Brewer King 28 (Patreon)

Dawn arrived none too soon. San wearily looked out of the tunnel they were hidden within and scanned the cavern that was still bathed in mostly darkness, but with enough light now that the roof was shredded that it made seeing much easier.

San stared at the hole in the roof. Before it had been merely a large circular opening, allowing in a bit of snow and light, but after that iridescent creature had escaped, the roof was now a wide and jagged opening that showed a brilliant patch of turquoise sky.

The invisible monster hadn’t just opened a hole, it had also pulled down trees and other detritus that had been covering the buried great hall. It was a great hall of some sort, San saw. It was not a naturally made cavern, it might have connected to the cave system that had brought them to this place, but the cavern itself was manmade or San thought it might have been made by man. He didn’t know if there were other sentient beings on this planet. It was a weird fantasy world so it wasn’t out of the possibility.

The escaping monster had gifted them with a path out of the cavern. The trees, debris, and rocks that had cascaded into the cavern now created a path that allowed them to exit the cavern. San noted that it would be a difficult path, but it was doable.

“That’s not going to be pleasant to climb up,” Bostarion said as he peered toward the dangling roots and branches they would have to clamor up to reach the exit.

“We can leave the armor,” Elgava responded.

“Are you also mad, woman?” Bostarion said. “You think we’ll be safe out there?”

Elgava grumbled but didn’t say anything.

The Tribal man looked around, his eyes alighting upon the corpses of the battos and the destruction that had been wrought. He dug through some of the debris and pulled out a rusty sword. The blade was pitted and dull and San assumed it would break with a practice swing.

“Better to die with a weapon in your hand than defenseless,” he said at San’s questioning look.

“Only if we could have had time to find more loot,” Elgava said.

“We’re low on food, water, and we don’t know how far we’ve come in these caves,” the Mage said. He looked up the dangling roots and the rubble that made a bridge toward them. “We weren’t supposed to take more than a day in this place.”

“Aye,” Elgava said. “That fucker Ilagio’s gonna get my sword up his ass when we get back. Why blow the fucking entrance?”

“To keep the battos in place,” Bostarion said. “He didn’t think we were gonna survive this, so he blew it.”

“That fucker,” Elgava said again.

“At the time it might have seen like the right choice to make,” San said.

“You backing up that lump of woolly shit?” Elgava asked. “You’re stuck here with us too, y’know.”

“I know.”

“Aw, to Hetvana’s hell with it,” Elgava grumbled. “Let’s load up and leave this shithole. I’ll never get the smell of this place outta my skin.”

“You’re gonna have to actually bathe for once in your damn life,” Bostarion muttered.

“Fuck you, old man,” Elgava hissed.

San chuckled and gathered up his meager belongings. As a group they had lost two pistols and two crossbows. San didn’t know if it was during the fight or during the second monster attack. They were also limited on crossbow bolts and gunpowder, although San carried a large amount of pistol shot.

They spent a few moments loading the pistols and then trudged up the debris mound to reach the lower branches and roots hanging down.

“Up you go, foreigner,” Elgava said. “You’re probably the heaviest, and if it holds, we all can go.”

“Shouldn’t the lightest go first?” San asked. “Carry up some rope and secure a path for us to all follow?”

“That’s madness,” Elgava said. “We don’t have any rope anyway.”

San nodded at that. He had some bits of paracord left, but they were all shorter than a couple of feet. He wished he had thought about bringing some cordage with him, for moments like this.

Shaking his head and sighing, San approached the wall of roots and grabbed a hold of them. They were wet and a few already snapped as he put weight on it. He looked up at the tree that was dangling precariously over the edge. More trees had fallen around the central one, locking it in place, but San wasn’t confident about its stability.

“I’m not good at climbing,” San said.

“The only thing you’re good at is trying to get yourself killed,” Elgava said. “No wait, you’re shit at that too!”

Sighing once more, San crouched down and then thrusted upward with his legs. He got a few feet off the ground, the realization of how much physical power he possessed shocked him. He didn’t think on it too much as he grabbed a thick root and held onto it.

“See that’s why he goes first,” Elgava said.

San grunted and grabbed a second root, performing a maneuver he hadn’t been able to do in years. He pulled himself up by the strength of his arms, throwing his arm over another root and then gaining purchase to pull himself up further. Bit by bit, he pulled and struggled, until he reached the crown of roots that blocked the way to the trunk of the tree.

The roots were thick and sturdy and San could get firm footing underneath him. He reached for his sword and pulled it free, his left arm wrapped around a thick root. The sword chopped easily into the roots, carving a rough hole into the root crown to push himself onto the tree trunk.

Elgava was cheering from below. “Now, make us a path, foreigner.”

San sat there for a moment, breathing heavily. He looked over the root crown and saw he was at least fifteen feet from the debris pile. That put him nearly thirty feet up in the air. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but the vast darkness fo the cavern filled him with a bit of vertigo.

He stood up slowly, feeling the tree shift with his weight on it. He looked back over toward the others, waved, and then used his sword to chop away branches that were in his path. It was hard and dirty work, the pine needles and sap covered his sword and made it difficult to cut at times. He had to stop repeatedly to clean his blade and then continue on again.

Bostarion appeared by his side, nearly spooking him off the tree. The old ranger only grinned and began pulling up thin branches and quickly braiding them into a rope to give the others something sturdier to hold onto.

San pushed forward, reaching the roof of the cavern and the stacks of fallen trees that seemed to be twined among each other. It was like a giant sized game of Pick up Sticks. San looked at the trees and worried about how precariously they were stacked. A wrong move could cause it all to tumble down.

He studied the trees for a moment and then pushed word, cutting more branches and making a way out of the piles of trees. There was a narrow opening and he barely managed to fit himself into it, his pack catching on some branches and his less than flexible armor not allowing him full articulation.

After much swearing and cursing, San pulled himself out of the darkness and into the sunlight. He breathed deeply, the stench of the cavern finally gone. He took another deep breath and pulled himself fully out of the cavern. He sat on a tree trunk and stared at the giant hole before him.

He would have enjoyed the moment longer, but the realization of where he was hit him like a hammer. San slowly got up, sheathing his sword. He reached over his shoulder and grabbed a hold of the torch they had made the night before. Everyone carried a crude torch, just in case they had to face another monster so soon.

San made his way across the trees wincing every time the trees shuddered and groaned under him. He felt as if a wrong step would send it all tumbling down upon his friends.

Soon the rest of the group began emerging. Following San’s path, they made it to the edge of the pit, with Bostarion being the last to exit the cavern.

“Well, now we just head home,” Elgava said, shivering slightly. Even with the battos now dead, the cavern had still retained some of its warmth. Now they stood on what appeared to be a large mound in a clearing created by falling trees. The cold winter wind blew and the bright blue sky was already being laced with thin clouds moving fast.

San dug in his pack and pulled out his compass. He faced a southernly direction and looked at his compass again.

“Guys,” he said. “Was that always there?”

To their south, beyond the gaping void of the pit, stood a massive stone fortress. The stone walls were crumbling and the gaping windows were black pits staring at them. It reminded San of the Mage Chief’s own keep, but this on was built on a far larger scale, dwarfing the village the Tribals called the Cursed City by sheer size.

“A Kingdom fortress,” the Mage said. He looked puzzled. “That is south, no? We moved north through the caves, that should not be there.”

“Yet it is,” Bostarion said.

“We would have seen a massive fortress on the horizon when we approached the batto entrance,” the Mage said. “We didn’t see anything of the like.”

San realized what the Mage was speaking of. He looked at the massive fortress, it sat nearly half a mile from their position, but as he thought back on their travels through the caves; they hadn’t traveled all that far perhaps, at most, two miles.

Maybe they had walked further east or west than they thought? San looked east, but the remaining towering trees blocked his view and to the west there loomed a massive hill of exposed rock and a thin wisp of trees crowning it.

“There was a stream right?” San said, remembering the frozen waterfall. “We just find that and follow it.”

“That is an evil place,” the Tribal stated. Pivane looked at everyone, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. “That is a place of horror. It is wise to avoid it.”

“I agree with Pivane,” San said. “Everyone knows not to go near old ruins while there are monsters about.”

“Aye,” Bostarion said.

“But it may hold ancient secrets,” the Mage said.

“You can die for those secrets on your own time,” Bostarion said, “and without me.” Bostarion looked at Pivane. “You, Tribal, we are returning to the Baronies. You either come with us or we can part ways now.”

The man looked down at his tattered clothing and rusty sword. “I will not last more than a day or two,” he said.

“Your choice,” Bostarion said.

The man hesitated. “I shall travel with you back to the Baronies,” he finally said. “If I can obtain a pass to return to the Tribelands.”

“We got White Tower’s Mage with us,” San said. “I’m sure he can write up something to see you safely from the Baronies.”

The Mage frowned but then nodded. “I can,” he said.

“We head south,” Bostarion said. “We skirt that fortress and we see what lays beyond it. We might have moved further west or east than we thought.”

“What kind of ranger are you?” the Mage demanded.

“I am a ranger of the Southern Forests,” Bostarion snapped. “This place, I have never been. We find out where we are and then we find this stream and we shall be back at the komai within a few days.”

“Days,” Elgava sighed. “With no food and little water. I will kill Ilagio twice.”

“He shall feel the Baron’s wrath,” the Mage said. “No commoner will harm him for he is Landed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Elgava muttered. “A woman can dream, can’t she?”

San checked the straps of his pack, balanced the load, and then followed the others as they marched across the ruined landscape and toward the fortress. That was the only clear path that San could see, the rest of the forest was jagged rocks and ruined earth that had occurred when the trees had fallen.

He kept an eye out for the tracks of the monster they had seen. Yet, as they travelled, San saw none. Surely a creature of its size would leave behind noticeable tracks? He had seen the monster and it had been struck by the catalyst rock, it was a corporeal being. Yet there were no tracks anywhere he could see.

Where the creature had gone, San didn’t know and hoped that it would stay forever gone. They didn’t have the weaponry or the manpower to kill it. Such a creature would need an army or more than five battered people to take it down.

The bright blue sky that had welcomed them from the darkness began to fade as they travelled. Clouds began to tear across the sky, growing thicker and darker as the day progressed. The wind began blowing from the west, stingingly cold as bits of snow was kicked up.

“We need to find shelter,” Bostarion said.

“We can keep going,” the Mage responded.

“You wanna die, lad?” the ranger asked. “That,” he pointed to the sky and clouds, “means there’s a big storm coming. We need to find shelter and hunker down until it passes.”

“I hope you’re not thinking about the fortress,” Elgava said.

“It’s an evil place,” Pivane said again.

“We have San’s fire,” Bostarion said, looking at San. “It kept that monster away last night, whatever ‘evil’ may lurk in that fortress, we will be protected from it.”

San only nodded. Although his luck with ruined fortresses could be considered either bad or very good. It was the Flesh Horror that had given him his first level and the Mage Chief that had given him the Fire in the Night Power that had kept them safe. It had also been a place of horror and horrendous smell.

“We go,” the Mage finally said.

Pivane moaned with fear and regret. He looked at the towering trees, hard rocky landscape, and finally followed them. He wouldn’t survive the storm in his condition and clothing.

They moved quickly, crossing the remaining distance to the walls of the fortress. San looked at them admiringly. They towered nearly thirty feet above them, thick slabs of stone that had once been covered in plaster or some kind of stucco. Now the stucco was falling off and revealed the impressively smooth mined stone beneath. He could see where each block fit together, perfectly chiseled so that there was barely a seam between two pieces.

The Cursed City, that had been the Mage Chief’s capitol, was a child’s attempt at making a fortress compared to the one he stood before. It loomed over him, a massive hulking construction of stone and wood. The Mage Chief’s town had only wooden palisades, this place had actual stone walls and was built by master stoneworkers and craftsmen. It cried out to him, a wordless announcement that it was a place of safety, of security, that it would keep all danger out.

“You gonna stare at them walls all day, foreigner?” Elgava shouted. San saw that the group had already left and were a hundred feet from him. He shook his head and quickly followed them.

They found the entrance to the fortress on the east facing walls. It was a massive door of wood and iron, the metal heavily rusted and the thick boards rotting and crumbling. The door towered twenty feet tall, but age and disrepair left a man sized gaping hole at its bottom.

Bostarion moved easily and quickly through the hole, telling them to wait until he returned. They stood there, weapon drawn and looking down an ancient road of stone and brick.

The road disappeared into the thick forests, vanishing only after a quarter of a mile. He took out his binoculars and saw that the road ended as thick trees and pushed through the stones of the road and thick roots had warped it until it was only scattered blocks. It seemed as if the forest itself was trying to erase the existence of the road.

“Looks clear,” Bostarion said as he returned.

The wind had decidedly gotten worst as they stood waiting for Bostarion. Loose snow was being whipped up in stinging particles and everyone, especially Pivane, wanted out of the cold.

Bostarion lead them pass the first massive gates, down what San assumed was a kill room as he noted holes in the ceiling, then pass a rusted out portcullis, and finally into the fortress.

What greeted them was a small village built along side an inner wall. San noted the collapsed thatch roofs and weather beaten single family huts that clung to the wall for support. Aged and broken debris littered the ground, the bleached bones of rodents, twisted bits of the wood, and what looked like centuries of bird shit on everything that could give them a ledge to stand on.

“Well, at least the wind isn’t strong in here,” Elgava said. She was hugging herself and looked miserable.

“Gather up what we can burn,” the Mage said. He too looked miserable as the temperature dropped and the skies got darker. “We need to find shelter quickly.”

San nodded and along with the others collected bits of wood and trash to burn. They followed Bostarion as he lead them through cracked and buckling streets. Age had not been kind to this place, for all the solidity of the walls of the fortress, everything else seemed to be crumbling.

Snow began pelting them as they moved through the village, the narrow streets funneling the biting wind through their armor and clothing underneath. Pivane was shivering violently as Bostarion found a still standing building.

The building was thick and squat, a large rectangle that didn’t seem to have any embellishments or decorations upon it. San realized the entire fortress and homes within it were all the similar. The Kingdom architecture seemed to be low squat buildings and sharp corners.

Bostarion led the way into the building, kicking aside the crumbling door and peering into the darkness. San handed him his headlamp and the ranger took it without question. It was one of the strange things both the world, that San’s technological equipment was taken without questions or concern since there appeared to be equally magical items that exists. The others figured that San’s flashlight and headlamp were just magic items and they were used to such things.

The building was empty, but it provided enough protection against the now howling wind and sleeting snow. San pulled off his pack and dug through it, offering Pivane a towel to wipe away the melting snow and one of the emergency blankets he still had left. The thin foil like blanket wrapped around him as he huddled in a corner, letting out gasps of cold.

The Mage and Elgava got to building a fire, while Bostarion scouted the building. He returned with more broken firewood and added it to the pile they had managed to collect.

“Gonna be cold,” the man said. San only nodded and helped the others start the fire. It was upon the bare stone of the building’s floor. There didn’t seem to be a chimney or smoke hole so San figured it was a race against freezing to death or dying of smoke inhalation.

They huddled down around the fire, San exited the building and scooped up some freshly fallen snow. He began boiling the water as the others watched. In a few minutes he offered Pivane, who was still shaking with cold, a hot cup of tea.

“Wanderer’s Tea?” the man asked, sighing at the taste.

“I got it from Forest River,” San said.

“I have been there, my uncle was sick for so long. The healer made him better,” the man replied, a small smile on his face.

“I hear that Tribal witch can heal anything,” Elgava said. “Even the Baron went to see her once, when his wife was ill. She was healed, but a year later she threw herself off of the White Tower after she lost one of her children.”

“She is not a witch,” Pivane said, anger in his voice.

“She is what I say she is,” Elgava said “Or do you want to argue the point?”

“There is no need for arguments,” San said. “Let us enjoy the fire and be thankful we’re not stuck in the snowstorm.”

Elgava grunted and glared at Pivane.

“Do you know this place?” Bostarion asked the Tribal. “How to get back to the Baronies?”

“No. I was captured far to the west of here. My cousin and I were hunting the rippers we heard were coming south. We were ambushed by the battos, tied up and drugged. I don’t know for how long or how far we were taken.”

Bostarion scratched his face, his expression perturbed.

“We’re far from where we entered the caves,” he said.

“How far?” the Mage asked.

“I got a good look at some of the peaks and mountains as we came to the batto caverns. Normally I could use them as landmarks, but from what I’ve seen outside, there’s nothing that matches what I saw.”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t know what it means,” the ranger said, frustration on his face. “I think we’re lost and I think somehow we’ve traveled a lot longer than we should have.”

“How is that possible?” Elgava demanded.

Bostarion shrugged. “These are Kingdom ruins, they might have magicked those caves.”

“Magicked caves, battos, invisible monsters, and now old Kingdom ruins.” Elgava shivered and not from the cold.

“We just have to travel south, don’t we?” San asked.

“Aye, but the land south of here is rocky as all hell,” the ranger said. “We might have to detour east or west to find a less rocky road.”

“And we’re out of food and have little water,” the Mage added.

“How could it get any wor-“ Elgava began.

A distant noise filled the air. A rising and falling screech that pierced the howling wind. It reminded San of the emergency warning sirens, only higher pitched and more focused.

“What the hell?” Elgava muttered.

San and Bostarion moved toward the entrance of the building, they had broken furniture and other items that blocked most of the wind, but the door was a lost cause. They crouched by the open door, watching as the snow turned the world into a sheet of white. The wind died down for a moment and that’s when they felt it, a distant thump.

For a moment, they saw a massive figure thumping along the stone walls of the distant fortress. It tilted back its head and let out a long wail. San used his binoculars on the creature and saw that it wore clothing like a person and its body was covered in white fur.