Shadows of the Stars [WIP]
Prologue
The sun fled behind the desolate mountains, plunging us into darkness. We stood strong, shoulder to shoulder with our shields readied against the horrors of the night. The night air chilled us to the bones as we stared into the night, hoping nothing would stare back. The trees ahead began to rustle as mischievous, yellow eyes appeared out of the shadows. Light from our torches glinted off the crude weapons and armor of our foes as we planted our feet and braced ourselves. Tiny, green monsters charged towards us, brandishing vicious swords and wicked grins. The snarled and howled as they ran, spittle and drool trailing behind them.
As soon as we could see them they were on top of us, swinging wildly at our shields. We pushed back and raised our own swords. In unison, we stabbed over the wall of shields, plunging our blades through our adversaries. Their corpses slid off our swords, already stained with black blood, but more had already arrived. We struck them down just as swiftly, but by now the monsters were arriving in more force. Hordes of green beasts with razor-sharp teeth charged at us, each one being met by the end of a blade. They clambered across the bodies of their fallen allies, leaping over our shields and striking at us. We pushed them off, but our strength was diminishing as more of them crawled out of the trees.
They flooded over our shields, forcing us to break formation. I swung my shield around, knocking two of the monsters out of the air while I brought my sword down on the head of a third. Turning around I blocked another attack and swung my sword through the beasts chest. I looked around at my brothers. They were being overwhelmed. On my right, Iyaad was being tackled by three of the monsters. I rushed to his aid, but more of them attacked me. I kicked one in the chest before stabbing another in the side. A third dove for my face with its jagged sword ready to strike. I intercepted it with my shield and ran it through. I looked back at Iyaad, just to watch him get stabbed in the chest by one of the creatures. Blood flowed from the wound and mixed with the soil. The creature sat atop him, a wicked gleam in its eyes, as it raised its sword and stabbed again and again, tearing Iyaad apart. With each blow, his body lurched and blood sprayed into the creature’s face. A slight grin was forming at the edges of the creature’s mouth, and with another stab it let out a gleeful cackle.
I carved a path through the mass of monsters until I reached Iyaad. My sword hit the ground as I grabbed the creature by the throat and lifted him above me. It struggled weakly in my grasp, kicking at my arm with its scrawny legs. I glared into its eyes, wondering if I could find an ounce of pity in myself for this horrid creature. In the end, I could find nothing but hatred. Slowly, I squeezed the creatures throat, watching its eyes bulge as it clawed at me, gasping for air. The body began to go limp and, with a single motion, I snapped its neck and dropped its corpse at my feet. I looked at Iyaad as I knelt to pick up my sword. He was dead. The creature had probably killed him on its second or third strike, but it had stabbed him at least twenty times. At this point, all I could do was protect his body and give him a proper funeral. I stood and faced the remaining monsters, ready to kill every last one of them.
Chapter 1
It has been nearly a week since the goblin attack, but I still remember it like it was just last night. I can still see Iyaad’s brutalized body lying in the mud with that terrible creature on top of him and myself standing too far away to do anything. I clutched the hilt of Iyaad’s sword tightly to my chest. The blade had been broken in the attack, but the hilt was still in good condition. I rubbed the symbol of the Great Father with my thumb and whispered a short prayer before wrapping the hilt in a black cloth and tucking it into my belt. I stood from my bed and walked out of my house into the brisk autumn air. I walked through town quickly, making my way to the temple of Berminae. Inside, Iyaad’s body was lying inside a coffin set atop the stone altar. Berminae’s symbol was placed on his chest and the coffin was filled with flowers and small gifts. The temple was mostly empty when I arrived, so I walked up to the coffin. I looked down at Iyaad, so serene and pure with his wounds covered by robes. I placed a hand on his and bowed my head. “Oh, Great Father,” I murmured, “please ensure that his spirit may be at rest as his body is now.” I placed a single rose on his chest and left the temple.
I stepped out the door and nearly ran into a young girl. She was slighter shorter than me with long, black hair that lay gently against her back. She wore plain white clothing with a pale green skirt. She slammed into my side before stumbling backwards, nearly falling. I reached out to catch her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back to her feet. She looked up at me, seeming confused for a moment, before she looked down at my chest. Her eyes went wide.
“Um, sir, are you a priest?” She asked. Her voice was soft and there was a slight tremble to her words.
I looked down to see what she was looking at. Her eyes were fixed on the symbol of the Great Father that hung about my neck. “No ma’am, I am a soldier.” I replied.
“Oh,” she looked away, “then I’m sorry to bother you.” She pushed past me, making her way towards the temple.
I turned as she passed, gingerly reaching for her hand. “I can help you.” She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “I am a paladin,” I continued, “so I can do some of what the priests can.”
She turned to face me as I spoke and, after a brief moment, she reached out and lightly rested her hand on my arm. “My...my mother,” she paused, the first tears already forming in the corners of her eyes. “My mother is ill. I-I tried my best to help her, but…” She paused again and looked up at me as tears streamed down her face, marring her once pristine visage. “Please help me,” she murmured. "We can pay you." She turned her face away and began to weakly wipe away the tears.
“Worry no longer,” I said, “I will help your mother, no pay necessary. Would you bring me to her?” As I spoke, I slowly pulled out the hilt of Iyaad’s blade, unwrapped it, and handed the girl the cloth. She nodded to me as she took it and wiped her eyes.
“Thank you, sir.” She said as she lifted her chin and gave me a tearful smile. She lifted her hand from my arm and looked out at the town. “Just this way,” she proclaimed as she gestured to her left. I followed her as she made her way through the town towards a small house. The house sat at the Southern edge of town and was fairly run down. The roof slumped over the street, barely supported by the meager twigs that sat beneath it. She led me up to a door that clung desperately to its hinges and opened it slowly to reveal a dark interior. “Mother,” she shouted softly, “I have brought someone to help you.” As I stepped inside, the girl waved her hands while muttering what sounded like a spell. A moment later, a flame shot forth from her hand and hovered in the center of the room. The sudden light revealed that the inside of the house was in a similar state of clutter and age as the outside. The walls were lined with hodgepodge shelves, filled to overflowing with books, food, and vials of strange liquids. A small table sat unevenly on three of its legs, barely obscuring the girl’s mother lying on a stained cot in the back of the room.
I slowly walked over the mother’s side and sat down in the chair the girl provided me. The mother looked horrid. Her skin was pale and stretched, squeezing against her bones. Her eyes were red and the traces of vomit still remained on her lips. She glanced weakly in my direction, squinting as she looked me over. She turned slowly back to her daughter.
“Is this the priest?” she asked, barely able to speak.
“Yes, mother,” ensured her daughter. “This man is the priest who will heal you.”
The mother turned back to me before murmuring “He doesn’t look like a priest.”
“No, mother,” exclaimed her daughter, “he is not wearing his robes. But I assure you, he will heal you.” She turned to me. “Please, show her.”
I nodded and removed the holy symbol from around my neck. “Give me your hand.” She reached out, placing her frail hand in mine. I placed the holy symbol in her open hand and held it as I began to pray. “Great Father, this woman has been struck by a harmful ailment. Cure her of her sickness and free her from her suffering.” As I finished my prayer, a faint glow began to emanate from the holy symbol. The light seeped into the mother, coursing through her body and eradicating her illness. For a brief moment, a glorious light radiated throughout the entire house before fading back into the holy symbol. The mother lay still, breathing shallowly, with her hand still held between mine. Her eyes were now a pleasant green, some of the color had returned to her skin, and her bones were hardly visible.
After a short pause, the mother looked at me. “You are no priest,” she exclaimed with a soft smile, “but I thank you nonetheless.” She slowly sat up and looked about the room she was in before her eyes landed on her daughter. “My daughter,” she whispered, “thank you. You have done as much to save me as this man.” She smiled and opened her arms. Her daughter wiped tears from her eyes before gently enveloping her mother in a hug. She looked at me over her mother’s shoulder and gave me a soft smile. She looked at me over her mother’s shoulder and gave me a soft smile. Moments later, the hug broke and the mother turned back to me. “How can we repay you?” she asked.
“There is no need,” I replied. “The Great Father did not heal you so that I could be paid.”
“You are too kind sir,” the mother retorted. “We have taken your time and must repay you.”
“As I said,” I responded, “there is no need. I did not and still do not expect payment.”
The mother looked at me with squinted eyes for a moment before speaking. “Fine, we won’t pay you. Are you happy?” she asked, suppressing a grin.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.
“Well, we’ve already taken enough of your time.” She cautiously reached out to take my hand. “Thank you again.”
“Any time.” I replied. “Well, I’ll be on my way.” I turned and stepped through the door into the warmth of the sun. As I walked, I placed my holy symbol back around my neck and said a short prayer, thanking the Great Father. I wandered throughout the town for a while, enjoying seeing the many houses and shops I passed at night illuminated by the brilliant sun. I concluded my walk at the temple where the midday sun glinted off of the countenance of the Great Father carved above the door, giving it an even more holy appearance. The light was reflected perfectly off of his outstretched arms, covering the town square in a spectacular radiance. As I stood in awe at this sight that I was often too busy to see, I was struck by the sudden remembrance that the commander had requested to see me before my patrol.
Chapter 2
I left the town square, still dazzled by the glorious spectacle I had just witnessed, and made way towards the barracks. I arrived a few hours before I was supposed to go on patrol, but I figured the commander would want to see me as soon as possible. I stepped inside and was greeted by a familiar, but still horrific sight. Dozens of soldiers were lying on blood-soaked cots, moaning in agony as they clutched at their wounds. A few nurses ran frantically throughout the small room, healing what injuries they could and reducing the pain of what wounds they couldn’t. I made my way to the commander’s office with what haste I could manage while still maintaining as much of a confident and heroic appearance as I possible. I knocked on the commander’s door and awaited permission to enter. Moments later, I heard the familiar voice of the commander call me inside.
Stepping inside, I was surprised by the chaos that befallen the commander’s office. Papers were strewn about the normally ordinary desk. Various weapons and pieces of armor were scattered carelessly about the floor, creating a mess of obstacles that must be avoided to safely maneuver to and from the commander’s desk and the door. The commander himself had even been afflicted by this chaos. His normally stoic face was lost behind a mask of weariness. His eyes were sunken and framed by heavy lids when they would normally be vibrant and full of hope. In his scar-riddled hands he clutched two bottles of booze with the same fierceness with which he wields his weapons in battle. He glared up at me as I entered, his look requesting compassion more than commanding respect.
“Oh, there ya are you lucky bastard.” He shouted as I closed the door. His voice was a bit harsher than normal, but it was still fairly tame for a dwarf. “We’ve got some trouble, dontcha know.”
I nodded. “I saw the men just outside. What happened?”
“Apparently we’ve got more than just some damned goblins to deal with.” He took a sip from one of the bottles he held. “They said they were attacked by some people wearing dark clothes and wielding unholy magic.” He took another drink from his bottle before throwing it against the wall. As it shattered, he leapt up onto his desk, sending papers flying about the room. “Now about half of our best men are either dead or dying and we can’t afford to send a patrol out to take care of these fuckin’ sorcerers. What are we supposed to do? Just let ‘em be and hope they don’t attack the town with their witchcraft?”
“I don’t know, sir. It seems like they are a bigger threat than the goblins if they did that to our men.” I paused to gauge the commander’s reaction, but whatever thoughts my words prompted were hidden behind a haze of intoxication and anger. “Did they say how many people attacked them?”
The commander looked towards the door, his face straining as if he were trying to read the minds of the men in the other room. “You betcha, they said something like...four?” The commander frowned. “No!” he jumped as if frightened by his own voice. “They said fourteen.”
I watched the commander for a moment as he swayed back and forth on his desk, dangerously close to stumbling off the edge and falling on one of the many weapons strewn across the floor. “Perhaps we should get some magic-users of our own to combat them?”
“Dontcha think I tried that?!” He nearly fell off the desk in his excitement and drunken stupor. “The best wizards in town can barely light a candle!” He slammed his foot against his desk and pointed towards the door. “They aren’t going to be of any use against people who can do that!”
I realized now why the commander had wished to see me. “In that case,” I straightened out and summoned forth as much poise as I could muster. “I will go out and strike down these foul magicians in the name of the Great Father.” A faint warmth swelled against my chest as I spoke. I could feel the Great Father blessing me with the courage to fight against this evil, despite the foolishness of attempting to take down fourteen powerful wizards on my own.
The commander seemed to notice the courage with which I spoke. “I don’t want to put you in that much danger, but I’m afraid I must.” He looked at me with a faint glimmer of hope returning to his eyes. “Prepare yourself. I will have a horse ready for you to leave first thing in the morning.” The commander hopped off his desk and finally seemed to notice the mess that his office had become. He began to stumble about the room, gathering up the weapons and papers into the neatest piles he could manage in his current state.
I left the commander to clean his office, made my way back through the room of agony and pain, and left the barracks. The warmth of the Great Father’s blessing was still on my chest when I stepped through the door and I still retained courage in my ability to prevail, despite the foolishness of my mission. As I wandered through back towards my home, however, my courage began to fade. By the time I arrived at my house, the first tendrils of dread had begun to creep into my thoughts. Images of my dead body, devastated by evil magic, flickered through my mind as I made my way to my room and prepared for my venture. As I sharpened my sword, the dread slowly began to turn into fear. I was beginning to become terrified of what would become of me the next day when I had a sudden epiphany: I had just met someone who possessed some magical abilities. I quickly sheathed my sword and ran out the door.
I arrived at the girl’s house just before sunset and gently knocked on the door. From inside I heard someone tell me to come inside. I opened the creaky door and stepped inside the room. Some of the clutter had been cleaned up, but the majority of the room was still a mess. The mother was hunched over, stirring the contents of a small cooking pot. The girl was rummaging through the shelves, pulling out vials and jars holding various liquids, powders, and plants. She turned to me as I closed the door and nearly dropped a jar in her surprise.
“Oh, hello again!” she exclaimed before turning to her mother. “Mother, the man who saved you is back.” The mother peered over at me with a grin. “Did you change your mind and come to collect your payment?” She stifled a laugh as she returned to stirring the contents of the pot.
I glanced over at her before looking at the girl. “I suppose you could say that.”
The girl recoiled slightly, but tried to cover her sudden movement by depositing the various items she was carrying on the table. “What did you have in mind?” She looked up at me, the faintest hint of fear in her eyes.
“I was hoping to request your assistance with something.” The girl relaxed slightly and the fear left her face. “Earlier today, you used magic to light the room. Do you know other magic?”
“I do.” She turned back to the shelves, searching for another item. “What do you need my help with?”
“I have been tasked to hunt down a group of evil wizards outside of town. I was hoping that you would accompany me and help to defeat them.” I paused, holding my breath as I awaited the girl’s response.
Before she could respond, however, her mother spoke up. “You seem like a kind man and you seem quite capable of protecting yourself, but I cannot trust that you will be able to keep my daughter safe.” She looked over at me. “I will not send my daughter off to fight magicians when she is sure to die.”
The girl looked over at me with a slight look of disappointment. “She does not have to fight.” I proclaimed. “I would only request that she observes the magic of these evil warlocks and tells me how best to fight them.”
The mother seemed about to retort when the girl, with a grin on her face, replied. “I will come with you and tell you as much as I can. It is the least I can do after you saved my mother. When are you leaving?”
“I am leaving in the morning. Could you meet me outside the temple at sunrise?”
“Of course.” She responded.
“Thank you.” I paused and looked at the mother. “I will keep your daughter safe, ma’am, even if it costs me my life.”
I left the girl’s house and returned to my own home to finish preparing for my deadly mission in the morning. I crossed through the town square just as the sun slipped below the horizon and the last rays of light glinted off of the carving of the Great Father. The orange light reflected off the temple and bathed me in a warmth that restored my courage. I arrived at my home filled with the unshakable belief that in the morning, nothing could go wrong.
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