Chapter 4: The Grim Paladin

         “Who the hell is that?” Garz shouted.

         Grom barely heard his question. His eyes remained fixed on the man standing before them. Blood dripped down the serrated edge of the axe, landing on the floor beside the cloaked bandit. Like his armor, the axe appeared a shiny black, and a carved skull adorned the flat end of the blade.

         Those eyes! They watched with the intensity of a thousand ghosts seeking revenge for lives of torment. Those two black pools gazed from within the pale white face of bone. The lower half of the man’s face was covered by a black cowl, and Grom felt thankful for that. This man, this skeletal apparition took yet another step forward.

         “Grom, get away before he cuts you open like these guys!” Garz shouted again, grabbing Grom’s shoulder and pulling him backward.

         “Grom?” the man said. His voice came out a deep, surprised gasp. Grom did not expect to hear the towering figure to speak with his axe and not with words, but the man lowered his weapon and turned away from them. Grom watched the strange man crouch down and lift a large sack. He carried the bag back toward Grom, set it on the ground, and opened it. The light of gold and silver shimmered from within, shedding some light in the dark, and the man closed the bag.

         “The noble’s stolen treasures,” Ragefist whispered, staring in wonder.

         “I have been tracking these men for days. I managed to follow one of their men here to this cave. They are members of a guild of thieves known as The Followers of Mouse. They’re treacherous god could not save them from divine retribution,” the man said, hoisting the sack of valuables over his shoulder. He started to walk past them toward the cave entrance.

         “Those belong to a nobleman that is visiting Queen Anne of Oneria. We’ll be needing to take that back,” Grom called out to him.

         The man in the black armor turned and set his eyes upon Grom. “Tell me, are you truly Grom Greystone, the dwarf that defeated the armies of Mortillus?”

         Grom faltered. This man resembled one of Mortillus’s black knights. How could he be sure this wasn’t some set-up? Grom felt a wave of unease fall over his body.

         “That’s exactly who he is, and if you don’t hand over that bag, he’ll have to show you how he defeated that lunatic Astaroth!” Garz shouted, giving Grom a reassuring pat on the back. Once again, Grom fought the urge to punch Garz’s face in.

         “Is that so?” the man said, lifting his axe up onto his other shoulder. He stepped back into the room and dropped the heavy sack, buts of jewelry spilling onto the ground. Grom tightened the grip on his axe, unsure of what to expect. The man reached forward with his heavy gloved hand. Grom tensed as the man grasped his shoulder. “I knew fate would lead me to meet you one day. It is an honor to finally meet the dwarf responsible for saving us all.”

         “Thanks,” was the only thing Grom could think to say. How could a man who just slaughtered a group of men act so civil and speak with such kindness? Could he not see the dead men lying on the ground besides their own hands? Sure, they were thieves, but even Grom believed his actions to be an unnecessary extreme.

         “Who are you, and why did you murder these men?” Ragefist spoke up, defying the fear that once held his tongue.

         “You may call me Deathwish,” the man replied.

         “I can see why,” Garz mumbled, biting his tongue after the words escaped his mouth. He hoped his words wouldn’t travel to Deathwish’s ears.

         “I told you why these men had to die,” Deathwish continued, ignoring Garz’s comment, “These thieves have stolen from countless innocents. The treasure in this bag belongs to those of the city of Sagarian. I tracked them the night of their thievery, and they eventually sought refuge in these mountains.”

         “That can’t be true. Men dressed exactly like this were found near Oneria, and we followed the road south to this cave. That treasure belongs to a nobleman waiting for our return,” Grom said, eyeing Deathwish with renewed suspicion.

         “That may in fact be true, but these were them n spotted stealing from over ten homes in the southern port city,” Deathwish said, holding firm to his position.

         “Wait, so you’re saying you didn’t kill the horses and break up the noble’s cart?” Ragefist asked, taking his hand from the sword at his side.

         “Preposterous!” Deathwish shouted, “Do you think a paladin could do such harm to a defenseless animal?”

         “Whoa! Hole up, Mr. Dead-and-Scary!” Garz shouted, stepping forward and holding up his hands, “You’re trying to tell us that you’re some righteous fighter for the greater good? Ha! You look like more of a butcher than a savior in my eyes!”

         Deathwish appeared genuinely offended by Garz’s accusation and scoffed. “These men have caused untold mayhem all around Feldos! They were only running from their eventual fate. As for this noble’s cart, I had nothing to do with the death of any animal.”

         “Then what happened to the men that got away with the noble’s possessions?” Ragefist asked.

         “Maybe I was right about them trying to lead us away from the path,” Garz said, shaking his head.

         “What are we to do now?” Ragefist asked again, his voice seeking answers.

         “If you would like, I will help you find these men. I am sworn to help right the wrongs that plague our lands,” Deathwish said, securing his axe in a leather strap on his side.

         “I don’t mean to complain,” Garz began. He nudged the dead bandit with his boot. “Can we please rest for the night? I can get us to another cave nearby that shouldn’t be decorated with bloody bodies.”

         “For once I’m going to have to agree. Lead the way, Garz,” Grom said, wrinkling his nose at the rising stench of death.

         Grom followed behind Garz as he moved outside the cave and stopped to stare at the other three bodies laying prone on the mountain path. There were four more dead bodies to begin another pile that sat beside all those that lost their lives only two years earlier.

         *                    *                    *

         Garz’s snoring echoed through the cave, keeping Grom from drifting off to sleep. Every time Grom’s thoughts began to settle for the night, Garz gurgles or coughed in his sleep, rousing Grom once again. Unable to beat the sounds any longer, Grom pulled himself up and left the noisy cavern in exchange for the silent night. The cool air hit his face the moment he stepped under the pale moonlight. The breeze felt refreshing, and it bought that familiar smell to his nostrils, reminding him of his youth. The thought of forgetting the greedy human noble and heading up the path to his home entered his mind. Why the hell was he even helping one of Anne’s suitors, anyway? The bastard traveled from some far away country to become a king. Kingship meant more to these men than the woman they may one day marry, and that very thought drove Grom’s mind to a maddening rage. He was the one who saved her after she was kidnaped. He was one of the brave heroes that saved Feldos. Anne was the reason why Grom survived through all the hardship, and here he was hunting down thieves who stole material good from one of the many thieves of Grom’s happiness.

         “You should be resting.” The words came from behind him, and Grom looked over his shoulder at Deathwish. The grim paladin leaned back against the mountain wall, still wearing his hefty plate armor. Grom’s attention returned to Deathwish’s face, and after a moment of awkward silence, Deathwish cleared his throat. “Is something the matter?”

         “Your face,” Grom said and paused. He realized his two words alone sounded like an insult, so he rushed to add to them. “Now that I look at you, I realize that’s not your real face.”

         Deathwish did not laugh or make a move. “No, this skull is the mask I wear so that those I seek vengeance upon may gaze into the visage of death and know true fear.”

         “I see,” Grom said, unsure of what else to say. He looked away, tilting his head toward the road leading into the mountains.

         “You yearn to go home. Am I right?” Deathwish asked.

         “Aye,” Grom answered.

         “Then why don’t you?” Deathwish asked.

         “I can’t” Grom answered.

         “Yes you can. It’s only a short way up this road,” Deathwish said.

         “No, I can’t!” Grom shouted, the cord of anger struck. He thrust his arm in the direction of Jimstown. “I left there too long ago! It would be wrong for me to go back now! I’m not the same as I was before I left. I’m no longer like them.”

         “You take what you have for granted,” Deathwish said, slowly shaking his head.

         “Don’t you dare give me any of that crap! You don’t know me or the things I’ve lived through. I’ve lost so much, and I don’t want to go back only to leave and lose them all over again,” Grom said, lowering his arm to his side and balling it in a tight fist.

         Deathwish went silent and stared at Grom for several moments. Grom felt uneasy again. He felt as if a manifestation of death were staring through him, condemning him for all the wrong he’s ever committed.

         “I know more of loss than you will ever comprehend. My home village was destroyed and burned to the ground, and I was the only one to survive. My family, friends, and everyone I had ever come to know and love were taken away in a night of terror and screams. That is why I travel in solitude, aiding the innocent and stopping it when it arises. Don’t speak of loss like you are the only tormented soul to ever suffer its paralyzing effects,” Deathwish said. He stepped away from the wall and halted for a moment before disappearing into the darkness. “Get some rest, Grom. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

         Grom stood along and watched Deathwish go off into the cave. He wrapped his arms across his chest and shivered. Deathwish’s words chilled the air around him even further, and he knew now that sleep would not come tonight.

         *                    *                    *

         They found their way back onto the road to Oneria in the morning, and the hours passed with little conversation between the four. It wasn’t too long before they came upon the site of the broken remains of the cart. The only difference this time around was the absence of the dead horses.

         “What happened to the animals?” Ragefist asked as they searched around the wreckage.

         “Maybe another cart came along and moved them aside to get through,” Garz suggested, scratching his bearded chin.

         “If that were true, they would have also moved the remnants of the cart. Also, they wouldn’t have taken the animals too far from the road, and they are no where to be seen,” Deathwish said, nudging a plank of wood with his foot.

         “I think something did drag them away,” Grom said, walking away from the road toward the east. He knelt down and touched the ground. “It looks like they were pulled through this field. Maybe if we follow this way, we can find the thieves.”

         “Since when did you learn anything about tracking?” Garz asked, raising a brow, “I thought the only thing you did well was swing your axe around.”

         “A friend taught me a few things,” Grom said. He stood and followed the path of bent grass, saying a silent thanks to Prescott.

         They traveled away from the road leading toward Oneria across the open plains to the east. Grom managed to keep to the trail, yet a foreboding sickness festered in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath and focused on the vast, empty scenery ahead.

         “Have you ever played the game ‘Guess What I’m Staring At?’ I’ll give you a hint, it’s green,” Garz said. He waited for the others to answer, but they did not respond. Refusing to wait for a reply, he gave away the secret. “I’ll tell you! It’s grass! That’s the only thing I’ve seen since we left the road!”

         “Do you ever stop complaining?” Ragefist asked.

         “Don’t discourage him. It’s the only thing he’s good at,” Grom said, fighting the grin that tried to spread across his face.

         Garz mumbled something in the dwarven tongue, and Grom narrowed his eyes, catching the gist of his grumbling.

         More hours passed, and as the sun began to lower, a wall of trees rose up in the distance. Something seemed familiar about the way they were taking, but Grom could not place his finger on what exactly that was. They all came to a halt as they reached the forest’s edge.

         “The trail goes off into here,” Grom said, gazing at the overhanging branches filled with the bright green leaves of summer. Memories began to creep back into his mind, beckoning him to recall something from his past.

         “Then what are we waiting for?” Garz asked, breaking Grom’s concentration.

         “Daylight is running short, and we will need to hurry on before the darkness of night sets in once again,” Deathwish said in the same deep, exact tone of voice.

         “You look troubled. Is something the matter?” Ragefist asked, placing a hand on Grom’s shoulder.

         Grom looked up at the young soldier and shook his head. As he stared up at him, Grom noticed some of the excited luster of his eyes had faded, no doubt from all the terrors he had witnessed in such a short amount of time. The poor lad. Perhaps now he could learn what the world was truly like outside the training grounds of Oneria. He just hoped Ragefist would never have to see the same things he was forced to endure.

         While the sun sank to their backs, the four ventured into the thickening forest. The farther they went, the closer the trees crowded together. When the ceiling of branches choked off the last of the light, Grom reached into his pack and produced two wooden torches, handing one to Ragefist. The newly sparked light spread out in shaking spheres, pushing back the dark in pulsing bursts. The crackling of the flame accompanied the whistling wind and chirping insects, creating the perfect environment for campfire tales, which was one of Grom’s fondest childhood memories. He yearned to be back in front of a warm fire and out of the dangers of the still wilderness.

         “Damnit,” Grom cursed and shook his head. He waved his torch along the ground as if searching among the tall grass for a fallen green bead from a broken necklace. He sighed and raised his torch again, the shadows dancing in dark lines across his face. “I think we lost the trail somewhere along the way. That is unless the trail just ends here.”

         “That’s what we get for trusting a dwarf to navigate through a forest instead of a mine,” Garz said, hacking and spitting up a ball of phlegm near his feet.

         “Maybe we should think about stopping for the night. We might be able to find the path again with more light,” Ragefist suggested. Grom picked up on the slight quivering in his voice. The young man began to show signs of fear, and Grom could not blame him.

         A hissing sound rose from somewhere off in the distance, carrying through the air like a dagger. Grom tensed and scanned the surrounding area, glancing up at Deathwish as he pulled his axe free of its strap.

         “I sense the presence of evil,” Deathwish whispered, dark eyes darting about into the hidden danger. He waved his hand to have them continue onward. “Keep moving and stay close to one another.”

         They crept along, guided only by the light of the torches. A gust of wind hit them face on, shaking the flames and casting a temporary shadow in front of them. When the light died down and the light spread out in front of them again, they stopped just in time to keep from running into a large white mass hanging from one of the many thick branches. Grom jumped, startled by its sheer mass, and he soon realized that another the same size hung beside it.

         “What are those things?” Ragefist asked, his voice once again shaking.

         “There’s only one way to know for sure,” Deathwish said. He stepped forward and swung his axe down across the thing, carving a line from the middle to the bottom. As he raised his axe again, the white casing split open, and from within fell the decaying body of a once living and breathing stallion. A familiar cut lined its throat, but its eyes that were once wide with fear no longer stared up at them, left only with empty sockets lined with pink tissue.

         “The horses!” Garz shouted, his words echoing off into the distance.

         “They were trapped in some sort of cocoon. I don’t like the looks of this at all,” Deathwish said, raising his axe once again as if he were waiting for something to jump out at him.

         Rustling leaves and a human groan drifted to their ears, and both Grom and Ragefist drew their weapons. Garz stepped behind the three and peeked around Ragefist to see what was happening. A man dressed in ripped black clothing and wearing a black mask staggered forward, falling against the remains of the broken cocoon, desperately trying to keep himself from falling over.

         “It’s one of the bandits!” Garz shouted again.

         “Shut up!” Ragefist whispered, stomping on his foot to help get the message across.

         “Please, you have to help me,” the bandit pleaded. He sounded like death on its worst day, and he held out his hands in an attempt to get their help. “Quick, before it’s too late.”

         “Just stay right there,” Grom called over, taking a weary step forward.

         “Don’t take another step,” Deathwish instructed, grabbing Grom’s shoulder. “Take a close look at him, something is happening.”

         Grom’s eyes shot open at the sight unfolding before him. The bandit cried out and fell to his knees, clutching his head with both hands. Two thick tendrils ripped through his abdomen and stretched outward toward the ground. Two more followed from his back, causing the poor man to scream at the excruciating pain that surged through his body. The tendrils bent as they emerged, resembling four gigantic spider legs, and touched the ground, pushing his legs from the ground. Clutching his eyes closed, the man yanked at his hair, pulling out huge clumps of it. The front of his skull began to split and crack like an egg, and a spray of blood filled the air and rained down over the remains of the horse. A bulbous head with hundreds of shining black eyes pushed its way outward from the man’s skull, pushing bone and flesh to either side to make room for a pair of dripping mandibles. Grom felt his stomach tighten into a knot, and he cringed as the beast let out a low hiss.

         As if on cue, three more of these creatures emerged from the darkness, newly created aberrations using their human captors as shells to feed off of and now dispose. They all raised their bodies up and crawled on all four legs toward them.

         Grom brought his axe up in defense as the one he witnessed hatching came upon him in mere moments. It tried to bite down at him with its mandibles, but Grom managed to swat at them with the flat end of his axe. The creature tried to bite down again, and Grom jumped back out of the way, nearly losing his balance. The torch he held tumbled from his free hand, landing on the ground, still blazing.

         Ragefist held his weapon in front of him in preparation for the worst. One of the three remaining creatures advanced with uncanny speed and kicked up one of its legs, pushing him backwards into Garz.

         “How about you do something!” Ragefist shouted, stepping around Garz and raising his sword to parry another swing of the spider’s mighty leg.

         Garz stepped backward and reached into his belt, pulling out a single silver dagger. He stared into the fray and saw the torch laying on the ground. He ran toward it, but one of the spider creatures jumped down in front of him. Garz fell backwards and landed on his backside, staring up at the creature. The spider snapped its mandibles and hissed, rearing back to strike. Before it could finish off its dwarven snack, a black arc cut through the air, catching the beast under its gaping maw and taking its head off in a swift, clean sweep. A black goo splattered in Garz’s face, and he crawled backward as the spider nearly collapsed on top of him.

         “Are you ok?” Deathwish asked, reaching a hand down to help Garz up.

         “Watch out!” Garz shouted as the final unoccupied monster rushed up behind Deathwish and wrapped its front legs over his shoulder. Acting in a panic, Garz threw his dagger through the air, hitting its intended target of the mass collection of unblinking eyes. The beast cried out in pain and moved back away from Deathwish, which allowed him the time to bring his axe around in a wide swing and cut through the human torso, ripping the beast into two parts.

         Ragefist continued to stumble around, dodging both the swings of the beast’s legs and the trunks of trees that proved to get in his way of maneuvering. After dodging another batting swing, Ragefist thrust his weapon upward toward the creature’s mouth. His mouth fell open as the spider bit down on his sword and held it in place. The spider lifted his legs again, but in that instant, Ragefist pulled on the handle of his sword and brought the torch into the spider’s mouth. The beast cried out and flung itself backward, dropping Ragefist’s sword in the process. With a quick hand, he grabbed his sword and thrust it into its midsection and gave it a hard twist. It let out another high-pitched shriek and dropped to the ground.

         The final spider snapped its mandibles once more at Grom, and he ducked and rolled underneath it as it bit the air. Grom stood and swung his axe at the back of the bandit, bringing his weapon right into his spine. The spider creature cried out as Grom drove his weapon through its back and split the fiend into two pieces. More black liquid fell like a pile of thick gelatinous goo onto the grass.

         Grom wiped the sweat from his brow and lowered his axe. As he stepped around the body of what was formerly a member of The Followers of Mouse, another hiss from behind him caused him to turn with his weapon. Another spider creature flew down from a tree upon Grom before he could react and bring his weapon up in complete defense. The beast fell on top of Grom, pinning his shoulders to the ground. It growled and wiggled its mandibles, staring down with its field of onyx gems.

         Before the beast could inject its venomous poison, Grom saw a blazing line sail through the air and strike the spider in its side. The creature cried out, and a barrage of a half dozen more arrows glided through the air and struck it in several different spots. It reared back on its legs and fell backward onto the ground, curling its legs inward.

         Grom pulled himself up and found another fiery arrowhead staring him between his eyes. Grom swallowed and stared past the arrow to the archer. An elf wearing the skin of an animal watched with a cold, uncaring expression.

         “You will follow us. If you do not cooperate, you will die.”

ID: 1034058   (Rated: 13+) Chapter 5: The Wild and Dark  The heroes are captured by wild elves, and they find out... by The Lemon