CLEO – Gravelands, village of Mossfell

  The sky was the color of tarnished silver, lightening with the dawn, and wisps of sunrise pink and orange had begun to smear the horizon. Cleo drooped with fatigue on her seat next to Kobie, as the teamster followed the rest of the wagons. Rivett had declared they break camp and depart early, as the howls of the previous night had followed them to the next and become both louder and more savage.

  A few of the guards had broken out their spears and were perched on their wagons, scanning the grasslands and trees for trouble. The short, young guard, Mikkel, was uneasy and filled with nervous energy, constantly hopping on and off his wagon and swapping between a crossbow and a spear, as if he wasn’t sure which one to use.

  Crossbow, Cleo decided. And then when they’re in range, swap to the spear. Though she didn’t exactly know what the creatures were or what they were capable of. The strange man, Zane, had claimed to know what they were, but she didn’t think he was trustworthy. He’d alluded to much, but hadn’t actually revealed anything concrete, and asked far too many questions.

  Rivett, the caravan leader, walked to the end of the wagon train and then back to the front, stopping to talk to each teamster and the guards, as well as the other passengers. When he approached them, Kobie only nodded and went back to staring at his plains-elk and the wagon ahead. The pack-goats trailing the wagon in front of them were skittish, and their frightened bleats and musky scent filled the air.

  With the amount of noise the entire caravan made, it was either going to scare any creatures away, or serve as a magnet…

  “And how are you doing, young lady?” Rivett said, looking up at Cleo. “I know you’ve been keeping out of everyone’s way, for which I’m grateful.”

  “Is there cause for alarm?” Cleo asked. “Do you need me with the other carded to form a team?” She wasn’t eager for another fight, but after her experience in the Blighted Lands she was certain she had to be close to tiering up her classes or some skills.

  Well, relatively certain. Maybe not certain at all.

  “I don’t believe so. Sometimes the scavs or bandits have someone carded—a low tier combat class or skill—and they get overconfident and try to take out a caravan. I try to have at least another carded with me just in case, though this time we have three, so there shouldn’t be any problems. Even though you’re only a—”

  “A shitty Aura Mage, yes, I get it.” Take it easy, Cleo, she chastised herself. She wanted to remain unnoticed and under the radar. It was a good thing if they thought little of her abilities.

  “Doesn’t sound like scavs,” Kobie muttered under his breath.

  Cleo glanced at Rivett, but he didn’t seem to have heard, so maybe Kobie’s remark was for her benefit.

  “Do you think they're scavs?” she asked Rivett, who took off his hat and wiped his sweating face with a second kerchief he produced from a pocket. He squinted at her and then rubbed his nose like he was about to lie.

  “Definitely. It’s not undead, is it? They make a lot less noise. Anyway, we’ve plenty of guards as well as four carded, so whatever happens we’ll be fine. I’ve taken out a tribe of scavs on my own, when I was younger, of course.”

  “Oh, really?! How many is in a tribe?”

  “Er… it wasn’t a large tribe… more like part of a tribe, come to think of it.”

  “When will we arrive at the Gravelands?”

  Kobie snorted. “We’re there already, this border is the closest to Ashenshore. Been rolling through them since this morning.”

  “Oh.” Cleo looked around, but there was only more forest on her right and swathes of grasslands to her left.

  “I sent a guard ahead to Mossfell this morning, just before we left, well before the sun came up,” Rivett said, “to let them know we’re coming and that we’ll stay the night. I’m not paying for a room for you, Cleo, but I can recommend an inn with soft beds and decent food if you’re interested?”

  “Thank you, Rivett. But I’ll take a look around and see what’s available. I’ve never been to Mossfell before.”

  “Another night under the wagon won’t kill you, but in a few days you’ll wish you had a good night’s sleep under your belt. Anyway, I must rush. I’m very busy.” Rivett hurried off to the next wagon.

  “Probably gets a kick-back from the inn,” muttered Kobie.

  “Thank you!” Cleo shouted after Rivett and then turned to the teamster. “Kobie, what are the Gravelands? And before you say anything, you should know that I’ve traveled a long way to be here and—”

  “Where are you from?”

  “A far away place. You wouldn’t have heard of it. Which means that here, there are some things that I just don’t know. So please explain it to me like I’m a child.”

  “You are a child.”

  “To you oldsters, maybe, who lived through the ancient times.”

  Kobie grunted and leaned back in his seat. “It’ll take some talking to explain.”

  “Then, please begin. I’m guessing there are a lot of graves? Ancient tombs? And the researchers are treasure hunters or archeologists? Or both?” Dangerous, but a good place to gather experience and loot. If you have permission to enter the dungeon.

  The teamster spat a stream of dark saliva off the wagon, and then placed another leaf in his mouth. “Yes, and no. The Gravelands is a malevolent place, and should be avoided unless you’re too curious like some are, or too greedy like Rivett is.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  There must be evil magic here, or sorcery, whatever that was. Another thing to add to Cleo’s rapidly expanding to-do list: how does sorcery work? “There’s ancient magic here? Evil magic? But where, though? There’s only forest and grass.”

  “We’re not at the heart of the Gravelands yet. It used to be a dungeon, a big one. I mean… it still is, though now it’s both a dungeon and a burial ground, deep in the Ankratur forest. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it, but you’re from a mysterious far away place so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “It’s very far away. And very mysterious.”

  “Hmm… apparently… well, just over a thousand years ago there was a war here, between the fledgling Empire and a powerful sorcerer named Mordecai Soulbinder… I’m fairly sure that’s his name… along with his most powerful servants and generals.” Kobie stopped to cough and spit more saliva. “The conflict was bad… really bad… and dragged on for decades. Hundreds of thousands of people died, either in the fighting or as civilian casualties, or of starvation. Anyway, in the end, Soulbinder and his evil host lost. But the Imperial Legions and mages couldn’t find a way to kill him or his powerful supporters, and the same with many of the strongest demons they’d summoned to fight the Empire. The best they could do was imprison them all in sorcerous cages and entomb them somewhere, to make it difficult for anyone that tried to release them. So, they stashed them on the lower levels of the dungeon, where any of you carded would have to be powerful enough to reach. Locked them away behind solid steel doors and magic wards. I guess they figured anyone having to fight their way to the final depths would give them ample warning that something was afoot. Still, there’s a whole cult formed around ‘resurrecting’ Soulbinder and his sorcerers. Fools and dupes, if you ask me.”

  Cleo scratched her head in bewilderment. Sometimes, she had less than charitable thoughts about certain people. Anyone who wanted to release an ancient evil sorcerer certainly qualified to make it onto that list.

  “A cult? You mean people actually want to release them? Are they all Dark Ones?”

  “No one knows, or if they do, they’re not telling. Maybe the higher-ups in the Empire know, though. But anyway, the whole place has been safeguarded since the war by the 13th Legion. They’re permanently stationed at the dungeon and patrol the area. Along with some Imperial Mages. Sorcerers steer clear of the place, or so I’ve heard. But I know nothing much about them. Whatever’s imprisoned there can’t be allowed to get loose. The researchers are really official dungeon delvers and scholars who are too curious for their own good. I’m told there’s a lot to be learned from ancient magic and sorcery, not to mention the imprisoned demons. Plus, it’s a dungeon, so there’s always monsters and loot.” Kobie coughed again, then, as if talking so much hurt his throat.

  Make a note: don’t accidentally release a thousand-year-old evil sorcerer. “Won’t they die of starvation? Or dehydration? Nothing could be alive after being locked away for centuries.”

  “You’d think so. But the prisons keep them kind of frozen, or that’s how it was explained to me.”

  “Frozen in time? Like in stasis?”

  Kobie gave her the side-eye. “Sure. Whatever that means. Anyhow, some of the prisons were defective since the sorcerers that created them weren’t powerful enough, and their occupants withered away, but the malevolent black essences that drove them remain. Heh, see, I can tell a decent story sometimes… you just use malevolent a few times to spice it up. Anyway, keep your head down and don’t cause any trouble when you’re there. The Legionnaires will be overly aggressive. They’ll draw blood and ask questions later.”

  “Good advice. I was going to keep my head down for the entire trip. I’ll practice mana cycling as much as I can, and stay out of everyone’s way.”

  “You do that. We’ll arrive at Mossfell soon, which is half a day away from the dungeon prison and the bigger village of Ashenshore, which has grown up close to the dungeon, since the 13th is stationed there. And as we’re only dropping the researchers off, it should be a quick stop. No doubt Rivett’s eager to collect his money and head back out on the road to Lethanas.” Kobie squinted ahead and frowned, and then half stood from his seat.

  Cleo stood and leaned to her left to peer around the wagon in front of them. There was a plume of dust in the distance, where the road was.

  “Trouble,” Kobie said.

  “What? How do you know?”

  “That’s probably Rivett’s guard. And there’s no reason for them to return, let alone flogging their elk enough to raise that much dust.”

  By the time the guard was near enough to make out, Rivett had gone ahead to meet them, no doubt so he could hear whatever bad news there was first in order to censor the information to the caravan. The teamsters slowed the wagons to a crawl, and then to a stop.

  Kobie muttered under his breath, and Cleo caught him checking under his seat for a short sword she hadn’t realized was there.

  “Just a precaution,” Kobie said when he caught her looking. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Rivett and the guard were slowly making their way back to the caravan, an exhausted looking plains-elk with a heaving chest and lathered with foam trailing behind. Both of them shouting and gesturing animatedly, until Rivett threw an arm around the woman’s shoulders and brought his head to hers, speaking in hushed tones until the guard wiped her face with a sleeve and nodded.

  At the head of the caravan, Rivett pushed the guard away, and she hurried off to whisper with the other guards, who by now were all gathered together and milling around. The researcher and his companions scurried towards Rivett, but he ignored their questions and pushed past them to address the caravan.

  “Listen up, everyone,” he shouted. “There’s been a… there’s a problem at Mossfell, and we’re going around.”

  “There’s no road around,” Kobie muttered.

  “But as there’s no road around the village, we’ll skirt the…ah… the outskirts, and head for Ashenshore. We should be there before nightfall. So let’s get moving. Teamsters, push the pace as much as you can. There’s… well, you’ll see, apparently.”

  That was all Rivett had to say, and he rushed off to speak to the guards.

  “Bad news,” Kobie said.

  “Yes… it doesn’t look good,” Cleo said. She checked her pack was still under her seat, and wished, not for the first time, that she had a wand like Rosalia’s. She peered at Rivett and the guards, and saw that the woman who’d come from Mossfell was pale and shaking. She had her arms clutched around herself, and her eyes were red-rimmed and haunted. From her and Rivett’s reaction, Cleo feared the worst.

  The guards dispersed, taking up their usual positions. Mikkel rushed down the wagon train, and as he passed them, Cleo could see he was shaking and had a white-knuckled grip on his crossbow.

  “What’s going on, Mikkel?” Cleo shouted, standing from her hard seat.

  The young guard glanced at her, and then scowled, but didn’t reply as he hurried past.

  “He won’t know shit,” Kobie said. “And from the looks of things, Rivett’ll keep his mouth shut and leave us to wonder. But unless I miss my guess we won’t be wondering for long.”

  “Since we have to go past Mossfell?”

  “You got it, girlie. Now, shut up and let me drive.”

  Rude. But then again there’s something ahead that has Rivett and the guard riled up and frantic.

  In the end, and soon, as Kobie had said, she’d know what had disturbed the guard sent ahead of the caravan. Cleo’s breath hurt in her chest, or so it seemed. In her mind’s eye she glimpsed the horrors of the Blighted Lands again, unleashed on an unsuspecting village—though how undead would be there was anyone’s guess.

  “Maybe… ” she found herself gasping, “it’s not so bad. There’s Legionnaires there, isn’t there Kobie?” And though Cleo neither stumbled or swayed, she sat down hard and reached out, clutching the teamster’s elbow.

  “It’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  But he sounded afraid.