Possessing the Grimstone

chapter 2


Pim stood in a circle with his friends. He dropped a spiny shell to the ground—the husk of a bristle back coon—and kicked it.

Ono dashed over and kicked it as it spun in mid-air. Arc leapt behind him and caught the shell, passing it back to Pim. It overshot him, but the young Wivering flew like the wind across the grass, and caught it before it hit the ground.

He rejoined his friends as they bounced the prickly shell from one to another.

“So, you’re feeling better?” Ono asked.

“Never better,” Pim said. “Thanks for the tree branch.”

“It was nothing. Better luck next time.”

“Oh, I’ll make it all the way next time. I was halfway there.”

“Yeah, okay,” Arc said.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not saying that, it’s just, well, the river bested you.”

“For now. I’ll prove it to both of you. Not only will I master the water, but I’ll leap over the trees.”

They both laughed.

“Pim, stick to kicking the bristle back shell. It can’t kill you when you fail.”

“I won’t fail. I’ll show you both.”

The shell flew right at his face, and Pim ducked. It flipped a few times, then hit the ground, skidding to a halt.

“You lose!” Arc called.

Pim waved him off and chased after the shell. Nearby, Jun of the warrior sect walked past the shell. Pim caught up to him, and stopped him as he scooped up the shell. “Hey, Jun, wait a moment.”

Jun was a few years older than Pim, but he had joined the sect at the age of eighteen, the same age Pim was about to reach.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if you could teach me to use a sword… to defend myself, and others.”

“Why? I’m on duty, checking the perimeter.”

“I know, I mean when you’re off duty. I was thinking of joining the warrior sect when I turn eighteen. It’s only a short time away, now.”

“I don’t know, Pim. I don’t think your parents would like it. They’d be angry with me for teaching you when you’re not ready, yet.”

“I am ready. They just don’t understand. They’re very old fashioned.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please, Jun, the sect needs all the members it can get. It’s still very small.”

“Alright. Meet me by the White Oak in two hours.”

“You’ve got it! Thank you.”

“Hey, Pim, c’mon! Are you playing, or what?” Ono yelled.

He patted Jun on the shoulder, then turned and kicked the shell in Ono’s direction.

###

As promised, Jun met Pim by the White Oak. The tree was on a hillside to the rear of the village, away from prying eyes.

Jun carried two swords; he threw one to Pim. “Okay, start by raising the sword, keeping it parallel with your body. Use it to keep your opponent at bay. Keep your eyes on them and try to anticipate their moves. Counter each strike as you look for an opening. When they make a mistake, take your opportunity.”

“What if they don’t make a mistake?”

Then you’re dead.”

“Okay.”

“That is what the parrying and blocking is for: you want to keep them off balance. But that’s a little aggressive for your first lesson. Start off by being defensive, so as I attack you, block everything you can. Don’t let me in.”

“Got it.”

“Ready?”

Pim nodded, and Jun came at him, slashing straight on. Pim managed to raise his blade and block it. He smiled, but Jun swung low in the other direction, and nearly slashed Pim’s leg open.

“You’re not paying attention,” Jun scolded. “They don’t just launch one attack in one direction. Look for their next swing; it could go upper body, lower body, head, leg, foot… you just don’t know.”

“Then how am I to block it if I don’t know?”

“Instinct. You’ll learn to read it on their faces.”

“Again.”

Jun rushed at him with an attack to his upper body. Pim blocked it, and then Jun switched to strike his mid-section, where Pim blocked him again. Just as he was gaining some confidence, Jun brought the blade straight up, clashing Pim’s sword to the ground, disarming him.

Jun caught the other sword in his free hand. “Now you’re dead. Never let your weapon leave your hand. Never lose your grip.”

“Or, if that happens, I can just do this.” Pim set his feet ablaze, and in a flash, ripped the sword from Jun’s hand, and slipped behind him, pressing the blade to his throat.

“Really, Pim? I can just do this.” Jun spun out of Pim’s grip, reversing the hold, and placing his own blade to Pim’s throat. “Using the fleet does not guarantee a victory. There are many people with other skills that may match our fleet of foot. See how easy it was for me to reverse you? Fleet should be used in defense; it’s for escaping danger, not for combat. There is always someone who will have a trick up their sleeve.”

“Point taken. Now let me go.”

Jun pushed him aside. “You still have so much to learn. Pick up your sword. Again!”

###

On the Red Coast at twilight, the mist stirred. Thunder crashed louder than it ever had, and the clouds lit up with brilliance.

It was just at that moment that a member of the Circle Guard stepped onto the beach. Mithric stopped his mount suddenly, and gawked. The clouds moved in such a strange way that it startled him. His horse brayed, duly spooked, as well.

He watched, astounded, as shadows writhed in the mist-cloaked clouds. Panic swept through him, and his heart pounded his chest. Then it nearly stopped.

A ship burst its way out of the clouds, sails of stone gray, its flags bearing emblems Mithric had never seen. The wood of the boat was black; no wood of such kind grew in this part of the world. Atop the many pedestals and flags, fire burned, and a sooty, black smoke billowed into the air.

This was the first of many ships. More exited the mist, dozens of oars pushing them with ravenous speed. The sound of drums suddenly carried on the winds.

Mithric spied what looked like catapults on some of the decks, with lumbering figures milling about.

Behind these battle ships, as Mithric came to believe they were, two massive barges appeared. Looming sails caught the wind, grand canopies and multiple decks adorned the great behemoths as they cut through the sea and tore the water asunder.

Mithric heard some kind of chanting, now. It was in an alien tongue that was frightening to his senses. The multitude of ships headed directly toward shore.

As the first few grew close, with the speed of some unnatural force, he thought he saw skeletons tied to the bows of their ships.

Mithric swallowed air hard, and the pit of his stomach churned. Sweat dampened his brow. He knew he had to take word to the High Guard and the King. There was no sign of friendship here, or trade, but only the creeping sense of death, and the foul stench on the wind as the ships moved.

He pulled his horse under control and raced across the beach. The lead ship in the army illuminated, and an energy ball, shifting from red to green to blue, screamed across the sky. Mithric looked back with inescapable horror, knowing that he would never out run the magic.

It crashed into him, sending both him and his horse down. The two ignited into flames, howling with agony.

The green-blue fire burned until there was nothing left but ash. The ship’s drums played louder, and horns blared. As they reached the shore, growls and snarls filled the air. The howl of unknown beasts followed.

###

It was early morning in Daustra, one of the first villages of the Lake Lands, and closest to the Coast. Luda, a mother of three, dragged her laundry from the lake, and began wringing it out.

A great roar caught her attention, followed by screams. The sky filled with blue-green fire and ash. She spotted a horde of riders pouring into the village: great, hulking creatures rode upon reptilian beasts, some hurling fireballs straight from their hands.

The laundry was forgotten as she raced to her home across the lakeshore. Her eldest son grabbed a sword, knocking over the breakfast table, and sending cheese, honey, and fresh fruit splattering over the floor.

“No,” she said to him. “Give me the sword. Grab one of the horses, and ride to Bhrungach. The Council must be told. Hurry! Tell them an enemy not of this land is attacking Daustra!”

The boy rushed out the back of the house and threw himself onto their speckled steed. He vanished out of the yard just as a hail of arrows struck the house and yard.

Wails filled the house: her two smallest children scrambled to her legs. “Come,” she soothed. “We’ll go down in the ground.”

Luda was used to war; her people had been feuding with the South for years. A random raid or attack in Daustra sent her below ground, into the house’s under seams, which were normally used to store root vegetables and cider.

Tree roots knotted through the room, and Luda cradled her children in the dark as the house trembled.

The ground thundered, and terrible roars filled the village. The house rocked as the roof above collapsed. Dirt and debris showered the underneath, but Luda held strong as her children buried their faces into her chest.

She heard the men outside calling to action, calling for weapons, screaming in horror and agony. Drumbeats rose. Horns blasted. The scent of burning flesh seeped into the air.

Luda shut her eyes and prayed.

###

“Neither rider from the Circle returned this morning,” Captain Sundar informed High Guardsman Jorrel.

“Any word on the weather on the Coast? Perhaps they were delayed by a storm.”

“No news scrolls on the subject, sir.”

“Have there been any scrolls today from the area?”

“Actually, no. No caravans or riders have been to the city today.”

Tolan and Geyess stood in earshot of the conversation. Tolan stepped in. “Mithric and Padin are out there. I will ride.”

“No, you will not,” Jorrel said. “I’m not sending out riders for something that could be a sea storm.”

“They could be in trouble,” Tolan argued. They could be hurt, or worse. If they’re exposed to the elements, there’s no telling what could happen.”

“They are trained Circle Guard members, they know how to survive in the wilderness.”

“You are lacking reason, here.”

“And you are lacking logic. We will not instill panic among the men, nor the King. If he gets word that we are children afraid of storms, we will be relieved of duty.”

“Something has breached the wall of mist!” Sooth-Malesh called from the stairs leading to the spires. He stumbled down, nearly tripping over his crimson robes. He’d painted white runes onto his bald head. Jorrel shook his head.

The mage joined the crowd. “You should listen to Tolan. He speaks the truth. It is no sea storm. Something has breached the mist, and it comes our way. It comes for all of our lands… North, South, and West. It is the darkest of evil. My very magic has been interrupted. They’ve tried to block me from seeing their true faces, but my magic seeps through, drips and drabs.”

“Sooth-Malesh,” Jorrel began. “I respect your skills, but there is no proof that anything exists beyond the mist. I will not listen to anymore of this foolishness. Back to your posts, everyone.”

“You are condemning them,” Geyess said, balling his hands into fists.

Tolan took him by the arm. “We can’t help our comrades in the stockade, my friend.” Tolan turned to Jorrel, and nodded. “Back to our posts.”

###

The river seemed more threatening to him now, especially since he’d almost drowned in it. Pim was stubborn, however, and he would not allow this to rest. He wasn’t about to let his friends think less of him. He would prove the ability existed.

He watched the current and positioned himself, concentrating, muscles tensed. He took a few steps back, eying the rushing river. He sucked in some air, and then released it. That is why he’d failed last time: he was too skittish, too nervous. He needed to let go, be loose.

Then he felt his body easing, his breathing became rhythmic. He closed his eyes, feeling a tingling sensation washing across his face, circling around him. He wondered if his eyes were glowing. Wouldn’t that be amazing? By daylight! No one’s eyes glowed in the day. But the sensation was unmistakable: he was sure they were glowing.

One last exhale, and he was off. He exerted his ability, and hit the water’s edge in an instant. All stress flowed out of his body, and his feet carried him atop the water. He skimmed to the center, the deepest part of the river, and the cold water nipped at his bare toes.

Pim was more than half way across, and he hadn’t fallen. His face felt warm. His heart kept rhythm. His legs carried him further and further, until…

He’d made it! He’d reached the other side of the river… he had run on top of the water! A smile stretched across his face. It had been as if he were flying.

Why not go all the way? Leap over one of the trees? Yes… keep going. Take flight. Show them all: Father, and everyone!

Pim hit a boulder with immense force, pushing off of it with his legs, and launching himself into the air, letting the momentum carry him up.

The tree awaited, tall and noble. He leaped as high as he could, but came to the sudden realization that he was never going to clear it. Not even close.

He let out a small yelp, closed his eyes, and collided with the tree. As he tumbled, he hit nearly every branch on the way down, scratching his face.

Pim crashed with a thud. After a moment to collect himself, he brushed his fingers across his cheek. There was blood on his fingertips. He looked around, but no one was about. No one had seen any of it.

“That was awesome!” He burst out laughing.

Cracking his neck and his back, he pulled himself up off the ground. His legs ached, and his ears rang. Then another thought crossed his mind. He made his way back to the village.

Pim reappeared on the other side of the river with a sword in his hand. He hoped the warrior sect wouldn’t miss one blade from the armory. Poising himself again, he took a few steps back, and clutched the sword.

He let all thoughts drain from him, shook away the sweat, and focused on his task and the great idea he’d come up with.

Pim breathed in and out, relaxing nearly to the point of drifting off. Then he ran. His legs ached and his feet burned on the ground as he jumped over tree roots, pebbles, and prickly mushroom caps.

He hit the water and blinked across in an instant. When the boulder came into sight, he lifted his sword in both hands, hoisting it over his head. His feet hit the rock, and he jumped.

Soaring through the air, he again knew he would not clear the top of the tree, but that was not the point this time. He shot right at the tree and drove the sword into the trunk, all the way to the hilt. The strike stopped his journey, and halted his momentum. He howled with joy.

“No attacker would ever see that blow coming. I could come out of the sky on top of them!”

He climbed down the trunk and reached ground, panting like a dog. Suddenly, he felt dizzy as fatigue seized his body. He stumbled about until finally, he collapsed on the forest grounds.

###

Archers from Bhrungach marched on the road to the Lake Lands. Word reached the councils of Bhrungach that the lakeside villages had all fallen to a new scourge, strangers to the world. These invaders spoke in a foreign tongue and had all manner of dark magic and strange beasts at their command, while they destroyed relentlessly. Their demands had yet to be communicated. They simply seemed to delight in the killing.

This new menace made the people of the South and Glenghora look like children. The people of the North would not stand for it; they had not become hardy and battle-strong for nothing.

Farnus-Tan, general of the Bhrungach forces, brushed his white mustache, and counted the men in his brigade. He thought they had enough to at least hold off this new threat until forces from Cardoon arrived. The plan was to keep them from reaching the gates of Brungach. The lady of the Council was weary and ill; she would be overthrown easily. It was up to Farnus-Tan to keep that from happening.

“Listen for the cries of their beasts,” he yelled to his men. “They are great reptiles with four-clawed legs, and slithering tongues. They ride these into battle. We know not what these animals are, but it they bleed, they die. Sniff for the scent of charred flesh in the air. When you find it, they are close. Do not fear them. They are different, but they will fall, just the same.”

“I’ve heard they eat the flesh off their victims and wear their bones,” a young archer said to his comrade.

“I’ve heard that they’re more animal than anything else,” his friend replied. “They travel in packs and howl at the skies.”

“My skin crawls just thinking of them with bile-covered fangs and magic from the bowels of the primal dark.”

“Enough!” Farnus-Tan yelled at them. “You conjure your own nightmare. No more spooking each other. We will not fear the stories in the night! We fight for home and loved ones, and for the Lady of the Council!”

Cheers erupted throughout the brigade. Behind the archers, the swordsman marched, blades glinting in the noonday sun.

They marched another hour until reaching a crossroads. Black smoke started to cloud the sky. The brigade halted. Farnus-Tan lifted his arm. “Archers, ready!”

The sound of turning wheels echoed down the road, hissing and snarling rose from not one path, but two. The archers armed their bows. The swordsmen clashed their blades against their shields.

The ferocious sounds grew louder. The brigade found itself being approached from two sides. Their fear grew.

“Stand strong,” Farnus-Tan called. “Wait for your line of site. Sink your steel into their hides, boys!”

The horde of nightmares finally slipped into view. Drums ignited, and a whistle cut through the air.

A massive, spiked ball crashed out of the sky, slamming into the middle of the archers, scattering bodies in every direction. Rivers of blood stained the roads, and men screamed for their saviors.

Farnus-Tan’s eyes widened. All color drained from his face, and his throat went dry. Despite it all, he rose to action. “Archers, away!”

A sea of arrows launched into the air. Four-legged beasts did indeed bleed as they tumbled to the ground, oozing black ichor. Their riders climbed to their feet, wielding spiked clubs, battle axes, and cleaver-like blades.

Catapults wheeled into view, being pulled by the horde by hand. More riders came into view, their steeds reptilian beasts with plated armor and saddles adorned with bones and shields.

Banner carriers walked behind the riders, obscured by the catapults.

Farnus-Tan tried to get a good view of their attackers, but there was so much bone-riddled armor, chains, massive shields, and machines that it was hard to focus on anything. He did notice something strange about them: a white, misty form was seemingly tethered to each of them, as if…

The archers fired a second round, then stepped back as the swordsmen rushed into battle. Their screams followed. Another whistle caught Farnus-Tan’s attention.

“Scatter… the skies pour!”

The men jumped to the sides of the road as another spiked ball, this one covered in flames, exploded over it.

Out of the trees lining the road, long, wispy, white claws reached out and tore at the men’s throats. It was an ambush. As the claws tore their flesh to ribbons, the enemy warriors emerged in their place, stalking the road with clubs and axes.

“What is that?” Farnus-Tan cried out. “What devils are they?”

Some of his men turned and ran from the battle, swords and shields toppling from their grips.

“No!” Farnus-Tan cried. “Stand tall! Cowards… do not desert your brothers!”

Men crawled on the road, legs broken, arms missing. The trees around them crackled and burned, branches crashed down on them, setting the men ablaze.

Farnus-Tan faced the invading army, drawing his sword and screaming. He would not let the city down; he would not abandon his post, or give up the Lady of the Council.

He ran through the center of the crossroads, only a few of his men with him. Most of the archers were dead, or had vanished into the wilderness. They were met with a stream of blue-green energy.

The enemy mages hurled their magic from the midst of the horde, finishing off Farnus-Tan and his remaining men. Their bodies burned with spectral fire before transforming to ash.