Authors Note: This will be the last chapter of Act I. Act II will mostly be an episodic, town-of-the-week format, introducing new companions to fill out the party.
Intro: This is part of a serialized fantasy story I’m writing. It’s shamelessly inspired by Dragon Quest. Let me know know your thoughts, positive or negative. Please read this story on RoyalRoad if ya wanna help me get some views.
Read The Other Parts Here
Thanks goes to:
MythMaker (for some invaluable advice in Chapter One)
The Dragon’s Den
Yuji Hori & the entire Dragon Quest team the world over
The echo of the gloomling’s demand hung heavily in the air. Élrick’s grip tightened around his sword hilt as he glanced at the slain fellow. Blood pooled upon the wooden planks of the church floor.
“Blast,” Élrick gasped.
Tabitha cried out before dashing towards the fallen man and kneeling at his side. Undoubtedly, she knew him. It was a small village.
“Goddess, have mercy…” said Father Vigil.
“Gloomlings,” Élrick said. “Mischievous monsters, for sure, but they rarely attack unless provoked. It’s unheard of for them to venture into a town so boldly.” Were these beasts contracted under the Dread King? He drew his sword. “Stand back, Tabitha,” he commanded; he did not wish to see more bloodshed.
Tabitha complied, stepping away from the corpse and the monsters.
Élrick smelled burning wood. It could have been from the chaos outside, but he knew the more likely possibility was that the church was on fire.
“The pendant, give it to usss,” one of the gloomlings hissed.
The priest stumbled backward in shock. “Y-you’ll have no such thing,” he stuttered. He was clearly unaccustomed to confronting monsters, much less ones as menacing as these.
“What use do you have for it?” Élrick said. “Since when are gloomlings so domesticated they crave jewels over skull-bashing? Will you take up farming next?”
One of the creatures bared its fangs and snarled, “Ssshould be plenty of ssskull-bashing. You sssee!” It banged its club against its shield and growled fiercely.
Taunting them into revealing information had failed. It was time for action. Élrick strode forth, brandishing his blade, no longer enfeebled and tired. The menderose herb had certainly done its job invigorating him. “If you are minions of the Dread King, tell me what desire does he have of terrorizing this village?” He pressed them.
The gloomlings gave no answers, only more cackles, as they started creeping forward. Élrick swung his blade at them, sending them both leaping backward. But they did not retreat, holding ground with confidence.
Élrick drew from his well of magic power and began recalling the incantation for an ice spell—a wave that would freeze the fiends in their tracks. But as he reached inward, he felt his reserves were dry. Rest and recovery normally replenished his magic, but something was wrong.
He frowned, but continued the chant. The gloomlings lunged as he thrust his hand forward to cast the spell. To his consternation, only a spray of icicles emerged, barely slowing them. The creatures hissed, advancing with renewed fury.
“Father Vigil, is there another way out?” Élrick called over his shoulder.
The priest’s eyes darted around frantically. “Yes—the back door through the sacristy!”
“Take Tabitha and go. Now!” Élrick ordered.
“But what about you?” Tabitha protested.
“I’ll hold them off. Go!”
Reluctantly, Father Vigil grabbed Tabitha’s arm and began pulling her toward the rear of the church. As they moved away, Élrick backed up slowly, keeping his eyes on the gloomlings.
He gave the room a quick glance. Above him groaned the support beams, weakened by the flames. An idea occurred to him. If he could lure the gloomlings beneath the unstable structure, he might bring it down on them.
“Come on, you fiends,” he muttered.
As he reached the spot beneath the damaged timbers, he paused, feigning exhaustion. The gloomlings grinned wickedly, sensing an easy kill.
They rushed at him.
At the last moment, Élrick dodged to the side and slashed at a weakened pillar with all his might. The wood gave way with a splintering crack. Above, the platform groaned ominously before collapsing, burying them under rubble.
Dust and smoke filled the air. Coughing, Élrick made his way toward the back of the church. He found Tabitha and Father Vigil waiting anxiously by the door.
“Are you okay?” Tabitha asked, eyes wide with concern.
He nodded. “Let’s get out of here. The church won’t hold much longer.”
They exited into the night, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat of the burning building behind them.
Before them was a sobering sight—houses blazing, villagers fleeing, and monsters wreaking havoc. The structures near the church lay in ruin, either aflame or collapsed. In the sky, Élrick could see bodies flailing, gripped in the claws of winged beasts disappearing into the moonlight. The stragglers that still survived were funneling toward the exit of town.
“We must flee. There is hope for this place no longer,” Élrick said.
Tabitha reached out, placing her hand on his arm. “I can’t just leave, not without my parents!”
Father Vigil nodded along, his countenance grim.
Élrick looked into her wide, fear-stricken eyes and felt a pang of empathy. They were likely either on their way out of town already or… He did not finish the thought. “We must hurry, then,” he told her. It was because of him she had not been home with her parents, anyway. He would help her find them, if possible.
Cries of anguish echoed through the streets and alleys, muffled only by the crackling of flames, as they dashed through the turmoil of the attack.
They rounded a corner and found themselves in a market circle, surrounded by crumbling, burning buildings and smoke-filled air. The stalls lining the street were now empty, their wares scattered and trampled into the ground. Tabitha took in the startling sight, despair etched upon her face.
“The market…” she said, undoubtedly only now fully considering the loss of her village.
“…is the least of our concerns, child.” Father Vigil said.
Élrick was prepared to urge them onward, but before he could respond, a screech tore through the night air. From the swirling smoke descended a grotesque gargoyle—a winged menace made of twisted sinew and leathery hide, covered in pulsing veins.
Its bat-like wings beat smoke from the nearby flames, stirring embers into the sky. Eyes glowing with malice, it landed between them and the path ahead. It lifted one of its long, crooked fingers and pointed at Élrick.
“Hero,” the gargoyle growled. “The Dread King was saddened by your sudden departure. He demands your return, so you may finish what was begun.” It gave a twisted grin, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.
Élrick stepped forward, gripping the pommel of his sword tightly. “It if is I you seek, then spare these people. Call off the attack and face me.”
The beast gave a low, sinister laugh. “Noble words, but I’m afraid their fate is already sealed—along with yours.” The demon spread its leathery wings, casting a menacing shadow over the group.
As the monster advanced on him, Élrick swung his sword. Despite being refreshed by the herb, his movements were more sluggish than they had in quite some time; had his strength not fully returned? The creature parried effortlessly, its claws scraping against the blade with a grating screech. Élrick stumbled back, a jolt of pain shooting through his arm.
“You can’t outrun destiny, Hero. There is a darkness within you that yearns to escape,” the thing taunted him, preparing to strike again. “If you pledge fealty now, the Dread King will still welcome you into his ranks.”
Before Élrick could respond, a swiftly moving shadow in the corner of his vision caught his attention. It was Tabitha creeping along the edge of a collapsed stall, her movements quiet and nimble amongst the pandemonium. She caught his eye and gave a slight nod.
Élrick returned the gesture. She needed him to distract the beast. He looked at it and said, “If the Dread King wants me, he’ll have to do better than to send his flunky,” he mocked, stepping forward to draw its focus.
The creature’s lips pulled back in a snarl. “Insolent mortal!”
It leaped at Élrick, claws extended. He sidestepped, swinging his sword to deflect the attack. The impact sent ripples of pain up his arm.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he goaded, trying to mask his fatigue.
It roared and reared back, claws at the ready. Just then, Tabitha lunged from her hiding place atop a ruined wagon, clutching a broken plank like a spear. With a fierce cry, she jumped onto the beast’s back and drove the sharp timber into the gargoyle’s shoulder.
The wretch shrieked in agony, its wings flailing about madly. It twisted violently, trying to dislodge her. But Tabitha clung on desperately as it thrashed.
“Get clear!” Élrick shouted.
She released her grip, dropping to the ground and rolling away as the demon turn its wrath back to Élrick. A dark ichor oozed from the wound, and the creature’s movements became erratic.
“You will pay for that!” it screeched, but Élrick could see that it was weakened now.
Élrick seized the moment. Mustering his remaining strength, he feinted left before delivering a slashing strike to one of its wings. The blade bit deep, tearing through membrane and muscle.
The monster howled, its tattered wing dripping with blood. It staggered backward, glaring at them both, rage contorting its features. “This isn’t over! The Dread King will consume you all!”
With a powerful beat of its damaged wings, it lifted into the air unsteadily, disappearing into the smoke-filled sky.
Breathing heavily, Élrick turned to Tabitha. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, eyes wide but resolute. “I’m fine. I couldn’t let it kill you.”
He managed a faint smile. “Your resourcefulness is commendable. But I can’t help but notice—you didn’t use the sword I gave you.”
Tabitha glanced away, a small grin tugging at her lips. “Oh, that? Well, I might have left it back in the church.”
Élrick blinked. “You… left it? But I gave you a scabbard—you didn’t even equip it?”
She shrugged lightly. “It was weighing me down. Besides, I seem to do just fine without it.” She gestured to the retreating silhouette of the menace.
He raised an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and disbelief on his face. “So you took on a gargoyle with a piece of broken wood because the sword was too heavy?”
“Worked, didn’t it?” she replied, mischievously.
He shook his head, a chuckle escaping him. “Remind me not to underestimate you. Though, I must admit, swords are generally more effective than planks.”
She smirked. “Maybe for you. I prefer to keep things interesting.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. Next time, perhaps I’ll find you a weapon more to your liking.”
“Or maybe you should just stick close. I seem to save you more than the other way around,” she teased.
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Duly noted.”
A distant crash brought them back to the grim reality around them. Father Vigil emerged from behind a crumbling wall, his face pale and blood trickling down his forehead. “We must leave here at once. There may be more of them.”
“Father, are you alright?” Tabitha exclaimed, running over to inspect his injury.
“It is only a scratch,” he said, dabbing the wound on his head. “A stray rock flew at me during your battle.”
“My apologies if I was the cause,” Élrick said. “But you are right, we should flee. Before one of us suffers more serious wounds.”
Tabitha’s expression shifted as realization dawned. “Mother, father!” Without waiting for the others, she sprinted down the street, resuming the route toward her home.
“Wait, it is not safe!” Élrick shouted, but she was already weaving through the debris.
He exchanged a glance with Father Vigil. “We must go after her.”
The two scampered along, following her trail as best they could. They dodged fallen timbers and navigated around craters where the cobblestone was torn asunder. The once peaceful village was now a labyrinth of destruction.
Shadows of fleeing villagers flickered in the firelight, but many homes lay silent and dark.
They followed her to a crumbling stone house, Father Vigil panting along the way. A priest of his age likely never saw this much excitement. As Élrick neared, his heart sank. The modest cottage was reduced to a pile of rubble, smoke rising from the remnants. Tabitha sat motionless in the middle of the path leading to the ruin. Élrick approached her slowly.
“Th-they’re gone,” she said through tears. “It’s all gone.”
Élrick knelt by her side and gently turned her face toward his, asking, “Bodies?”
She shook her head, tears streaming down her face.
Élrick nodded. “We’ll find them, then,” he breathed. “Perhaps they might have escaped down the mountain path.”
Father Vigil whispered, though not as quietly as perhaps he intended, “They could be among those taken.”
Tabitha looked up, tears carving paths through the soot on her cheeks. “But taken where?”
“Kidnapped by the monsters. Though, I do not know for what purpose. Tabitha, I shall do all that’s within my power to find them. I swear it. But first, we need to get to safety.”
As he spoke, a soft glint caught Élrick’s eyes amidst the rubble. “What’s that?”
Tabitha reached into the debris, carefully pulling aside stones until she revealed a small, crystalline fragment—the very likeness of the artifact from the priest’s test. Its gleam pulsed steadily.
Father Vigil gasped, “Another shard? Here?”
Tabitha looked to the sagely man. “Father, do you know of other shards?”
With shaking hands, he pulled the small box from his robe pocket. “I’ve spent my life studying the old scriptures,” he breathed. “They mention only this relic, though many texts haven’t survived the ages.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “One passage comes to mind—about fate rectifying what has been divided—but it offers no further context. I hesitate to speculate that it implies the shard has a twin…” he stared at the second shard in Tabitha’s hand. “But it clearly does… All we actually know is that it’s said to be a fragment of a divine artifact whose power will help to confront the darkness. Knowledge of that power has been lost to time, but it’s a sacred icon, nonetheless.”
Élrick studied it carefully. “It must have been hidden here for some time.”
Tabitha cradled the shard in her hands. “Why would it be at my home? I’ve never seen it before in my life.”
Élrick motioned to the collapsed cottage. “It appeared to be nestled away in the supports. It had to be hidden there long ago.
“Perhaps your family has a connection to the old prophecies.” Father Vigil said thoughtfully as he neared them.
As if in answer to his approach, the light of the shard ceased pulsing and stabilized into a constant glow.
The priest opened his box to reveal his shard was also lit. “Two shards, reacting together… This cannot be chance.” He closed the lid of the box, his brows furrowed. “The knowledge of the purpose of these shards may lie beyond the ruin of this village.”
Before any could say more, distant shouts and the ominous sound of wings beating the air reached them.
Élrick stood, his urgency returning. “We must move. The monsters might be regrouping.”
***
Tabitha struggled to keep up as they fled through the town gates, her mind racing with images of her parents and the mysterious shard safely tucked in her pouch.
She wondered how long it had been hidden in their home’s framework. Her grandmother must have walked by it countless times, never knowing something belonging to the Starborn Knight was so close.
Tears began to well up again. She could not think of her family without sharp pain. How could she live knowing her last moments with them were spent trying to run from them?
A ghastly screech overhead jolted her from mourning and urged her to quicken her pace. Now outside the village, they headed down a steadily sloping path.
As they descended, the air grew warmer, the scent of smoke fading into the earthy aroma of damp soil and pine. Monster cries and crackling fires diminished, swallowed by the dense forest that clung to the mountainside. The thick canopy allowed only slivers of moonlight to cast shimmering mosaics of shadows on the uneven trail.
Tabitha wiped her tears with the back of her hand, trying to focus on the path ahead. The ground beneath her feet was littered with fallen leaves and twigs, pieces of the forest undisturbed by the chaos above. Small stones shifted underfoot, and the roots of ancient trees jutted out like gnarled fingers, threatening to trip the unwary.
“Wait,” she said. She stopped mid-step, causing Élrick and Father Vigil to halt as well.
“What is the matter?” Élrick asked, following her gaze.
Ahead, the path was blocked by rocks and uprooted trees—the aftermath of a recent rockslide, the soil still raw and unsettled.
“This wasn’t here before,” Tabitha murmured. “I come down this way every week or so.”
Élrick examined the blockage. “It is very new. The turmoil must have destabilized the area. We’ll need to find a way around.”
Tabitha scanned their surroundings, her mind racing. “There’s a hunting trail nearby,” she recalled. “My father used to take me that way.”
Father Vigil nodded wearily, rubbing his temples. Though his wound had stopped bleeding, it still looked ugly. “Lead the way, child. My eyesight isn’t serving me well in this darkness.”
She pushed aside her grief and took a deep breath. “This way,” she said, stepping into the shadowy underbrush.
As they maneuvered along the narrow trail, branches brushed against them. Tabitha was uncomfortable taking the lead—her father had always done so.
“We should reconnect with the main path further down,” she said, hoping the trail merged as she remembered.
Élrick gave her an encouraging look. “Your expertise here is invaluable.”
She forced a smile. “Thanks.”
They followed the pathway around twisted trees and fallen limbs until it led to a precipice overlooking the dark valley. The path narrowed to a slender ledge clinging to a towering cliff..
Élrick paused. “We will need to proceed carefully here,” he warned.
Tabitha peered at the ledge, her stomach doing flips. The rocky shelf was barely wider than her feet, the sheer rock wall pressing close on her left, while to her right, the cliff dropped away into a chasm shrouded in swirling mist.
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow that painted the stone in hues of gray and blue. A fierce wind swept along the mountainside, tugging at her hair and carrying the faint scent of lingering smoke.
“I don’t remember this…” she said.
Father Vigil gathered up his robes away from his ankles. “The mountain tests our resolve,” he murmured, panting. Tabitha knew he was pushing his limits.
Élrick stepped onto the ledge, movements deliberate. Small stones crumbled under his boots, tumbling into the abyss. “One at a time,” he instructed. “Keep your back to the rocks and don’t look down.”
Tabitha placed a hand against the craggy surface. Each step demanded full concentration. The ledge dipped, forcing her to bend under jagged overhangs.
A sudden gust pressed her toward the edge. She clung to the wall, heart pounding. Pebbles clattered down the cliff-side. Ahead, Élrick moved steadily, his silhouette reassuring. “About not looking down,” she called. “It’s kinda hard not to!”
“Don’t worry, we’re doing well,” he shouted back. “It appears we’re almost to the midway point.”
Behind her, Father Vigil inched along, struggling with his robes and pack. Tabitha wished she could help, but couldn’t reach him. Turning back now would be disastrous.
Halfway across, the ledge narrowed further, a section of the rock seemingly having broken away. A gap yawned where the ledge had crumbled, leaving a space they would have to step over. She saw Élrick leap across, landing lightly on the other side. He turned and gestured for her to follow.
“It is not as treacherous as it appears,” he said. “Do not think too heavily. Just make the jump.”
The chasm was only a few feet, but with nothing beneath, it seemed vast. Though used to mountain paths, this was different. She took a deep breath and stepped across, landing safely.
“Well done,” Élrick praised, a faint smile crossing his face.
She moved aside, making room for the priest. He hesitated, eyes fixed on the gap. His face had gone pale, and sweat beaded on his brow despite the chill wind.
“I don’t think I can…” he whispered.
“You can,” Élrick assured. “You must. Toss your pack over; it’ll be easier.”
The old man carefully handed over his satchel. As he gripped the wall, a screech echoed above—a monster’s cry.
“Hurry, Father!” Tabitha urged him on, her eyes darting skyward.
He summoned his courage and lunged forward. For a heart-stopping moment, he teetered, but Élrick grabbed his arm, pulling him to safety.
“You have my thanks,” the priest gasped, wiping sweat from his brow.
They pressed on, the rest of the crossing passing without incident. The ledge slowly began widening again and when they reached the other side, Tabitha released a breath she had not realized she had been holding.
“Should we rest, Father?” she asked, noticing his ragged breathing and sickly pallor.
“No,” he said. “We’re not safe yet, and I won’t die at the hands of the Fiend’s soldiers. I’ll go as long as I can.”
She nodded, concerned; she had never seen him so frail.
Ahead, the trail rejoined the main road. “I think our detour ends here. Let’s never do that again,” she said wryly.
Élrick chuckled. “If only I’d had you to guide me when I was fleeing town earlier.”
Tabitha frowned. Hours ago, her home was peaceful. To think it never would be again made her throat tighten.
Fighting tears, she asked, “What about the others? They couldn’t get around the rockslide, either. There’s no way they all crossed that ledge safely.”
Élrick grimaced slightly and placed his hand on her shoulder. “The blockage was a recent development,” he said. “It’s possible that the refugees passed before the rockslide occurred, or perhaps their crossing caused the gap along the ledge we crossed.”
Tears blurred her vision. “That means some fell down the mountainside. They were only trying to escape…”
Élrick bowed his head glumly. “I apologize. I did not think before I spoke. Let us dwell on the task at hand.” He turned and took the lead again, motioning them to follow the path.
Wiping her tears, she began walking and said, “I know we can’t stop to grieve, but I can’t just forget what’s happened.”
“Nor should you,” Élrick replied. “The loss will linger with you for a long time, perhaps always. Ignoring it now would only delay the inevitable.”
“I didn’t even say goodbye to my parents,” she murmured. “I ran out to find you. It was all I could think about. Now I wish I’d hugged them before I left.” She sniffled in the cold air.
Élrick’s brow knitted in a slight frown. “I apologize. It was I who brought this calamity upon your village. If I hadn’t been there, they wouldn’t have attacked. They were there for me.”
“Those dark-furred gremlins wanted the shard, though,” Tabitha said. “They told us to give it to them.”
“…and surrender the savior,” Élrick continued. “I remember well what they said. They absolutely knew about your people and the artifact. But I venture a guess that they never would have come if I had not been there for so long. The Dread King has likely been searching for me since my fall.”
Guilt washed over Tabitha. Had her eagerness to fulfill her grandmother’s prophecy blinded her? There had been no way of knowing what could happen, of course, but she was nonetheless a cause.
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “If I hadn’t brought you back to the village, they might not have attacked either. I was so convinced you could be the Starborn Knight.”
“The passions of the blood are strong,” Father Vigil, breathing in labored gasps, trailed behind them with slow, cautious steps, yet he persevered. “Vicina was much the same—venturing out for adventures, always dreaming of the prophecy. You could show no greater respect for your family than by continuing your grandmother’s legacy.”
His words gave her a small measure of comfort, but it was quickly chased away when she thought of how her father disapproved of Gramma’s predilections. She looked at Father Vigil and thought of his shard. “According to the trial, I still didn’t find the Starborn Knight.”
“Your grandmother believed deeply in the prophecies,” he said, his voice barely audible over the gusts. “She often visited the church to learn all she could, especially about the artifact—a device said to hold the Goddess’s light, calling those destined to challenge the darkness.”
Tabitha glanced at him, surprise mingling with curiosity. “Gramma never mentioned the shard to me. Just stories of heroes and ancient battles.”
He nodded. “Much was kept secret, passed down only to the guardians of the faith. She never knew it was a stone. And was forbidden from seeing it. Only an elder is allowed, of course.”
Tabitha felt sorry for her grandmother—so enraptured by the prophecy, yet barred from realizing her dreams. She had not even seen the shard before she passed. “You didn’t mind showing it to Élrick. Or me,” she said.
“He had all the markings of the Starborn one,” he answered. “It is permissible, in that case. Your presence, had he in fact been the fated knight, would also have been pre-ordained.”
Walking ahead, Élrick turned his head, listening intently.
Father Vigil went on, “Finding another shard at your home isn’t mere chance. It suggests your family—or whoever lived there before—has a deeper connection to the prophecy than we realized.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Tabitha asked, frustration mingling with intrigue.
“As I’ve said, there is a measure of secrecy mandated by doctrine,” he said. “Knowledge of the shard endangers a soul, especially with the Dread King’s minions seeking them. But now, with the shard’s resting place destroyed, to remain silent would be wrong. The village is vacated, the church burned, our scriptures likely lost. To allow this knowledge to die with one aging cleric would be a greater sacrilege than breaking tradition.”
Élrick slowed to join them. “It takes wisdom to follow the spirit of the law over the letter,” he said, turning to Tabitha. “If the shards are connected to confronting the Dread King, perhaps our meeting was fated.”
This did little to comfort Tabitha. “But you failed the test,” she said. We still don’t know who the Knight is.
“You both have long lives ahead of you,” he said. “You might meet the Knight yet.” He staggered, panting heavily. Tabitha reached into her pouch and offered him a flask of water. She thankfully had not emptied it today when out picking herbs.
He drank and handed it back, nodding appreciatively.
Élrick quickened his pace, moving ahead. “It’s just as well,” he said. “I do not feel very much a knight or even a hero these days. There is more wrong with me than just the result of injury.”
“What do you mean?” Tabitha asked.
“In the church, I attempted to freeze those gloomlings in place, but lacked the magic power. All I could manage was a sprinkling of ice crystals. And again, in the market—a beast like that I should have felled within minutes. Something has changed.”
“You nearly died, remember?” Tabitha said, wiping her nose. “It’s no wonder you’re still weak.”
“No,” he said grimly, shaking his head. “Arcane might does draw on the body’s energy, but sleep usually restores it.” Élrick put his hand on his chest. “Before the fall, I used an orb—I believe it was destroyed during my crash. Some effect caused by its destruction has severed me from the era I knew. Father Vigil’s recollection of my armor made me realize it. I can only surmise that it is also the reason I am as weak and inexperienced as when I first set out from home.”
The priest slowed his pace. “The Hero…” he marvelled between shallow breaths.
“Aye,” Élrick acknowledged. “I am.”
“Such things should not be possible,” Father Vigil said. “And yet I’ve seen unthinkable things in my day—tonight’s events being one of them. I must confess, I do not fully understand the shard’s mystery, but it’s no coincidence that the Hero of legend fell from the sky on our mountain and awoke the day our village was attacked. Not to mention Tabitha discovering the second shard.”
Tabitha’s head swam with these revelations, but she could offer no response before Élrick froze in place, suddenly, nearly causing her to collide with him.
“Monsters,” he whispered.
“Where?” Tabitha asked.
Élrick raised his hand, signaling them to be silent. “Just ahead,” he said.
Faint figures moved along the lower path—hulking shapes silhouetted against the dim light.
“We can’t confront them in our state,” Élrick said.
Tabitha nodded. “Follow me.”
She led them off the trail, slipping silently among trees and over roots. The dense underbrush required careful steps to avoid noise.
A muffled gasp sounded behind her. Tabitha turned to see Father Vigil stumble over a root, grabbing a branch that snapped with a sharp crack echoing through the stillness.
The hulking figures halted, heads turning toward the sound.
“Down,” Élrick hissed, pulling Father Vigil behind a large tree. They pressed themselves against the rough bark, hardly daring to breathe.
Heart pounding, Tabitha peeked around the trunk. One of the monsters sniffed the air, its glowing eyes scanning the darkness. Moments stretched into eternity as it took a few steps uphill.
She reached down and grabbed a small stone. With a silent wish, she tossed it far to their left. It clattered against rocks, drawing the monsters’ attention.
The creatures grunted to each other before moving toward the new sound. Seizing the opportunity, Tabitha gestured for them to move.
They crept away, each footfall measured, until the forest thickened and the sounds of the monsters faded behind them. Only when they emerged back onto the path and saw the way clear, did they dare to breathe freely.
The priest whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s alright,” Tabitha whispered. “Let’s keep moving.”
Father Vigil let out a shaky sigh. “You’ve a knack for stealth.”
They continued downward, Tabitha’s feet aching. Father Vigil wheezed every few minutes, yet Élrick marched steadily.
Sleep tugged at her eyelids. She’d never expended so much energy in one night. Thoughts of home and her parents pressed in, but she pushed them away, fearing she would collapse into sobs if she allowed them in.
Suddenly, Father Vigil toppled forward, sliding down the path before stopping. He lay still. She dropped to her knees beside him.
“I fear tonight’s excitement has been too much for me…” he mumbled weakly.
Élrick was at his side before the Father finished speaking. “We shall not leave you here to die,” he said.
Father Vigil placed a trembling hand in Élrick’s. “I’m dying already,” he whispered, his cough barely audible. “Listen… There are other copies of the scriptures. Check the—” his words were cut short by a wheeze. “Seek the grand library in Narsis… to the south. Perhaps it will be of help…”
“No Father you can’t be… you’re just tired.” Tabitha cried, her voice breaking.
He clutched the small box that held the artifact, his eyes shifting between them. “The shard… both of them… it’s up to you now. I’m the last elder. The church burned. The village gone. There’s no place for them. But with a Hero… they are safe…” His voice trailed off as his hand slipped from Élrick’s. He was gone.
Tabitha buried her face in his robes. “No,” she wailed. “Not you too!” She pounded her fists on the ground. “They’re all gone.” She rolled onto her side, weeping.
She cried, not only for the priest, but her home, parents, and those she feared she would not see again. After what felt like hours, she realized that they were not yet out of danger. Despite her grief, the will to survive pushed her to suppress her emotions.
Despite exhaustion, she forced herself to sit up. The Father’s body was gone, and she was alone. Blinking in the darkness, she saw Élrick’s torch approaching. “Where is he?” she asked.
Élrick knelt beside her. “Buried. I would not leave him for the beasts to find,” he said. He took her hand. “Can you press on? If you need more time, we can spare it.”
They could not linger here and risk being caught unaware by monster patrols. He was lying. Drying her tears, she said, “I can keep going.”
He seemed about to speak, then nodded. Helping her to her feet, he said, “Sorrow can have unusual effects upon the body. Tell me if you feel faint or unwell,” he said.
“I’ll manage,” she said.
Élrick began walking. “Wait,” Tabitha said. He looked back, concerned.
She walked off the path to where Élrick had been. In a clearing, a pile of rocks marked a grave, a wooden marker protruding. She knelt, praying to the Goddess. It was something she had not done for quite some time.
Finished, she returned to Élrick. “Let’s not waste more time,” she said. “He wouldn’t want us to dawdle.”
They continued their descent in silence, the weight of their losses pressing heavily upon them. The night sky began to lighten, stars fading as a pale hue crept over the horizon. Tabitha’s legs felt like lead, each step taking a conscious effort. The chill of the mountain air was giving way to a gentle breeze that carried the scent of damp earth and wildflowers.
The dense forest started to thin, and the canopy overhead parted to reveal streaks of pink and gold painting the dawn sky. Birdsong broke the silence, a refreshing change to the cries of monsters that had haunted their journey.
“How much further do you think?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Élrick slowed his pace, turning to face her. “Not long now. The base of the mountain should be just ahead.”
Tabitha glanced at Élrick, who marched onward with unwavering resolve. Despite his earlier complaints of weakness, he moved with the steadiness of someone accustomed to hiking. She drew strength from his presence, pushing past her own exhaustion.
As if on cue, the path leveled out, and they emerged from the treeline onto a grassy plateau. The first rays of sunlight bathed the landscape in a warm glow. In the distance, thin tendrils of smoke curled upward.
“Look,” Élrick pointed. “Campfires.”
Tabitha’s heart quickened. “Do you think…?”
“It’s possible,” he said, a hint of hope in his tone. “Survivors may have gathered there.”
Despite their weariness, the prospect of finding others pushed them forward. As they drew nearer, the sounds of hushed conversations and the occasional clatter of pots reached their ears. Shadows moved among the tents and makeshift shelters, silhouettes against the growing light.
Tabitha’s breath caught in her throat. “Alive! They’re alive!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of relief and apprehension.
She looked at Élrick, who gave her a reassuring nod.
Forgetting her fatigue, Tabitha broke into a run, her feet carrying her toward the familiar faces she desperately hoped to see.
She rounded a bend in the path leading into the encampment. The sun was just rising, and the camp was quiet, but a few armored men stood around campfires at the boundary of the site. She recognized them instantly.
Bobbin’s was the first familiar face she spied. She sprinted over and hugged him before he had a chance to react. The sound of swords unsheathing around her reminded her that everyone was still on edge.
She looked up at him and said, “I thought everybody was gone! But you’re here!”
He leaned down, squinting. “Tabitha?”
“Yes, it’s me! The Knight and I—we fled down the mountain. Father Vigil was with us, but… he didn’t make it.” she looked down, sadly.
Élrick caught up to her, but remained silent.
Bobbin seemed taken aback, processing her words. Finally, a smile appeared. “I’m glad you’re okay.” His smile faded. “Most failed to make it down. Those… things picked us off one by one, carrying folks off who knows where. There are few of us now, but the beasts seem to have left.”
She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Of course, many had not survived. The destruction up top was severe. “Are… are my parents here?” she had been afraid to ask, but could not wait any longer.
Bobbin shook his head. “They never joined us. I’m sorry.” The finality of it caused her world to fall out from her under her. She felt more alone than ever, gazing at Bobbin’s face. Her parents were gone—taken. Or worse.
A swirl of emotions churned within her—grief, anger, guilt. If only she’d stayed home, maybe she could have helped. But ‘if only’s would not bring them back.
Élrick’s voice cut through her despair, “Tabitha, I am so sorry.” He hesitated, then said, “My mission would see me eradicate the Dread King, Corruptican—the ruler of the beasts who attacked your village. As part of this, I would do all I can to free those who have been captured by him. I shall begin in Prosperest first, seeking assistance from the guild. Then, perhaps, go to Narsis. But I swear to you that I will find your family.”
She looked around the makeshift settlement. These were her people, but she felt no connection to them. All she could feel was the pain of loss. Though she was thankful they had lived, she could not imagine living among them, knowing they’d escaped while her parents had not. Rebuilding or starting anew held nothing for her.
Her grandmother’s stories of fate and bravery flitted through her mind. The shard she’d found pulsed gently in her pouch, as if resonating with her heartbeat.
Was she meant to take this path? Staying here meant facing a life overshadowed by loss and helplessness. But going with Élrick—joining his quest—offered a glimmer of purpose. A way to fight back, perhaps to save her parents and others from suffering.
Her resolve hardened. She straightened her shoulders. “No, you won’t,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears that threatened to spill. She wiped her cheeks and met his gaze with steely determination. “We will.”
© 2024 Copyright — Forrest R. Roberts, All Rights Reserved
