Brewer King 31 (Patreon)

San awoke to the chill of the morning light. He stared at the stone ceiling above him, it was painted with scenes of men battling ebony and crimson monstrosities. Soldiers wearing armor and mages lit up in green light casting spells. He hadn’t noticed them the night before, all his focus had been on the dead, the blood, and the creature…

Pain stabbed his head as he tried to finish the thought. It was like a recently removed tooth, a pain that throbbed and ached, and a sense that something had been there before. San shook his head and sat up, shivering as a cold breeze moved its way into the chamber he lay in.

The great fire was nearly burned out, the thick logs and timbers that had burned the night before were smoldering piles of red embers. Looking at the fire, San couldn’t stop himself on thinking about the back on the sunlight fire. It had burned him, seared his skin, and it had been so beautiful.

The Cleansing Flame.

He looked at his hands. They were covered in his tattered camp gloves, a month of hard work and battles had made holes within the leather. His coat given to him by the Forest River tribe was shredded and torn, the t-shirts beneath it also ripped. He had given away his rain jacket to Endaha, so that she could keep the baby warm and dry. He touched his face, feeling bare cheeks that he hadn’t had since he first arrived into the world.

As he stood up, San realized the stone floors he and the others had been lying upon were no longer covered in blood. His own clothing that had been soaked in his blood was clean, if shredded. San looked to his companions, still slumbering and saw that they too were free of the grime and blood that had been their lives for days now.

His eyes moved around the great chamber, resting on the spot where the dead had been piled like wood. The numerous corpses that had been living people who had been sacrificed to the…

Pain stabbed his brain again and San shook his head. He had seen something the night before, something that had been truly horrifying. His mind, he realized, did not want him to remember it. Maybe it wasn’t his mind, perhaps it was the pale woman, Winter’s Lament. San looked around the chamber, but there were no signs of the pale woman.

He walked across the quiet chamber, his boots echoing in the space. He saw clothing, tools, weapons, and other discarded items lying against the walls of the circular room. There was no signs of bodies though. It looked as if they had just vanished, or had been… cleansed away.

Was this the same place? San wondered. He turned back to his companions and checked each of them. They were breathing and sleeping, their chests rising and eyes twitching beneath eyelids. He moved toward the door, which was now closed.

It creaked as he opened it. The cold morning air stung him, but as he exited he saw that it was a clear and bright day. The sun was rising in the east and the world was alight with the glow of the rising sun. He shivered but continued onward. His boots crunched in the snow and he made it to the gates where they had battled the scaled monster and the white furred creatures.

The bodies were still there, the road up to the gates still covered in the now frozen black blood of the monster and the blood of the white furred creatures. This battle had happened and the things they had seen the night before were real. San shivered and turned back to the fortress.

He heard birds singing in the air. It was the first time he had heard birds in days. San stopped and looked out upon the ancient fortress. It wasn’t an evil place anymore, it was just stone and walls.

***

By the dying fire San found a black gem. He stared at it and it felt wrong in his vision, as if it were twisting or changing before his sight. The gem was a perfect sphere the size of his fingernail. Almost like a pearl.

Light twisted around the gem, almost as if it didn’t want to touch it. San wanted to leave it and forget about it, but his hands were moving before he knew it. He picked up the gem and stared at it. It gleamed at him, the light twisting, and shapes seemingly moving within it. He wanted to consume it.

He placed the black gem into his plastic bag of yellow gems. His head was aching from staring at the thing.

Elgava groaned as she sat up. She looked at San and weariness aged her by a decade.

“Are you okay?” San asked, moving toward the woman. He offered her a cup of tea, the only food they had left. While they slept San had retrieved their packs and the armor he had left behind.

“I feel horrible,” the woman said. She gratefully accepted the cup and drank it. “Its like I didn’t even sleep. I had such terrible nightmares.”

That surprised San. They hadn’t seemed to be in any kind of distress. The words of Winter’s Lament echoed in his mind. They would have to face what they had seen on their own. He could still feel the hole in his memories that the… San winced.

“Drink up and take it easy,” San said. “There’s no rush.”

“The whiter furred monsters?” she asked.

“All dead. This place is safe from them now,” San said.

“How?” Elgava asked, but then shook her head. “Yeah, I think I can feel that. It doesn’t feel wrong to be here anymore.”

“It has been cleansed,” the Mage said. He looked up at them from where he lay. His eyes blinking rapidly. “It is a Power that the cultists have, to cleanse a place of the evil that has taken it over.” His eyes fell upon San. “Your doing?”

“I think so.”

The Mage only nodded and closed his eyes. “I cannot remember anything after entering this room. All I can recall is pain and a hole where those memories should be,” he said. “I also suffered terrible nightmares.”

“I can’t remember much either,” San said. “There was something… something evil.”

“Aye,” Bostarion responded sitting up. The old man looked older, his steel colored hair seemingly now completely white. He looked down at his hands and clenched them. “I remember blood and dead people. I remember some-“ the ranger winced and clutched his head. “Shit. That hurts.”

“We can’t remember it,” the Mage said. “Senta’s blessing, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Bostarion said, rubbing his temples.

“We must leave this place,” Pivane said. He had sat up and pushed himself against the wall. His eyes looked haunted and were still bloodshot. “Evil has set its sight upon us all. It has seen into our souls and seeks our death.”

“Aye,” Elgava remarked. She extended a hand and San helped her to her feet. She gave San back the empty cup, which he refilled from the small pot they had carried. The Mage accepted the offered tea.

“There are some clothing and tools against the walls,” San said. “All seemingly clean.”

“We’ll need some better clothing if we’ve got far to trek,” Bostarion said, rising to his feet. He helped Pivane up, the man still looking spooked. “I don’t know where we are and when there’s magic involved, we could be half way across the world for all we know.”

“Be a shame,” Elgava said. “I’m still owed some money back in White Tower.”

“You have your share of the gold,” the ranger remarked.

“Still. Sars are sars,” she answered.

San felt a grin tugging at his face.

“You look damn weird without the beard,” Elgava said, peering at him. “Almost like a child. A damn big child, but a child.”

San self-consciously rubbed his hairless face. He had checked his arms and skin, they were also hairless. The places where he had felt the fire burn him, the hair had been singed away. It wasn’t a dream or nightmare. It had been reality.

Elgava busied herself with making more tea as the others dug through the pile of clothing that was all that remained of the victims. San didn’t feel anything untoward about the clothing, it wasn’t as if those that wore it were still around and they were also clean. A side effect of the cleansing fire, perhaps. Unless Winter’s Lament had cleaned the cloth, as well as removed the bodies and blood within the chamber.

It was magic and San knew not to question it too much. Magic did not conform to the rules he had grown up with.

A couple of wool tunics and a scarf went on under his tattered coat, there wasn’t any real winter gear, but there was enough cloth to pad out their clothing. Pivane looked somewhat pleased with the extra clothes, even as he muttered about Imperial cloth.

San gave the Mage a sack of yellow gems and several red gems. He had harvested the bodies of the creatures killed. The scaled monster had four red gems in its head and each of the smaller white furred monsters carried six yellow gems, with the bigger one carrying a red gem and five green gems. San wondered if the ‘level’ of the monster determined the gem color that was in their heads.

Did the yellow gems of the white furred creatures mean they were low leveled? The batto drones and queens gave out greens and reds, but they were fairly weak compared to the white furred creatures. San would have to ask someone more knowledgeable about the world sooner or later.

The Mage looked at the gems and then at San. He only nodded and tucked them away. San figured he didn’t have to tell the Mage he had taken a quarter of the yellows and enough of the other gems to increase a level. The level increase healing was just too important to not have on hand.

Elgava grinned at him as San handed her more of the golden bracelets. She hefted the thick gold links and grunted as she threw them into her pack.

“I’m gonna retire and drink my days away,” she said as she put on her pack. “You can join me, San.”

“Thanks,” San smiled at her.

“We split it,” Bostarion said from across the room.

Elgava scowled at the ranger but nodded.

Everyone had more tea as it was their only food and they set out of the fortress. San looked back at the towering walls and thick stone. It was a well made structure he saw, good enough to hold thousands and keep them safe.

“We should burn it down,” San said.

“You gather up the wood then,” Bostarion said. “It may not be cursed or evil anymore, but it is not easy to destroy such a place.”

San continued looking at the fortress. He stared at the tall towers and spires, the dark gaping windows, and saw smoke rising from one of those towers. He watched as a face peered down at him from high above, it was a human figure but it wore a golden mask and had long white hair framing its face. Even from the distance San was, he could see the eyes glowing a pale blue in the darkness of the window.

“Bostarion,” San said.

“We see it,” the Mage said. “Ignore it.”

“What?

“Leave it be, lad. Just be glad we can walk away from here. We don’t need to be disturbing anything else. I for one want to return to my cabin and maybe drink more of the liquid you brew.”

“Aye,” Elgava said. “We’ve done enough, just leave it be.”

“There is no gain from dealing with spirits,” Pivane said.

San was about to object at their words, but stopped himself. He looked back toward the tower and saw nothing up there, although smoke was still rising from the tower. He shook his head, adjusted his pack and followed the others as they made their way through the abandoned fortress.

“There could have been more treasure,” San said. A prickling feeling itched between his shoulder blades, as if something were watching him. He wanted to look back toward the tower, but stopped himself.

“I want to live to spend this gold,” Elgava snapped.

***

“I love you, Bostarion,” Elgava said.

The ranger entered the camp carrying a large furred animal. San peered at it and saw that it was the same large rabbit that Azios had taken from the farmhouse all those weeks ago. Snow rabbit? Snow hare.

“I killed it, you cook it,” Bostarion said.

“I take it back, Bostarion. You are a cruel and heartless man.”

“Aye,” the ranger said. “Say that when your belly is full and warm.”

Elgava and Pivane made quick work of the hare, spitting the meat and soon their camp was filled with the smell of cooking meat. San felt his stomach rumbling with the thought of food. It had been two days since they left the fortress and the forests around it seemed to be bare of any kind of large game.

It might have been the battos, the white furred creatures, or even the scaled monsters, or all three combined. With the exception of Pivane, everyone was uncomfortable but they weren’t on the verge of starving. Pivane had spent several days in the batto dungeon and all his excess fat had been depleted.

The Tribal was gaunt and pale. He had been getting paler and skinnier as the days went by. He still kept up pace with them, but every day he looked to be on the verge of just falling apart. Perhaps with some food in his belly he would feel better.

While they prepared the hare, San took a pot and collected more fresh snow. They had been traveling south and west, the fortress had sat upon a high cliff overlooking a valley that no one recognized. It wasn’t the one that had brought them to the batto cavern, instead it was a craggy place of wind shaped rocks and skeletal trees.

Everyone felt that it was a bad place to enter and they had skirted the valley. Although San had a compass and Bostarion could navigate by the stars and sun, they were completely lost.

San stood at the rocky edge of the ridge they were crossing. To the south was the dead valley, the distant rocks and trees were hard to make out in the dimming light, but the feeling of wrongness wafted from the valley like a foul stench.

Blame lay solely upon magic, as far as San understood it. The batto caverns had somehow moved them further than they would have gone otherwise. The valleys and mountains and peaks were all different and according to Bostarion they were a lot further north than they should have been.

With all the things that had occurred in the last few days, San felt that the magical traveling was on the bottom of the worries he was facing. Until they came across a familiar landmark, they were walking blind. Until they figured where they were, they didn’t know how far away White Tower or the Exonaris Komai were.

Being lost in a relatively unexplored and unknown area wasn’t the best situation to be in. With the monstrosities that prowled the world, San figured they weren’t too far from encountering another one. He stared out into the darkening valley below and wondered how Pavano and the others were doing. They should be in White Tower by now, hopefully the old man had found a place to lodge them for the winter.

“It is all nothing but darkness,” Pivane said, appearing by San’s side.

San glanced at the gaunt man. His skin looked pulled tighter against his skull, his once thick hair was thinned and patchy. It wasn’t just a lack of food and the cold that was effecting the man. San’s thoughts went back to the what Winter’s Lament had said. It was up to each of them to face the horror they had seen that night.

What that horror was, San didn’t know. Every time he nudged the thought, there was only blackness and pain in his head. He had gotten the message and didn’t prod those memories anymore.

Perhaps it was the sight of that… thing, that had caused the last few days to be one of the quietest that San had experienced. The Mage and Bostarion weren’t much in the way of talkers, but Elgava could talk the dead into annoyance and Bostarion was always good for a harsh quip or barb. But the group interactions were listless and more rote than anything. Like everyone was going through the motions to pretend they were all doing well.

“There’s always light,” San said.

“No. There is nothing, just darkness and pain,” the man said. His eyes were unfocused and he stared at the distant valley. His breathing was shallow and labored as if he were sick, his taunt skin was slick with sweat even though he shivered from the cold. “It is all darkness and pain.”

“I think we should head back to the camp,” San said. He set his hand on the man’s shoulder and Pivane snapped his head so fast that San heard his neck crack.

“Darkness and pain. She calls out to be freed. Death upon the world and blood to feed the masses.”

“I think-“ Pivane slapped away San’s hand. San jerked it back, the sting of the strike numbing his limb. Pivane stared at him and his nose began leaking blood.

“She is coming,” he said and ran forward.

“Stop!” San cried, dropping his pot and trying to grab for the man. He was too slow and Pivane threw himself off the cliff and into the darkness. He didn’t cry out, he didn’t say anything as he vanished. San stared down into the dark valley and he never heard him hit the ground.

It was as if he had just vanished.

***

“There,” Bostarion said, his redden eyes blinking in the mid-day light. He gave a ragged cough and wiped his forehead, which was slick with sweat turning to ice on his skin. “That’s the valley.”

“Are you sure?” San asked.

“Aye, I’m a fucking ranger, lad,” he snapped and then coughed raggedly. He wiped at his red raw nose and spat into the snow. San saw the snow speckled with red.

“We keep going then,” Elgava rasped. She had shed her brigandine the day before and now leaned heavily upon a walking stick, her eyes red and her skin taunt against her skin. “We keep moving. Don’t stop. Never stop.”

“Its following us,” the Mage said. He like the other two was also red eyed and coughing raggedly. He had been a thin man, but now he was almost as gaunt as Pivane had been. He looked at San with eyes that didn’t focus and wouldn’t stay still. They moved, looking at everything, never stopping, always moving.

Two days had passed since Pivane killed himself. The body had never been found. It just vanished. There had been no signs that something had dragged it away or that he had even struck the base of the cliff. He had jumped off the cliff and vanished.

Two days since Pivane died and San saw the same affliction infecting his friends. They appeared sick, but they weren’t, it was as if something were consuming them from within. No matter how much they ate, no matter how much they rested, their eyes continued to redden and their breathing became labored.

It had to do something with the thing they had seen. That… monster that was before the- San winced in pain at the thought. Through the last few days the three had begun muttering in their sleep, speaking the same words that Pivane had said before he vanished.

She seeks to be freed. Darkness and pain. Blood to feed the masses.

San didn’t know what the words related to. Was it some kind of monster, perhaps like a batto queen? With the strange magic and creatures that filled the world, it might have been Winter’s Lament that they were talking about. San didn’t know anything about the pale woman, what she represented, what she wanted. But she had been there that night.

Was she evil? Was she a monster? Was she a god? San didn’t know. She had done something for him. She had erased the memory of the monster from his mind, preventing him from suffering as his friends were.

What could he do to help them? San didn’t know. But he looked at the trio and bore witness to their descent and mental deterioration. They weren’t well and San could do nothing. The only hope lay in getting to the komai and… doing something.

“We go,” Bostarion said and staggered forward. The snow kicked up around his snaked leggings, but he ignored it. He kept moving forward and the others followed in his wake.

“The darkness is spreading,” the Mage coughed and passed San. “She will be freed.”

San kept himself from shivering and followed them. If they got back to the komai, he could do something for them. If they got back to civilization, he could find them help.

He would not let them follow Pivane. He would do something to save them. What he would do, San didn’t know.

***

Fire like sunlight burned a great forest. San leaned heavily against a broken spear as he gazed at the fire. Thick billows of smoke raised into the air and a hot breeze was blowing as the fire sucked in air. He could feel the heat, but he could also feel the Power within it.

His skin crackled and burned, fine black flakes rising off of it. It hurt so badly, but he knew it was what was needed. He stared at the flame and felt it cleanse him of everything.

San jerked awake, staring at the sharp stars in the sky. The small campfire burning beside him cracked and sizzled as fine powdered snow drifted on a breeze. He blinked his eyes and shivered as the cold struck him.

“Darkness and pain,” Bostarion’s voice was whispering. It sounded dry and cracked, as if the very effort to draw in breath was too difficult.

Elgava whimpered in her sleep, shifting and muttering barely audible words. The Mage was sobbing, curled into a fetal position and hugging himself.

The three lay beside one another, practically lying on top of one another. They had made it to the camp outside of the batto’s nest. Half a day travel from the now closed cavern and battle site.

The old barricades that had been erected were falling apart, some of the wood having been salvaged as Ilagio and the survivors passed on their way back. There was enough to last them the night and then some. San peered at the fire, it had a faint blue cast to it. Fire in the Night.

What was his dream about? He wondered. A great fire burning the forest. The Cleansing Flame.

The memories were scattered and disjointed, but San remembered the burning. The fire like sunlight that had seared his flesh. It had burned him, the lack of hair on his exposed skin had been a sign of that. What had the fire done to him?

Winter’s Lament had claimed it pushed away the evil that had infected a place. The Cleansing Flame had turned the slaughter house of the fortress into one that was free of its curse. San had been burned by the fire and he hadn’t been effected as the others were.

Could a place be a person too?

San shook his head, trying not to dwell on the thought. But the thought would not go away. It pushed its way back into his forethoughts. A fire to cleanse. To remove evil. An infection that seemed to be afflicted his friends. Their nightmares, their increasingly insane ramblings, and the gauntness and sickness that was weakening them. Pivane had already been weakened, from his days of being a captive by the battos. His resistances were lowered and he had gotten ‘sick’ faster.

He needed to do something. They would not make it to the komai, not in their condition. San looked at the flames.

“The Cleansing Flame,” he said.

The fire roared, higher and brighter than before. He could feel the heat off of it, but it was more than that. It felt as if the warmth passed through his skin, it moved along his muscles and pumped along his veins. It was glorious, but it was also painful.

San rose to his feet. The logs and branches crackled and popped from the fire. San took a breath. His friends, for they were all his friends now, huddled together. Thier mutterings intertwined and melded, causing San’s skin to prickle as he heard what they said.

“Her eyes pierce the veil. You cannot hide. She sees you, Sanjay,” the three said.

He made his decision there. The words echoed in his head as he reached into the fire and pulled out a burning brand. The three let out a low moan as the sunlight fire approached them. They clung to one another, their eyes clenched shut.

San dropped the brand upon them. The old and tattered blankets they wrapped themselves in burst into flames as if they had been soaked in gasoline. San shielded his face as the fires lept up.

They screamed and wailed as the fire reached their flesh. Yet their eyes never opened.