Preparation

Preparation

                Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Then a wet ripping sound. What was going on in the next room was a little gory, even for a necromancer. They called it 'upgrading'.

                Ashour would have preferred to have the 'upgraded' bodies delivered to him for revival far away from the processing, but time had become short. He, and several other necromancers, had been brought on site to raise the zombies intended for use as 'seeds' for the infection. Nigh invulnerable, carrying a deadly infection (a risky move Ashour did not approve of), and controllable by even a poorly trained necromancer. They were the pinnacle of Ashour's work.

                Well, the work of the division he worked under. It was headed up by a tainted, a zombie that retained its living mind. Ashour had a hard time thinking of her as human - not due to her lack of true life, but because of her lack of emotions. The way tainted were created... Ashour hoped to one day change that. They were effective (exactly what Meander desired) but chilling to work with. Even for necromancers who had killed many times to further their experiments.

                The entire division had been flown in, and although they were initially promised two facilities - one for preparation, and one for creation - they had been given only one. So it was that in the next room tainted (and a few necromancers with strong stomachs) were carving up the bodies Meander had acquired, inserting armour plates and replacing bones. The damage to the flesh was no problem for the necromancers who would raise the dead - all were masters of their craft, and long used to it.

                "You don't find those... sounds disturbing?" Ashour asked the necromancer beside him, Del. She looked young, but Ashour knew that she was almost as old as he. Her work in her own time centred around preserving her youth. It amused Ashour that she was so vain - such trivialities as appearance should come after one had achieved immortality.

                "No, do you? Oh, I can see you do," she replied, chuckling. "I can't believe you have a weak stomach. We've handled plenty of dead bodies."

                "But we do not carve them up," said Ashour. "It is the blood and the guts and the - I'm sure you understand me." Ashour winced slightly as he cleared his mind of the images.

                "Haha! It's going to get worse, Ashour. We're both on leading duty - everyone is, actually. Two days from now our creations will be rampaging through the city. Well, rampaging where we're told, in a controlled, proper fashion." Del giggled again.

                Ashour shook his head. "I have my doubts about ... the need to bring the entire world down. True, our work shall be hindered less, but we will face so many trouble before we succeed that-"

                "You're with the doomsayers that reckon we'll be fighting our current allies for years to come? They're idiots - the lich knows how to play the game too well for that."

                "He knows it too well for us to be destroyed. But we're all still human, mostly. We're food for most of them. And if we want to increase our numbers? Our best option is their food."

                "If you're having doubts you should've turned traitor already. It's too late now."

                "The traitors are all dead - yes, I know that's not what the company says. They're dead. They went to the psychics, right? The psychics are fucked. Their 'little' we should take over the world club has control of most of their organisation. They took care of the traitors. I was tapped by the boss for sending them over."
                "What? So Lucile, Mark and Yuki are all..."

                "Dead. I was the 'link' for our division. It works, right? I have a couple of contacts with the psychics, I have my reservations about the damn plan. Elena came to me two weeks after the plan was put together. I put those who want out in contact with the wrong people, or she kills me."

                "Wow. You're a bloody coward."

                "I don't want to die - you know what my research is into. You know I'm willing to become a tainted, as much as I despise them, to stay alive. Don't act damn surprised."

                "I'm not, actually. Ha ha ha! Traitors got what they deserved. Why are you telling me, though?"

                "To get it off my chest. It's not going to be a secret for much longer, anyway. And we're all too far to stop."

                "You're right there. Oh, yes! First batch is ready!" Del grinned as she pointed to the grotesquely mutilated corpses being wheeled in. Beneath the stitches and cuts, they were barely recognisable as human. "Time to put your skills to work."

                "Can we close the door now?" Ashour called out. "I'd prefer silence!"

                A couple of other necromancers voiced their agreement, leading to the returning tainted closing the large door separating the rooms. The necromancers each moved to their assigned tables (splitting the groups they had been idly chatting in). Ashour and Del barely had to move - they'd been waiting by their tables anyway. Ashour had long been too sullen to be good company, and Del had been too excited to wait anywhere else.

                The process of raising the zombies would, to anyone watching, appear far less complex than the work done in the other room. Each necromancer held their hands over a body, pieces of necromantic energy soon pushing forth from their hands. Only a small part of this power was their innate ability to channel - the majority was being released from a store carried upon or buried within their body.

                Energy flowed into the bodies, and that was all there was to see. Yet each necromancer was controlling the flow, the shape, the purpose of their magic. Complex, intricate patterns were being sewn into the bodies; turning remnant life into a dark equivalent. Torn flesh was sewn up, locking metal plates into place under skin, metal beams instead of bones. Dark magic written to ensure the death of those it spread to, and their return as a mindless devourer (or servant, given instruction).

                It took time - almost as much time as those in the neighbouring room had taken to prepare enough corpses for all the necromancers. None finished at the same time, but as they did so more prepared bodies were wheeled in. The work would continue all night.

                The zombie beneath Ashour's hands came alive with a muffled groan. After a few finishing touches, it would be ready. Packed away, ready to be shipped into place in two days time. Then the probably needless slaughter would begin.

                Despite his misgivings, Ashour was quite thankful that his choice had been made for him. If it had not, he would almost certainly be dead. And he did not want to die.

The Jewellery

The Jewellery

                The jewellery. Most of the pieces were beautiful, with the odd relatively plain exception. Yet even those were obviously worth a fortune - they were made of unknown metals or had large gems set in them.

                The true value of the pieces was the magic imbued in them, however. Delani had discovered their powers by chance when she wore a particularly appealing piece on a whim. There were twenty-four pieces in total, ranging from earrings and necklaces to anklets and bracelets. Delani had gone through them all, and best as she was able figured out what each one did.

                Although most seemed to tell her (in some strange way) what they were capable of, she wasn't sure what the capability being communicated to her really meant in some cases. But for the vast majority, she knew.

                The ring she had initially put on, for example, could create small flames at her fingertips. It was handy, but probably not too useful for stealing things (except in rare situations). On the other hand, it was one of the most beautiful of the pieces she had stolen; a faintly red gem of some kind set in silver that shone almost impossibly bright in the light. Delani hadn't really wanted to take it off, but if she hadn't she'd be unable to be sure of which piece allowed her to do what.

                The most useful of the pieces was a golden necklace. Not quite a chain, it was made of linked golden 'cages', that each held topazes of varying size. The largest (and obviously intended to be worn foremost) was about five centimetres long; the smallest less than half a centimetre. The piece was worth a fortune, so long as the topazes were valued.

                It also gave Delani the ability to shock her a person with a single touch, knocking them out cold. She had first tried it on Prayrwin, and discovered (perhaps luckily) that it did the victim. Which was nice - Delani was not fond of death or killing. She was a thief, not a murderer. The trouble with the necklace was simple: it required a few minutes to recharge after use, which left Delani open to attack.

                But so long as she wore other pieces she would be safe. One other piece, especially, was useful. It would inflict a heavy blow over a short distance - enough to knock someone out, or break a window. The piece itself was an opal set in platinum, designed to hook into one's hair and dangle roughly mid-forehead. As with the necklace, it required time to recharge after use.

                A pair of platinum anklets allowed her to control the movement of small amounts of air and water. Tiny amounts; barely enough to have any effect but perhaps enough to poison, or spread smoke quickly. They were intricately patterned with lines, one with spiralling winds and the other with flowing water.

                Twin bracelets made of gold - identical in every respect - would 'lock' the jewellery on her. Unless she willed it, no-one could remove the jewellery from her while she wore them. At least, not without taking extreme measures. She hadn't wanted to test that. Each was completely plain except for the clasp which was round and flat barring an engraved keyhole symbol.

                A pair of sapphire earrings allowed her to produce light from her hands. The make was very similar to that of the topaz necklace; gold cages holding the quite large sapphires in place. The light itself had an odd blue tint, and could be channelled quite long without fail (and would recharge quite rapidly).

                Delani's favourite by far was the ring that (she was pretty sure) meddled with her weight. She had initially considered some quite novel uses, but she had discovered that it could only take effect for around thirty seconds before needing to recover (though it could do so without being fully drained). It was made of a strange orange metal, and completely plain.

                Using it Delani could, when she wanted to, jump and fall as if she weighed far less than she did - leading to softer landings and the ability to jump pretty damn high. She wasn't sure how much less she weighed, but she knew that her weight (rather than gravity) was changing due to some information she'd picked up while robbing someone.

                They'd been discussing the matter with a friend, and making the case for gravity (supported by handed down knowledge from the portal error) against the strange magic understanding of their friend. Delani had actually watch them perform a quick experiment that resolved the matter as she pinched what she needed (she'd been pretending to be a maid at the time).

                Some of the pieces were only ever really useful for a thief - something that Delani was pretty sure meant they'd been hidden for a thief to find in the first place. It'd make her look better if that theory sounded likely, at least. A small piercing stud with a diamond inset allowed her to change her hair colour to anything she desired (though only once every three hours or so). A pair of silver toe-rings with clouds on them muffled her footsteps as she walked.

                Finally, a ring with a beautiful clear diamond set in it allowed her to sense fine details within a small area - amazingly useful for locks, and likely nothing else. Nothing Delani could think of anyway. The way the diamond was set in the ring was also unusual - the gold went around the diamond completely, granting her a clear view through to her finger.

                There were also quite a few pieces she did not know the use of. Their abilities left an idea in her mind of what she could do, but she wasn't able to understand it. The pieces were a golden belt made of linked metal pieces in the shape of leaves; a plain ring made of a green metal; a bronze ring with a gray jewel; a simple string necklace with a piece of tin strung on it; a pair of silver ring earrings; three identical fine chain bracelets made of a silver and gold alloy; and a golden hairpin with emeralds set into it.

                Delani was sure she'd figure them all out eventually. She had been making progress - and even better, she had figured out how to use several of the abilities together to slowly metal. She reckoned it would be the first of many combinations. Hopefully. Unfortunately, she hadn't quite managed to figure out exactly which pieces of jewellery allowed her to do it (beyond the ring that was obviously involved).

                The wagon Delani had managed to connive some seating space in rocked suddenly, making her jewellery bounce. She half panicked in fear that something would fling out and be lost, but luckily she hadn't put the pieces somewhere stupid. Muttering something rude under her breath, she double-checked that all the pieces were still present.

                After she'd made sure they were, she smiled and started to put them back on one at a time. Every last one of them. She had taken them off to figure out which piece did what as best she could (wearing all at once was quite confusing). It was another one of Prayrwin's suggestions, actually. And although Delani realised it was to keep her out of Prayrwin's hair for a bit it had been a really good idea.

                After she put them back on though, she intended to never take them off again.

Words

Words

                "So these machines, they make us all speak the same language?" asked Lucas. He was an academic at one of the many universities dotting the fairly enlightened (and somewhat advanced) country of Addlestone. It had once been a city state, but it had absorbed its neighbours over several centuries to grow to its current size.

                Lucas was engaged in conversation with Dytja who was quite happy to explain the abilities (though never the design) of the machines left far beneath the surface by the civilisation that had ruled, and caused the ravaging of, the world. "Most definitely," replied Dytja, "Although their effect is minimal on grown adults. The records I've had access to indicate that the idea was to prevent language drift over large areas; which would still occur, but would not result in an inability (or difficulty) in communicating."

                "I see," said Lucas, shuffling in his seat to get comfortable. He suspected that this would be quite a long conversation - Dytja had taken a seat as well. "It does make sense of how we speak the same language as even our most distant neighbours; and despite our origins in very different places. And it certainly explains why the ancient languages even within our borders vary greatly. I assume that the same applies to the written word? And what is the difference with children?"

                "Yes, there are similar machines for writing. A child is more strongly affected, if they are not taught words for particular things or especially if they are not being taught a language at all. That is why 'lost children' still learn an approximation of the language; and also why it took many generations for the oldlangs to become lost," explained Dytja, "Although some places I have been have remembered theirs, for various reasons."

                "I have come across examples during my studies," said Lucas. "They are used for keeping information out of the hands of those who might... Utilise it wrongly."

                "And a vast many other things. Most cases I have encountered utilise the language for tradition or ritual, rather than academia."

                "Perhaps my understanding is from my limited perspective as an academic, then. Hm. To return to the spoken word, there is one thing that has been bothering me: there are words that have attached context that are things that either do not exist now or never existed, and there are words (or word-likes) that have no meaning beyond some kind of implied one. They have no true definition, I suppose I mean."

                "Such as 'saurus', perhaps? Implying some kind of large lizard."

                "Yes, quite like that. Or umbra, umber, several similar sounding words, implying darkness, I feel? There are others, but they are hard to think of - I have compiled a list, but I suppose it would be pointless to go through it."

                "Those 'word-likes' come from... Older languages than the one this world eventually spoke. Most of the time. Others are from slang - similar to the phrases that have meanings in particular contexts without obvious origins."

                "Oh! Oh yes, I had never thought of those." Lucas began scribbling down notes, and even some examples - 'flat out like a lizard drinking', for one.

                Dytja smiled, and continued. "As for the words that you somehow know are of things that never did exist - elf, dragon, orc for example - these are things from their fiction. You might imagine that such things could have come through the portals, but they did not - what came through the portals was not born or created by the imaginations of those living here. It is quite different."

                "I see. I do wonder why humans were so common - why not something different, stranger, more often?"

                "Search me. If I had to guess, you lot are to blame for the multiple-dimension mess existing in the first place. Some kind of 'your imprint on them all'. But that's getting further into... What the multiple dimension existence is than I care to; we're cut off here and that's a damn good thing. And it makes no sense."

                "It's not my area of interest - or expertise - either. So back to these phrases - do you recall many of them?"

                "Oh, plenty. I can probably give you a few new words for your other lists, as well."

                "Excellent."

                It was a long night, but Lucas was sure the words Dytja spoke would earn him quite a few accolades. What a scoop!

Dreaming Delver

Dreaming Delver

                "So you're sure we'll be safe?" asked the kid. Her name was Elowyn, and she was twelve years old. The adventuring seer had brought her along as part of a promise (and, secretly, a bet).

                "Yes. Don't worry, kid. We might not get all the way through, but nothing's going to kill us. My dreams'll keep us safe," he replied.

                The kid nodded, believing what the seer said. She had no reason to doubt him - the adventuring seer Rommel was well known for his daring dives into trap-filled ruins guided by his dreams, including many far more dangerous than the one they stood outside.

                The lands in which Rommel travelled, and Elowyn lived, were filled with such ruins. It was the legacy of a strange people who had come to the world long ago. Rather than simply leave, or take their magic and knowledge with them, they hid it away. Behind countless deadly traps; and such that running the gauntlet was one's best hope of retrieving what they had left.

                The treasure within, and the trap laden ruins, were plain to see. But whether they were tests to ensure worthy recipients, or merely some kind of joke or amusement, was argued endlessly. This was perhaps because for most the ruins were incredibly deadly. Scarcely any had been successfully navigated, despite generations of careful explorers working from the notes and experiences of the handful who made it in and out (but not the entire way).

                Rommel believed that they were intended to ensure the worthiness of the recipient, but his power had allowed him to be the most successful 'ruin explorer' in history. Twelve of the countless ruins had been completed by him, and he was the only living ruin explorer who had actually completed any. As such, his opinion was completely biased.

                Rommel finished gearing up, and turned to the kid. "Ready?" he asked, cockily.

                "Yes," replied Elowyn. Compared to the seer, who was laden with all sorts of exploring gear (rope, a pole, some rocks, lights, lockpicks, and so many other things) she seemed only ready to head outside for a picnic. Even her clothes were nothing more than ordinary day-to-day garb for the people of the region.

                "Alright. Stay behind me, and do exactly what I say, and you'll be fine. Mess up, and you'll be dead, so don't do that," said Rommel.

                Elowyn blanched a little, but steeled herself with childish enthusiasm and smiled. "Okay!" she said.

                Rommel walked through the entrance (a small, simple door marked with the same symbol as the many others) with Elowyn right behind him. She kept close all the way down. Like the other ruins, this one first descended far beneath the earth - it was thought to be a defence against enterprising diggers. There was at least one other major countermeasure, each ruin broken into had destroyed its prize almost immediately.

                Excitement let the fifteen minute walk feel like mere moments to Elowyn. At the bottom the passageway opened up into a massive room, lit by great orange lights. A large part of the central floor was covered in strange line patterns, and bones of shattered skeletons littered the entire room.

                "Wow," said Elowyn, awed.

                "I'm going to need to carry you through this one," Rommel said, "Up!"

                With a happy grin Elowyn hopped up onto Rommel's shoulders. "What's in this room, Rommel?" she asked.

                "It's a blade trap - the patterns on the floor are where the blades sweep along the ground. You can tell the order by looking at which mark lies over which - the floor repairs itself between sets so the marks are true," replied Rommel.

                "Cool," said Elowyn.

                A few careful steps took the pair right to the edge of the floor. "Hold on tight, Ello," said Rommel, "Here we go!"

                Rommel leapt out onto the floor; a blade slicing down right behind him as he went. As his feet touched down blades began to fall down from the ceiling, swinging towards the ground from all directions. How the machinery managed such directions was a mystery Rommel dearly wanted to solve (his calculations had shown that it was not possible without at least some magic).

                But there was no time to dawdle. Feet slamming into the newly smoothed floor, Rommel turned to his left and ran all the way to the chamber's wall. Without a pause he circled around, zig-zagging through the blades, some falling down right behind or before him.

                Most of the way across the floor, he turned and stopped. "What?" asked Elowyn, worried by the sudden stop.

                "We need to wait until the end of the cycle," replied Rommel. Elowyn could see he was right (or so she thought) - before them the blades fell almost constantly. But a few moments later the way ahead cleared, and the floor was whole once more.

                "Now!" yelled Elowyn. At her command, Rommel charged forwards, rushing along the gap. As they neared the far side of the trap he leapt - and almost lost his nose to a blade that swooshed down in front just before he landed, causing Elowyn to shriek.

                A little off balance, Rommel stumbled and toppled. Elowyn jumped off as he fell over, and said, "That was a little close!"

                "Phew! Yeah, but that was the way it had to be. You couldn't see it, but there was a blade right behind us as well," said Rommel, "And that's the only way through."

                "That was... So risky!" said Elowyn, still upset.

                "Don't worry, kid, that's the most athletic of the traps," said Rommel, "The next one's easy once you know what you're doing. And I, of course, do." He grinned, hoping to reassure her.

                "Okay," said Elowyn with a frown. "You better not be lying!"

                Rommel smiled broadly. "Would I lie?" he asked.

                "I guess not," replied Elowyn. Rommel rustled her hair, and they went through the doorway to the next chamber.

                The second trial was more complex than the first. A glass wall sat a few metres in, looking down to another chamber that was half-filled with a strange blue mist. Steps led down to the room, blue mist swirling around the lower steps. At the top of the stairs sat four jugs, labelled in the unknown language of those who had built the ruins.

                "What do we do here?" asked Elowyn, wide-eyed at the strangeness of the room.

                "This is a test of knowledge," responded Rommel, "You need to choose the correct jugs to proceed. As I know which, this is easy."

                Rommel walked up to one of the jugs, and tipped its contents - some kind of green mist - out onto the stairwell. It seeped down into the blue mist, which changed colour to a light cyan.

                "Can I do one?" asked Elowyn, walking up to him.

                "Sure - we only need to do one more. It's that one over there," said Rommel, pointing.

                Elowyn made her way over to the jug Rommel had indicated, and tipped it over. Purple mist spilled out, quickly flowing down the steps and into the cyan mist below. As Rommel and Elowyn watched, the mist softened to white.

                "And now we may pass through. Hold my hand, it's a little above your head height," said Rommel.

                After Elowyn had grasped his outstretched hand they began making their way down the stairs. Rommel talked as they walked, "This room went poorly in my dreams - it took two tries. Oh, but for a scholar who could understand their language!"

                "So you have two left?" asked Elowyn. Despite it obscuring her vision, she couldn't feel the mist around her.

                "I dream five dreams on the night before we begin, kid. But yes, I figured out this much through my experiences in the first three," replied Rommel.

                "O-kay," said Elowyn, wrapping her mind around the complexities of seeing the future as best she could at twelve.

                They emerged from the fog, having walked up identical stairs at the far end of the lower chamber. "This next one's a more complex puzzle - and it's lucky you're with me, because we need two people," said Rommel, letting go of Elowyn's hand.

                "Awesome!" said Elowyn, as they headed into the next room.

                The third chamber was filled with a series of switches, pressure plates, blocks, and bright beams of light reflected by mirrors. Elowyn recognised the style immediately.

                "It's a puzzle room," she said, her voice mixing awe and excitement. Puzzles based on the puzzle rooms of the few completed ruins (and, in two cases, reactivated - though trapless - puzzle rooms) were popular amusements, especially for children.

                "Yes it is. Don't touch anything - I know it's almost instinctive to start fiddling, but many of the wrong steps you can make here will kill you. Listen to what I say, and do it exactly, or we'll both die - regardless of what my dreams have revealed," said Rommel, placing a hand on Elowyn's shoulder to stop her rushing out.

                Though she was crestfallen, Elowyn understood the danger. "Alright," she said.

                It kind of saddened Elowyn to leave so many options unexplored, so many things forever unknown. Most of the puzzles had small rewards for the curious, even those in the ruins themselves, but Rommel couldn't take the risk. Nor would he waste time finding them, rather than going for the greater prize.

                Following Rommels instructions to the letter, Elowyn helped him solve the room. They moved boxes, turned mirrors, stood on platforms, and more; each step accomplishing a goal garnered from the complex riddle drawings revealed by the prior step. Elowyn had fun despite the straightforwardness in simply acting out the solution, rather than solving it herself. She'd never had the opportunity to be in such a room before, and it left her somewhat dazzled.

                What made her happiest is that it didn't feel like it took only moments - the memories were fresh, long, and happy. This was exactly the sort of thing she'd hoped to accomplish in Rommel's company!

                After the final puzzle was solved, and the door to the next room opened before them, Rommel asked Elowyn if she'd had fun.

                "Oh yes," said Elowyn, beaming. "That was the best!"

                Rommel smiled, and said, "I enjoy them too, although more so in my dreams when I actually solve them."

                "It must be boring, doing it multiple times," said Elowyn, as they made their way into the fourth chamber.

                "They're still fun to solve, I'm sure you've found as much with your toys."

                "Yeah!"

                The fourth chamber was slightly larger than the previous, and filled with statues. They seemed to be important women and men; rooms much like it in other ruins had been assumed to contain mythological or historical figures from the ruin builders culture. Beneath each statue were four slots, with simple shapes marked below them. More complex writing - labels, perhaps - was also on the bases of each statue. Strangely, the doorway to the next chamber was open wide.

                "This room is a test of knowledge, and trust," said Rommel, "I believe so, anyway. I am to place my hand into one of the holes beneath each statue and press a button; pressing the right buttons in the right order will remove the hidden trap on the far door."

                "So that's why it's just open," said Elowyn. She'd wondered why they didn't just head through.

                "Yes. Remain here while I press the correct buttons - I'm unsure if there are traps off the path I'm about to walk," said Rommel, very seriously.

                After Elowyn nodded her understanding, he began his work. Second statue on the left - middle hole. Third statue on the right - second hole from the left. End statue on the left - middle hole. Second statue on the right - first hole from the left. Fourth stat-

                Just as Rommel reached the fourth statue, a great rumbling started echoing throughout the room. With a deafening slam great stone doors sealed both the entrance and exit.

                "What's happening?" screamed Elowyn.

                "Shit," said Rommel, quickly jamming his hand into the the far right hole of the statue he had been heading to.

                "It's stuck! And-" Rommel continued, trying to tug his hand from the hole, "And I can't get my damn hand off it!"

                The rumbling continued, and suddenly water - no, acid - started streaming into the room. Rommel looked at it with grim resignation on his face, as Elowyn rushed up to him and started hitting.

                "You said we'd be fine!" she yelled, clambering up the statue to avoid the quickly pooling acid, "But we're going to die in here now! How could your dreams miss something like this?"

                Rommel groaned as the acid flowed around his shoes, quickly seeping in even as it dissolved them. "Kid," he grunted out, somehow managing to speak despite the pain, "I said we might not make it through but we'd be fine because of my dreams. And I said that - argh!"

                "Why?" screamed Elowyn, clinging to the statue in terror, "Why did you say that?!"

                Rommel steeled himself with titan-like effort and managed to say, "I said that because this is the fifth dream!"

The Fog in the Woods

The Fog in the Woods

                Patches of fog hung throughout the woods haphazardly, as if thrown from on high to wherever they might chance to land. Now, someone with science in their soul might say the lay of the land, the positions of the trees, or even the level of the water in the ground were to blame - but the reason isn't important when we're taking in the scene. Understanding can help in many ways, but you don't need to know what a painting is of to comprehend its beauty.

                Forgive me, I'm feeling philosophical today. But much as you can see out that window, the fog was patchy. Here and there amongst the trees; obscuring some routes, but leaving others clear. It's quite beautiful to wander in, but this particular day.

                This particular day there was something else there in the woods, not just men and women foraging or hunting or collecting branches. There was a beast amongst the trees, hiding in the fog, stealing from place to place in moments. A handful caught sight of it, and I heard a whisper of something stalking the woods on my way in, but I paid it no heed. Hindsight tells me... I wouldn't have gone in, had I known. But if I hadn't gone in, things may well have gotten worse.

                I was a forager in those days - barely into my teenage years, but I searched the wood from what felt like one end to the other for mushrooms, berries and the like. No-one in the village has seen a far edge of the woods, but I was sure I'd gotten close. Childish hope or folly, but it made me feel at home in there. We grow up near the woods, and spend so much time there that we often forget that as a child it is often a place of fear; cold, foggy, and stretching further than any have ever been. If it were dark as well I don't think I'd have ever braved it.

                But I did. And on that day I did. Whispers didn't scare me. It was an unlucky day for foraging; come midday I had found a handful of mushrooms and nothing else. Thinking back, I believe I had foolishly walked the same path I did the day before. Absent-mindedness. There's a trait I do not miss.

                It was shortly after midday, as I was looking for a nice place to lunch, that I found the first body. It was a woman, but the body was so. Damaged, that I could not identify her. I found out later that it was Myrtle, the old blacksmith's first wife.

                Details? You don't - I guess you do. Something had dropped onto her from above, mouth open, I thought; or it was tall and bent down from above. Then it had bitten off most of her top half, leaving a jagged tear from her right shoulder, to her waist, then up on her left to just below where her rib cage should have been. The remains had been clawed at wildly, and... later they found the rest of her spat out in the fog.

                I'd prefer not to describe the rest, if you please. Oh yes, there were more. There was another body in the clearing I was in; I caught sight of it as I back away from the first. I didn't take a good look at that one; and they never could identify the man - likely he was a traveller, or someone who had taken to living in the forest years ago.

                Seeing another body so soon after the first was more than I could take. I almost started running at random, but I knew getting lost was suicide - especially with something that could do such things on the loose. So I took the quickest path home I knew, eyes peeled for anything at all. But despite my supposed alertness, I tripped over the next body.

                This one I recognised - Barra, a huge woman who found, and cut down, copses of thicker trees. For building homes, mostly. Whatever the creature was had bitten deeply into her, but not managed to tear her apart; the sheer number of wounds led the elders to later conclude that she'd fought for minutes as the beast slowly bled her to death.

                *wince* Ah, sorry. I - I tripped over her, and rolled over her. When I came up my hands had splotches of her blood on them, and there was some on my clothes as well. I was never one for believing in things beyond this world that control us all, but I hoped for them then - and I hoped harder that they would be merciful. It was one of those moments that feel like an age creaking past - it haunts me to remember the blood *wince*.

                I started sprinting again, after that, and didn't stop until I had to. I was barely halfway home - despite running a distance far greater than I could ever run now - when stopped to 'catch my breath'. Moments later I was curled up on the forest floor, underneath the very roots I'd stopped and leant upon. Coughing, hacking, wheezing, groaning.

                Then I saw it. Three metres tall, it was like - have you seen a scorpion? Yes? The mouth was the tail. On the end of the tail, I suppose I should say. Instead of pincers, it had four grasping, clawed hands, and right in the centre sat a great orb of an eye - it was thirty centimetres across, you can see where it sat on the skeleton. With its two left hands it held another body, a fresh kill. The head and left arm were missing; they never did find them. That body is one of the three that were never positively identified, the three 'unknown women' they like to say, although we know who died, just not... Who was who.

                The creature tossed the body against a tree very near where I lay, trying as hard as I could not to make a sound. It was hard, controlling my breathing like that. I hoped, prayed even, that it would not wander over. I couldn't move if I wanted to, and the speed at which it had wandered it told me I couldn't have outrun it anyway.

                The creature skittered right up beside the tree I was hiding under. I froze - completely and utterly. My body understood, I guess, that if I moved I was dead. With its eye on the top, a good metre off the ground, it hadn't spotted me beneath the root. I even saw it bend its head forwards, scanning ahead with its eye. But it didn't look to the side.

                Then, fast as fire through sawdust it rushed off towards the nearest patch of fog. I lay out, flat on my back, and thanked whatever force was watching over me. I had almost been let down, but I was sure it was hoping and wishing to whatever might be there that had saved me.

                What I heard next is, with the blood, a fixture in my nightmares. From the far side of the fog, faint and fairly distant, I heard screams. A man, a woman, several children. The creature had missed me, but it had found an entire family to kill. One by one, the screams stopped. Most ended with high pitched shrieks suddenly cut off. Now honestly, if there's a power out there that find it amusing to save someone with a miracle, then let that happen, such a thing isn't worth worshipping. They're as random as chance, and they might as well be.

                I think it's just us seeing patterns in chance, especially when it seems overly cruel. I hope so, at least. Otherwise a prayer of mine doomed an entire family to death. That's guilt for you.

                Laying there was my only option for the next twenty odd minutes. I didn't hope that the creature wouldn't come back, or anything else. I - I think I cried a little. I don't know. I've been told the feeling is called 'shock', although I had a pretty good grasp of time during it and I didn't lose consciousness. After I felt like I could move again, I stood up and - avoiding looking at the body - I started jogging back to the village.

                When I felt close enough to make it, I sprinted. It felt like an age, but the truth is I've never covered that far so fast before or since. I ran straight to the town law-keeper, and babbled out my story to him. He believed me - trust runs deep in our village. I described the creature to him in detail while his assistant started to rally the village. I was... In serious shock, after I finished speaking with him. I barely remember him walking me home.

                I was the first to get out of the forest, that day, although a few more fled soon after. But I was the only one to see the monster had live, until the town militia managed to corner it. The old law-keeper was a brilliant man, I've got to say. He used fire to clear out patches of fog, since what I said told him it could see through it. And when they found it they blinded it quick-smart and confused it into a trap by making noise off to the sides when it tried to flee.

                Only one of the militia died, and she only died because a lucky slash from one of the creature's hands got her throat when they were blinding it. Apart from that, a handful of injuries. The destruction of the creature was absolutely masterful.

                I like to focus on that instead of... Instead of the number of dead. Ambushing individuals, or small, unarmed groups, it killed twenty-four people in the forest. We still have no idea where it came from, or if there are any more. Why did it just kill? Ordinary animals might hunt humans to feed, but a killing rampage? And if I'd been faster getting out...

                Yet I probably wouldn't have seen it if I had. Even if I did make it out, the militia would have been blind. There would have been more bodies to bury. It was a terrible night, burying all the bodies we'd managed to find before nightfall. There were still many missing; most were found over the next few days. Some were never found - yes, their families still cling to hope. I wouldn't take it away from them.

                So that's the story of the fog in the woods. I should add, there was one lucky break - a missing couple had eloped to another village for a few days, and no-one knew because they were skipping out on work. In the woods. But apart from that, the entire thing is a scar on this village. I know you want to romanticise the hunt, but maybe...

                Maybe wait until it's just a legend, and no-one living knew the dead.

The Strain - Fourth Episode - "Rumours of Paradise"

There's now a fourth episode up of the webseries I've been working on with my brother. Well, a few days ago, anyway.

Take a look ^^ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TefHv_8S_OM

On Guard

On Guard

                Prayrwin's mood was (as it had been for much of the journey) foul. She had always disliked Delani - a silly girl beyond her penchant for petty theft - but spending time in her company had proved remarkably unpleasant.

                That the girl acted as if they were friends was perhaps why it was so unpleasant. They knew each other, yes, but not that well - and Prayrwin only knew of Delani's secret gear by chance. Prayrwin would have told Delani to sod off, but the caravan's trio of bosses had told Prayrwin to keep an eye on Delani. Prayrwin sorely regretted mentioning to them that Delani was a thief; and more so mentioning that they knew one another.

                Noticing that Delani was once again approaching, Prayrwin sighed. "Hey Prayrwin!" Delani said, her voice almost bubbling with joy.

                "Evening, Delani," replied Prayrwin, shifting in her seat. She was on watch duty, which entailed sitting on the edge of the camp and keeping an eye out. This evening was easy - she merely had to stare down the hill in the moonlight. And first watch was the best of the watches to have.

                Delani took the seat beside her - intended for the later watches, which were two man shifts. The first watch was one man because half the camp would still be awake when it ended. "Guess what?" asked Delani, enthusiastically.

                "You figured out how to do something new with your gear?" asked Prayrwin.

                Prayrwin's lack of excitement had no effect on Delani. "Yeah!" she said, beaming, "This one's really useful though, watch!"

                Despite herself, Prayrwin stopped paying attention to the surrounding countryside and turned to Delani, who was busily lying herself out on the ground. Prayrwin stopped herself from saying something sarcastic (it'd backfire if Delani actually did something impressive).

                After Delani had settled herself into what Prayrwin guessed was meant to be a barely visible position, she suddenly disappeared. Well, not precisely. She blended with the ground - she seemed to be partially covered with grass that continued up from the ground, and part made of soil. It was probably useful?

                "Okay, so you can... Hide a bit better?" asked Prayrwin, "I guess no-one would find you in the woods or-" (mid-comment, Delani's camouflage dissipated) "-something, or if they didn't know the layout of a building. Doesn't last long, either."

                "I think I can make it go longer," said Delani, standing up. "But it's really sweet isn't it? I just look like part of the ground!"

                "Well, it's more useful than most of the powers you've figured out," said Prayrwin. It was true - beyond the initial useful things (shocking people into unconsciousness, producing light, producing tiny flames and an ability that somehow let Delani jump and fall further) many of the abilities were fairly lacklustre (such as temporarily changing hair colour, or sensing fine details in an area of a dozen cubic centimetres). The weaker abilities had their uses (especially for a thief like Delani), but not many.

                "Such a sourpuss," said Delani, mock-petulantly. In a strange way she appreciated Prayrwin's sombre nature. When she reflected on it she found it sort of poetic; the liveliness and hope of summer against the dullness and cynicism of winter. Prayrwin, had she been told this idea, would have made a different, ruder comparison.

                Prayrwin returned her eyes to the landscape below. "I have a job to do tonight, Delani," she said, "So don't distract me too much."

                This was Delani's cue to begin babbling the day's caravan gossip, and about anything else that took her fancy. Prayrwin had adapted to only half-listening pretty quickly, which allowed her to focus on her job (or think on other matters when she had nothing to do).

                Not long later, as she scanned the major approaches for about the twentieth time with Delani babbling something about how one of the caravan members being an excellent cook, a cry came from the other side of the camp. 'Bandits!'

                The cry came from within the camp as well, which was a bad sign. It meant the guard on the other side was either dead, working with the bandits, or if they were very lucky unconscious.

                Prayrwin was on her feet almost instantly, sword in hand shortly after. "Huh - oh no!" said Delani, looking up in the direction of the camp.

                "Do as you please, girl, but keep your sticky fingers out of people's stuff," said Prayrwin as she started jogging up the hill (sword re-sheathed after her eyes spotted no immediate threats).

                Delani's face shifted rapidly between her conflicting desires - help out, flee, hide, steal things while everyone was pre-occupied. It was a hard choice for her to make, but she decided to try to help. She'd run away if there were lots of bandits, though. The only valuable she had that she didn't carry with her was her horse, anyway.

                Rather than follow Prayrwin straight up the hill, Delani circled around a bit before making her way up. Prayrwin lost sight of her quickly as she reached the top of the hill. What she saw before her, in the slight dip the caravan had setup camp, was chaos.

                About twenty poorly armed bandits (identifiable via the blue bandannas they for some reason wore) were inside the camp. Most seemed to be busy trying to steal valuable but easy to carry items from the wagons, although a handful were fighting with guards or tearing jewellery off the traders. Despite the poor equipment of the bandits, they were far more than the caravan of thirty-odd (with only eight guards) could handle; and Prayrwin could see that a couple of the guards had been downed already.

                Many would have wavered before such odds, but Prayrwin was unshakeable in performing her duty (something she hadn't been paid to do, on the other hand...). She drew her blade and charged towards the camp with her blade held high.

                Almost immediately she found herself up against a pair of bandits - two men of similarly bulky builds. One wielded an iron mace, the other a javelin. Prayrwin swung at the javelin wielder, and allowed the mace-man to swing at her freely. As the javelin wielder stepped back out of her reach, she took hold of the mace-man's weapon and pulled him forward onto her waiting sword.

                Prayrwin kicked him to the ground, and he screamed as her sword slid out of him. Despite the volume, the scream easily blended into the cacophony of fighting and looting going on all around them. The javelin wielder, incensed by the injury of his comrade, came at Prayrwin fiercely. Though his javelin was crude, he wielded it well - Prayrwin was hard pressed to deflect all of the man's attacks.

                When a couple got through her defence (though not through her armour) Prayrwin decided it was time to change tactics. Instead of holding her ground or stepping back, she charged at the man. Doing so just as she deflected one of his jabs got her right next to him without harm, and one gauntleted fist to the face later he was unconscious on the ground. She stabbed him a couple of times to make sure he never got up.

                Her little engagement (though successful) had taken a bit of time - the bandits seemed to be withdrawing with whatever they had managed to steal. Several seemed to be out of action, but the caravan seemed worse off. And where on earth was Delani?

                Delani continued making her way around the hill for a while, then strolled up slowly. She wasn't really sure what she could do to help - she could catch the bandits unaware with some of the abilities the jewellery gave her, but it was unlikely that would work for long. This was a bad decision, she thought to herself, I should have hidden away until the raid's over.

                She fully intended to be an adventurer, eventually. And adventurers were usually brave. Although, being 'sensible' as Prayrwin put it was probably actually a better idea. Nothing too risky - at least, nothing that would get her killed or caught. She could do plenty with the powers the jewellery gave her, and with that advantage (and a little cunning) she'd be able to do anything. With preparation.

                So when she gained a view of the valley and the fighting below, she hid behind a tree and looked over the camp. It wasn't going well - actually, it seemed that the bandits were pretty easily grabbing whatever they wanted. She saw Prayrwin charge into the fray boldly (She doesn't think fighting down there's a bad idea? Although she did talk about 'doing what she was supposed to), and almost immediately manage to kill one of the bandits.

                Prayrwin's efforts did give her an idea though - if she helped out someone a lot, say by saving their stuff, they'd be very pleased. And that might make everyone else pleased, which in turn would let her get at their stuff easier! Or, maybe just make the trip more pleasant by helping her make an interesting friend or two, because Prayrwin was often dull company.

                With that idea in mind, she picked out a wagon on the edge of camp that a pair of bandits were busy scrounging through. They both seemed rather scrawny, but their appraisal of the many things in the wagon was lightning quick (just like the fence she'd sold stuff too for years). They were tossing anything that passed inspection into a couple of sacks - various knickknacks and small valuables, Delani figured.

                Carefully keeping in the shadows (and behind handy rocks and trees) Delani made her way swiftly up to the wagon. She overheard the two bandits atop the wagon talking - "What about this? It's a bit large," said one.

                "Rip the gold off if you can, or just toss it in," replied the other.

                Delani crept up behind the nearest of them, and grabbed him by the leg. He barely managed to start saying 'huh' before he was shocked into unconsciousness and toppling towards the ground. Delani grinned and rolled under the wagon.

                "Burry?" said the other bandit as he saw his friend fall, "What on earth..."

                She heard him clamber over, then saw him drop down beside his fallen friend. "Burry!" he said, checking the other man, "Just unconscious, great. Now I have to carry his fat ass back to camp."

                Unfortunately for him, Delani used the time he spent checking and then muttering over his companion to get behind him and use the other offensive power she had - a heavy physical blow. A solid crack came from where the blow slammed into the bandit's skull, and he fell senseless to the ground. Delani stood over him, gloating, before remembering to check her surroundings.

                Luckily (as usual) no other bandits were coming to the rescue - in fact, they seemed to be pulling out. Almost all of them were loaded up with loot; the only exceptions seemed to be the rear-guard who were holding the few guards still standing at bay with ease. She spotted Prayrwin moving to join them, so she made her way there as well (quite stealthily).

                "Hey Prayrwin!" said Delani, dropping down beside her from atop a wagon.

                "Delani," said Prayrwin. "Did you manage to do anything useful?"

                "Yep! I knocked out a couple of the bandits," replied Delani, sounding quite pleased with herself.

                Prayrwin stared at her solemnly for a moment, then turned to the withdrawing bandits. "No chance we'll catch 'em; and the last idiot who wanted to rush after 'em is over there," said Prayrwin, indicating an unconscious guard. Delani thought he was unconscious, at least.

                Prayrwin continued, "This lot are far more violent than anything I expected - the guards here too, for that matter. There's a lot of dead. And-"

                "And a lot of stolen merchandise!" yelled Nurm, one of the caravan leaders, as he emerged from his sealed wagon alongside them. "Burnt days, we should've hired more guards. Do you know how many are dead?" he asked Prayrwin.

                "Not yet. Delani - I can actually use your help with cleaning this mess up. Let's go," said Prayrwin, immediately back in business mode.

                Of the eight guards, three were dead. One would be out of action for months, and another for weeks. Of the remaining three, one had enough light injuries to need a few days of rest (or else risking infection), which left Prayrwin and a single guard keeping order while the caravan pulled itself back together.

                Seven others were injured, three severely. There were also a couple more dead, and five dead bandits, who needed to be buried. The bandits Delani had disabled were locked up in a caravan, along with another who had fainted from his sever wounds. With the caravan in such a sorry state, clean-up and inventory checking took most of the night.

                Prayrwin found out that the guard posted to the other side of the hill had taken three arrows to the chest, and likely died choking on his own blood. She wondered how three (or more) archers got that close to a 'trained' guard. The answer she got was that the guard had never actually been trained. Actually, most of the caravan guards had no training - although some had been guarding various caravans for years. Better than nothing, Prayrwin figured.

                A quick glance over the cleaned up caravan was more than enough for Prayrwin to know the results of the inventory. She learnt the exact details after she gave her report to the caravan leaders, who were in the middle of an emergency meeting (that conveniently got them out of all the repair work).

                 "Most of the larger goods are intact," said Kay (one of the other caravan leaders), "But those of us with small goods - especially the small valuables - have lost pretty much everything. I should say that, truth be told, the wool and wood is a cover; we're mostly traders of small luxuries. I sincerely hope that no-one betrayed us."

                "Of course one of the damn villages we went through sold us out!" yelled Nurm, "I swear I recognised a couple of the bastards!"

                "Calm down, Nurm," ordered Old Nurm - Nurm's aged uncle, and namesake. His money had paid for Nurm's share of the caravan, and he was also one of the 'leaders' due to the size of Nurm's share.

                The other three leaders were silent as Nurm ground his teeth, eyes staring at his uncle. "Fine," he muttered. "Prayrwin. Listen. Beat the location of the bandits out of the two we captured. Then take your friend Delani, the thief, and go get back as much as you can."

                "She's n- what?" said Prayrwin, somewhat incredulous. "That's not in my contract, Nurm. I'm not - what could we even do? We can barely carry a fraction of what they took, and if we took too much back they'll just attack us again!"

                "One thing," said Nurm, holding up a finger for emphasis, "that they took is worth more than all the rest combined. It's a small locked box. Brown wood, gold trim. They won't be able to get it open easily, but if they have, they probably won't recognise the contents. It's a small grey stone. Get it or preferably it in the box back or you and that damn thief are heading to the next village alone. No pay. Nothing."

                "A soilstone?" asked Prayrwin, incredulously. "You're transporting a soil stone with eight bloody guards?"

                "Get the location, get the thief, and go. If you're not gone in five hours..."

                "Fine. I'll try my best. If Delani dies doing this, I expect that to be enough."

                As Prayrwin headed off to find Delani, her feet stomping along, Nurm said, "Just barely enough."

                I’m going to enjoy my four hour nap waiting for those bandits to wake up, Prayrwin thought to herself. It's a good thing I know how long Delani's knockout lasts. Despite it being from personal experience.