The Demonlands were harsh, as the name implied. Not too harsh for life, life always survived. If you could call it life. That was an argument Jerico didn’t want to get into, especially not with himself, but he couldn’t help contemplating. He looked around, everything was diseased, rotten. This wasn’t life, it was living death.
Everyone said that the spirits of darkness had long ago been contained, but standing here in the scar on the outer edge of the Plague, it was hard to believe that with certainty. The Demonlands festered, like a wound. Poisonous thorn bushes and dark purple shadowgrass dominated the plant life, with a few trees that the curse on the area had preserved.
Once, the place had been a rich jungle, or so the stories said. When the spirits of darkness had infested the barrier around the Great Lord’s corpse, they had turned it into the purple, rotting wasteland it was today. The same corruption that killed all life from within also prolonged it. No one touched the trees anymore though. Not even for firewood. Darkwood smoke did strange things to one’s head, and together with the general atmosphere of the place, it had been known to drive men mad.
“Oi, Jerry, stay alert, we don’ know what’s out there.” Geoffrey smacked him on the back of the head. Jerico’s commanding officer was an enormous man, he dwarfed all but the tallest of people in height, and had enough muscle to dual wield his weapons of choice, the Shadowstorm Axe and the warhammer Nightbreaker. Matching weapons of dark power, both of which were large enough to stagger some full grown men.
“Yes sir.” Jerico wasn’t certain how he felt about being the newbie in the patrol, everyone was looking out for him but… constant warnings made him feel more jumpy than anything else. He’d only been on for a month but he would be glad when his tour of the Demonlands was over. But tonight… tonight was looking bad. There was something… new out there.
Cherri sidled over to him, she had transferred in with him, and had quickly filled the team’s position as sniper. “Whaddya think that thing was we saw flying over?” He looked at her. Her lithe form was barely visible in the dark shadows, but her blue eyes sparkled in the dim moonlight. Normally that splash of color would be comforting, but… glowing eyes in the darkness didn’t seem that comforting tonight.
He shook his head. “I dunno Cher. Whatever it was, I don’t think it was good news.” Cherri nodded sagely, and bounced away.
“Keep yer ‘eads down.” Geoffrey swung his war axe around, cutting aside the brush in front of him, opening up the path forward towards the source of their worry.
About three hours ago, right after the sun went down, there had been a ground-shaking roar, and the sounds of gunfire and explosions had come from the other team’s camp. They’d sent two scouts on ahead to find out what had happened, but the scouts hadn’t come back.
The gunfire had gone silent an hour ago, and the group had been on the other side of a chasm, which had taken an hour of fighting off periodic demonling attacks to get around. Then they had to fight off the two… things that had killed the scouts.
One night, and more beasts of the corruption than all the patrols together usually saw in ten years. And whatever those giant worms were… He shuddered. Geoffrey had chopped one in half with his axe, Cherri had blown the other’s eye out and watched it tumble out into the chasm. They’d lost four men before the worms had gone down.
And then, barely ten minutes ago, something had flown overhead. Something massive. Jerico could’ve sworn it was an eye, glaring at all of them as it passed overhead. The entire team was spooked.
Geoffrey stopped. “Bloody…”
Jerico looked past him and turned pale. It was a grisly scene.
The camp had been reduced to scraps of wood, craters in the ground and ashes where the campfire had been knocked into the tents. All around were pieces of eyes the size of heads and the bodies of the patrol, reduced to bloody pulp.
Jerico spun and raised his spear as something rustled in the nearby tree, which was somehow still standing. A man fell out.
The man stumbled towards the group, covered in bruises and losing blood from his mangled leg, a signature gatling gun slung over his shoulder,. “G-g-geoffrey.”
Geoffry rushed over to the captain of the other patrol. “Dante! What happened! What was that thing?”
Dante coughed, “Some-someone broke shadow orb. s-sent scouts to follow cloaked figure into chasm- and heard th-these- screams. Barry came back y-y-yelling a-ab-” He gestured at the pieces strewn about the ground. “Eye. Giant eye.”
Geoffrey looked up. “Where are the elixirs!? Get me an elixir!”
Jerico shuddered, looked around and looked up. What was going on? And why in the name of the nine moons did he have to be in the middle of it?
****
Celestia woke up screaming.
She sat bolt upright and immediately reached for her Earthweaver wand, then ran down the stairs of her living tree, sending rocks and dirt flying at doors. Sleep or no sleep, it was an emergency.
Finally, she reached the room of the elder and pounded on the door as hard as she could.
Slowly, the bearded dryad opened the door, stooped over with age. “Good heavens girl, what is it?”
“The Demonlands are waking, and we are not prepared.”
****
Pahoran woke up in a cold sweat.
He quickly slipped on his robe, put on his hat, and literally flew down the staircase of his tower, realized that it wasn’t fast enough, and jumped out a window, heading straight for the king’s balcony.
He landed and pounded on the door.
From within came the muffled sound of the startled monarch, “What in blazes…” the king threw open the door. “Pahoran! There had better be a lux good reason for this. It is the middle of the bloody night!”
“Sire, I am aware of that. And because of tonight’s events, tomorrow night will be the biggest slaughter in the history of the four kingdoms.”
****
Eric woke up with a start. The dream was already fading, but for some reason, he was almost certain that tomorrow was going to be one of the worst days of his life. He looked around the room. The wooden sword his father had given him before leaving town was still lying in the corner.
He leaned over and lit the candle. It was close to midnight. But thinking about going back to sleep gave him chills. Whatever that nightmare had been, it was enough to scare him even after he had forgotten it.
He shook himself and went back to bed.
It was a long time before he fell back asleep, and even then, whether or not it qualified as rest was doubtful.
****
He stepped into the doorway, and brushed the purple dust off of his cloak. He ran his hands down the back of his mask, unclipping each clasp with care. The metallic, beaked mask he wore was the last of its kind, and it had served him well throughout the centuries he had used it.
To think, it was almost over. Tonight, he had set in motion the plans he had been laying with care for almost as long as he could remember. Almost.
Finally, his work was coming to an end. He would miss being in command of all the workings of the Great Lords, but he supposed that the power he would possess afterwards, even as a subordinate, would be more than enough for any purpose he might have.
The question was no longer whether he would be successful, but rather how much work was required for success to be achieved. And that amount seemed to grow ever smaller.
He chuckled. A shame about the mortals, he had grown quite fond of some of them. Oh well, he thought with another small laugh, you can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs.
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