Advent of Eternity - Chapter 32 (Patreon)

Knell’s eyes flickered with yellow light. He grunted, spotting a sign identifying a rickety building as the general store. “Over there.”

“I’ll go in first,” Cyll said, striding over to the building and pushing the door open. It creaked loudly, splitting the silence and causing all three of them to wince.

“Anything?” Stix asked, turning a dagger over in her hand nervously.

“Food,” Cyll replied. He walked inside and the others followed him in. Supplies lined the walls of the store and were strewn across the ground. Large shelves filled the room, arranged in perfectly straight lines. Several large pools of dried brownish red liquid covered the ground and had soaked into some fallen bags on the ground.

“Looks like there was some resistance here,” Stix said, kneeling beside a stain and touching it. Her nose wrinkled. “Blood. A few days old.”

“How do you know?” Cyll asked.

Stix sent him a flat stare. “I’m a Shadow Stalker. Half of my abilities are for tracking.”

“Lame.”

Stix rolled her eyes and stood back up. “There’s a good amount of blood on the floor, and it’s pretty scattered. Whoever this belonged to fought for a fair amount of time.”

“No body, though,” Knell observed, walking by the rows of shelves and studying them. “So they took whoever this was, or the victim escaped.”

“Does it matter?” Cyll asked, grabbing a tarp bag from the counter and starting to fill it with jerky and other non-perishable supplies.

“Information always matters,” Knell replied, stopping before one of the shelves. It sat askew, pointing out into the isle just enough to catch his attention. Another puddle of blood had soaked into the ground directly in front of it, ruining a pile of books at its base. He wedged his staff into the gap and levered the shelf back. To his surprise, it swung easily, sliding out of the way to reveal a small wooden door in the wall.

“What’s that?” Stix asked, walking up to join him.

“Panic room,” Knell replied. He rapped his staff against the door. There was no response. The yellow glow in his eyes brightened, then he shook his head. “I don’t think they made it.”

Cyll walked up beside them and grabbed a latch on the small door, pulling it open. He peered inside, then rocked back and stood once more, shaking his head.

“Empty.”

“You think someone was trying to buy time for another person to escape in here?” Cyll asked. “Doesn’t look like they made it.”

A beige object in the pile of books caught Knell’s eye and he braced himself with his staff, carefully leaning down to inspect it. His face darkened as he picked up a small doll, woven from straw. It had been clothed in handmade, rough wool with tiny, badly made designs covering it. One of the doll’s hands was stained brown from where it had touched the blood.

“No,” Knell said. “It doesn’t.”

“They killed a little kid? That’s cold,” Cyll said.

“Not enough blood here for a kill,” Stix said, then paused. “Unless they were very small.”

“The doll has enough detail in it that the maker couldn’t have been too young,” Knell said. “Probably around eight or nine years old. The craftsmanship isn’t good enough for them to be older.”

“So, what now?” Cyll asked. “We have the food. We can turn around and leave.”

“We’ll discuss back at our ship,” Knell said, studying the doll for another moment before putting it into his pocket. “We’re exposed here. We should not plan when enemies could be listening.”

The three headed back out and started to make their way back toward the ship. The fog had grown thicker and was now up to Knell’s knees and his pants dampened as they walked through it.

Knell grabbed Stix and jerked her back. She yelped as an arrow whistled through the air where here head had previously occupied, clattering off the ground instead.

“To cover!” Knell yelled. Cyll grabbed him like a sack of potatoes and darted into an alleyway with Stix hot on their heels.

Cyll set Knell back down and spun to face the streets.

“How’d you know we were under attack?” Stix asked, her eyes wide. “I didn’t even see the arrow coming.”

“Later,” Knell replied, his eyes burning brighter. “Kill them first.”

Four men rose up from within the fog, white whisps rising up off their bodies as they materialized. All held swords and wore bandanas to conceal the lower halves of their faces.

“They’ve got a Path user,” Cyll grunted. “Can I?”

“Help yourself,” Knell replied. “Don’t forget the archer, and recall the consequences of getting restrained. Immortal does not mean undefeatable.”

Cyll grunted his acknowledgement.

“Who are you blokes?” he asked, strolling out to meet them. Stix’s body blurred as she knelt in the alley, making it difficult to make out exactly where she was standing. She crept forward, readying a dagger in her hand to join the fight at the right moment.

The men didn’t respond. They all rushed Cyll as one, and he did nothing to stop them as all four drove their weapons into his chest. With a cackle, Cyll grabbed the nearest one by the hem of his shirt and slammed his head into the man’s nose, breaking it with a loud snap.

The other three leapt back, pulling their weapons free, but Cyll kept a firm grip on the one he’d injured. With a deft sweep, Cyll knocked the man’s feet out from under him and stamped his heel into the back of his head. There was a crunch, and the man moved no more.

Cyll pulled the final sword from his chest, flicking the blood from it as the wounds sealed. “Come on, then, kids. I’ll teach you to respect your elders.”

A sliver of fog rose up from behind Cyll, darting into his mouth while he spoke. Cyll choked, then grasped at his neck. The three remaining men spread out to surround Cyll, keeping their distance while he gagged.

Another man materialized at the front of the alley where Knell and Stix were hiding. He promptly caught a dagger to the throat for his troubles as Stix leapt from the shadows, descending on him like a furious badger.

She delivered another killing blow before a strand of fog shot out, grabbing her by the foot and yanking her into the open.

Stix cursed, trying to slash at the fog, but her weapons did nothing to it. Knell drummed his fingers on his staff, watching the fight unfold before him. Whoever the Path user was, they were still hiding, and that gave them an advantage.

Cyll let out a garbled snarl, then lunged at the nearest man. He caught a sword to the shoulder for his troubles, but still managed to latch onto the man’s legs. A tendril of fog grabbed him and started to pull, but not before Cyll cut the man’s leg off.

His victim collapsed in a cry of pain and blood and Cyll was thrown into a wall, crashing through it with a loud bang. The fog grew thicker and the tendril holding Cyll lifted him into the air, whipping him around like a ragdoll.

One of the men turned his attention toward Stix. Knell’s foresight burned a warning into his mind and he threw himself forward as a white blade whistled just past his head. Pain shot through his lame leg as he hit the ground and rolled, narrowly avoiding getting stabbed.

He blindly whipped his staff out, connecting with something firm and drawing a curse out. Knell rolled over and used Slow on his assailant. The tip of his sword delayed just long enough for Knell to scramble to his feet with the aid of his staff.

“Who are you?” Knell asked as the man snapped back into normal speed.

“A ghost,” the man replied, his voice muffled by his bandana. Fog rose up around him and reached for Knell, marking the man as the Path user.

Knell slowed the man again and, ignoring the lethargy tugging at the back of his mind, whipped the blade free from his staff. He thrust it at the man, carving a thin line across his chest before a tendril of fog struck him in the chest, sending him flying out of the alley.

Agony flared in Knell’s lame leg as it hit the ground and rolled to a stop just before one of the other assailants. He just barely managed to maintain his grip on the staff, which he used to slash up at the man.

Blood spurted from the back of the man’s leg and he cried out, crumpling. Knell forced himself to his feet and raised his blade, blocking a strike from the Path user and nearly getting thrown again in the process.

“I don’t recall ghosts being able to hit this hard,” Knell said through gritted teeth.

“Nobody ever does,” the man replied, whipping his sword for Knell’s neck. A well timed Slow was all that saved Knell as he ducked to the side, tripping over his lagging feet and dropping into a roll.

The spell wore out and the man stalked over to Knell, raising his sword.

“You forgot one thing,” Knell grunted from the ground, knocking the killing blow to the side so that it cut a thin line into his side instead of going through his chest.

“And what’s that?” the man replied, raising the blade once more.

“I have a team.”