The First Lich Lord

Chapter 11

Having ensured the survivors had enough food and supplies to begin rebuilding, Friar Brown and I left the village behind, following the direction the villagers indicated as to where the cultists were headed.

In some ways, the chaos of the cities is better than this, I said.

Fortunately, this is not common, Friar Brown said. I dont know why some villages are like this, unfortunate things happening out of the blue, but it is far less common than the chaos and suffering in the cities.

It made sense that hed seen something like this before. In the small isolated places, you would find strange things like cults, unusual monsters, and other oddities. Villages like the ones we visited were often destinations for quests, and that isolation almost ensured many would go uncompleted.

The trail led us to another village half a day away, deeper into the forest. We found it in much the same shape as the last one. There were a few survivors, and Friar Brown helped as much as he could before again following the road the cultists had taken.

With the next village too far away to reach before nightfall, we camped in the forest. The thick trees and dense underbrush were so quiet, not even the insects made noise.

Something is very wrong in this area, Friar Brown said.

The creatures here are probably too afraid of drawing the attention of some monstrosity. I was apprehensive about what we would find at the end of this questline. I didnt think it was something I wanted to see.

Midmorning the next day, we made it to the third village. Evidently word had reached the townsfolk ahead of the cultists, and theyd formulated some form of defense. Unfortunately, there was one great flaw in their defenses. They hadnt taken into account there might be members of the cult within their midst. There were many burning buildings and people dead in the streetsslain from wounds in the back.

There were no survivors.

These NPCs we were following werent warriors. They were people trying to protect their families, caught up in events that were never supposed to happen. At least not like this. It occurred to me that in a world making the transition from the inhabitants being mindless creatures controlled by what amounted to strings of code, to becoming self-aware, was no doubt resulting in catastrophes like this all across the world.

After some searching, we found tracks leading away, though they did not follow the main road. In fact, there was no main road leaving this village, just a trail leading off into the forest.

Friar Brown unhooked his large horse from the wagon, and we hid the cart under a pile of straw in one of the stables.

It wasnt hard to see where the people had gone. All of the undergrowth was flattened by the passage of hundreds of feet headed deeper into the forest. The farther we traveled, the gloomier it became, the dark bark of the trees adding to the effect, the entire area still shrouded in that eerie silence. It reminded me of a place where you would find monsters like werewolves and other creatures of the night. The trees were large, their canopies all but blotting out the sky, and I soon found myself on edge.

Friar Brown walked with a staff that had a black metal circle with a white starburst mounted at the top, about the size of my hand. The longer I was around the man, the more I began to think he was likely more than just a simple friar.

We came across what looked to be ruins, the trail leading straight to them.

We should find a way around, I said. I have no doubt there will be enemies in there. If this is our destination, well need to know if the trail continues on the other side or not.

I would rather march in there and smite them all, Friar Brown grumbled.

We can do that later. For now, we need to pursue the villagers that were taken captive, and we dont know how long they have. I hadnt seen the friar so worked up before. Despite the grim situation, seeing him in his righteous anger brought me a sense of satisfaction. That even someone who seemed as holy as him could still have rage.

Avoiding the ruins, we headed around the side, but our path was blocked by steep cliffs and old fortifications. They were truly ancient, and though riddled with ages of neglect, they still stood tall.

We found the same on the other side of the ruins and determined we would have to pass through them.

Approaching what had been the main gate, both of us ready for whatever we would find, I began to notice this had once been a fortification of immense strength. The broken walls were thick and made of solid stone. Intricate carvings of runes were chiseled across many of the stones, indicating this place had once been heavily enchanted.

As we entered what had once been some kind of courtyard, I heard a voice. Who might you be? The tone was disdainful, with a snide edge that reminded me of someone used to looking down on others.

I am Friar Brown, and this is my friend Ezekiel. He spoke in a deceptively calm tone. Can you tell me where all of the villagers have gone?

Friar Brown! the man sneered. You fat old fuck, what are you doing here?

I was taken aback. So far, every person wed met had loved the big friar.

Ah, Silas, that makes sense. Why have you led your flock this way? They trusted you.

I saw the man now. He was lean, with a hawkish nose, and dressed in blood red robes. Lead? I am not the leader. Though it makes sense a fool like you would think so.

Just tell us where the villagers are, I said, irritation dripping off every word. This man was pissing me off.

Easy, theyre farther up the mountain. Silas shrugged. You will join them soon enough; the boss always wants more sacrifices.

Several other men appeared from behind the ruins around Silas. They didnt wear any elaborate clothes, most appearing to be the villagers wed been after. The only unifying detail, was that each of their cloaks or shirts had a red handprint on it.

Do I have to not kill them this time? I whispered to Friar Brown.

No. Friar Browns voice was like hardened steel. Something I didnt think the jolly old man had in him. Kill them all.

With a thought, I transformed Mercy from a staff into a curved, bladed weapon, ideal for slashing. Awfully bloodthirsty for a friar who claims to follow Olattee, I said.

What you dont know about Olattee could fill every book in the world, Friar Brown growled, the symbol at the end of his staff beginning to glow with pure white light.

His magic burned away at my spell. I rushed away from him before my true nature was exposed, and disappeared into the ruins. Several of the cultists followed me. The first wielded a woodcutters ax, and was clearly skilled with handling it. I blocked his first swing with the shaft of Mercy, connecting with the handle of his ax.

Pushing his weapon aside, I brought the bladed end of Mercy down in a savage arc, opening his chest from shoulder to hip. These cultists werent powerful, their only strength coming from their numbers.

Utilizing the chaotic terrain of the ruins, I was able to keep the cultists split up. It worked well, but there were just too many.

Magic emanated from where Friar Brown fought with Silas. Something told me that, even though I couldnt see the fight, Silas was no match for Friar Brown. After bringing down several more of the cultists, I found myself in a larger area clear of rubble. The enemy took advantage of the change in terrain and surrounded me.

I spun Mercy, shortening the blade so only the tip was sharpened. The longer shaft of the weapon would provide a greater defensive ability. Vitos training with the blade-staff and spears had saved me more than once, and was about to prove its worth again.

I fell into a defensive posture and beckoned my assailants on. At first, they attacked in unison, but I was able to fend them off, keeping Mercy moving. One of the villagers-turned-cultist recoiled from my parry, creating an opening and I lunged. My blade-staff drove into the mans chest as easily as punching through tissue paper.

The lunge left me exposed, and I rolled to the side, avoiding an incoming attack. A club smashed the ground where Id been, and as I leapt to my feet, I ripped Mercy out of the cultists chest and slashed it around. The tip of the blade scored the club wielders face, and one of his eyes burst, sliced in half. The man fell back with a cry of pain, clutching at his lacerated eye.

With two of the cultists now either slain or distracted, the fight became a two versus one, and my skills with Mercy were more than enough. Dispatching the uninjured cultists was quick and deadly. The second one even tried to flee, but with a precise throw, Mercy sailed like a javelin and pinned him to a wall.

Retrieving my weapon, I approached the man whose face Id slashed. He scrambled back, gazing up at me with one eye filled with terror. Picturing the bloodied, desolate rooms in the villages, I smiled, reshaping Mercy, and lopped his head off with one clean blow.

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