Brewer King 2 - 02 (Patreon)

“Fire in the Night,” San invoked. The bonfire flared to light, illuminating the grim faced men and women who awaited the falling of the night.

“There was only one in the beginning,” Orbaris said. “One of the fuckers, but now there are more. I think… I think they might be the ones they took.”

“Don’t they usually feed on the ones they steal away?” Elgava asked. “They’re void horrors, they cannot corrupt the souls of the living, right?”

“I dunno, lass,” Pavano muttered. “These ain’t the usual void horrors that stalked the land. Those bastards came through via natural tears into the Void. These were men and women who were turned by the fucking Hesna’s flames.”

“They gave up everything,” San said. “Including their humanity. They were suffering, they mourned the loss of their loved ones, and they gave up everything to not feel the pain anymore.”

“Hetvana’s cunt,” Dikonis cursed. “There ain’t a man, woman, or child from tree fucker lands to the Inland Sea that ain’t suffering from losing someone. My wife died two summers back, slipped on a rock and broke her neck.”

“Aye, and you didn’t shed a damn tear for her,” another man said. The gathered people began laughing and Dikonis joined them.

“She always said she’d outlive me and piss on my grave!” Dikonis laughed. “Guess Hetvana heard the old hag.”

“If they are our kin, then we’re doing them a service,” Orbaris said as the laughter died away. “I’m glad Magano died in my arms and was not stolen away. Senta help me, I do not know what I would have done.”

“We’re here, old man,” Pavano said. “We’ll gut these fuckers and end this madness.”

There was a chorus of agreement from the gathered people. San watched as their resolve hardened, their determination sharpened. Pavano handed out torches, which they lit from the bonfire. The men and women scattered, in groups of four, as they peered into the darkness spreading across the land.

Elgava ran a sharpening stone across her blade. She eyed San who stared into the darkness. “You should have brought your sword,” she said.

San’s hand automatically moved to the spot where he had once worn a basket hilted broadsword. An enchanted blade that never would need sharpening or caring for, a blade that was drenched in blood. He still felt unbalanced without it at his side. A lifetime where he never carried a sword, but a few months of use, it had become as if it were apart of him. Such a thought was terrifying.

“No,” San said. “I do not need it.”

“Say that when you’re out of gunpowder and bolts,” Elgava remarked.

“That’s why I have you, El,” San said.

“I repaid my life debt to you,” Elgava grinned. “You saved my life, I saved yours.”

“I thought friendship would sway you into protecting me. You are a [Steadfast Knight] after all,” San replied.

“Aye, San. I’ll stand by your side, but I’m keeping score,” Elgava replied, slipping the stone into a pocket and sheathing the sword. She stood up, bouncing on her toes and adjusting the weight of her brigandine and weapons. She scooped up a sallet helmet off the bench she had been seated on and looked to San. “Ready?”

“No, but life does not wait,” San said. Elgava nodded and they made their way toward the semi circle of wagons.

Torches were fitted to the sides of the wagons, spreading out a dim light that barely reached twenty feet from the wagon’s edge. San wished he still had his flashlights, but use and time had seen the batteries die. Perhaps one day he could figure out some kind of battery to operate them, but for now torches and fires held the night at bay.

The initial monstrous laughter had chilled the hearts of the komai residents, but now they moved with steadfast movements and kept keen eyes on the trees and fallow fields.

San double checked his pistols, primitive weapons from centuries past in his world, but in this world, it was advanced technology. A heavy iron barrel was bolted onto a smooth wooden grip, with a lever that acted as the trigger. The match cord sent up a small wisp of smoke as it burned, ready to ignite the barrel packed with shot and powder.

They were unwieldy weapons, but no one could deny the stopping power. If they hit. Yet, one shot could make the difference between life and death. As had happened long ago when he came into this world. A shot that had killed a mage and gained him the moniker of Mage Killer. A lucky shot from a match cord pistol.

At his hip he carried two blades, a Tribal dagger he had been gifted and a heavier curved knife that he had commissioned by a smith. It was a bowie knife, a replacement for the sword he refuse to touch any longer. A quiver of two dozen bolts hung at his side, ammunition for the well used crossbow he carried in the crook of his arm.

There were moments when the sheer oddity of the world he smacked him in the face. Six months before he lived a sad life in Seattle, Washington. Now he faced off against monsters and horrors that stalked the night.

Not only that, but he had power. Magic that had never existed in his world and a body that was fueled by gems taken from the heads of void horrors. He was far stronger, faster, and deadlier than he had ever been in his entire life. He could shrug off injuries that would kill a normal man. Yet what was it all for?

He no longer had a family. A woman who had shown him great compassion and loved him, he had killed. He had caused the void horrors within White Tower to flee, due to using Fire in the Night upon the Hesna bonfires. How his power had spread from one fire to another was still a mystery, but it had been done and now he faced the consequences of those actions.

A cackle cut the silence of the night, a high pitch mocking laughter that was soon joined by more. San tensed as he tilted his head, trying to determine where the laughter was coming from. There was no one spot, they were surrounding them.

A murmur of fear rose among the gathered defenders.

“About ten,” Elgava said. “Could be more.”

San nodded and grab hold of the side of the wagon. He pulled himself up on to the bed, the eyes of the defenders automatically drawn to him.

“Remember what you are defending,” San bellowed. “Your friends, you neighbors, and your family. There is no shame in being afraid, for without fear there can be no courage. Stand fast, Alakavarea, and remember Senta watches over you all.”

San saw the snow being disturbed before he saw the creatures racing at him. The brilliant white powdered snow flew in the air as the void horrors pounded across the distance between the trees and the cluster of homes. He saw the yellow glint in their eyes, reflecting the torchlight.

“Steady!” San shouted. He raised a pistol and tracked a black fleshed creature that was illuminated by the torchlight. It screeched as it neared the fire, skidding to a stop. The effects of the Fire in the Night forcing the dark things that stalked the night into retreating.

San pulled the lever of the pistol. A thunderous boom filled the air and a cloud of smoke and fire belched from the barrel of the gun. A screech was cut off as the round struck the creature in the chest. It gurgled and flopped on the ground, wounded but not dead.

The guttering torches did not stop the creatures, but it slowed them down. There was shouting and snarling as the void horrors tangled among the wagons, crawling over, under, or forcing their way into gaps. The defenders screamed back, hacking with axes, spears, and swords. The thunder of gunpowder erupted as the drovers expended their own pistols.

San dropped his empty pistol and pulled his second one out. He hopped off the wagon and stalked up to the gurgling monster. It was a creature of odd features, wearing what was once a tunic or dress, its face was a misshapen mass of chitinous flesh and bloated skin. Scores of needle teeth filled its mouth as it tried to snap at San. He pulled the lever of his pistol again and ended the creature.

With his second pistol empty, San tossed it into the bed of the wagon. He snatched up his crossbow and stalked to where the fighting was occurring.

The void horrors had hit the wagon defenses, but more had gone around and struck the backsides of the homes. The thin wattle and daub base of the homes were not defense enough against long vicious talons and monstrous strength.

San sent a bolt into the knee of a running monster. It staggered and fell, where upon three men began slashing and smashing the creature. Screams filled the air and San rushed to a house where four women and seven children staggered out. Blood drenched one woman’s dress.

He pulled back the string of the crossbow, the goat foot lever long forgotten and now useless. An old man staggered from the building, blood covering his face and a long ragged cut from his right shoulder to his belly. The old man flopped to the ground, a growing pool of red spreading out from him and steaming in the cold night.

A creature pushed its way out of the door and San shot it. The bolt slammed into the monster’s face, punching through chitin and flesh, sending the beast staggering back and howling. San pulled his bowie knife and followed, stamping down with his heavy boots to crack the claws that tried to swipe at him.

The blade finished off the dying monster and San stood back up, breathing heavily. He grabbed his crossbow off the ground and slid in another bolt, pulling the string back with his gloved hands. Women and children were huddling around the bonfire, the only safety they had.

San scanned the area, people were shouting, but things seemed to be calming down.

Elgava jogged up to him, blood already freezing on her brigandine. The black blood of the monsters. Her sword was bent and she tossed it aside with disgust. “Not buying from Sagaris again,” she said. “Looks like we fucked them up.”

“Pavano still kicking?” San asked.

“Already bragging about how he saved everyone,” Elgava replied. she grinned at him and they headed to the gathering men.

A woman screamed, rushing out of a house and slamming into a figure by the fire. San worried it was a monster for a second, but instead it was a young woman clutching against Orbaris’ bloodied clothing.

“They took him!” she screamed. “They took my baby!”

Even twisted into grief and terror, San recognized the woman. Ellavano, Orbaris’ daughter. The old man turned to San, his face grey and horrified.

***

San reloaded his pistols and grabbed two more from the drovers. The men grumbled, but didn’t refuse him. He slung his crossbow on his back and grabbed a burlap sack from the back of the wagon. From a wooden crate he pulled out half a dozen clay jars and carefully set them into the bag.

“Keep that fire burning,” Elgava said to the gathered men and women. “We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

San could hear Ellavano’s wails as women tried to comfort her. There had been deaths, but only three. The old man who had held back the monster from the women and children, and two other men who had fought alongside the others. No one had been taken besides Orbari’s grandson. There were some injured, but the residents of the komai were quick to tend to those wounded. They didn’t have time to help.

“We’ll be going with you,” Orbaris said. He was flanked by Dikonis and another young man, long haired, broad shouldered, and clearly terrified.

“So be it,” San said. There was no need to argue the point. This was his family they were looking for. The other two knew the danger and who was he to deny them? They were showing him what Alkavarea courage was.

The disturbed snow made tracking the escaping beast simple. It was not hiding, there were no attempts to erase its tracks, it wanted them to follow. There was some evil cunning left within the creatures, to take a child and lead its rescuers into what might be a trap. It did not matter. Only the child did.

San lead the way, a torch held in one hand and a pistol in the other. His crossbow thumped against his back and small sparks from the torch showed down upon his helmet. The cold was deepening, the hour was late, but the sky was devoid of clouds. Hard pinpricks of stars lit up the sky, like a thousand eyes watching them. The moon was a thin sliver, as if Corvanus had their eyes closed upon the proceedings.

“There ain’t much out this way,” Orbaris said. The old man was huffing behind San, while Elgava brought up the rear. His face was reddening and frost caked his thin beard. “There’s a stream, some rock piles, and more trees.”

“Perhaps the void horrors have a nest,” Dikonis said.

“There’s a cave,” the young man

said. “When we were young, we would play there.”

“Aye,” Orbaris said. “Custoff’s mine.”

Dikonis gave a low snort. “Custoff was a mad man, claimed there was gold along the stream. He dug a mine and tried to find it, instead he lost a leg in a cave in.”

“People still tell that story even after sixty years,” Orbaris said.

“We head for the cave,” San said.

The young man, Dikonis’ nephew Kindosa, lead the way. He took them through the trees, along a frozen stream, and up steep slopes toward a small ridge. San noted the tailings from the old mine, crushed rock and sand forming a ramp toward a yawning black pit.

“Sweet Senta, the stink,” Elgava muttered.

The horrid stench of rot, of foul meat and blood, filled the air. The stink of void horrors. Pavano had claimed it was due to the the void horrors not being of this world. To stay in this land, they had to take the flesh and souls of others to keep themselves alive. San didn’t know how true that was, but every void horror lair he’d been to was an assault upon the senses.

San loosened the pistols he carried. The only other sound was the rasping of bladed weapons begin unsheathed. There was no cackling laughter and there was no sound of the child crying. Fear hovered at the edges of Sans’s sense, but he pushed it away. San moved forward into the cave opening, the torch leading the way. He heard the others gag and the young man, Kindosa, began retching.

“Nothing we’re not used to,” Dikonis said. “Three weeks cooped up with Ob, this is sweet as spring.”

Orbaris gave a low chuckle. San had to admire the bravado the men showed. They were literally heading into the mouth of some kind of hell and they still joked. These people didn’t deserve what had befallen them, but he could see the underlying strength and grit that had seen them survive in a land filled with horrors.

Custoff’s mineshaft was narrow, San’s shoulders scraped against the sides of the cold walls, he had to duck beneath low beams, and his boots sank into something foul and wet. The others stayed close to him, with Elgava bringing up the rear once more. Again, San wished he still had his flashlight or even a lantern. The flickering flames of the torches caused the shadows to dance and gave odd reflections off of every surface.

It wasn’t long before they reached a larger chamber within the mine itself. Perhaps it was a natural cave that Custoff had found, but the path before them widen out and soon darkness surrounded them on all sides. The smell they had been battling seemed to grow stronger in this place, the muck on the ground deeper. The flickering torch light highlighted the bright white of bone, animals and creatures, and some human.

“Sweet Senta,’ Orbaris whispered.

San pulled the bag off his back and gestured for Elgava to come to him. She stood by him as he handed her a jar and a lighter. San left the bag on the ground along with the additional jars. The jars were simple brittle pots, a wick extended from the pot and San lit it with his lighter. Elgava followed suit and together they threw the pots in opposite directions.

The clay shattered against the stint walls, their contents splashing out and igniting as they made contact with the wick. There was a rush of air and flames erupted to lift. There was a screech as the chamber was illuminated.

Before them, opposite of the entrance, was a massive of flesh, bone, and obscene horror. San stared at a bird like face of stretched flesh and chipped bone, a massive figure seemingly melded into the wall. Redden eyes stared down at him and the beak clattered, opening and snapping shut with resounding clacks.

“Sanjay,” the creature hissed. “Hesna awaits. Bloodied hand, bloodied soul, bloodied blade..”

The words cut into San, but he stood his ground.

“Where is my grandson, beast!” Orbaris roared.

“The sins of the father is paid by the child,” the creature continued. “Blood is the only payment. Blood. Blood. Blood.”

The cry of a child filled the chamber. A small toddler, barely over a year in age was raised by the creature’s skeletal arms. From a darkened corner another beast rose, not the skinny horrors that had attacked the komai, but one of wide shoulders, thorned back, and long claws. The twisted visage of man and beast topped the massive body, with thick drool dripping from its maw.

“Get the child,” San said. He didn’t hesitate, he didn’t give the creature the chance to move. With is pistol he fired a single shot, the room boomed with the noise, and the bird beast screeched as shot shattered its arm. San dropped the pistol and charged the second creature.

Monsters of nightmares the void horror may be, but they were still creatures of the world. Blade, shot, and bolts still harmed them, and they could die as easily as any creature that walked upon the world.

San had his second pistol out and fired point blank range into the monster’s chest. For its size and bulk, the hammering lead shot staggered the creature back. San rammed his shoulder into the creature as it stumbled, it’s balance overthrown, the beast crashed into the muck covered ground.

A claw reached for San, but he flipped his pistol around and used the heavy wooden handle to shattered the bones of the creature. It howled and tried to rise. San kicked the beast in the ribs and freed his third pistol. Another claw slapped his hand, causing no damage but skewing his shot. The pistol roared and only the side of the monster’s face was gouged. Black blood pooled and the same clawed hand tried to grab hold of San.

He pulled his knife free and sliced away at the claw, freeing three finger and eliciting a scream from the monster. San pledged down with the blade, puncturing its red eyes and slamming the blade home into its brain. The creatures squirmed and shuddered, but soon died.

The fight was not over, though. San pulled his last pistol free and turned to the other beast. Elgava had her barrier shield up, blocking the flailing arms of the creature melted into the walls. He saw Dikonis being tended to by the young man, blood seeping from a wound in his side. Orbaris lay huddled in the muck, the child in his grasp and using his body to shield it from the monster’s attack.

San grabbed the sack he left on the floor and shouted. “Drop your barrier!” with all his might he threw the bag at the creature. It struck dead center and he could hear the shattering of the clay jars. Elgava moved and threw one of the torches, causing the liquid to burst into flame. San rushed to Orbaris’ side and half dragged the man away from the roaring flames.

The creature flailed and screamed, but San had no time as he crouched before the child and checked his pulse. It was slow and steady, bringing a sharp stab of relief to him. Orbaris was crying, cradling the child and whispering prayers under his breath.

San moved to Dikonis and checked the man. He had a nasty gash across his ribs and his left arm was badly bruised. Thankfully, there were no internal damage. San quickly bandaged the man and helped him to his feet. Kinds took over from there, he was strong enough to keep him upright. The two staggered out of the cavern, their torchlight illuminated the way back to reality.

Orbaris and his grandson made their way out, the old man refused to let anyone carry him. He followed close behind Kindosa, his entire focus upon the boy in his arms.

“The melted one had a white,” Elgava said, tossing a small gem toward San.

He caught it automatically, looking down at the ichor covered mineral. Gems, it was what gave men and women power beyond human norms. It gave them the ability to use mana and gain classes that would shape them for their entire lives.

There were four colors of gems, white, red, green, and yellow. The first three, the white, red, and green, gave a person the ability to level. The yellow would kill a man, but they would also allow them to use their mana to create something different. Magical potions, enchanted gear, and in San’s case, magical booze.

“You want it?” San asked.

Elgava grimaced. She was a Level 1 [Steadfast Knight] and an extra level would be a great boon to her. “Stop giving away wealth, San,” she said. “I’ll take the gems that I killed and you take what you kill. Only fair.”

San nodded, knowing that arguing was a waste of time.

Elgava gave him another gem, a red on this time. San looked down at the gems; he could take the white and gain a level. The red gems required two to give him a level and the greens would require ten. San pocketed the gems, the other benefit besides giving a person the power of a superhuman was that they also healed all wounds immediately.

San watched the crackling flames consume the creature. He noted the flames were getting bigger, old timbers and roots igniting along the wall. Soon the room would be filled with fire and smoke. San turned away and followed Elgava out of the cavern.

Dawn came with relief and sorrow. Ellanova cradled her boy, who had now wakened and seemed confused on what had happened during the night. The bodies of the void horrors had been harvested and then burned, a dozen green gems from the dead.

“Take them,” San said as the people gathered in the early morning light. “Use those gems to select one among you to protect your people the world is entering Twilight and soon everyone will be tested. You must grow strong, you must work together, and you have the hard choice to make. Who shall you put the burden of protecting your komai on? Someone young, someone who will obtain great strength from the gems due to their soul still cooling from Kazo’s forge.”

“Chose for us, San Monster Slayer,” Orbaris said. He held the dozen green gems in his hands.

“No,” San said. “This is your komai, this is your family, this is your decision. It will be a burden placed on them and I fear that life will not be one of plentiful harvests and a warm hearth.”

The words sobered the men and women as they peered among their kin. Who would take up the gems to become a Leveled? Who would choose the life of constant war and fighting?

San left them to their decision. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He sought out his tent; removing his filthy clothing and laying down in his sleeping bag. He lay there for a long time before sleep took him and with it came the nightmares.