FANTASY NOVEL (Title in Progress)/Chapter Three

“Whatever is the matter?” asked Rilamir. Timm was stopped on the trail, shaking like a leaf, and he couldn’t get a single word out. “Alright, calm down,” Rilamir began to pull him in for a hug to comfort him. “It’s okay, just tell me what happened.”

“I saw something in the forest,” he said, in a hushed whisper, “What if it’s a bear, o-or worse, Goblins?!”

“I’m sure it was nothing to get worked up over, probably just some elk that bolted at the sight of us Human folk. Come on, let’s go catch some fish.”

“Can we at least have someone go check?” Timm asked, fear still in his voice.

“Why not?” Rilamir asked rhetorically, turning towards the rest of the group. They had set up camp right on the lake, their tents all in a line on the shore. Rilamir (Finish Later)

He hadn’t really gotten a good look at all of the boys until now. One of them was a year older than he was, a boy by the name of Gorrin “The Giant”. Standing a foot taller than most men, Gorrin was known for his impressive physique and physical strength, and was dubbed “The Giant” at a very young age. “Hey Gorrin, care to accompany Timm and I into the woods? Maybe watch our backs while we take a piss?”

“Can you not watch each other's backs?” asked one of the younger boys, clearly flustered that Rilamir was snatching Gorrin away from him and his animal skinning lesson.

“Not if they’re both taking a piss,” Gorrin answered for them, “and, besides, Guardsman Tomas told us if we planned in going out into the woods for any reason, to-”

“Have a three-person group minimum, yes I know,” he groaned.

“It’ll be five minutes, calm yourself down. Why don’t you practice that technique I showed you while I’m gone? I wanna see both those rabbits skinless and ready to cook by the time I get back.” Gorrin stood up and followed the two back into the wooded area, the forest around them getting thicker and denser as they moved deeper in. (Finish Later)

Rilamir jolted back into consciousness, blinded by the bright light of flames surrounding him. Pain began to spike up from his left leg. Looking to see a wooden pillar had collapsed onto his leg, fire spreading from it closer and closer to him. Rilamir hurried to push it off of him, gaining more adrenaline and anxiety by the second. Kicking and pushing, he finally released himself, without a second to spare.

Another of the creatures had noticed his movement and was now alerted of his presence. It staggered closer, dripping its oily slime behind it. Rilamir could feel an awful and powerful pain buildup in his leg, making it harder to walk. “Escape is not an option,” he thought to himself, scrambling for a weapon. There was nothing in sight, and he was running out of time. He was surrounded by fire that continued to grow around him, with a creature inching ever closer to him that was deadset on his demise. The creature’s mouth opened up wide, making a popping noise before releasing a vile odor that burned Rilamir’s nose and eyes. Instinctively covering his face and falling to the ground, Rilamir began to cry out. Whatever the gas was created a burning pain like he had never felt before. He lied on the ground, shaking from the pain, listening to the creature inch closer.

It began to scream out, shattering Rilamir’s hearing almost completely. He thought his demise was very near, “It’s calling out in victory,” he whispered to himself, spit drooling from his mouth. “GET UP!” He froze entirely. “Did it speak? Can they speak?”

“NOW!” The voice screamed, He looked up to see the tall man from atop the stairs standing before him. The man was bleeding from the stomach, and he had clearly lost a lot of blood. He was holding his war hammer in the right hand, and in his left was a serrated sword, carved to look like the teeth of a dragon. The man threw it down in front of him, saying, “Stand and FIGHT!” Rilamir swiped the blade, and leaped backward. He felt the heat of the flames at his heels, it’s temperature rising every second. The fire reflected in the Tall man’s eyeballs, and the color was replaced with the embers of the town he had destroyed. Raising his hammer above his head, he brought it down in one heavy strike, missing Rilamir by an inch. Rilamir dodged and dove past him.

Looking around he saw where he was. The stairs lied just in front of him, inside, he presumed, was the mayor of the town, if he was left alive. He bolted up the stairs, hoping to lock himself in the town hall. A hand grasped his leg and pulled him downward, knocking his head right onto the steps. He swung his body around, his sword swinging with it, catching the man in the right shoulder. He backed down the steps and gripped himself, yet he had no reaction on his face. Looking up and smiling, he yelled “AGAIN!” and banged on his breast. He swung at it him again and again, chopping bits of flesh off one by one. Every time the man just laughed and shrugged it off. Rilamir knew he wouldn’t win this fight, and he didn’t plan to, at least not alone. As if The Ancient One’s themselves answered his call, he saw that the teenage soldier had come back. The boy was crouched over by the alleyway they had come in from, and he had been watching the entire time. The two locked eyes for a second before Rilamir looked back to his foe and struck at him again.

The boy understood that this was his only chance, while he was distracted. He darted forward, staying as quiet as can be, drawing his sword from its holster. He snagged Rilamir’s broken blade from the floor beneath him and hurried closer to his target. The Tall man, now covered in wounds and blood, completely shrouding his war tattoos. Lunging forward with his blades, the boy let out a scream, “AHHHH,” and impaled him through his chest and lower stomach. Quickly turning around, he smacked the boy backward, sending him flying into the flames.

“NOO!” screamed Rilamir. He plunged his blade into the open wound he had created before, and began sawing his blade back and forth up the man’s body. For the first time, it let out a yell in agony. He continued to saw into the man like a plank of wood, and didn’t stop until he had split him in half. He dropped his blade as soon as his foe fell to the ground, and began to vomit all over the steps, and passed out as figures began to crowd around him.

“tell him I’d like a word too,” said a familiar voice before slamming the door behind him. Rilamir rolled over to see a guard sitting in a chair reading a book. “That doesn’t make no sense, Elven folk got them pointy ears from the Ancient One’s, not no demon man.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Rilamir asked the man, causing him to jump.

“Yer awake! Ah I’ve been waitin for this moment,” excitement filled the man’s face. “The name’s Jormin, and with the High Priest bein dead, and the Head Doctor tendin to wounded, I’m the next in command fit to tend to your condition.” Jormin smiled and took out a case and set it on the table in front of the bed. Rilamir had noticed he was handcuffed to the bed. “What in the hell is going on here?!”

“You were in contact with many of those things, including that bigin of an Orc you fought. We need to inspect ye to know yur not infected with whatever vile magik this is.” Opening his case, he revealed it was full of notes and a couple of tools for magnifying sight. “This won’t take longer than an hour or two,” he grinned.

“What kind of tests are these?” Rilamir asked.

“Just a basic physical, which we’ve already done on you. I need to ask you some questions now that you’re awake, to show you can still think and talk normally, also to make sure you aren’t violent in any way…” he talked on and on about the process, boring Rilamir. Yet, he sat and politely listened and participated in his “mandatory tests” as he called them endlessly throughout the procedure. After he was done, Jormin continued to talk about his thoughts on the creatures and they’re condition. “From what we’ve gathered, it’s no real illness, but a magik curse of some kind. We’ve had cases of it before, but this one is astonishing! The amount of stress it puts the body under, changing it into basically a walking producer of oil.”

“That’s terrible. Who would cast such a curse on someone?”

“Demon? Evil Sorcerer? Vampire Lord? Who knows really? I’m not even convinced a couple of those truly exist. All I know is that I can determine who does and doesn’t have this “plague” and, you sir, do not. I have also talked your ear off and left you shackled to a bed the whole time. Let me get that for you messir.” He went searching in his ring of keys, of which contained three others. He stopped at the long and skinny metal key, and stuck it into the lock, setting Rilamir free. “Now the Guard Captain told me your friends were staying at the Inn over on Belmond, but that ye should stop by his place over at the barracks before meeting up with them.”

“Thank you very much Jormin,” he began to sit up. The pain in his leg returned, but was dulled from the bandaging. “Do you happen to know where my clothes are?”

“Ah! I guess you wouldn’t have come into town dressed in just yer rags to fight off a bunch of creatures, would ye?” he began to chuckle to himself. “That bag over there, along with everything else on that table, has sat there since you got here the other night.”

“Guess I passed out for a few nights,” Rilamir thought to himself. He stood up on his leg and felt the pain even more than before. “Urrgh,” he groaned. He had a slight limp as he moved over to his bag, where he saw that his armor was sprawled on the table. His chest piece was torn up, showing no sign of repair.

“That’s all my equipment broken again,” he thought as he dressed himself. He noticed the sword the Orc gave to him was leaning against the table as well. He took it and strapped it on to his back. “Thank you again Jormin.”

“Sure thing kid. Oh, and one more thing. The Mayor was just in here, he told me to send you down to town hall to speak with him once you’ve awoken. It’s important business.”

“Got it,” were his last words to the man as he slammed the door behind him. The fresh air was very inviting, however, the sight was quite the opposite. The town was in absolute ruin, scorched down to the soil. Besides the Southern Gate and its tower, the wall had collapsed completely. Much of the southern part of town was left as nothing other than ash and the remnants of fallen buildings. A feeling of dread washed over him as he looked out onto all the destruction. “Next time...” he mumbled, “I promise you. Next time I’ll prevent such destruction.” He clutched his heart, and, after another moment of silence, walked down the steps in front of him.

A squadron of the soldiers came marching from the barracks and passed right by him, carrying supplies and wounded people. Rilamir picked up a crate of tonics and followed closely behind the group, who were heading towards a crowd of people. They ended up right in front of the town hall, which was now crawling with survivors of the attack, all swarming to bring supplies back to their families, roaring with the yells of the impatient and sacred refugees. At the head of the crowd were two men arguing, one of which looked familiar to Riamir. Guard Captain Alecar spun around on his heel, showing nothing but a bright fury in all of his movements. He caught Rilamir in the corner of his eye and began stomping towards him with a clear purpose in mind. “RILAMIR!” he called out, “How are ya boy?!” Holding his arm out, he began to embrace Rilamir and pull him close. “Come by later, we need t’ speak,” he whispered into his ear, warming it with his breath. “So how was the rest? I hope the bed was to yur liking. I’m awful busy at the moment, so we’ll catch up later?” he asked, before nodding his head and making his way towards the barracks.

Turning back around towards town hall, Rilamir noticed the man Alecar had been arguing with had made his way to the top of the stairs, sitting at a table placed in front of the doors inside. The doors had a sign that read “NO ENTRY” on it, in bold, red print. The closer he got to the top of the steps, the easier it was for Rilamir to make out the sly grin on the man’s face, sitting above. “Oh welcome! Are you Rilamir by chance? My guard- er- THE guardsmen keep talking about your prowess on the battlefield the night we were ambushed by those demonic creatures.” He paused, giving Rilamir a chance to speak.

“Yes sir, I am Rilamir Eilris. My friends and I came here from Rockport. We decided to help out when we saw the fires from down the road. Didn’t expect any of this however.”

“Can’t say we expected it either Mr. Eilris, but of all the surprises we as a town received that night, I’m delighted you were one of them. The name is Brevard, but you can call me Mayor, it is my official title after all,” he said with a grin. “Now I do believe compensation is in order, however, seeing as the town’s reserves shall be going towards rebuilding, I shall not be the one to do so sadly. So, I shall give you something more worthwhile. My word.”

“Your word?” confusion in the young Half-Elf’s voice.

“YES! My word! A man’s word is worth everything, and mine is worth more than that. If I give you this written recommendation, any and every state-official will hire you on the spot, no questions asked. That’s enough jobs to get you paid for a lifetime right there if you play your cards right, you’d be wise to take care of that,” he said, holding the grin on his face the entire time. He scribbled down some words and a signature onto a sheet of parchment paper, and finished it off with an official-looking stamp of approval, and sealing the parchment closed. “Well now, Mr. Eilris,” he said, passing the note of approval over to him, “I do believe our time is up now. If you’ll excuse me,” leaving through the NO ENTRY door.

The man was clearly in a rush, and, given the state of the town he was in charge of, Rilamir couldn’t blame him. Eyeballing his note, he wondered just how useful it’d prove to be. He shoved it into his bag and turned back towards the roaring crowd of survivors. Piles of empty crates and boxes lie next to the guardsmen’s table, and all but one of the crates they had just brought in were amongst them. “Excuse me, sir!” one of them called out after catching his eye on them, “You wouldn’t mind tellin the boys to bring over the next shipment, would ya?”

“Not at all!” he responded. He made his way back toward the barracks, taking note of an Inn bustling with people he passed on the way. A few of the men outside were gathering together, packing up bags, crates, and their families into wagons. “Last call for safe passage to the capital!” one cried out, “Fifty percent of your payment go towards town reserves to help those in need! Brought to you by the good mayor!” The man’s shouting began to be drowned out by the sound of footsteps and more shouting as Rilamir neared the barracks. “Gooday sir,” he greeted one of the men, who remained silent. He was reading over a note, and seemed very intent on finishing it. “Excuse me-” the man held up a single finger, and continued reading, making notes in a journal he had lying next to him. “I presume the next shipment is ready then?” he eventually asked, in an annoyed tone. Rilamir nodded at the man. “It’s about time they sent someone, I’m dying to leave this shithole of a town. Hey boys! Send the last one their way and let’s get outta here.”

The same group of men unloaded a few more crates off their wagon. On the side it read “Chaos Control” painted in red and black. “We’re there within minutes of the aftermath!” was also painted on the wagon, under the name. A group of the men carried the last 5 crates towards the crowd while the rest of them began to pack up and get the cart ready to leave. “Is that all you have left?” Rilamir asked the man, who he could only assume was the manager of this operation. He sat back and counted the coin they had made, keeping track of it all in his records. “Of course that is “all we have left,” your fellow townsfolk only paid us for the Small Disaster Package. If you want, I’ll gladly upgrade you all, for a fee, of course.”

“How thoughtful of you, we’ll keep that in mind as we rebuild with what little you’ve given us. This town is in dire need of help, how could you monopolize on such a situation?”

“If you have a complaint with how this business runs itself, you can send a complaint to our headquarters.”

“We’ll be sure to keep that in mind as well.” He turned away from the man, heading into the barracks. The building looked to be in a state of panic, looking even worse than it did the night of the attack. Bloodied bandages lied scattered throughout the room, beds had been turned over, and broken bottles littered the room. The stench of alcohol, sweat, and blood coated the room, filling his nose within seconds of entering. He slammed the door behind him, and heard a man call out from the floor above. “Aha! So you’re finally here!” Guard Captain Alecar came stumbling down the stairs, a bottle of opened wine in one hand, two glasses in the other. “First off, a toast!” He poured the glasses up and clinked his to Rilamir’s. “Here’s to our hero! Now, onto the real business,” he put down his empty glass and began sipping from the bottle. “Wer’ gonna be in trouble here for a good minute er so, and that good for nothin mayor of ours refuses to take our situation seriously. Damn man shouldn’t even be mayor, I don’t know what Jarrod ever saw in him.”

“Jarrod? Old mayor I presume?”

“The baron, actually. About a year back, our old mayor decided it was time to retire, and wrote old Jarrod to send him a replacement, and we got Brevard. He’s done nothing good for this town, and views himself as a noble king, worthy of everyone’s appreciation. Fucking good for nothing scoundrel. The man’s a con artist at heart, and I’m deadset on proving it. But that ain’t why I called ya here. I need you to run me a letter to the King. I believe this is the start of something, and he needs to be warned if so. “And if it isn’t the start of something?”

“Better safe than sorry, right? Besides, we need more men and supplies to help these people regain their lives, and I refuse to pay those doom preppers that are robbing us blind.”

“My friends and I were on our way to deliver a message to King already, so I’d be more than glad to do this for you Alecar.”

“That’s a good man! Now, how about another glass or two before you leave, eh?”

“I guess another glass couldn’t hurt