Brewer King 30 (Patreon)

San walked along a sidewalk, the sounds of traffic filled the air and the chilled humid air blew through his light coat. He felt a figure pressed against him, leaning in against the cold and against the wind, or maybe just wanting to be close to him.

“It’s cold,” Mary said.

“It’s not that bad,” San replied. “It’s not even cloudy.” He pointed up to the sunny sky, but this late in November the air was cold and even the sunny skies didn’t do more than make the world a little brighter.

“You’re never cold,” Mary said.

“I’ve grown up in Seattle my entire life,” San replied. “I probably would lose my shit if I ever had to live through actual snowy weather.”

“City folk,” Mary grinned.

“You can take the girl outta the country, but you can’t take the country outta the girl,” San replied, also grinning down at Mary.

“Just don’t say that to my parents,” Mary warned.

“Pfft, I’ll be all smiles, bowing, and making pronouncements on how awesome their daughter is and how glad I am she’s sharing my bed.”

“Definitely don’t say that last part,” Mary warned, nudging her elbow into his side.

San grunted, raising his hands in submission. “I guess I can tell them the boring stuff. How nice you are and how compatible we are. Boring.”

Mary chuckled. “Dad will probably like you. Mom, I don’t know. She’s a bit weird. Kinda like your mom.”

“Moms never like the partners their children bring home,” San replied.

Mary reached down and touched her stomach. It wasn’t showing yet, but soon there would be a small bump that would eventually turn into a child. San couldn’t stop himself from grinning again as he looked down at her.

“I’m totally gonna hate whoever she/he brings back,” Mary said, rubbing her stomach.

“I agree absolutely. We’ll make their partner’s lives hell,” San said.

Mary wrapped her grip tighter around him. “They’re here you know?” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stop fighting. We’ll always be here, waiting for you, San.”

San misstepped and stumbled, Mary’s arm tightening around his own, keeping him from falling. He looked down at her, confused and worried.

“What?” he asked.

“A shadow is falling across the world, San. You can do so much there. We will wait for you. Make them pr-“

***

San gasped in a breath and opened his eyes. He could feel pain, but just as suddenly as he felt it, the pain began o fade. He could feel his arms and bones seemingly snapping back into place and his skin itching where it knitted back together.

Sanjay Elias King

[Brewer] Level 3

- Filter I

“You’re alive!” Elgava’s face looked down at him. Her expression was one of joy and amazement. San groaned and saw that he was lying in a snow drift. His coat was damp with the melting snow and as he looked down, it was torn to tatters.

It wasn’t difficult to realize that the red stained snow was from his own blood.

“Gem?” San asked.

“You did me, I did you,” Elgava grinned. “It’s incredible. You heal completely when you level.”

“Not if you lose a limb,” San said and with Elgava’s help, sat up. He felt a little woozy and the world spun around him. He sat there, noting that the Mage was crouched near him. A bag opened in the snow and the gleaming gems he had taken from the dead queens glinting in the torchlight. “What happened?”

“That scaled monster took you out,” Elgava said. “We all thought it was dead, but it seemed to want to have the last word in that fight. It’s truly dead now, we took its fucking head off.” The soldier sighed and looked at San. “Almost lost you there.”

“I was…” San paused, the memory of Mary and him walking down the streets of Seattle made it way back into his head. Was she really there? Was that her speaking? He didn’t know. “I had a dream.”

“I hope it’s not freezing to death,” Bostarion said, “because with what that creature did to you, you and Pivane are a lost cause.”

The Tribal frowned at Bostarion, but didn’t say anything. San noted that he was already beginning to shiver, the adrenaline and exertion of the fight leaving him.

“Are they all dead?” San asked.

“The white furred fucks?” Elgava asked. “Maybe. None have come out since the big one was killed.”

“Are we going in?” the Mage asked, his eyes glinted in the torch light. San could tell he was eager to enter.

“How are we on weapons?” San asked. Elgava helped heave him to his feet. He stood there, swaying back and forth for a bit. His stomach wanted to screw out everything he had eaten, but it had been well over a day since he’d eaten anything. He took a deep cleansing breath.

“We got everything reloaded,” Bostarion said. “We’ve got about three bolts left for each crossbow. The others were all damaged. Enough shot to fire the pistols at least twice.”

Elgava handed San a reloaded pistol. He looked at the smoking match cord and nodded. Pivane gave him his enchanted sword. San thanked the man.

“What are the chances there are more of them up there?” San asked.

“Dunno,” the ranger replied. “Could be more, could be that this was all of them.”

“Well, I’m freezing my balls off,” Pivane said. “We need to either leave or go up to the fortress.”

San shivered, his wet blood had soaked through his clothing and now as the temperature began to drop, it was hardening and he was beginning to freeze from the draft .

“We go in,” San said.

The others nodded. There were no complaints about being crazy or insane, they all knew their choices were limited. San sheathed his sword and took a firmer grip on the pistol in his hands.

Elgava took the lead, a crossbow in her arms. San followed behind, while Bostarion took the rear, also carrying the other crossbow. The inclined road was slick with freezing blood and the twisted faces of the dead white furred monsters stared up at them.

“We collecting the gems?” Elgava asked.

“We see what we’re facing first,” the Mage said.

San agreed with him. The gates had been torn down by the big white furred creature and the path in the snow was easy to follow. Also the direction the creatures had come from was clearly marked with flaming torches and lit braziers. Another door, this one seemingly well maintained, was ajar, warm light coming from it.

They paused as they neared the door. San wrinkled his nose as the pungent order filled the air, wafting from within the room. It smelled of wet dog and aged manure. There was also another smell, beyond the woodsmoke, it was metallic and coppery.

“Blood,” Bostarion whispered. “This place reeks of blood.” The others all nodded, their grips tightening on their weapons.

“Kill anything that’s not human,” Elgava said. “I’ll go in first, if there’s anything shooting at us, I’ll use Barrier. Then we kill everything.”

Everyone nodded in agreement once again.

“Here goes.”

Elgava pushed her way passed the open door, moving quickly and not making a sound. Her crossbow was up, reminding San of the cop shows Mary would sometimes watch. San followed behind her, pistol at the ready.

The warmth of the room hit him like a wall, it wasn’t just warm, it was hot. Nearly as hot as the batto caverns, but this heat wasn’t produced by weird magical resin, it was from a massive fire that was burning in the center of a huge chamber.

The door led into a smallish chamber, but that chamber was attached to a larger room. A massive circular room that had three levels that overlooked it. They were on the bottom most level, the stone and wrought iron arches and columns towered over them. In the center of the circular room was a massive bonfire, seemingly trying to reach the domed ceiling shrouded in darkness.

The great fire didn’t stop the group in their tracks, instead it was all the blood that covered the floors.

“Sweet Senta,” Elgava gasped and then gagged.

San followed her gaze and nearly did the same.

Bodies lay in piles in the corner of the room. San had heard the expression stacked like cordwood, but he had never imagined bodies could be stacked in such a way. He stared, feeling his grip on his pistol loosen and the weapon clattered to the floor.

“Sweet Senta,” the others whispered.

“Blessed Mother,” Pivane added.

“Sacrifices,” the Mage spoke, recovering from the surprise and horror quicker than the others. “Those poor people have been sacrificed. It is said the void horrors sacrifice the living to their gods.”

San steadied his nerves and picked up his dropped pistol. He cringed as he saw that something wet and tacky had stuck to it. Blood.

He saw movement and San snapped up the pistol. He strode forward, curving around the massive flame, and saw a huge figure lying on the stone floor near the fire. He saw a body made of blackened flesh as if it had been charred, he saw thick ropy veins that pulsed and throbbed, and a stunted body that was crooked and unnatural.

“What in the name of all that is holy,” San said, his grip tightening on the pistol. “What the fuck is that!”

Horror hit him like a tidal wave, so thick, so heavy, and so visceral it nearly doubled him over. He had thought he had seen absolute horror when he saw the Flesh Horror, but the sight before him boggled his mind and sickened him. It was unnatural, something that the human mind wasn’t meant to see, something that no living thing should bear witness to.

San staggered back, retching and screaming. He wanted to run, he wanted to flee, he wanted to die. He gagged and vomited, he cried and felt the spreading warmth across his trousers. His body was in rebellion. He couldn’t control anything.

What the fuck is that! The words screamed in his head.

That thing writhed on the blood soaked floor. It moved and cried, a wailing noise that was a mockery of a child’s cry. The noise cut at him, slicing deep into his mind. It dredged up pain, misery, fear, and terror. San sobbed, choking on bile. He collapsed to the stone floor, the tacky drying blood of the human sacrifices seemed to burn across his skin. He could feel the thing pulsing and crying, calling for more blood, for more death, like some hungry newborn.

What the fuck is that!

It moved, sensing others near it. The massive oblong head twisting to peer at them. A face of rot, of bone, and grasping hands turned to him, dozens of mouths screamed and cried for mercy and death. San could only stare at it.

“No!” San screamed. He could feel it trying to grasp at his mind, like cold hands fumbling in the dark. It tried to pull him into that mass of flesh, not psychically, but his mind, his soul. San was rushing the creature before he knew it, his sword out and cutting deep into the massive inhuman head.

The voices screamed and the hands grabbed at him, tearing at his tattered coat and their sharp nails cutting into his skin. San didn’t slow nor did he falter, his blade slashed down, cutting through flesh and bone, plunging deep into the monstrosity. Thick and hot blood poured off his weapon and his body. He staggered back, feeling the grasping hands go still. He fell back onto his backside, breathing heavily and shuddering with what he had done.

He heard sobbing, not from the monster, but from his companions. Elgava, the Mage, Bostarion and Pivane were all on the ground, clutching thier heads and sobbing. San painfully got to his feet, staggering toward the others.

“Are you okay?” San asked as he collapsed before the Mage. The man looked up at him and San nearly reeled back. Blood ran from his eyes like tears, from his nose, and from his ears. It was smeared across his mouth and bloodshot eyes stared at him with an unfocused gaze.

“San…” the Mage said, his voice was hoarse as if he had been screaming for a long time. “It is death. It is the end of all things. An eternity of torture and madness…”

The Mage collapsed to the bloody floor. San leaned over him and noted he was still breathing. His gaze turned the the rest of his companions, Elgava was shaking back and forth while Bostarion and Pivane had joined the Mage in unconsciousness.

San crawled over to Elgava, the thought of standing up was too much for him. He grabbed her shoulders and she looked up at him with the same bloodshot eyes of the Mage. Blood was smeared across her cheeks, from her ears, and along the corners of her mouth and nose. She was shuddering and not saying anything.

“Elgava,” San said.

The woman only continued shuddering, bloody drool dripping from her opened mouth. She let out a ragged cough and then sagged in his arms. Joining the others in hopefully sweet slumber.

San groaned as he got to his feet. An exhaustion pulled at him, it tried to drag him down to the floor, but he stood and swayed. He hooked his hands under Elgava’s armor and pulled the woman from the blood soaked stone. He did the same with the others, pulling them near the open door they had entered.

Cold air blasted in from the outside, bringing fresh air and clearing San’s head of the muddied thoughts. He leaned agains the doorframe, breathing in deeply.

What was that thing? His mind stuttered at the thoughts of the creature, as if it couldn’t bear to remember it. San shook his aching head and entered the room once again.

The great fire was still burning, next to it was the body of the monstrosity that the white furred creatures were sacrificing to or bringing into the world. San didn’t know which it was. Something of that monster’s nature couldn’t have been formed naturally. It had to have been somehow brought into the world.

Whatever it was, whatever reason it had been here, it was dead and the plans for it by the white furred creatures was at an end. San stared at the hot fire before him and dug into his pocket. He still had his plastic bag of sixteen yellow gems. He stared at the flames.

What could a great fire do? What did it want?

A fire could cleanse an area. In times of plague and pestilence bodies were burned to keep the disease from spreading. A cleansing flame would clear this place of the evil that had been committed here.

San looked at the massive fire and then pulled four gems from the bag. He didn’t know why he needed four, but that seemed the right number. He stood before the fire, the great heat feeling as if it were searing his flesh. He threw the gems into the flame and concentrated.

A cleansing flame. A fire to rid the world of evil. A flame to undo the evil that had been done.

The Cleansing Flame

San felt a shudder run through his body. He stared up at the flame, it flashed a color that he could only describe as sunlight. It bathed him, the light caressed his skin, it pulsed through him, crawled across his skin. It was hot and it seared him, he cried out and staggered back, but the flame clung to his skin.

He screamed as his flesh was covered in fire like sunlight.

***

“Ah, my love,” a woman’s voice said. San felt cold hands upon his skin. Strong hands rolled him over and he groaned as pain seemed to radiate from every nerve. “You have done well. More than I thought you would be able to do.”

Cold hands touched his skin and San sighed as the pain began to bleed away. He tried opening his eyes, but he couldn’t.

“Who?” he asked, his voice dry and cracked.

“You know who I am, love,” the voice said and San felt the fine tips of hair tickle across his face.

With effort, San pried his eyes open. It hurt, like everything. He stared up at the dark eyes of a pale woman. She smiled at him, sharp teeth flashing in the light from the fire. The fire…

San tried lifting his head toward the fire that had burned him. He saw it was now a regular flame, not the sunlight burning him.

“A Cleansing Flame,” the woman said. “Impressive. A flame to destroy an area infected with evil, to push away the horrors that have corrupted a place.”

Cold hands stroked San’s face. He realized he couldn’t feel his beard anymore, that the icy hands hurt his tender face.

“What happened?” San asked.

The pale woman only smiled at him. “You have done well, love. Rest. Sleep. I shall be here with you.”

“The others?” San asked.

“They live as well, although I do not know what the sight of such a thing will do to them. It is their own challenge to face. I cannot help them there.”

“What do you mean?” San asked.

“The thing you destroyed. The horror that the Cursed Walkers were summoning. It was not meant to be seen by the eyes of man, it will be up to them to face that monstrosity themselves.”

San stared up at the dark eyes of the woman, she brushed a cold hand across his cheeks. “You live though. You saw the darkness and the horrors that it represented and you stood fast before it.”

“I don’t know… I don’t…” San trailed off, trying to figure out what he had done. It seemed like a nightmare, as if the things he had seen weren’t real memories. The thoughts were like jagged splinters in his mind, he could barely touch them without feeling pain, so he moved around them and avoided touching them.

“A good plan,” Winter’s Lament said. “Do not try to linger upon them, for only misery will come from that. But you already know how to deal with that, yes?”

San nodded.

“Rest, love. I shall be here. No harm shall come to you,” she said.

“And my friends?”

The woman smiled at him. “No harm shall come to them while you rest.”

San felt exhaustion overcome him. His eyes drooped and the last thing he saw was the pale woman’s sharp smile glinting in the firelight.