit cloth to bind his wound when the spiral design lashed out encircling his leg tightly. Morris attempted to cry out in hopes of alerting the evening watch. He was promptly silenced when another stone vine wrapped around his waist and throat crushing the air from his lungs. Morris struggled for freedom and air. Fear grappled him as tightly as the vines did, slowly devouring his sanity. The container’s designs began to glow a deep green, slowly melting away leaving exposed what appeared to be a humanoid made of the same material as the container itself. Morris could feel the vines tighten and tear into his flesh with razor sharp thorns, draining his life’s blood. The vines absorbed the flow of blood, strengthening the green glow of the shifting container.
As his life ebbed away he watched the glow of the container feed the glow that was now emitting from the humanoid. He thought he heard the clang of the watch bell as the humanoid sat up and stretched its body of living wood and metal. As his vision blurred and he slumped to ground, he thought he made out Landon brandishing his sword charging the thing he awakened.
Thought and fantasy began to blur together for Morris as he prayed, “Always the valiant one, Landon. A true friend to the end. Kaeruna protect us – forgive me for what I have wrought.”
The ground crunched dryly under Luthor’s plated boots. Dry, brittle bones of varying sizes littered the graveyard. Several headstones and markers lay toppled or broken before their respective graves. Luthor’s brow furrowed at the sight. Many of the graves appeared disturbed from the inside out.
He gripped his well-honed sword tightly and unsheathed it from his back. The weight and balance it felt good in his hand. He laid his other hand on the symbol that hung from his neck and offered a silent prayer. Brushing a lock of black hair shot with silver from his face, he glanced back to the small village to the west. The lantern lights from the village flickered like will-o-wisps against the darkness of the night. The light of the full moons, Enoch and Styg, reflected brightly in the sheen of his bastard sword.
Cael is with us tonight, he reassured himself. He snapped a nod at his partner and signed her forward. We will end you tonight, Rhynos Maethers.
The tall slender woman acknowledged the signal with a double tap on her thigh. She moved into a wide forward arc. Two metallic constructs, their bodies resembling canines, sprang from their crouched positions next to the woman and fell in line with their master. The woman twirled her quarterstaff and caught one end under her arm, focusing her energies into the other. The end of her staff flared with a soft white light before becoming muted once more.
“Mother Myr protect us this night. Father Cael give Ix’chel and I the strength and guidance to return those who defy you to your righteous grasp”, the symbol clutched by Luthor glowed softly as he uttered the blessing. Luthor felt warmth flow through him, bringing his thoughts to focus and edging away any hints of fear. He took up the same approach as Ix’chel moving into position around the abandoned shack that once served as the gravedigger’s hut.
Luthor stalked toward the left side of the shack. He attempted a peek inside the hut only to find the windows covered in heavy oiled leathers. He grumbled and inched to the front of the shack signaling Ix’chel and her hounds around back. The links of his mithral chain shifted in hushed symphony as he crept to the front door.
Ix’chel skulked to the rear of the shed. Her hound constructs, Ixaotal and Mazlan, closed in behind her and snarled an alert with a metallic growl. Ix’chel’s muscled tensed in anticipation of attack. She squatted to scan the horizon with her amber eyes. The hounds growled as the ground shuddered before her. Three humanoid bodies erupted from the earth, their eyes a feral red and their skin a sickly pallid color of green. Flesh hung loosely from their decrepit forms. A horrid stench drowned Ix’chel as they rushed her. She sprang forward into a roll as sharp jagged teeth gnashed and razor claws slashed where she was a second ago. Ixaotal and Mazlan charged forward barking metallically as Ix’chel brought her staff to bear, readying herself for the oncoming fight.
Luthor rested his hand on the doorknob of the hut, twisting it to enter. The sounds of metallic snarling alerted him of danger. He stepped away from the door, straining for sounds of Ix’chel being overwhelmed. The slight distraction cost him; a loud crack erupted from the door as it was ripped from its frame from the inside. A man stood inside the door frame, tossing the door to the side. Wearing only trousers and his hair a matted mess of dirt and twigs, he gave Luthor an evil grin. His bare chest rippled with muscle, his skin white as bone, almost luminescent under the twin full moons.
“Brother Maethers sends his regards, Brother Prathius,” the grin became a mouth of fangs as the man lunged towards Luthor with clawed hands.
Luthor quickly dropped to a knee bringing his sword around, piercing the monster’s abdomen. The monster howled in pain as Luthor used its momentum against it and lifted the creature over his head and slamming it to the ground. Luthor leapt over the creature in a somersault pulling the sword free. Landing in a crouch, Luthor uttered a prayer and extended his hand toward the vampire; his hand flashed brightly as a ray of white holy light shot from his palm. The monster quickly rolled into a stand avoiding the ray. It burst into laughter as the laceration to its midsection repaired itself as if never there.
“Yah gonna have ta do better than tha’. In fac’ why don ya come ov’r here an’ let me have a bite.” The vampire gazed into Luthor’s eyes.
Luthor felt the pull on his mind; the lull washing over him dulling his senses. He limped forward dragging his sword behind him.
The vampire licked his fangs hungrily as Luthor staggered toward him. It placed its hands on Luthor’s shoulders pulling him closer to him. Baring its fangs, the vampire tilted Luthor’s head to the side. Its fangs grazed Luthor’s neck and then howled in pain. The vampire twisted, throwing Luthor toward the hut. Staggering back, the vampire pawed at the dagger protruding from its side. The wound sizzled and oozed with pus.
Luthor rolled into a crouch. “Is that better, Frant? Does the taste of silver give you that satisfied feeling? I know it does for me.”
Frant snarled pulling the silver dagger from his bleeding side. The wound remained, oozing and steaming with black ichor.
Frant lunged again, coming in low. Luthor sprang to his feet setting them for the charge. He leveled his sword for impact at the last moment, throwing his shoulder into the blow. Frant accepted the sword fully into his chest; the tip erupted from his back. The force of the blow lifted Luthor off his feet hurling him backwards into the hut. He felt as time was standing still as he flew through the air until smashing into the back window.
Ix’chel swept her staff low catching a ghoul at his ankles knocking it to the ground. Ixaotal quickly pounced on the newly prone creature clamping its iron jaws on the ghoul’s neck. Mazlan followed suit with a second ghoul, clamping tightly to its leg. The fourth ghoul twisted with a howl, launching itself at Ix’chel. A clawed hand ripped through her cloak. Splintered nail and broken bone was the only result.
Ix’chel spun catching the ghoul in the side with the enchanted end of her staff. A light flashed and the ghoul’s side was nothing but ash. The ghoul ignored its missing ribs and continued its attack. Ix’chel gracefully dodged each blow bringing the staff end up across the ghoul’s chin. Its head exploded in a puff of ash. Its body slumped to the ground and moved no more.
Mazlan dragged the leg of its ghoul. It crawled slowly behind attempting to retrieve its leg. Ix’chel cut its chase short with a quick thrust of her staff. She gracefully maneuvered to dispatch the ghoul held by Ixaotal. The wall of the shack shattered behind her. Ixaotal spun around to see Luthor on his back amongst the timber and shattered glass.
Ix’chel flung herself toward Luthor, her destination suddenly blocked by the vampire. It stood over Luthor, its eyes wild with hate. Luthor’s sword protruded from its chest, black ichor dripping from the point that exited its back. Ix’chel shifted to a defensive stance as the hounds finished off the ghouls. The monster stared at Ix’chel pointing a twisted gnarled finger at her.
“Stan’ back, wench. Yeh’ll ge’ yers soon enough. Dah is gonna have a lil’ snack before da main course.” The creature laughed deeply bringing his full attention to Luthor.
Luthor held a vial in his hands prying the stopper out with his thumb.
“Wha’, yah think a lil water is gonna hurt me? Really are stupid ain’t yah. Huntin’ vampires at night. Drop it, Brother, now!” Frant reached down grabbing a fistful of Luthor’s chain shirt.
Luthor flipped the stopper out spilling the contents onto the ground, “This? Oh, this isn’t for you, Frant. It’s to water the silver Ix’chel dusted the ground with earlier today.”
Frant stared at the ground as the liquid was quickly absorbed by the earth. A blue aura washed over the ground etched with runes he clearly recognized. Frant dropped Luthor and ran. The aura glowed bright stopping Frant in mid stride. Pain coursed through his body. Frant howled in pain; the body of the ghouls disintegrated into ash.
Luthor sprang to his feet. “Now, Ix’chel!”
Ix’chel focused her energies into her hand and lunged toward Frant. She reached out and touched the tip of Luthor’s blade releasing the built up energy into it. The glow washed over the tip passing further down the sword and into Frant’s body. As it flowed, the flesh around the sword burned and turned to ash. Frant screamed in agony, trapped in the holy aura that circled his home and impaled with Luthor’s now enchanted sword. Luthor stepped around Frant grasping the hilt of his sword. “Cael calls you home, Frant” Luthor twisted his sword and with a hard thrust upward, he cleft Frant in twain. The two halves turned to ash as they fell to the ground.
Ix’chel stepped next to Luthor placing a hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry he is not here, Luthor. We will catch him soon.”
Luther only nodded pulling two more vials of holy water. “We have graves to bless.”
The next morning, Luthor woke to the sound of knocking. Still groggy from the long night, Luthor pulled the covers back and swept his feet off the bed and to the floor. He had contemplated last night’s events. Something bothered him. Was there a spy in the church? Had this been just a setup for him? Could it have been just Caevari tossing him a break? It was sloppy in either case. The rapping came again.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” Luthor stumbled to the door, cracking it slightly.
“Beggin’ your pardon, sir. I have a message for you, delivered just this morn.” The maid held the sealed parchment out to him nervously.
“Thank you.” Luthor exchanged the parchment with a silver coin.
The maid’s face brightened, “Thank you, sir! Thank you kindly!” She hesitated, “And thank you for saving our town.”
“Yeah, Myr bless you.” Luthor absently shut the door preoccupied with his thoughts and retreated back to the bed.
Luthor played with the polished bone and silver hanging at his neck while thoughtfully staring at the scroll. The seal matching his necklace told him it was from the Church. He sat up in bed and twirled the scroll in his left hand. He cracked the seal and rolled out the parchment.
After reading, Luthor rolled the parchment bringing a lit candle to one end. He watched as the flame greedily devoured the scroll.Luthor placed the burning remains into the wash basin allowing the flame to finish its meal. Dressing himself in his travelling clothes, he walked out of his room and down to the next room. He knocked twice before the door cracked.
“We have been called to Salex. We leave within the hour. I’ll be having breakfast.”
Inside he could see the glowing embers of Ix’chel’s amber eyes, the mithral glittering on the unnatural composition of her skin made of metal and wood. She stepped out of the room placing a hat on her head. As it rested upon her brow, it shifted to a hairpin and her skin and clothing morphed from the metal and wood to that of a dark skinned woman in a modest blouse and pant.
“I am ready. So are Ixaotal and Mazlan.” She adjusted her pack.
“Right, I forget you don’t sleep. What do you do all night?” Luthor turned and headed to the common room.
“I think about my past. I am still having problems remembering moments of my past since the day you found me.” Ixaotal and Mazlan snapped at each other playfully.
The common room was already filled to maximum with people eager to greet their heroes.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure something will come back sooner or later.” Luthor stared at the sea of villagers and sighed. “Maybe I’ll skip breakfast.”
