Index:
Episode 1 - The League of Iron assembles
Episode 3 - Legacy of the Veil Breakers
Episode 7 - Home is where the hearth is
Episode 12 - Mistress of Flesh
Episode 15 - March of the parasites
Episode 16 - Shadows in the Fog
Slumber.
The giver of Rest had long since convinced nigh all who resided in this abode to shut their eyes. All, except one, were swimming deep in the crystal-clean waters of Imagination and Hope. Spectral arms of great gentleness, Slumber caressed their tired minds, and her giggling visage smiled at their souls. Vigorously, she danced the dance of futures bright, of conquered hardships, and bloody battles won. With her fluttering voice she sang the ode of glorious feasts and endlessly flowing, best halfling ale.
Regenerate their everything, Slumber would!
Embraced by her, She who bestowed all children with the most wholesome of dreams, little Lyra slept tight. Her calm, even breathing, and gentle smile, the tiny hands clutching her colorful blanket, these were like the brush strokes of an ancient painter. One who toiled endlessly, if only to make a single painting, but of such elaborate craftsmanship, that future generations would marvel at it, long after its creator was dust and memory.
Aglow in angry blue light, the beholder's eyes focused on something made by loving hands. Seamed from odd bits of fabric, this patch-covered cuddly animal was stuffed with rags and wool. Shaped as the noble reindeer, who have long since carried their brave beyond measure halfling riders into battle, this toy had no real antlers but ones made of paint and needlework.
Grievous lights twinkled inside eyes made from polished black beans, and the toy... twitched. Tucked under the child's blanket, it ever so slowly, gently, rotated its head. The cute grin of a mouth, once mere stitchery, transmogrified into a hideous maw, dripping black saliva all over the bedding. Otherworldly, sweetish stench permeated the bedroom, vile fumes visible to the naked eye.
The stuffed reindeer was cuddly no more.
Eye twinkles became unhallowed flames and shadow warped the innocent childish drawings which covered the walls. Colorful crayon and pencil, sullied, the paint liquefied and black as rotten blood, it formed miniature crooks, all of which ran towards the toy. In mere breaths, its colorful, patched skin, turned a vile shade of purple.
“Mine...” - What should never speak uttered with a voice not of this universe, and wriggled closer to the sleeping child, its open maw full of insatiable gloom.
“You shan't despoil her!” - The beholder pushed the thing away, her rageful eyes burning blue.
“None shall stand before Us and Our prey, not even you, She-Arkan!” - Screeched the toy and, bouncing of the wall, stood up on its hind legs.
For a single, impossibly slow moment, the reindeer toy grew as tall as ten elbows. Its twisted front legs now reached the floor, ending with oversized, sharp pincers. Its sickly, purple skin, bubbled; dark ooze dripped from tears in once colorful patches, and mangled threads. Bend back, its hind legs became hideous tentacles, whose sharp claws scratched the floor with every move.
A small forest of unevenly sized horns grew from the thing's head and scraped the bedroom's ceiling.
“Useless without that stick, ye are.” - Standing between the Sorceress and her spear, the monstrum cackled with its ethereal voice.
“Then come at me!” - The young woman steadied herself, and touched her bronze-forged bracelet.
“All in due time, She-Arkan!” - Hissed the thing, its left pincer inching its way towards the sleeping child - “First this small flesh, and then...”
The being twisted its head, overgrown with constantly changing their shapes horns at an unnatural, impossible for anything alive angle. Pointed up, the horrid maw widened even more, and icky flames puffed out, as if the thing was actually breathing air. The eyes, now bottomless pits of dark... blinked.
“We will consume the tiny... unborn flesh.”
Eyes darting between the bracelet and her spear, which was so close, and yet so far away, the Sorceress said with a somber smile:
“Thou shall feast on the hallowed fire of creation, instead.”
“Thine feeble magicks cannot prick Us.”
Eirunn's answer was the heavy thud her bracelet produced when it hit the floor. In an instant, her eyes became pure, burning flame, and blue light conquered the bedchamber. This glow bested otherworldly, bottomless gloom, and torrent of rays beat the shadows bloody. Roaring fire, her waist long mane reached forth and smacked the monstrum's hideous claw before it could touch the child.
Waves of desperation and hopelessness emanated from the creature's bottomless maw, and the child's face contorted as if she was being physically hit. Light-devouring emanation, a power hungry for the spark of the living, poured out of the monstrum's every orifice. With the stubbornness of something not from this universe, the unborn creature slowly pushed back against the light of creation.
The Sorceress levitated one elbow above the floor, and crystal-blue rays shone from her burning eyes. Darkness and Light collided, annihilated each other and for one, still breath, indecisiveness ruled the air. Scintillating flames poured out from Eirunn's hair and bathed the monstrum, evoking a most horrid, primordial squeal.
Summoning forth whatever vile energies it still had dominion over, the being spewed more soul-devouring darkness at her. Yet, no matter how much of its otherworldly might it threw at the Sorceress, she ruined it all. Not a single hair on the child's head was harmed, and untouched by the terrible fight, little Lyra slept sound.
The thing, however, would not suffer castigation.
Relentless, it attacked Eirunn, one claw aimed at her head and the other, at Lyra. More, the foul ooze dripping from its maw slimed its way towards the Sorceress, yet hitting an invisible barrier, smoldered, unable to do its master's bidding. However swift and terrible, the monstrum's charge too was blocked, and by her bare hands nonetheless. That, what was not supposed to suffer mortal touch, burned to cinders.
Purple hide caught on fire, vicious pincers shattered, and insatiable gloom found its match. Inflamed hair wrapped itself around the monstrum's head and, slowly, inevitably, began crushing skull and burning flesh. There was no defense against glowing blue eyes, and their spear-like beams burrowed deep inside a brain not of this cosmos.
“Maiden Sorceress... squeal... spare Us!” - Begged the monstrum; gone its impressive size, the stuffed toy was back to its original shape.
“Shog-Khaigath, no longer shall you despoil our Realm.”
“No... wail... We can gift ye vast... wheeze... riches... grand cognition... yelp... please, let Us go!” - But a single dark orb left from its charred, original shape, the creature implored.
“What good are riches to those about to die?” - Shouted the Sorceress and following a short, somber laugh, crushed the monstrum's essence.
A thunderous clang shook the house and terrified beyond measure, Lyra's father stormed into the room, followed by the Knight, and Ainhart. Intent on seeing his daughter to safety, Gelduin dashed into the magick-filled room with little to no concern for his self. He tripped and fell, yet Dalnor was there to help him grab Lyra, as he covered the Dwarf's eyes with his hand.
Every patch of skin aglow by her magick soon became covered in lesions. Tiny, reddish tumors formed and grew swiftly causing them much pain. The Priest, his hands aglow with the golden light of Vayila, extended his shield over the three of them, and gave a dire warning:
“Do not even look at her!”
With their bleeding eyes shut, Gelduin and Dalnor carried the sleeping girl, their last steps turned into a painful crawl.
“My bracelet... quickly... give it to me!” - Asked the Sorceress with a voice which made the floor underneath their feet shake, and they bled from their ears.
The Priest knelt and, despite more and more painful tumors dotting his skin, sang:
Defend, protect us all, my Mother full of love,
Thou espy your children's pain from high above!
Vayila, Shield our flesh and give us strength,
So we gift a life of few years, length!
Welcome, welcome to this little room,
I sing for you to spare a little girl, her doom!
The more Ainhart sang, the softer the blinding blue glow became and his pain lessened. Thus, shielded by the goddess, he managed to pick up the red hot, bronze-forged bracelet and, eyes closed shut, place it on his companion's wrist. As if possessing a will of its own, the item locked itself, swiftly dowsing Eirunn's burning mane.
“Please, please let the child be safe!” - The Sorceress wept with bloody tears as she limped her way out of the ruined bedchamber, using her spear as a crutch.
Her fears vanished when she knelt by still sleeping Lyra and saw the child's skin was clean, free of tumorous growth. Scared beyond measure, Osnhild hugged her littlest of children and stupefied, but quite alive husband.
“By Vayila's will, the girl has been cured!” - Exclaimed the Priest and himself collapsed beside Dalnor, and Gelduin, who looked better, yet not fully recovered.
Still, it took their sorcerous companion significant effort, even with the help of her spear, to clean their blood. Sobbing, the young woman then turned her face away from them, as if ashamed of what she just did. Placing his hands on her shoulders, Ainhart turned her so they could face the Sorceress. As their tumors slowly healed and the pain ebbed away, the companions witnessed much terror and guilt in Eirunn's eyes.
The Priest gifted her with a calm smile and asked with a voice most soothing:
“Please, share your story with us... Maiden Sorceress.”
***
Dear reader, if you liked this story, you might enjoy my published work.
This is a good beat in the overall story. Just when the four have been safe for a while, we're reminded that (for them) death and evil are always in the periphery.
Another thing I like is how you are formatting this story. Using bold text to symbolize the evil voice is smart (and I think you did the same thing in part 4)?
I eagerly await the sorceress's tale. Happy Wednesday, Knight.
Wlow.!! What power this story has. How everything can turn deadly in one second. And even the most innocent toy can become deadly. What a horrible monster to use a childs toy to try to kill them. He must be very worried about their power. You are such a a wonderful writer.