CLEO – Gravelands, village of Mossfell

  They heard the harsh cries of ravens and crows before they saw the dead of Mossfell.

  As they drew closer to the village, the discordant sound rose to a high-pitched reverberation that irritated Cleo’s hearing and unsettled her mind. She knew, as did the others in the wagon train, that they were approaching something dreadful.

  Ignoring the guards at the front of the caravan, Rivett hurried ahead and stopped dead as the road turned a corner around a rocky outcrop. The wagons followed. Cries of distress came from those in front, and Cleo heard more than one guard and teamster lose their breakfast. They came to the bend in the road and she looked down at Mossfell. The road dipped for perhaps fifty yards, climbing slightly at the end to the village.

  Hundreds of ravens and crows covered the roofs, spilling over into the streets and open areas, and even into the rough grasses and gorse at the outskirts. The bright sun shone on their coal-black feathers, and beneath the multitude of cawing birds the ground was painted as crimson as their beaks. Here and there lay the remains of blood splattered plains-elk, and smaller cloth covered lumps with twisted limbs and staring eyes.

  One guard hurried back from the village, and both Cleo and Kobie alighted and rushed to hear his report to Rivett. Luckily, they missed nothing as the guard rinsed his face with water and spat multiple times as if to wash the taste of death from his mouth. The cuffs of his trousers were streaked with blood, his hands red and skin scrapped, and flies buzzed around him.

  Cleo surreptitiously held her nose at the corpse-stench wafting from the guard, and averted her gaze from the slaughtered village. She’d seen death in the Blighted Lands, undead and viscera, horrors she’d never imagined a short time ago, but somehow this was far worse. The undead had died long before Cleo had seen them, while these were… fresh corpses… she swallowed bile that rose to her throat, and breathed through her mouth.

  “Well, man?” Rivett said, his face pale and sweaty. “Is it as bad… as bad as it looks?”

  “Dead,” the guard said. “They’re all dead.”

  Near them, the plains-elk shied and their nostrils flared, their muscles trembling as if they could smell the blood and death close by. The pack-goats bleated in their coarse, throaty growl, and jittered around on their leads as the whites of their eyes showed in fear.

  “There was a squad of the 13th Legion as well,” continued the guard. “As far as I could tell from the remains since their uniforms were cut up and covered in… the legionnaires had their weapons bared, but it was no use. All of them are dead, and there’s no bodies of what they fought. Nothing. Could be ghosts or wraiths or—”

  “Enough of that!” Rivett snapped. “It could be wolves. There’s wolves in the forest. And the deep-wolves further in, they’re huge beasts.”

  “Wolves don’t leave wounds as clean as these,” said the blood-spattered guard. “Fangs and claws don’t leave razor sharp cuts.”

  “Did you check inside the dwellings? Maybe the mayor’s house? Survivors could be holed up in there?”

  “There’s no one alive. I checked a few buildings, but… ” The guard stopped abruptly and wiped his eyes, and then frowned as if seeing his bloody hands for the first time. “I called out and no one answered. All the villagers, travelers, the Legion squad… They’ve been carved apart, arms and legs scattered and worse—the children, the elks, even the dogs and livestock… dead.”

  “There’s no one left alive? Are you sure? Anyone to question about what happened?”

  “None that I could see. Maybe holed up in a cellar… but I doubt it.”

  “I ain’t looking,” exclaimed another guard, and discontented murmurs rose from the rest of the caravan.

  “I didn’t ask you to!” Rivett said as he shakily paced back and forth, glancing at the village. As he did, the muttering grew louder as conversations became heated. Some wanted to turn back to Ankratur, while others thought Ashenshore was a better choice, as that was where the 13th Imperial Legion was stationed.

  Not a single person wanted to investigate Mossfell in case there was someone left alive. Cleo thought that was callous, but then again most of the people in the caravan weren’t carded and probably didn’t have much experience with slaughter of this magnitude. Neither did she, but…

  “I’ll go and check for survivors,” Cleo said before she could stop herself. Hopefully others would volunteer.

  “No you fraking won’t,” Kobie said from beside her. “That’s the guards job.”

  “It ain’t our job!” shouted one of the guardswomen. “Protect the caravan is what we’re contracted for, nothing else. Nothing like this!” She waved a hand in the general direction of Mossfell.

  “I’m not going neither!” Mikkel the guard said. “I ain’t paid enough for—”

  “Of course you won’t do it, Blister!”

  “Stop calling me that!” Mikkel shouted. “Or I swear I’ll… I’ll… ”

  “You’ll what? I dare you to—”

  “Everyone shut up!” screamed Rivett. “I’m trying to think!”

  Next to Cleo, Kobie tapped her shoulder and gestured for her to return to their wagon. “Nothing to be gained here, girlie. Let them argue, and then we’ll head to Ashenshore since it’s the only thing that makes sense. Better to be where the Imperial Legion is than on our own on the road back.”

  Cleo followed in Kobie’s footsteps. “But the survivors?”

  “Rivett won’t force the guard to look. And you’re not going in alone. Use your common sense. It’s above our pay grade. When we get to Ashenshore we’ll inform the Legion, if they don’t know already, which I doubt. They’ll deal with it.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Let’s move out!” Rivett shouted. “Everyone, quickly now! It’s our duty to inform the Legion.”

  “See?” Kobie said. “Everyone’s scared shitless. And they should be. This is bad business. No scavs did this. It was magic. Carded, or the Scourge, or something else.” The teamster drew in a long breath, and then let it out in a slow sigh. “Stay out of this if you can, girlie.”

  Cleo nodded. Those poor villagers. And the soldiers. Was this an incursion by the Scourge? Or did something escape from the dungeon or the ancient prisons? What she did know was that as an F minus tier Aura Mage she wasn’t going to be given many answers, and she wasn’t sure she wanted them anyway. Staying out of it sounded like a good idea. Kobie had his head screwed on straight. But what was the point of being a legend if you didn’t act? Her problem was, she hadn’t been on this world for long, and she was weak.

  Mau’s words echoed in her mind, “get stronger.”

  “Carded up the front, Rivett wants you.”

  Cleo looked down at Mikkel who tried to grin at her, as if he was amused at the thought that she was being thrown to the lions, but the slaughtered villagers had obviously left the young guard shaken. His grin came out crooked, and with his pale face and darting eyes he looked like he was going to be sick.

  “Shit,” Kobie said, as Mikkel stumbled off to the last wagon.

  Shit, indeed, thought Cleo. “Why do they call him Blister?”

  Kobie chuckled. “Because he only shows up when the work’s finished.”

  Cleo snorted in amusement. “It’s half a day to Ashenshore, right?”

  The teamster nodded.

  “Good,” continued Cleo. “That’s fine. I can handle half a day of backing up the guards. We’ll be skirting Mossfell and pushing the elks hard, won’t we Kobie?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Less than half a day, then.” Cleo grabbed her pack and hopped down from the wagon.

  “Keep a sharp eye out,” Kobie said.

  “I will.”

  “And be careful!”

  “I will!”

  “Don’t let them shove you into danger just because you’re carded. The guards are getting paid, you’re not.”

  Cleo smiled and nodded to Kobie, and then hurried to the front of the caravan.

  Rivett had gathered with five of the more experienced guards, the strange and overly inquisitive Zane, along with Neridur the Witch Healer, and Aldrikur the Dark-iron Duelist. She’d seldom seen the witch and duelist around the campfires at night, or the caravan during the day, but enough times to recognize them. Both were middle aged and wore Adventurers’ Guild badges, Neridur had long blonde hair and two wands secured to her wide belt with leather loops, while Aldrikur wore soft leather breeches and vest, and carried a sheathed sword that looked longer than usual to Cleo. He also always wore a thick leather glove on his left hand.

  To Cleo’s surprise, Rivett seemed to have calmed down, and had an air of self-assurance that was missing earlier. Perhaps he was the type to not take surprises well—like her father—and gain confidence when they’ve had time to digest new information and come up with a plan. Then again, Cleo thought as she saw Rivett’s jaw working as he chewed on something, maybe it’s the kakino leaves…

  “Right,” Rivett began. “Neridur and Aldrikur, I assume you siblings will want to stay together?”

  So, they were brother and sister. Cleo surreptitiously examined the two, only now realizing their hair was the same color, and both had the same slender eyebrows and high cheekbones.

  “We’re a team. We work well together,” Neridur said. Her voice was soft and engaging, but still carried well.

  “Then Zane, you’re with me here up front. Cleo, you’re not much use but you can go with Aldrikur and his sister and be rearguard.”

  She expected Zane to object and want to team up with her, and was surprised when the man kept quiet, only nodding his agreement to Rivett. At least she wouldn’t have to put up with his incessant questions.

  Great, more dust at the back. Better a little dust than what happened to the villagers, I guess.

  “What else can you do?” said a man from beside her.

  Cleo almost jumped out of her skin, and turned to find Aldrikur the Dark-iron Duelist standing next to her. She hadn’t even seen him approach. Awesome keeping an eye out, Cleo, she chastised herself.

  “I’m an Aura-Mage,” she said.

  “We know that, on account of benefiting from your auras already. I asked what else you can do.”

  Rude. In her peripheral vision, Cleo spotted Neridur heading their way. “You first.”

  “What?”

  “What can you do?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “Yes, but you were rude. So, what does a Dark-iron Duelist do?”

  “He sticks sharp bits of metal into things,” Neridur said as she stood by Aldrikur’s side. “And I heal him when he messes up. If you two get off on the wrong foot I’m going to be very annoyed. This isn’t the time to be dick measuring.” She eyed Cleo. “Though I think you’ll come up short.”

  I hope that wasn’t a joke about my height. But making a joke about your brother’s dick? Eww… “I can also stick sharp curses into things.”

  Neridur raised her eyebrows, nodding slowly. “Can you now? That’s not a usual Aura Mage skill.”

  “I’m not your usual Aura Mage.” Damn it, Cleo! You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. Everyone underestimating her was wearing thin, but it was good cover, and she shouldn’t keep getting annoyed. And if she was honest with herself, she was comparatively weak compared to every other carded person she’d met.

  Aldrikur snorted in disbelief. “Mana-shield and a regeneration aura. Any others?”

  “Energy shield,” corrected Cleo. “And my regeneration aura regens both life and mana.”

  “Life?” Neridur said. “You mean health.”

  “Yes.” She’d made the same mistake with Kalaka and Rosalia. “Health and mana.”

  “Does the regeneration depend on an individual’s health and mana, or yours?”

  Cleo frowned. She hadn’t the time yet to do any testing, but this felt like something she should know. Or that anyone carded and properly trained would already know. She decided to be coy. “What do you think?”

  “I think if every time I ask a question you answer with one of your own, it’s going to get annoying real quick. But to answer your question, because I’m nice like that, I think it’s a flat amount that increases with tier. Do you have anything that makes your auras more effective?”

  “No.” Hadn’t Rosalia mentioned something similar? In Cleo’s rush to leave Ankratur, Rosalia hadn’t been able to inform her on the things she’d promised to, like wands and cards and so many other subjects that Cleo was woefully ignorant of.

  “I didn’t think so. And even if you did you’d want to keep quiet about it.”

  “Well?” Aldrikur said to his sister.

  Nerdiur half-shrugged. “Every little bit helps.”

  Aldrikur only grunted in response, and then turned to Cleo. “If anything approaches us, I’ll deal with it. You stay back with Neridur and support me.”

  “Got it,” Cleo said. “What does a Witch Healer do?”

  “She heals,” Neridur said, “among other things. Now, you said you have a curse? Or is it more than one?”

  “One,” replied Cleo. “It does a little bit of damage, and also slows.”

  “Good. That’s very good.… Use it when you can. Aldrik, any danger close by?”

  The Dark-iron Duelist shook his head. “Nothing I can sense.”

  Oh… he has some sort of danger sensing skill? Nice! I wonder if it’s class related or a skill card?

  “Do you think whatever killed the villagers is still around?” Cleo asked.

  Aldrikur shook his head. “I don’t think so, but best to be careful. And it wasn’t just one creature. There were pockets of dead, where different groups made their last stands. That’s unlikely if there was only one of them. Plus, they’re all still in the village.”

  Huh… that was a detail she hadn’t noticed. “What does that mean?”

  “It means no one was able to flee.”

  The wagons started moving, and Aldrikur motioned for them to move to the side and wait for the end wagon to pass. Cleo gave Kobie a wave as their wagon passed them, and they then waited until there was a sizeable gap between the three of them and the caravan, before they followed behind. Due to how far back they were, the dust tended to blow away before it got to them, and Cleo sighed in relief.

  When they made it to Ashenshore, she was looking forward to a long bath or shower, a good meal, and an even better sleep. But in the meantime, there was a lot she could learn from these two adventurers.

  “So, Neridur,” Cleo said. “What do your wands do, and how do you charge them?”