“Big boom.” Pleased with himself, he dismounted, standing a full head taller than his own horse. Trey smiled, knowing how proud Ronnee must feel. Half giants were rare and typically violent. Ronnee was even rarer; he was kind and intelligent for his race. The fact that he could think beyond his next meal set him aside from his peers.
“I need some help.” Helena was soaking wet, her flimsy garments clinging to her skin. Maria was clutching Helena so tightly she couldn’t get down.
Trey dismounted and disentangled the pair. When he pulled Maria free, she fell into his arms, sobbing. She was a farmer’s daughter, abducted during a raid from a village about fifty miles to the south. Trey had overheard her story as they passed through the town and had immediately ordered a rescue attempt. His original plan had been to sneak in, but the party had given him the perfect opportunity to give a lesson in humility.
The last of his crew arrived, having circled back to watch for pursuit.
“I was able to work out the pins. They won’t be able to open the front gate for at least two days, so any pursuit will be too slow to follow. The rain will make it hard to track us through the grassy fields, at least until the sun comes up. I think we’ll be okay for at least another three hours before we need to start moving.” Her voice sounded like a whisper. Trey nodded.
“Excellent work, Serra.”
Serra was the most unique of the four. She was a half demon. Unlike other half demons, she could actually control her compulsions—compulsions that made her a deadly foe and a powerful ally. She never talked much, and almost never to anybody she didn’t know.
“Okay, we have some time. Maria,” he addressed the sobbing girl, “we’re resting for a few hours. I want you to lie down for a bit and eat something.” Serra was gathering some bread and cheese from her pack. Ronnee was already eating. “Serra, you’re on guard.”
“Yes, Captain.” Serra, who rarely needed sleep, disappeared into the shadows. Trey grinned to himself. Captain was a nickname that Serra had started calling him a few months back. It was a name that stuck, which was good, because Trey far preferred it to his last nickname.
The group settled into familiar routines. Helena finished tying the horses so they could graze. She had changed back into her travelling clothes, obviously happy to be rid of her dancer’s costume. Ronnee’s horse was given some extra water and some special grain for energy. Trey sat down next to Maria; she had eaten a little and was drifting off to sleep. Trey watched the girl, thinking back to a time long ago, a time when his life had been far more peaceful. Shrugging to himself, he lay back and closed his own eyes. No use dwelling on things he couldn’t change.
* * *
The journey to return Maria was brief and took only two days. She spent most of those days in the company of the women and Trey didn’t push the issue. The poor girl had been through a lot and she needed people she was comfortable with.
Their time in Maria’s town was short-lived, but full of cheer and laughs. They were hailed as heroes and rewarded with a banquet, the most the villagers could offer. Helena spent plenty of time dancing with men that night, and Trey was approached by more than one cute country bumpkin. Ronnee spent most of his time playing with the kids of the village, even lifting the back end of a wagon up for their sheer amusement. Serra spent her nights outside the village, and most of her days by Trey’s side. Though she rarely spoke, Trey always found her good company.
The evening before they left, Trey was sitting on a bundle of hay just outside the barn of the farmhouse they were staying at. Counting their rapidly dwindling funds, he almost didn’t notice Serra’s quiet approach.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“Bad enough.” He shook the small bag of coins; it jingled pathetically. “We need to find some way to make enough to survive through the season.”
Serra lifted herself onto the stack of hay, sitting by his side. “Any leads?”
“Well, it sounds like there may be some opportunities north of here. Typical mercenary work.” Trey sighed and looked up at the stars overhead. “The moment you learn to swing a sword, you never truly find peace.”
“Peace doesn’t always bring in enough money to eat,” Serra said, dragging her pointed fingers through the hay. It made an intermittent rustling sound.
“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Trey tucked his coin purse away. “Who wants to die a farmer anyway, right?”
Serra gave him a rare smile. “See you in the morning, Captain.” She scooted off the hay and wandered off. Trey watched her until she vanished.
They left before first light. Travel was rough at first. The quality of the roads quickly deteriorated and twice they were attacked by bandits. They left none of the thieves alive.
They blazed their own trail over time. Known as both villains and heroes, it was wise to avoid the main roads. This did little to bother the band of misfits. Every night, they camped under the stars, told each other stories, and laughed. Sometimes Helena would play a musical instrument, and if Serra was in a really good mood, she would do shadow puppets that would come to life and dance around the campfire.
Eventually, they made it to the Plains of Garezabeth, a five-day stretch of ground that consisted solely of tall grass. A dangerous place to travel if you were being hunted. An even more dangerous place if you were caught in a storm.
Lightning Spiders
“The horses!”
Helena screamed, but the wind was louder. Her hair was tied back to keep her vision clear, but the dirt blew so hard it blinded her. Before mid-day, giant black cauliflower clouds had climbed over each other in the distance. Growing up near the desert, she had never seen clouds quite like them. Still, she was no stranger to bad storms and felt the primal force of it, making her heart beat faster in both excitement and fear.
Serra’s horse screamed. Helena struggled to keep hold of her own mount as it desperately reared away from her. There was nowhere to take shelter, and a storm of this magnitude could scare their horses into running until they dropped, easy food for the local predators.
Her horse began to pull away again and she felt the heat of the rope through her gloves. It yanked one more time and almost pulled away, but a giant fist closed over Helena’s hand. Ronnee pulled the horse toward him and held it in place while Helena undid the bags. She would rather lose her horse than her supplies. She slipped the knots loose and her horse reared. It ran in an aimless circle before galloping away with the others.
Trey stood calmly, his horse long gone already. It had taken most of his swords with it, but they were easily replaced. He carried just two now. One was well balanced, a masterfully crafted blade with a true edge to it. The other was a blade he seldom drew. It looked like something a farmer might forge: its sheath was nondescript, and the hilt had no decoration to speak of. It was Trey’s most prized possession.
The wind blew up and the group hunched against each other for support. Ronnee took the lead as they struggled to find any sort of ditch or similar structure to hunker down in.
Lightning stretched across the sky and blinded Helena. Thunder roared louder than the wind; her ears started to ring. The wind blew harder now, ripping the tie from her hair.
“It’s a construct; I can feel it!” Serra was by Helena’s side for a moment. “Powerful magic.” Helena could just barely make out Serra’s voice
She was right. Lightning lit the sky. It balled together into a massive figure with eight legs and a tiny orb for a body. She had once heard a bard speak of lightning spiders. They were extremely rare, and when they formed, they would march across the land generating terror and multiple fires. People wondered if they had any sort of intelligence or if they were mindless beings. Right now, all Helena knew was they were both beautiful and absolutely terrifying.
Several of them formed. The spiders walked across the plains, every step they took a lightning strike. The group struggled to avoid their paths, for a strike would surely kill one of them. As they ran, Hel
ena swore she saw an object the size of a bookshelf fall from the sky.
It was raining stones, as if one of the gods had picked up a building and crushed it with his hands. They were helpless now, for any of those stones would instantly kill any of them, with the possible exception of Serra.
A suit of armor blasted a crater in the ground next to Helena. Stunned, she froze in place. A big hand waved in front of her eyes and she blinked. Ronnee pointed up ahead and she saw what looked like a spear rack buried in the ground ahead.
A sword landed to her right, point down in the ground. It shattered and metal shards bit into her skin. The cuts weren’t deep, but blood flowed quickly along her cheeks.
Smaller pieces of stone fell. Ronnee held the blade of his axe over his head to deflect what pieces he could. Helena found a shield on the ground, another random item from the sky. She lifted it up and over her head, hoping to keep herself safe. Trey scooted in close and helped her.
The shield saved them both. Something big collided with it; they were both knocked to the ground. Stunned, Helena tried to stand, but her legs were numb. Serra pulled her to her feet. Ronnee picked up Trey, his body limp.
There was a series of heavy thuds; Helena could feel them in her feet, something different than the thunder. They looked up to see what new surprise the storm was bringing. In the distance, lightning spiders fanned outward, destined to keep moving until they hit the sea.
“Is everyone ok?” Helena was relieved to hear Trey’s voice.
They all answered and stood up. The ground was pockmarked with small craters and debris of all kinds. Weapons, armor, clothing, and a lot of building material.
“This is different.” Serra held up a damaged helmet, dented from impact. “It’s like a flying castle fell apart.”
“Don’t see many of those anymore,” Trey said as he examined Helena’s face.
Ronnee turned his head and held up a giant hand, indicating silence. They were all quiet, waiting patiently. A sound like the shifting of metal filled the air.
“Someone nearby.” Ronnee rarely spoke, so when they heard his rumbled words they immediately headed toward the sound. They caught a few glimpses of something shiny moving through the grass.
Pushing a tall clump of grass down, they all stopped. Before them was a four-foot-deep crater with a tiny pool of water in the bottom, but that was all.
Helena heard the grass behind them shift.
* * *
Serra sensed the dark thing’s intent and pushed the others forward into the crater, including Ronnee. She took the blow to her head and staggered forward. Turning, she looked upon a dark suit of armor, easily the size of three men. Its body was covered in curving spikes. Its clenched fist was like a giant mace. It roared in rage and the thing jumped down into the crater with them.
Ronnee caught the suit of armor by the forearms and yanked back. Its bulk cleared the rest of them and they all scrambled away to give Ronnee room.
“What is that thing?” Trey looked to Serra for guidance.
“It doesn’t feel like anything I have ever felt before.” Serra’s heritage gave her unique insight into anything demonic in nature, insight that had saved them all on numerous occasions. “It is made of many things.”
Ronnee yelled and knocked the thing back, picking up his axe. He brought it down in one giant swing and caved in the monstrosity’s torso. The armor fell apart into a loose pile of metal.
“Now it is many pieces.” Ronnee smiled with satisfaction and pulled himself out of the hole.
Serra looked at the pile with doubt in her dark eyes. The lightning storm had messed with her demonic powers and she was in a weird halfway state between human and monster. She was certain that wasn’t the end of the thing, but could detect nothing else in the area.
They walked away, wary of anything else. Talk of tracking the horses was muted when they saw that any tracks had been blown away by the storm. They found Serra’s horse, though. A lightning spider had obviously stepped on it, cooking it from the inside. Serra took a moment to kneel by the dead beast.
“Will someone say a prayer for me? It was a good companion.”
Trey nodded and did the honors for her. Praying was one of the few simple everyday things that Serra was forbidden to do, much like entering a church. After Trey said a few words, they walked away, Serra deep in thought. She had really liked that horse.
* * *
They came to the top of a hill and saw a bigger crater than the first one. It was almost twenty feet across and the edges had been burned, as if by a massive fireball.
“Should we go around?” Helena had one of her crossbow bolts ready.
“We could,” Trey said. “I’d rather see what landed there with my front than my back, though.” He put one hand on his sword.
They approached cautiously. The air stank of magic so bad that everyone could taste it. Huge rocks and clumps of dirt had been blasted free of the crater by whatever had landed there. Peering over the edge, Helena gave a questioning look to Serra, who looked to Trey for guidance. Trey himself was puzzled.
In the center of the crater was a young woman. Curled up in a fetal position, she clutched something tight against her chest. Her clothing was odd and covered in bright colors, a strange cross between travel clothes and finery. Water had already begun to pool around her and she appeared to be completely unconscious.
“What do we do?” Helena kept her crossbow on the girl. “It could be a trap.”
“It could. But it could also be someone who needs help.” Trey let go of his sword and picked his way down the slope. “You three keep an eye on things up here.”
Trey crawled down the torn earth, his attention on the girl. Getting to the bottom, he saw that she was breathing
“Hey, wake up.” He nudged her with a boot first. She mumbled something unintelligible, caught in a nightmare. He reached out and touched her forehead. The girl was suffering from a fairly serious fever.
Grabbing her shoulders, he tried to roll her upward. When she turned, he saw that she clutched a tiny ball of fur. He reached for it, only to see a pair of dark eyes open. The ball of fur growled at him and he held up his hands.
“Don’t worry, I’m a friend.” At least, he hoped he was. The creature seemed satisfied with his answer and continued to watch him.
“Hey Ronnee, I could use a hand.” Ronnee walked down into the crater and knelt by the girl’s side. The little ball of fur seemed to understand they had good intentions and remained silent.
She looked so tiny next to Ronnee’s arms. Ronnee scooped her up with his big hands and her arm sagged. It looked like a sword; its hilt was warped and metal tendrils had latched on to her upper forearm. Trey reached out his hand for the weapon when he felt his sword, the one he hated wielding, pulse at his hip.
Keeping his hands away, he let Ronnee deal with it. Ronnee adjusted her arm momentarily so it lay across her legs and then picked her up. As he carried her out of the damaged ground, Trey could only marvel at the item she carried. Looking first at the girl, and then at the two ladies above him, he chuckled to himself.
“I always meet the most interesting women,” he muttered and climbed his way back out.
* * *
Serra watched as some dark thing in the distance flew away on leathery wings. The dark waves it gave off were enough to make the human part of her feel ill at ease and the demonic part of her tremble in delight. She wished it was later in the evening, because then her eyesight would sharpen dramatically and she might be able to tell what it was.
Ronnee and Trey emerged from the hole, Ronnee carrying a small girl. Serra’s eyes narrowed. She could feel the darkness in her, too. It was muted, far less oppressive than the armored thing from before.
The little girl suffered a fever. Serra examined her features, flaring her pale nostrils. “She reeks of magic. That sword she carries, it changes her.” Something about the girl made her uncomfortable. “We should remove it from her at
once.”
“Absolutely not. To try and do so would be futile.” Trey put his hand on the girl with a grim smile. “The sword she wields will not let her come to harm. The most we can do is make her comfortable.”
Serra shrugged. If Trey said it was okay, she wouldn’t question it. Trey was the only person in the world that Serra would obey without hesitation. After all of the years following him around, she had come to understand that he never made decisions without putting the welfare of others first. It made him a good leader, a wonderful tactician, and one of only three people in the world she called a friend.
As they walked, she mentioned the dark thing she had seen. Trey acknowledged her with a nod, but she could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. Nobody questioned him. If he had something to say, he would.
* * *
Helena scouted ahead, using the land to navigate. Over the next two days, they set up camp out in the open; there was no other choice to be had. On both nights, the girl muttered in her sleep and called out names nobody recognized. At other times, she could be overheard pronouncing words of power, words that the sword she carried guided to her lips. And on both nights, Serra could feel them out there—dark things, watching. She was uncertain of her pursuers’ identities, seeing a shadow once fade away into the twilight. The fact that a creature could elude her during the dark hours spoke volumes to its abilities, volumes that did not sit well with Serra.
The little creature that the girl carried never left her side. It did not eat or sleep, and took no water offered to it. Ever faithful, someone eventually spotted that it was some type of fox when it perked up its ears. It allowed them to treat the girl, and give her water through her lips. Serra noticed that it also seemed to track the dark things, often looking out into the night in their direction.
There were so many questions to be answered. On the third morning, the strange girl opened her eyes.
Her Grandfather’s World
Crawling her way up to consciousness, it occurred to Kimberly that she should have known. Signs had been there all her life, little hints and peeks at the truth of things. Grasping this thought as she awoke, it still slipped from her mind as the memories of the last few days tried to piece themselves together.