*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1614833-The-Artificer
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
by Jerick
Rated: ASR · Fiction · Other · #1614833
My entry into nanowrimo.
The clouds drifted across the cold, grey sky subtly reflecting the brilliant reds and oranges emanated from the sinking sun.
Monotonous hoof beats echoed in the evening quiet.
The grasses and weeds rustled in response as they overgrew neglected buildings and rusting husks of cars.
A horse and it's rider sauntered across the cracked and torn asphalt.
Here and there a tree grew beside the road their roots tearing up what was left of the road surface.
Broken walls scrawled with graffiti made illegible with the passage of time and overgrown hedge rows teaming with birds and rats cluttered the roadside.
Shadows stretched in the fading light growing to slowly consume the tattered road.
"Well looks like we won't make it before sunset Cas," whispered the rider to his mare, his bright blue eyes glancing at the sky, a strange cocky smile dancing across his lips.
"We can go on a bit longer before we have to turn in though,"
His long, poorly fitting, tan duster shifted in the breeze, dotted with stains and small gaps.
A sheathed longsword was strapped to his waist, a double barreled sawn off shotgun was slung over his back and an fn five seven was attached to his mud splattered leg.
Casandra neighed softly.
"Don't worry Cas we'll stop shortly" Bren whispered as he patted the side of her neck.
Bulky bags, a bedroll a plastic six litre bottle of water with only a few drops left at the bottom were tied to Casandra's aging saddle.
Casandra herself was a big powerful, brown mare, who responded readily to Bren's skilled tugs at the reins.
Bren's face like most had been exposed to the elements far too long and wore battered, pitted skin as a result.
Deep scars ran like rivers across his features, etching lines in the stubble that was struggling to grow from his chin.
His orderly hair a light brown with a single stray strand of blue hanging over his forehead.
His lips had a tendency to slip into a sly smile.
"Besides this is not a good place to be caught out after dark plenty of hunting parties around here or so I'm told,"
Relaxed he sat upon Casandra's saddle and eased her forward, her hoof beats a soothing rhythm.
In the distance a bird started singing, it's pleasant tune loud and clear.
Others joined rising over time to become an angelic choir singing their farewell to the sun for another day.


It was at a small collapsed cottage that they finally stopped at.
Rotten, smashed furniture protruded from amidst the debris that used to be the roof and two of the walls.
Plants were growing here and there, tall, green, determined weeds emerging from the bits of rubble.
Bren dismounted, fragments of mortar and delph crunched underfoot as he walked.
Bending down he cleared away some detritus from a large hatch in the floor.
The ancient wooden lump clattered loudly as it was swung open.
Step by step Bren descended the steep staircase down into darkness.
The oppressive must in the air swamped the lungs and rendered breathing difficult.
Orange light filled the room as Bren lit a flare.
Rats and insects scuttled for cover under furniture that had been turned to mush by root and termites.
Cracked jars sat on the floor stained by which ever liquid they had once held.
Dropping the flare Bren marched back up the stairs.
Casandra turned her head to stare at him as he ascended.
"Well it could be better, and getting you in will be tricky but we can sleep here in peace,"
Casandra trotted over to him knocking aside bits and pieces that tinkled softly.
Gently Bren took hold of the reins and guided her awkward step after awkward step down into the cellar.
Once off the stairs and basked in the flare's orange light Casandra paced around for a bit before sitting down, apparently perfectly at ease in the claustrophobic cellar.
Smiling Bren shut the cellar door which made a loud thud as it fell into place.
He closed the latch and jammed it shut with a piece of metal before collapsing beside Casandra.
Casandra prodded the side of his head with her nose impatiently.
"Alright, alright no need to be like that," Bren muttered as he wearily climbed to his feet.
Fishing around in the saddle bags Bren pulled out a plastic bowl and untied the water bottle.
He poured the last of it into the bowl before placing it in front of Casandra.
"Good thing we'll be hitting a settlement tomorrow, they're sure to have a fresh water source of some kind," Casandra emptied the bowl in a few seconds, her tongue seeking the last drops of moisture at the bottom.
"But if we weren't you know you wouldn't get any of that water," Casandra stopped her desperate search for water and looked up at him.
"Don't give me that look you know I'm greedy bastard, when it comes down to the wire you know I'd screw over any one to survive," He said sitting across from her.
She laid her head on his lap.
It was heavy, very heavy and the bones of her chin dug into his leg, her eyes locked looking into his.
He could see it clearly, the fear in her eyes.
With a soft sigh he reached down and started stroking he neck.
In a gentle calm voice he continued "You see I'm a greedy, heartless bastard, because that's what it takes to survive these days,"
A terrifying screech reverberated through the night it's echoes penetrating into the cellar and scratched deep at the back of the mind.
In a single heartbeat Casandra had lifted her head at was ready to stand and bolt.
Bren unslung his sawn off shotgun and laid it on his lap were Casandra's head had been.
"It's going to be a long night...it always is..."


A series of loud thuds jolted Bren out of his slumber.
The flare had long since faded, leaving the cellar in a deep impenatrable darkness.
He gripped the handle of his sawn off tightly as the thuds were replaced with violent scratching noises and the sounds of splintering wood.
The cellar door rattled loudly at this unseen assualt.
A shaft of moonlight suddenly appeared shining onto the cluttered floor, illuminating the floating dust, reflecting off the broken jars on the ground and filling the whole room with a very faint light.
The moonlight was obsured again and again as something tore at the small hole in a frenzy.
A single red drop fell from the widening gap, to drop to the ground.
Bren stood up cautiously drawing the long sword with his freehand, the light from the moon danced along the fine steel blade as it moved.
A clawed handed punched it's way through the wood, red liquid flowed from a dozen places in it's flesh where chunks of wood were stuck.
Long black spines ran down the backs of it's fingures, slick, shining and quivering.
Those pale ugly bleeding fingures gripped the door and started pulling.
Bren readied his sword waiting for the door to fail and for the creature to burst through.
Distant screetches resounded gougeing at the ears.
The creature stopped.
It's clawed hand retreated and the sounds of disturbed rubble indicating it's departure.

Dawn filled the eastern sky as the sun burst forth from the horizion pouring it's light across the dew covered world.
Bren guided Casandra carefuly out from the cellar into the crisp cool air of early mourning.
They were greeted by choirs of joyful birds singing a great chorus to welcome back the sun.
Bren's sly smile retruned.
"We should be there by midday at the latest," he said as he pulled out a small morsal of dried meat from Casandra's saddle bags.
He chewed the tough meat as they rode torwards the dawn.

On they rode passing forgotten buildings, some still had the boards and sheets of metal that were used to fortify them many years ago.
Eventualy they picked their way on to the remaints of a main road.
Toppled trucks, crushed cars, smashed buses and fallen streetlights formed a complex obsticle course.
Heading through, around and jumping over they made their way steadily across the junkyard.
The empty shells of surban homes soon surrounded them, stiring brooding memories of a different world.
They continued on in relentless silence, the buildings rising around them as they headed deeper into the heart of the city.
Shops appeared, their fronts shattered, their stock spilt decaying on to the street.
A crow cawed loudly as it took flight.
Glass tinked faintly as something moved in the long mourning shadows.
Casandra's hooves sounded like falling hammers in the unnatural quiet.
Bren scanned the fronts of buildings, their paint peeling away, for signs of danger as he and Casandra pushed ever deeper.
A single chime of a bell rose loud and clear rising from the glass towers ahead and spreading out far across the city.
Bren's smile returned.
He'd been here before and knew what that meant: it was a warning that some one was approching.
From the roof of a distant building there was a flash of light as a sniper scope caught the sunlight.
Fearsome barricades soon loomed into view at the end of the street formed from cars and scrap metal that had been welded together.
There was a gap above which a van was held by a convoulted pulley system.
Unshaven men clutching assualt rifles watched Bren approch from the parpeits.
He nodded to the guards as he and Casandra passed through into New Henry Street.

Makeshift shacks were scattered about built from sheets of corrigated metal and trash.
All kinds of things were sold from small wooden stalls that were dotted about, lying low between the many shacks and homes.
The street buzzed with the loud hum of a buzy crowd as people raced this way and that way in their daily routine.
High above them impromtue walkways connected the towering office buildings creating a network vast network that cast twisting shadows on to the street below.
© Copyright 2009 Jerick (jerick at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1614833-The-Artificer