Kel’dhos stood over the lifeless bodies of the strange cultists. The scorched and cleaved bones from their undead servants lay in disarray, sinew still clinging to the rough bone.
So much death… and I am part of its cause. But it had to be done, did it not?
Kel’dhos couldn’t tear his eyes off the human cultists. He had never taken life before. Well, at least not from one that had truly been alive.
Banishing the undead and the tree creatures had been necessity. Abominations like that were an affront to the laws of life and nature. They were a threat to serenity and peace, and Sioch demanded them be destroyed.
But among the undead in the cavern, there had also been cultists. Living humans. And now they were dead by the hands of Kel’dhos and his companions. Again, his thoughts swirled.
The conjurers had to die. They raised these unholy creatures and twisted the flora into anathema.
“What’s troubling you?”
Kel’dhos blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts and found Magnus beside him, scratching his short black beard. The wizard looked to be unfazed, despite all the fighting and death. Even Beltayne, before departing for the village he’d sworn to help, seemed to have handled the bloody battle quite well. He was a paladin after all. Kel’dhos had seen them handle almost anything without faltering.
“Have you ever taken a life, Magnus?” asked Kel’dhos, kneeling beside the slain cultist.
“Aye, plenty of times.”
“Another dwarf, then?”
“Well, I, uhh,” stammered Magnus. “No. I’ve never taken the life of a human, dwarf, elf or anything like that… but I’ve been hunting for wildlife and the such, you know, while growing up.”
“I see,” Kel’dhos said quietly. “How do you feel about taking these humans’ lives?”
Magnus glanced at the corpse beside Kel'dhos, then quickly looked away, rubbing his head. “Eh. Just a necessity by the way I see it. They would’ve killed us had we not gotten them first. Right?”
Kel’dhos looked back to the lifeless, bloodied face of the dead. He pondered on Magnus’ words. Was this man truly evil? Or was he just doing what he believed to be right? Would that man have gutted them where they stood had they not attacked? It should have been as simple as that, but Kel’dhos couldn’t help but dwell. No matter which way he tried to justify it—he’d still helped kill a person.
Kel’dhos was no stranger to death, hells, he’d tended to the sick and the dead for many years back home in the Sepulcher Hills. But this… this was different. A death caused by his own hands. It sat heavily on his shoulders, suffocating. Whether this man deserved to die or not… taking a life felt wrong and terrible.
His eyes drifted to Magnar, who had set fire to the fungus littering the cave. His clothes were splattered with blood—some his own, most was not—and he seemed so unbothered by their battles.
How does he deal with it, I wonder?
“Right,” muttered Kel’dhos, agreeing for the sake of ending the conversation. “These cultists were doing evil work here.”
That much was true. Kel’dhos knew these people were defiling the sacred orders of nature and life. But being responsible for their deaths was no easy thing to come to grips with. But as always, he would do his best and look to Sioch for guidance and salvation.
Kel’dhos knelt among the corpses and shattered bones of risen dead. He closed his eyes and softly recited words of his faith.
“I let your wisdom guide my hand, Sioch the Peaceful. Where I find wisdom, I find strength. Strength leads to courage, and courage pushes me into action, so that peace and serenity may be restored. Wisdom is strength and strength is wisdom.”
When he rose, he found Magnar close by, holding a torch. Telerek and Val stood behind him, watching silently.
“Time to leave this place,” said Kel’dhos. He took the torch from the barbarian and lit the pile of bones and flesh. The flames took to life quickly, crawling over the refuse and remains in a hungry blaze.
“Not sure why you wanted to burn them so bad,” Magnar said with a huff.
“I am charged with purifying the dead,” Kel’dhos explained. “As a cleric of the Sepulcher, I was a caretaker of the dead and the dying, mandated with leading them peacefully into the next life. These cultists’ remains must be burned, so they can move on to whatever afterlife awaits them.”
Magnar grunted and turned away. Without a word, Telerek and Val slinked after him, moving silently through the cavern. Kel’dhos and Magnus followed the others out into the warm sunlight.
Kel’dhos peered skyward. White clouds danced on a canvas of blue, the sun shining brightly above as a gentle breeze brushed his face. Birds chirped, wolves howled far off in the distance, and squirrels scampered about, searching for nuts and other treasures. It was good to finally breathe fresh air again.
It is such a relief to be free of that forsaken cavern… Kel’dhos thought to himself.
“Let’s get moving,” Telerek said, pulling his hood up. “We’ll need to report back to my uncle as quickly as possible.”
Magnar nodded with a satisfied grunt, smiling at Telerek. “Aye. I’m ready for the gold you promised me, wood elf.”
“You’ll get it. Don’t worry your little head.”
“Little head?” asked Magnar. He turned to Magnus with concern. “Is my head that little?”
“I don’t think he meant literally, brother.”
“Oh... then why’d he say it?”
Magnus sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It’s fine. Let’s just get going.”
The brothers trailed after Telerek and Val, while Magnar rubbed his beard, seemingly lost in a sea of thought. The barbarian was immensely strong, and Kel’dhos trusted him in a fight, without a doubt, but beyond that, the barbarian remained an enigma.
Kel’dhos grinned as he watched the brothers push each other back and forth, like young siblings picking on one another, as they walked the forest path into the overgrowth back toward the logging camp.
***
It wasn’t long before Kel’dhos and the others heard the sharp sawing of blades and distant shouting of loggers as they entered a clearing. Workers milled about, felling trees and cutting them into manageable pieces.
The cool breeze of midwinter still whispered softly in Kel’dhos’ ears. Back home, the wind was a common companion, ever-present during his lonely days of safeguarding the Sepulcher Hills.
Supervisor Thistlefoot Nibbleroot approached quickly, flanked by her two logger guards. Kel’dhos felt a tugging grin at the sight of her. The gnome’s smile was infectious, her beautiful red hair was pulled into a ponytail today.
“You made it back!” she shouted, stopping a few paces short of the group, hands resting on her hips. “And in one piece too.”
“Aye,” Telerek replied. “We ran into some trouble, but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle.”
“So… What did you discover?” Thistlefoot asked, expectant. “Did you find my missing people?”
Kel’dhos stood back as Telerek recounted their entire journey into the deadly fungi infested cavern. He spoke of the ambush in the forest on the way to the cave, and the writhing, wailing sac. He detailed everything. He spent the most time explaining the cultists and their twisted humanoid abominations of fungus, and the scurrying undead kobolds running amuck in the laboratory.
At last, Telerek came to the eerie part of their journey. “We discovered journals all throughout the cultists’ lab. Some of the entries mentioned a demon called Lovadth, who they referred to as the Demon Princess of Decay.”
Kel’dhos watched as Thistlefoot shifted uncomfortably, wincing slightly at the name. “Hmm. Strange indeed. I... don’t like that.”
Kel’dhos stepped forward, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not to worry. We dealt with everyone and everything in the cavern. All traces of the fungi were burned… along with the dead and undead, after they were given their rites so that they could pass into the afterlife.”
Thistlefoot sighed heavily and lowered her head. “My loggers… were they among the dead?”
Magnus appeared beside Kel’dhos, speaking softly. “We believe so, Supervisor. We are deeply sorry, but there were no survivors outside of ourselves.”
The hulking logger beside Thistlefoot locked eyes with Magnar and gritted his teeth. After a tense moment between the two, the tall man shook his head slowly and stalked away, muttering under his breath.
Thistlefoot’s eyes shimmered as she looked up at Kel’dhos and Magnus. She forced a smile and thanked the group for their efforts. “We have a wagon heading back to Ridgeton here shortly. You are most welcome to hitch a ride back. I’m sure Varlok will be pleased to hear his business can continue unimpeded.”
“Aye,” Telerek said, nodding. “We will be on our way then.” The wood elf adjusted the daggers at his belt, threw his hood back over his head and silently moved toward a wagon in the distance.
Val was already halfway there. She’d apparently wandered off on her own at some point—true to form. She was a maddeningly aloof individual with a curiosity that knew no bounds, yet when in the thick of combat, she transformed into someone entirely different—competent and dangerous. Kel’dhos had never seen anything like it.
Magnar shuffled close to Thistlefoot and leaned in awkwardly. “I, um, we’re, uh, sorry for your loss, Ms. Nibbleroot.”
Kel’dhos had never seen a dwarf blush before. He watched on as the muscle-bound barbarian fumbled over his words, attempting to console the forlorn gnome.
After his awkwardness, Magnar turned to see Kel’dhos grinning. “What are you smilin’ about?” Magnar combed his beard with one hand and stalked after Telerek and Val.
“That was odd,” Magnus muttered, more to himself than Kel’dhos. “I’ve never seen my brother act like that before.”
“Maybe he’s turning over a new leaf,” Kel’dhos added, smirking. “But I would bet that he's taken a liking Thistlefoot.”
Magnus chuckled. “Now, that is an absolutely terrifying thought. Thanks for that, Kel’dhos.”
Kel’dhos laughed and clapped the dwarf wizard on the shoulder. “My pleasure. Let’s get going, shall we?”
“Aye. I’ve had enough of trees and fungi for a lifetime.”
Kel’dhos and Magnus followed the rest of the group, who were packing their things into the logging cart. A slender, dark-skinned man was tending to the two horses, patting them gently on their heads. He seemed to be chanting or singing quietly to the beasts. Strange.
Magnar tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you doing that?”
The man looked up. His eyes were the lightest shade of brown Kel’dhos had ever seen, and he wore a tan tunic under a leather jerkin with the sleeves cut off.
“It calms them,” he replied, his voice like a song. He eyed the group as he kissed each horse on the muzzle before moving to the cart where Magnar and the others waited patiently. “Over the years, I’ve learned that horses are not just beasts of burden, my dwarf friend. They are companions... and sometimes even family.”
Magnar snorted and heaved his weighty maul up into the cart. “Beast or friend, doesn’t matter to me. Just so long as they get us back to Ridgeton.”
“Oh, well Lan and Gan are the two best horses in the Tameless Shore, my friends,” said the man. His smile was wide, showing his gleaming white teeth.
As the man neared, Kel’dhos noticed the fine lines on his forehead and a small burn mark on the left of his neck. A long-bladed dagger sat horizontally along the belt on the man’s backside with a slender handle pointed to the left, capped with a round pommel.
Magnar rolled his eyes and extended a hand, shaking the stranger's rough, weathered grip. “I am Magnar of the Bronze Hills. These are my companions.” He gestured to everyone behind him.
“Pleasure,” said the man with a nod. “They call me Traveler.” His hair was pulled straight back and braided in thick strands, while the sides of his head were clean-shaven. The man was clearly human, and looked well-traveled, so the name made sense.
Traveler’s eyes found the pendant around Kel’dhos’ neck and smiled knowingly. “A holy man, I see. Sioch was always one of my favorites. Wisdom is strength.”
Instinctively, Kel’dhos grabbed his pendant, running his finger across the smooth stone. “And strength is wisdom.” He nodded respectfully at the man. “Sioch has been my life. Serenity and Peace must be preserved.”
“Ah,” Traveler began, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Now there’s an impossible task, young cleric of Sioch. If you’ve seen the world as I have, then you’ll know that peace is not a sustainable thing. Many have tried, and many have failed. And there will be many more that try. It is noble of you to think as you do, cleric. But just know that the real peace and serenity must come from within.” Traveler winked at Kel’dhos and moved to the rear of the cart to finish his preparations.
Kel'dhos could only smile. This man, this Traveler, knew much of the faith of Sioch, yet he bore no markings or symbols of the God of Peace.
Well, Kel’dhos thought. That was the most pleasant interaction I’ve had since leaving the Sepulcher.
“He seemed to know quite a bit about your god,” said Magnus, nudging Kel’dhos with his elbow. “I bet he knows magic. He seemed like the type.”
“How do you know that?”
Magnus shrugged his shoulders, eyeing the strange man. “Just a feeling. He’s got that air about him.” The wizard started for the cart.
“Maybe you should speak to him on the ride back to Ridgeton,” Kel’dhos said. “He may know some things about the Arcane.”
“Pfft,” scoffed the dwarf wizard. “There isn’t anything he’ll know that I don’t.” With that, Magnus climbed into the cart and took a seat, glaring at the Traveler.
Everyone was already settled in the cart, with Traveler at the front, reins in hand. He chanted his majestic tune to Lan and Gan again, his eyes half-lidded in a trance-like state. Kel’dhos placed his shield and mace in the cart, just about to climb in when he heard a shout from behind.
“Ah! Thank you for waiting for me to finish my important business.”
Kel’dhos turned to see a white-haired elf, clad in a familiar silver armor with light-blue accents.
Beltayne strode toward them, smiling from ear to ear. He reached the cart and clambered in. “You may proceed. I’m here and ready to go.”
Kel’dhos shook his head, climbing up after the snow-elf paladin and took a seat across from him.
Val looked at the paladin. “Where did you come from? Were you not with us this whole time?”
“No. I had to—did, did you not remember me leaving to go speak with Windegoth... at the village I—oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now and you may depart.”
Magnus and Magnar snorted with laughter while Telerek grumbled to himself in the front corner. Val looked from Telerek to Beltayne, seemingly confused.
Traveler spoke in a language unfamiliar to Kel’dhos and the cart lurched forward; Lan and Gan moved with eager strides.
Kel’dhos tore his gaze from Traveler, feeling watchful eyes on him. He met Beltayne’s icy blue stare. “Kel’dhos. We must talk of your ears.”
Kel’dhos sighed and looked up to the sky above. “This is going to be a long ride.”
***
About an hour had passed, and the wagon rolled steadily on. It wasn’t a pleasant ride—though, Kel’dhos hadn’t expected much comfort from a lumber cart—but he managed to make the most of the situation by telling Beltayne of his mother and father. That, at the very least, took his mind off the jostling, uneven road.
Kel’dhos and Beltayne weren’t the only ones locked in discussion. Telerek and Val huddled close to one another at the front, talking quietly. Kel’dhos was sure he overheard them speaking of Varlok and how pleased he would be. In the center of the cart, the dwarven brothers, Magnus and Magnar, animatedly recounting their perspectives of the recent fights—they may have embellished a detail here and there, but it wasn’t worth arguing over.
And then there was Beltayne. The confident—or at least convincingly so—snow elf sat across from Kel’dhos, staring intently at him, mouth half-open.
“So… Your father… was a human,” he said with a bemused expression. “And your mother... an elf?” The white-haired elf cocked his head and rubbed his chin. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. I guess that explains why your ears are so stunted then. Hmm.”
“My ears are fine, thank you.” A flush rising to Kel’dhos’ cheeks. He’d never really paid attention to the differences in his ears to a full-blooded elf’s. It was never a point of conversation amongst the clerics and paladins of Sioch. Not until Beltayne made such a point of it. “I’ll have you know that it’s perfectly common for there to be half-elves among clerics and paladins. There are many, many species that become priests of their divine.”
“In the Sea of Obsidian Ice,” began Beltayne grandly. “Snow elves are all that inhabit the Winter Court. This is my first time seeing someone claiming to be ‘half-elven.’ I really don’t know whether to believe you or not… maybe you’re trying to hide the fact that you are an elf with some kind of contagious disease.” Beltayne looked as though he was trying to lean away from Kel’dhos, eyeing him suspiciously.
Kel’dhos was left speechless. He’d plainly explained to this snow elf his lineage, how his human father and elven mother came to be together, but Beltayne remained obstinate as ever.
What a strange elf, Kel’dhos thought. He is so confident about everything, yet ignorant of everything outside of his sheltered life in the western frozen wastes. Hmm… though, I guess my situation isn’t much different. I don’t know much of anything about society outside of the Sepulcher… I’m learning just as much as he is.
“Oh, come off it, Beltayne,” interjected Magnus, nudging the paladin’s shoulder. “In the real world there are such things as half species. It’s normal. So, stop fretting over it and go back to talking to that weird sword of yours.”
Kel’dhos eyed the strange sword resting on Beltayne’s lap. The paladin hadn’t stopped holding the thing since discovering it inside the cultist’s cavern. It was clearly magical—and brilliantly effective in combat.
“Ah, yes. This old thing?” Beltayne said, lifting the blade to admire it. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and he looked from the sword to Kel’dhos then back to the sword. “What’s that? You want to poke the ‘half-elf’s’ ears to see what happens?”
“You’re not touching my ears, Beltayne.” said Kel’dhos flatly, shooting him a look.
“Fine, fine. But you’re still weird, and I don’t trust your ears.”
“Ha!” boomed Magnar, pointing at the two of them. “I think you two are gonna end up being the best of friends.”
The barbarian’s belly laugh cracked a smile from Kel’dhos. Beltayne, on the other hand, was still staring suspiciously at his ears.
Kel’dhos turned to Magnus. “Were there many half-elves at the Academy Arcana?”
“Oh, yes! There were many. The Academy is home to people of every species.” Magnus smiled. “Though, I was one of only a handful of dwarves who attended. We are the fewest in number to command the arcane.”
Magnar snorted. He was working his long, blonde beard into several braids. “Your magic didn’t do as well as my maul. You should’ve just stayed home and learned the martial way, little brother.”
Kel’dhos had wondered why a dwarf would be drawn to study the Arcane. It was not something of which the stout mountain dwellers were fond. Everything Kel’dhos learned from his books told him they loved to mine for ore and treasure, hoarding it in the stone halls of their rocky cities. They had no time for something they considered trivial such as the Arcane.
The taxing ride continued until at long last the wagon slowly crested a broad hill. Kel’dhos spied Ridgeton in the distance, the massive Claw Bay dominated the landscape beyond.
An unusual feeling swept over Kel’dhos and he was excited.
Excited to reach the bustling town so that he may finally get some true rest. In truth, he was beyond weary. He’d been through a lot in the recent days, and it was all new to him. A quiet night alone in his room would do him good.
I need some time for reflection and serenity.
But for now, serenity would have to wait.
A sudden shout tore through the air, raising the hairs on the back of Kel’dhos’ neck. He and the rest of the group jumped to their feet, scanning the landscape.
“There!”
Telerek pointed toward a vast open field to the left of the cart. A figure flailed in the distance, waving frantically at the adventurers as their wagon slowly crept along the roadway.
“It looks like a young lad!” Magnus shouted.
“Help! Please, help!”
The wind carried the boy’s desperate cries to Kel’dhos’ ears, and he didn’t hesitate. He jumped out of the moving cart and ran toward the child. Voices called after him from behind. A quick glance over his shoulder let Kel’dhos know his companions had also jumped from Traveler’s cart, giving chase.
Kel’dhos turned his attention back to the frantic boy. He was still waving and yelling for help but began pointing at the ground beneath him.
Just then, movement to the boy’s left caught Kel’dhos’ eye. Something flitted in the distant treeline. And it was moving quickly. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a humanoid in a dark cloak running at an incredible speed, as if one with the wind. Kel’dhos shouted a warning over his shoulder to the others charging behind him.
A few moments later, Kel'dhos reached the frightened boy. The child wore a dark tunic and clutched onto a wooden staff, shaking in his trembling hands.
“It took my sheep!” he shouted, staring at the ground. “Help me get them back!”
“Easy there, boy,” Beltayne said as he appeared beside Kel’dhos. “We are here to save you.”
“What’s happening here?” asked Magnus. “What took your sheep?”
Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes, his face flushed red. “It was huge. It just came out of nowhere!”
Kel’dhos looked to the treeline, gaze sweeping the dark undergrowth for any signs of the mysterious person he’d glimpsed. Nothing. Just the trees and their leaves rustling gently in a subtle breeze. Birds flew up from nearby in the field and chirped vibrantly, their song riding the wind. Traveler had stopped the wagon on the road and was still seated comfortably atop his bench, watching them from afar.
“Something’s not right,” Telerek hissed. He ripped an arrow from his quiver and nocked his bow.
The ground began to rumble. Dirt and grass undulated beneath Kel’dhos’ feet. Terror struck the boy’s face as he stepped backward. He tried to say something but all he managed was panicked stuttering.
Just as the boy turned to run, the earth erupted, sending Kel’dhos and the others tumbling backward. Chunks of dirt, rock and grass rained down on them as high-pitched screeching split the air.
Kel’dhos rolled to a knee, catching sight of the boy climbing up a huge rock formation a good distance away. He’d made it to safety—for now.
“We’re in trouble, lads!” Magnus shouted, pulling his spellbook from its pouch. “Ignis!” Red flames burst to life in his hand as he hurled the ball of fire past Kel’dhos.
Spinning, Kel’dhos saw what the wizard assailed.
A behemoth chitinous creature rose from the crater, chittering and clicking furiously. It was a horrifying sight. The brown beast reared up on its back two legs—four others danced in the air—and screeched again. Curved pincers protruded from the corners of its mouth, clacking menacingly, while a barbed tail lashed at its rear like a whip. A pair of black beady eyes stared down the group of adventurers, darting from one to the other.
Magnus’ firebolt narrowly missed the creature’s head as it ducked in time.
“That’s an akrep, it is!” shouted Magnar. “I’ve fought one too many of these bastards.”
Telerek launched his arrow at the beast, finding its mark, striking its head. Unfortunately, it clanked off the creature’s armored carapace.
“That’s not gonna work, Tell!” shouted the barbarian. He hefted his great maul above his head and roared. “I’ll soften ‘em up for ya!”
Magnar charged the chitinous behemoth, his battle cry filling the air. He swung wildly at the creature, weaving around its crushing pincers and slashing claws.
A panting Beltayne helped Kel’dhos to his feet. “I want you to know I risked catching that ear disease of yours to help you. Now, we must do battle!”
Kel’dhos found himself chuckling in the midst of battle. It was a strange thing, but not something he had the time to dwell on. He reached out to Sioch, channeling Divine energy into his palm. The familiar golden flames danced to life in his hand.
“Heads up, Magnar!” shouted Kel’dhos, hurling the radiant ball of fire at the akrep as Magnar dove out of the way. The creature slinked to the ground with insectile dexterity, dodging Kel’dhos’ attack.
The akrep reared up once more, screeching from its grotesque maw, riddled with jagged, knife-like teeth. Then the akrep lunged at Kel’dhos, skittering toward him with frightening speed.
Oh, that’s not good…
Kel’dhos dove to his right, narrowly avoiding the raking claws. The akrep chittered—or was it laughter—taunting the group as it danced on its six, spindly legs.
Telerek shot arrow after arrow at the beast, but each one bounced off like rain against stone. Growing frustrated, the wood elf shouted at Magnar. “How in the hells do we kill this thing?”
Magnar leapt from a nearby boulder, roaring as he swung his maul, crashing it down on the akrep. His stone-headed weapon struck the creature’s flank, cracking and bending the rock-hard carapace. He landed with a thud beside the monster, quickly striking at one of its front legs, snapping it.
Just before Magnar could hit at the creature again, his legs were swept out from under him as a chitinous leg raked the ground below. He tumbled backward, maul flying from his grasp.
The same spindly leg whipped straight for Kel’dhos. He managed to raise his shield just in time, catching the blow in full force. He was lifted off his feet and thrown backward a good ten feet, where he rolled to a stop.
Groaning, Kel’dhos lifted his head to find the terrible beast thrashing wildly, forcing the others to scatter.
Telerek let another arrow fly. This time, it drove deep into a crack in the carapace. The akrep let out a shriek and bounded backward, trying to remove the wooden arrow with pincers.
After a few frantic tries, the creature gave up, fixing its gaze on Telerek, who nocked another arrow. The beast opened its mouth of daggers and hissed, spraying forth a stream of scalding, green acid at the dark-clad wood elf. Telerek dove to the side, avoiding the corrosive spray, which hissed by him at an alarming speed.
“You could’ve warned us about the acid, Magnar!” shouted Telerek, scrambling to his feet and loosing another arrow.
Magnar had recovered his maul, blood and sweat painted his gut as he barreled past Telerek. “Aye, I forgot about that!” He went on the assault, sweeping his heavy weapon left then right, hammering at the legs of the akrep.
“Sagitta!”
Kel’dhos turned to see Magnus atop the rock with the young boy, weaving his hands in an intricate pattern. Violet light burst from his hands as a volley of magic arrows streaked toward the akrep.
Now, that’s something I’ve never seen before...
The missiles struck the monstrous akrep, exploding in a violent concussive blast. Its chitinous armor cracked at the breast and near one of its front legs—a part of the chitin fell to the ground as black ichor oozed down the beast's body.
Kel’dhos felt the ground tremble beneath him again, the grass twisted and churned. He stood quickly, bracing for the worst.
Just as the ground he stood on began to sink, something heavy slammed into him, carrying him a great distance through the air. He crashed hard to the ground—his shield and mace clanging to the grass several feet away.
Kel’dhos groaned loudly and wheezed, struggling to catch his breath. “This... isn’t going well... for me.” He rolled onto his back and found a black panther crouched beside him. Its emerald-green eyes locked on a second akrep, which reared back, screeching toward the blue sky above.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kel’dhos caught sight of Beltayne charging headlong at the first akrep—the one already wounded and bleeding its black, sticky blood. The paladin pierced through the weakened chitin with his sentient saber, forcing the blade deep into the beast’s flank. The akrep squealed, spraying hot acid all about. Beltayne quickly disengaged, avoiding the burning liquid—his robe wasn’t as lucky, as the fabric at the end was singed away by the nasty bile.
Telerek launched a volley of three arrows which sank deep into the akrep’s cracked carapace—one even piercing an eye. Two firebolts followed, smashing into the head of the bug-like atrocity, blackening its face. A sputtering screech echoed from it as it stumbled aimlessly. The akrep’s legs buckled and it tumbled to the ground. Magnar jumped onto the creature, bringing his heavy maul down on its skull, crushing it in a burst of black ichor and chitin.
Val—in panther form—bounded toward the second akrep, growling as she leapt at the front legs. Using her momentum, she sliced through one of the legs with her dagger-sharp claws, gashing a deep wound in the thick hide. She hit the ground running, bounding forward underneath the belly of the beast.
Kel’dhos, now on his feet, watched as Val worked her beast-form against the heavily armored akrep. Then, to his right, a shape emerged from the treeline. It was the unknown figure that he’d seen earlier—and they were drawing their bow. They launched an arrow toward the akrep at incredible speed. Kel’dhos shouted a warning of the incoming arrow.
Val, mid-leap, sliced the belly of the akrep. The creature wailed and slammed a claw into Val, piercing through her leg. She let out a pained roar as the akrep flung her toward Kel’dhos. She crashed to the ground with a whimper, blood leaking from the piercing wound above her shoulder. Slowly, she morphed back into her elf form, crying out in agony.
In that moment, something stirred within Kel’dhos. It felt as if his mind was unlocked, welcoming some new, strange power. He felt Sioch’s blessing, bestowing a new Divine domain upon his soul. A serene voice resonated through him.
‘Unleash your mind, young Kel’dhos. It is time for you to embrace your calling. Your domain of knowledge. Past. Present. And future.’
Kel’dhos stepped in front of his wounded companion and channeled his newfound mind-divinity magic. Pressing one hand to his temple and stretching his other arm toward the akrep, a deep amethyst-colored mist began coiling about his arm as two ethereal spikes formed above the head of the creature just as the arrow from the stranger burrowed into the neck of the akrep, its black blood spraying wildly.
In one quick motion, Kel’dhos clenched his fist, driving the spikes into the skull of the akrep. The ethereal spikes entered the beast’s head. In that instant, Kel’dhos could feel the creature—anger, pain... fear. The akrep thrashed, panicking at the prodding around in its mind. Kel’dhos almost felt pity for the beast, but he knew what he had to do. He pushed deeper, squeezing and jabbing the frail mind. The creature screeched with pain, reeling backward, blood streaming from its neck. It began retching acid and tried to spear Beltayne with its tail as the paladin jumped after the beast.
“I will be the one to smite you, foul beast!” cried the paladin.
Wind swirled around Beltayne’s blade as he rammed it into the akrep’s chest. The blade, somehow, pierced the rock-like carapace with ease. As it did, something exploded within, ripping through its body. Hundreds of splits and slices ruptured the akrep’s armored hide, as thunderous air escaped from inside. Dark blood seeped out of each wound, like tears of death.
Beltayne ripped his blade free of the akrep. He held it close to his face, whispering something to the bloodied steel.
Wasting no time, Kel’dhos rushed over to Val, kneeling beside her. Pressing a hand to her injured shoulder, he tilted his head to the sky and closed his eyes.
“Sioch. Lend me your power to heal these wounds.”
A golden glow emitted from Kel’dhos’ palm, bathing the gnarly wound. Val winced, groaning softly as his magic worked, slowly closing the deep gash. After a short time, the wound was sealed, leaving behind a huge, angry bruise.
“You’ll be sore for a while,” Kel’dhos said, standing as Telerek helped Val to her feet. “Take it easy with that arm, Val.”
The group converged, checking each other for injuries. Magnar, of course, was wounded badly, but shrugged it off as nothing but a minor inconvenience. Kel’dhos patched him up as much as the disgruntled barbarian would allow.
The boy came running up to them, a big smile on his face. “Oh, wow! Thank you so much! Those things are scary.”
Magnar grunted, slinging his maul over his shoulder. “Go on, kid. Get home. It’s clearly not safe out here.”
The boy thanked them again and took off running over the hill and out of sight. Kel’dhos looked over his shoulder to where he last saw the mysterious stranger.
Magnus followed his eyes. “Who in the hells was that? Was that arrow meant for us? Or the akreps?”
Telerek walked over examining an arrowhead in his hand. It was a design that Kel’dhos had read about—one that was more common with ballistae bolts, not arrows. It had a barbed head with a large, wickedly sharp tip.
“It seems as if our ‘friend’ is familiar with these creatures,” said Telerek, holding up the arrow. “The speed at which he shot this, however... Is most interesting.”
Beltayne jogged over, finishing a whisper to his sword. “Are you all okay?” He finally sheathed his saber. “I’m glad I was able to save you all with my thunderous smiting. Turns out their insides aren’t as stout at their outsides.”
Kel’dhos grinned and shook his head, Magnar grunted, and Magnus groaned. Beltayne was something else, but he was one of them—a group of misfits. Kel’dhos wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he was beginning to like the paladin.
To the groups surprise, Traveler had wheeled his cart over to the site of the battle and helped them harvest some of the chitinous hide from the akreps. Magnus thought it a good idea to use the chitin to have some armor crafted. It was a unanimous decision that Magnar wear the armor—much to his chagrin.
“Listen, brother,” said Magnus, hopping into the cart. “If you’re going to keep charging into battle like a madman, then you’re going to wear some armor.” He patted the pile of akrep hide. “This stuff is tough as hell. It’ll do you just fine.”
“And its lightweight,” added Kel’dhos. It was true. Harvesting the hide was relatively easy since it was so light.
“Now that you’ve had your fun,” Traveler said, sitting in his seat atop the wagon. “Let’s continue to Ridgeton, shall we?”
Kel’dhos and the others settled in as the cart rumbled down the road, leaving the bloody akrep carcasses and the battlefield behind.
End of Chapter Six