The Forsaken

EVIL MAGIC

Tyr, Patrick and Olaf stand before the illuminating gate of old; shining with a bright green and adorned with unknown symbols. Symbols of a past civilization? And the name Lugh above.

“Lugh?” Patrick says as if trying to unravel an ancient secret. There is nothing else to do here except to go forth.

Entering, they pause at the unexpected. Jaws open wide at a city buried deep in the mountain.

In front of them, a long bridge extends; longer than the eye can see. On each side in the far distance structures anchored on the mountain walls. What purpose do they serve? They cannot say. No outside light shines through the mountain yet there is no darkness here only gentle emerald shimmers illuminating the bridge, the structures in the distance, and the deep abyss far below.

“How is this possible?” Patrick says as he looks around in awe.

“Magic. Evil magic!” Olaf says. Shaking his head at the thought.

“Let’s move. The sooner we are out of here, the better,” Tyr says as he hurries his companions.

“Are you sure we can reach the end if we follow this bridge?” Patrick asks Olaf, who looks around in caution.

“Aye. Follow the bridge and walk straight. Many have done this before us and many continued doing until...” Olaf says as he stops.

“Until?” Patrick asks as he looks at him with curiosity.

“Evil magic!” Olaf dramatically exclaims, “They went searching too deep and too far. They found death,” he shakes his head in disapproval.

“Such a shame. Imagine all the mysteries this place holds,” Patrick says as he looks over the bridge into the green abyss. He tries to see the bottom. Darkness devours it. Looking back he can see Olaf and Tyr further away. Patrick hurries to catch up to them.

“Are you not in awe of this?” Patrick asks. Like a traveler stopping and glancing everywhere and at everything.

“No,” Tyr quickly responds. His eyes are fixated forth.

Why am I here? I’ve made a deal to see this job to the end. For money? But isn’t this too much of a hassle? It is! So, why don’t I walk away? WHY?

“I know what you are thinking, Tyr,” Patrick says walking side by side with him. Tyr looks at Patrick.

“I know your opinions on adventuring, on doing the right thing and being a hero. I know. But even still after all we have experienced, you still push on. Do you know why you do this?” Patrick asks as he looks Tyr straight in the eye.

A question Tyr has been trying to find an answer to for a while now. Why is he here?

“Why is that?” Tyr asks in a pretend sarcastic manner. He truly wants to know.

“Because you are a hero,” Patrick says, nodding.

“A hero?” Tyr blurts out as the statement leaves him flabbergasted.

Tyr laughs out loud but tries to suppress the noise as much as possible. They are still in unknown territory. Caution is well advised.

Patrick smiles as he continues walking and absorbing the magnificent sights.

I am a hero? He wouldn’t be saying this if he knew what I have done… if he knew what I am. No! Not a hero. If I am anything, I am a villain. Tyr smirks at Patrick’s perceived notion of him; one part smirk at how wrong he is the other smirk due to the compliment. It feels nice… and strange.

Tyr remembers...

Clad in black armor, he stands on the battlefield filled with dead bodies and blood. The crimson sky atop, the crimson earth underneath… it shines bright- the blood. A man clad in black armor, his face covered by a helmet with the number 47 on it, approaches.

“We broke their army. Our mission is almost finished,” the black-armored man says.

“What else is there to do?” a young Tyr asks.

The black-armored man points to the city.

“The women and children,” the black-armored man says as he strolls in their direction.

Young Tyr puts on a helmet revealing a number 32; he follows.

Arriving at the city, scenes of fire and blood accompanied by screams. Screams in the distance and- death all around.

A woman runs as she stumbles.

“No, no, no...” she pleads as her body trembles.

Tyr raises his sword as he...

“Tyr, Tyr, Tyr?” a voice calls out to him, breaking the memory.

Tyr looks around; Olaf and Patrick stare at him with worry.

“What?” Tyr blurts out as he returns to reality.

“What is wrong? You are sweating like crazy and you spaced out?” Patrick asks.

“It is nothing,” Tyr says, brushing the incident off. It takes a moment for him to regain composure.

“Are you sure?” Patrick asks. He does not believe him.

“I am fine. Let’s continue. The sooner we are out of this place the better,” Tyr says as he continues walking burying the memory.

***

Olaf raises his hand; the party stops.

“What is it?” Patrick asks.

“Listen,” Olaf says as they listen in silence.

In the distance, they hear a deep sound; going on once, pausing for a moment and repeating. Deep and full. They can almost taste it. Almost.

“What is that sound?” Patrick asks as he moves closer to hear it.

The drum-like sound repeats.

“It sounds like...” Olaf says.

“... a heartbeat?” Tyr adds.

Patrick approaches the edge of the bridge to listen more carefully.

“A particularly large heart,” Olaf says with wide-open eyes.

“Are we in the belly of a beast?” Patrick asks as he takes another look around.

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is something man-made,” Tyr says, dismissing this ridiculous notion.

“I thought so at first but now...” Patrick says as he looks around with worry on his face.

“It is evil magic! This entire place is unnatural. How can someone even dig a mountain?” Olaf asks as he grips his axe.

“Let’s hurry. It shouldn’t be long now. Right?” Tyr asks.

“Aye. We are almost there,” Olaf says.

“Almost,” Tyr repeats as he shakes his head.

“What did you expect? It takes roughly as much as it would take us to travel across the mountain pass,” Olaf says.

Tyr grunts.

“I sure could use something to drink,” Tyr murmurs to himself as a bottle appears in front of him.

“What?” Tyr utters in surprise.

“I know how you favor drink. So, I’ve brought some for you,” Patrick says as he smiles.

“Much obliged,” Tyr says as he takes the bottle and chugs it down in one impressive go; a smile appears on his face, “This is what I needed,” Tyr adds as joyful as a child who got a new toy.

“What are friends for,” Patrick says with a smile as he continues to walk.

“Friends?” Tyr murmurs.

I had allies; I had commanders, and I had enemies... loads of enemies. But a friend? It’s been a long time. Feels weird but... doesn’t feel half bad. Not at all.

“Look,” Patrick says, pointing to a structure on the bridge.

To the right of them lies a small entrance with stairs leading deep down.

“A way down,” Patrick says.

“The way the explorers of the past took. The way to doom,” Olaf says as he shakes his head with disapproval.

“Come now,” Tyr says.

“I wonder what mysteries lie there,” Patrick adds as they walk.

“Many wondered the same. You heard how they ended up,” Olaf says, dismissing his inquiry.

The unexpecting three venture forth on the metal bridge as the gentle green light illuminates the darkness away.

In the distance, on the far-away walls of the mountains, a shadow looms over them; watching with a bright red eye. It moves… unnaturally. Something is watching.

Suddenly, they hear clanking sounds. The clanking of metal. Near. Very near.

“Wait!” Olaf raises his hand.

“What is it now?” Patrick says.

“Silence!” Tyr commands.

The two veterans observe in readiness; Patrick follows their lead.

There is no sound.

“What is happening?” Patrick whispers. He tries to see what his companions are looking at. Only darkness and shadow.

“We are not alone,” Tyr whispers back.

Tyr and Olaf unsheathe their weapons; instinctively Patrick does the same.

“Let us make haste,” Tyr says as he looks in Patrick’s and Olaf’s direction; they nod.

The group races with their weapons in their hands.

They stop; the metallic sound is back. They quickly turn around as they see it. A dark shape moves. A living shadow!

“What was that?” Patrick asks in a panic.

“Evil magic!” Olaf says.

“Stop with the evil magic talk,” Tyr brushes off in frustration.

Fear slowly creeps as hair stands up on the back of their head.

They see nothing, hear nothing, but they feel something in the dark, in the silence.

“Let us get out of here! I’ve had more than enough of this accursed place,” Olaf says as he turns around. His face turns pale.

“What is...” Patrick asks as he stops mid-sentence with a pale face.

Tyr sighs as he quickly turns with his sword battle-ready.

The looming shadow with the glowing red eye stands before them.

Spider-like with eight metal legs as sharp as razors holding up a body made of metal; across its torso lie the same symbols that adorn the door at the entrance and the structures inside the mountain. In front of the creature, one large eye glows in a dark red as if piercing their souls.

“This is not good,” Tyr says as he prepares for battle.

“It is...” Olaf raises his axe as he gets cut off.

“Do not even dare to say evil magic,” Tyr yells out of frustration.

“… evil magic,” Patrick adds in fear as his hands tremble.

Tyr sighs.

The metal spider lunges at them with uncanny speed. Tyr stands at the vanguard as he dodges the rush with a strafe; he quickly counters with a swing of his blade; the attack bounces off the spider’s hard body. No effect!

The creature turns around as it stands on its back legs ready to cut Tyr with razor-sharp legs. Tyr dodges the unrelenting flurry of blades. One mistake can spell doom, he is sure to keep focus. From the rear Olaf lets out a war cry as he hits the metallic spider in the back with all of his might; the attack barely dents its hide. Certain distance away from the battle, fear grips Patrick as he unintentionally drops his sword; his hands shake uncontrollably. Paralyzed by fear there is nothing to do but watch. Dodging and deflecting the creature’s attacks Tyr makes a few counters but none of them make a single dent in the creature’s tough exterior. From the back, Olaf continues smashing the spider with all his might. Finally, his effort starts to pay off. Little by little. Dents form as the creature turns around to face him, letting out an inhuman ear-piercing screech.

The spider stands tall on its legs as it slashes downward with two of its legs; Olaf blocks them with his axe; he is holding the attack as the creature pushes him. With all his might he endures.

Tyr takes a moment of pause as chants.

“I am death. I am death incarnate. Those who look at the eyes of death shall know eternal darkness,” Tyr attacks. His body moves faster than before; he appears near the spider’s head. With a powerful downward slash, he cuts off its head. The spider ceases its movement.

Olaf falls gasping for breath.

“I… told… you,” Olaf says, trying to regain his composure.

“Don’t,” Tyr adds knowing all too well what statement will follow.

“Evil… magic!” Olaf adds, still gasping in exhaustion.

“I.. I’m… sorry,” Patrick adds, shamefully. He dares not to look them in the eye.

“Nothing to be ashamed about, lad. I have a lot of experience and I almost pissed myself,” Olaf says as he smiles.

“What do you mean almost,” Tyr adds as they look at his soaked pants. Olaf grins.

“I couldn’t do anything,” Patrick says, looking at his still-shaking hands.

The metal clanks. The party looks back as the spider slowly twitches.

“I think we need to...” Tyr says as he gets cut off.

“RUN!” Olaf screams.

A high-pitched sound emanates from the spider as the group flees like the wind; the headless spider stands as it moves erratically, not knowing where to go. From afar, they hear many more clanking noises as a swarm of glowing red eyes shine in the darkness. They appear one by one. A swarm of the same spider-like creatures chases them with fervor and death.

The party runs as the creatures slowly but surely gain ground. In the distance, they see the door; the same door they saw at the entrance.

“Do not stop! We are close,” Tyr yells as he runs.

The spiders close the distance as the exit lies in sight.

Almost upon them; their razor-sharp limbs near their flesh; as one spider raises its limbs to strike- they run through the gate. The spiders stop. They stand outside the exit.

“What?” Tyr says as he looks at them. Their glowing red eyes observe the party as they quickly disperse; vanishing back into the dark.

“We’ve made it,” Patrick says, gasping for air.

“Not quite,” Olaf says as he smiles. Blood pours out from his mouth; he falls to the ground.

“Olaf!” Patrick yells as he rushes to the fallen man.

There is a wound on Olaf’s back; a large wound. Blood pours from it as it colors the floor in crimson.

“You are going to be okay. You are going to make it!” Patrick says as he holds the tears in his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me,” Olaf says as he laughs.

“It’s just a...” Patrick says as he notices the excessive amount of blood pouring from the wound.

“It is okay. Make sure you kill that demon. Promise me,” Olaf says, his skin turning pale.

“I promise,” Patrick says, holding the dying man.

Tyr stands unfazed. He wishes he felt something, but the lifetime of war and death has left him… broken.

“Promise me,” Olaf says as he looks at Tyr.

What does this fool want from me? We barely know each other and he wants me to make promises to him? Ridiculous.

“Fine,” Tyr says against his better judgment. Why did I make a promise, Tyr wonders in confusion.

“Take it,” Olaf gives Patrick his axe.

“I...” Patrick says as he hesitates.

“Take it,” Olaf repeats as he pushes the axe into his hands.

Tyr and Patrick look over the blood-covered, man.

“Evil magic!” Olaf says as he closes his eyes. The noble warrior lies dead atop a scarlet cloak.

He had to say it, Tyr says to himself.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Tyr says as he grabs Patrick’s shoulder. He looks at Patrick who stands there covered in Olaf’s blood. Still clinging to the dead man. Tyr grabs Patrick to separate him from Olaf.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Tyr yells shaking him.

“Yes. We have a promise to keep,” Patrick says as he composes himself. However possible.

Tyr stands above the dead man; staring in silence.

Walking for a short while they reach the end of their path; they reach the outside. The light of the Sun shines brightly upon them.

Tyr puts his hand as if he is trying to capture the rays of sunlight. I’ve never thought I would miss this, Tyr thinks. Patrick takes a deep breath as he notices something in the distance.

“Tyr, what is that?” Patrick asks.

“What is what?” Tyr asks as he looks in the direction Patrick is facing.

In the far distance, a blue flame is burning. Walking in their direction, an imposing dark-skinned man wearing priest robes.

The man notices Tyr and Patrick with clothes drenched in blood.

“In the name of Aion, what happened here?” Shaphas asks.

Tyr and Patrick look at each other as they turn their gaze back to him.

“Evil magic!” Tyr and Patrick say in unison.