Skarann has a fit of his immense, booming laughter as they look out at the woman’s body in horror. The one remaining soldier, looking out in dismay at his fallen comrade, buries his face in his hands. Just a little too close to the entrance, another laser is sent blasting through his chest, killing him as well.
“OH MY, THAT WAS JUST PERFECT. WHAT ABSOLUTE NUMBSKULLS. I TOLD YOU WHAT WOULD HAPPEN. I TOLD YOU IT WAS POINTLESS, BUT NO, YOU HAD TO TRY TO BE THE HEROES. RIGHTEOUS SHITMOUNDS.”
With half of the chamber still covered in moonlight and most of the space exposed to the open air, the party holds back behind the same crate as before. Emmitt is particularly overtaken with anger, head raised to the sky with a single, questioning eye. Marco just looks exhausted, leaning back against the crate. Leylin, however, is focused on the office across from them, where three people are still trapped on the other side.
“NOW IF ONLY I COULD GET THE REST OF THEM…” Skarann fires his lasers into the ceiling, and the building shakes with an expected ferocity. Though the main structure still holds, several chunks of stone are ripped off of the back wall, where the hole is growing larger. “WHO BUILDS THEIR BUILDINGS LIKE THIS? STUPID BACKWOODS TOWN THINKING ANYONE’S GOING TO CARE ENOUGH TO ATTACK THEM WITH MAGIC.”
Leylin crouches behind the crate, out of the view of the moon, and speaks softly to Emmitt and Marco. “We need to get going.”
With anxious glances at the open walls on either side, the three of them quietly make their way across the room and over to the office. Emmitt finally disperses his barrier in order to open the door.
They are greeted by a man and a woman, both in warehouse uniforms. The woman reaches out to shake Emmitt’s hand. “Thank you for the help. I think.”
“No problem,” Emmitt says. “Though, I’m not sure we should take that much credit.”
“Is there anything we can do to help you?” The man asks. “Are you looking for something?”
Emmitt nods, peering through the bars at the rest of the loading bay. “You haven’t happened to come across someone named Gabriel, have you?”
The man thinks for a moment, then nods his head as the woman does the same. Both have the same look of recognition on their faces. “Yes, actually. Came by earlier today. “
“What was he here for?”
On that point, they both look less certain. The man looks at the woman, who shrugs. “She was looking for someone, but we didn’t recognize any of the names. Once she decided we couldn’t help her, she moved right along.”
Marco has the map out in one hand, trying to figure out what the next closest location would be. Leylin is looking over his shoulder, trying to read it as well.
“If only I could tell how close things were on this map,” she says.
“Yeah,” Marco agrees, “whoever designed this is wildly incompetent.”
Emmitt looks over to the man sitting at the desk. He is not wearing a uniform like the others, appearing to be a local traveller passing by. His left leg has been injured in some way, and fresh blood is still seeping into his clothing. Emmitt pulls back his mask to give him a look of concern. “Are you alright?”
The man looks down at his leg, shaking his head. His strained, uneasy breaths suggest he is still in pain, but the bleeding does not appear to be too profuse. “It hurts, I can say that much. But I’m not dead yet, I suppose.”
Marco eyes the man’s injury, scanning over the tear in his pant leg. It isn’t easy to discern from all of the blood and ripped fabric, but there appears to be at least two puncture wounds, a few inches apart. Marco tightens his grip on the sword strapped to his left side, thinking. “You weren’t bitten, were you? By one of the creatures?”
The traveller looks up at him with a hesitant look, suddenly much more worried than before. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat. “Uh, yeah. I was. It was this big fox thing, nearly the size of a wolf. It was still chasing me when I got in here.”
Marco, Emmitt, and Leylin all look up at each other at the same time. The two workers are trying to watch their expressions, not sure what this all means. They focus on Emmitt, whose face is fully visible.
“Does that mean anything?” the woman asks. “Is it like…”
Emmitt tries to look reassuring, patting the man on the shoulder. “We don’t know. It’s probably fine.”
“Probably,” Marco says. He doesn’t seem very sure.
Emmitt pushes past the awkwardness, kneeling down to place his hands over the traveller’s wounds. He winds his hands around the man as though applying bandages, and after a moment, it does seem like the bleeding is reduced. “Good now. I’m going to have you stay in the chair here, and for the time being, I’m going to put a barrier up around the chair.”
A flash of fear across the traveller’s face. “You’re trapping me in here?”
“Only for a little while. My friends and I are going to check out the main warehouse, and when we come back, I’ll take away the barrier.”
“What do you think is going to happen?” the woman asks.
Emmitt locks eyes with the woman for a moment, trying not to look too worried. “It’s just a precaution. We’ll be right back.” He pulls down his mask and starts toward the front of the office. Marco and Leylin follow suit, not wanting to answer any difficult questions.
Just before they head out for the next room, Leylin turns back to talk to the two workers. “Do you guys know why the moon lasers aren’t breaking down the building? Because they seem to be pretty good at breaking down anything else.”
The woman looks up at the ceiling, which doesn’t look quite as secure as before. “Most buildings in the area were reinforced with magic-resistance after the Autumn Wars. That’s probably what’s happening here.”
“That’s awfully lucky,” Leylin says.
The woman gives a glance back at the man sitting on the chair with the leg wound, now trapped inside Emmitt’s invisible prison. The man glances out at the bodies strewn across the room outside.
“Well, all things considered.” Leylin quickly slips out of the room and goes to join Emmitt and Marco in the warehouse.
There is a short hallway that leads down to the next section of the warehouse, closed doors on either side. Already as they make their way down to the second door, it is apparent that someone, or some , are on the other side. All three of them hold their weapons at the ready as they listen to the muffled voices. Leading the way, Emmitt grabs the door, pauses for a second, then pulls it open.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The party is now standing in front of several unusual characters, who are in turn staring back. At the very front are two humans, a man and a woman. The woman has a sword sheathed at her side and a bow on her back. The man has a large metal gauntlet on his right arm. He scans over the party with unmistakable mismatched eyes. Searching on the other side of the room is a short man with cloven hooves and goat horns sticking out of his curly hair, a satyr. He grimaces over at the newcomers with distaste. Next to him is a seven-foot sunflower with beady, black eyes and long, leafy arms. This floral creature has a polearm slung over its back. All four of them are wearing the same type of armor: white gold plating with a halo emblem on the chest. The sunflower has more of a tree guard around its stem, though it still matches to the color scheme.
All four of them stand in silence, turning to the party with expectant looks. The party is similarly silent. Marco in particular is looking uncomfortable for some reason. He looks around the room as though he expects to find something in particular. He does, sitting on one of the crates on the left side. A miniature dragon, about one foot long, is peering down at them from its perch. They watch each other with mutual recognition. The woman does a short, high-pitched whistle, and it swoops down to take its place on her shoulder.
“So who are you?” The woman says. She addresses the party as a whole, but Marco can’t help but feel like he is being noticed in some way. A name rises to the tip of his tongue. Sabah. Still holding a sword in each hand, he shifts around his face, trying to make sure his mask is secure.
Emmitt takes the lead. “We are… looking for someone named Gabriel. You folks haven’t run into anyone with that name, have you?”
The woman, Sabah, shakes her head in a with a familiar calm, cold finality. “No. We have not.”
Another prolonged silence. With a mixture of impatience and obliviousness, Leylin wanders off to explore the area. The room is not much larger than the last, but most of the space is filled with multiple crates stacked on top of each other. Several of these crates have been opened, interspersed between this new group of people. Most contain shipping parts, such as folded sails and stacks of anchors. The satyr watches Leylin with a tense expression. The sunflower creature, with its black, bulbous eyes, is harder to read.
Sabah and the other man remain in their standoff with Emmitt and Marco. Emmitt tries to push through the silence as Marco shuffles uncomfortably. “We’re just uh…We’re just passing through. Trying to find somewhere safe with all of this moon stuff going on.”
“For sure.” She glances over to Marco, eyeing his dual swords with some kind of recognition. The miniature dragon appears ready to dive at them.
“What brings you all here?” Emmitt asks. “Aside from the army of dangerous animals outside.”
Sabah and the man exchange a look. Emmitt takes a moment to examine the halo emblem on their armor, racking his mind for where he’s seen it before. Marco needs no such reminder; he knows exactly what that is. The feeling is mutual. The man with the gauntlet is looking directly at Marco now, as are the satyr and the sunflower. His mask is starting to feel transparent.
“The McCappon Trading Company took us on to make sure some goods were delivered,” she explains. “Rush order I suppose. And there’s a lot of bandits in the woods nowadays.”
“Goods like…?”
“Mostly shipping parts. Nothing of great interest to us.”
Marco’s hands are perfectly steady, a product of years of training. But the tension is undeniable. He holds his swords firmly at the ready, just as the dragon sits poised and the man with the gauntlet holds it raised. He knows who they are. They know who he is. All it would take would be a pin drop.
“No weapons or anything of the sort?” Emmitt clarifies. “Nothing silver?”
“Nope, just shipping parts.”
With no further hope of staying hidden behind the mask, Marco glances over to Emmitt, keeping his swords raised. “Uh Emmitt?”
The man with the gauntlet takes a step forward as though making a dare. He sneers at the sound of Marco’s voice. Marco could recognize that smile anywhere. He still sees it sometimes when he closes his eyes. Connor.
“What?” The man asks. “Did you expect us to be burning puppies and throwing old ladies off the cliff?”
“I didn’t expect shipping parts.” The words stumble out of Marco’s mouth with a lack of coordination that contrasts sharply with his physical poise. The grin on Connor’s face widens, confirming that he does, in fact, recognize his voice.
Looking between the two of them, Emmitt seems to sense there is more going on. With an additional glance at the dragon ready to pounce, he puts up both hands in a diplomatic gesture. “Alright, let’s keep this civil.”
The probability of such an outcome seems to be small.
Meanwhile, towards the back of the room, Leylin finally discovers something of interest. A door leads to a small windowed room overlooking the cliffs outside. Inside is an incredibly cramped living space and office. A bed is shoved to one side and a desk to the other, leaving only a small space to shuffle in-between. A mess of notes and books covers both surfaces. Covering most of the windows are large sheets of paper charting the stars, with different constellations circled intermittently. Leylin eyes each of the names with fascination.
“Whoever lives here has really got to get out more,” she says.
Yet she is drawn to the obsessive psyche depicted by the room. She looks out in wonder at this perfect reconstruction of the stars, careful not to stray too close to the real ones outside, with the moonlight still visible. She flips through each of the books, finding complex formulas and elaborate sketches of the heavens. To the side of the desk, an old crumpled piece of paper is covered in faded writing.
Leylin eyes the paper with a curious look. “Huh.”
“Well this is a damned rat’s nest.” Leylin turns around to see the small man with cloven hooves and goat horns regarding the room with disgust. The sunflower is standing behind him, looming over both of them with its strange bug-like eyes.
Leylin places the note back on the desk and slips out of the room. She strolls back over to where Marco and Connor are locked in a staring contest, with Emmitt and Sabah in a similar competition nearby. “Well, I didn’t find any weapons. Just a bunch of star charts and stuff.”
Her intrusion isn’t quite enough to break the tension, but it does break Emmitt out of his temporary trance, lowering his hands and looking back over at Marco. “We should get going. No need to waste any more time here.”
Marco nods as though it is his first time making such a movement. “Uh, yeah. I agree.”
Leylin, not quite aware of what was going on in her absence, gives a curious glance between Marco, Connor, and Sabah, whose dragon has hopped down to her shoulder. Marco eventually forces himself to pull away and direct his gaze forward, keeping it there until he is out of the room. Leylin promptly follows after. For just a split second, as she glances back at the strange ensemble in the white armor, she could swear that an arc of lightning passes between the fingers of Connor’s gauntlet. Then they are back in the shipping bay.
“Well, here’s one bit of good news,” Emmitt says. He points to the traveller sitting on the chair, who is still in full human form. The two workers in the office have more visible looks of relief on their unmasked faces. They wave over to Leylin and Marco, the fear from before starting to diminish. After checking up on the invisible bandages, Emmitt steps back out of the office, careful to avoid the portion of the shipping bay that is still encased in moonlight. “It seems like the lycanthropy isn’t transferred through biting. That gives us a bit more leeway in case any of us are injured.”
“Good to know.” Leylin is focused on the back of the loading bay, where an elephant-sized hole provides a view of the endless sea. On the opposite side is a similar path of destruction, where the moonlight bathes the corpses of animals and humans alike. “Do we have a plan to get to the next place? Wherever that is?”
“Excellent question.”
Marco, still on edge from their encounter in the back room, remains silent as the others search the area for ideas. Eventually Leylin and Emmitt converge on the armored chariot sitting in the middle of the space. The ethereal horses remain absent, leaving a carriage without anything to pull it. But it moves all the same as it tilts forward, as though an invisible wedge has been shoved beneath the rear wheels.
“I have an idea,” Emmitt says.
