Gods and Monsters

Gods and Monsters

Gods and Monsters

By David Chesney

Seelios felt a blast of heat when he opened the furnace door. He swept sweaty blonde hair out of his eyes and grabbed a shovel. The pile of coal next to the forge was stubborn as he leaned into it with all of his weight before it partially pierced the heap. He rocked back to hoist the small load up and clumsily shoved it into the furnace flames, which greedily accepted the new fuel. Some of the bricks tumbled back out onto the stone floor and scattering coal dust amongst the other debris.

“The furnace needs to be a higher temperature,” his father said. He was wearing a leather smith apron working at the anvil, hammering away with swings that had endless years of practice. “Go fetch someone to help you feed the fire. We’ll be forging a unique metal today.”

Seelios felt a pang of shame. Not having near the strength of his father, or most of the other grown men in the Fembleton, he was of little use in the forge. When he was a younger child his father gave him the choice of either working on one of the village farms or helping him in with his smithing work. Neither were terribly appealing, but at least that latter let him spend more time with him.

His father stopped hammering and held up an unfinished piece of metal, still showing a fading red hue from heat of the furnace. It quickly cooled and the surface changed from an ember glow to a brilliant rippling silver, unlike any other metal Seelios had seen.

His father turned and caught him staring. “Hurry along before the forge fire goes out.”

Seelios wiped the collection of soot and sweat from his forehead and walked out of their forge mill into the sunlit landscape of the small bustling village. He already had someone in mind that could help him, a farmer named Garrick that he had gotten to know over his teenage years. Garrick was a man well into adulthood but, like Seelios, was a bit of an outcast in the village. He could be found doing one of two things at most hours of the day; working on his farm or drinking at the tavern. Seeing the sun setting into the twilight hours, Seelios figured he would check the tavern.

Fembleton’s tavern and inn was located at the front of the village, close to the two massive stone statues that framed the front gate. After a short walk through the village center, Seelios stopped for a moment to stare at them. The gargantuan stone men towered above him as they gazed out towards the Eastern Desert. They had expressionless faces with over-sized shoulders and exceptionally large arms that were almost bigger than their chiseled torsos. Even without the stone pedestals they rested on, the statues could easily stand taller than most of the huts of the village.

The creak of the front door to the tavern drew Seelios’s attention. A burly man walked out with a drunken sway in his step. He stopped just in front of the doorway to adjust his sword belt and turned a lazy gaze towards Seelios.

He was right about one thing, he had been at the tavern. Unfortunately it seemed that he had already consumed a few ales.

“Greetings to you, Garrick!” Seelios called out.

“Greetings to you as well, young smith!” Garrick hoisted up a cup into the air and took a swig.

Emeline, the tavern keep, emerged from the doorway behind Garrick and slapped him on the shoulder with a dirty rag. “What’s the matter with you? Think you can walk off with my drink ware do you?” She shot him a fiery gaze that matched well with her curly red hair that tumbled down almost to her waist. Most men of the village would agree that she was the prettiest woman in town.

Garrick threw Emeline a guilty look that turned into a grin. “Terribly sorry milady! Just one moment.” He gave Seelios a wink before downing the rest of his ale in one gulp.

Emeline pursed her lips and snatched the cup from him, shaking her head as she walked back into the tavern. Seelios could see the faintest of smiles on her face before she disappeared inside.

Garrick’s gaze lingered after her when she walked away as if he wanted to say something more. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Garrick turned away from the tavern and took a large sigh before heading towards his farm house near one of the forest lines that bordered both sides of Fembleton. A male villagers shoved by him, calling him a “drunken fool” under his breath.

Before Seelios had a chance to call out to Garrick he was interrupted by the sound of a horse charging down the dirt road outside the front gate. He turned and saw flashing white robes with ornate designs and decorations. It was Gregory, the priest tasked with the protection and guidance of Fembleton.

The horse skid to a stop in front of Seelios. In most cases he would’ve given the priest a short bow out of courtesy and respect for his esteemed class, but the man gave him no time.

“Seelios, I need to speak to your father immediately! Where is he?” Gregory said. His eyes were wide and eager, searching the people walking around the village.

Seelios motioned towards the large stone forge mill at the other end of the town, near the river. “He’s in-”

“Never mind, I can hear him hammering away from here.” Gregory dismounted and handed Seelios the reigns. He rushed past townsfolk with surprised reactions on their faces, followed by quick bows. Normally he took the time to patiently return each bow, but he didn’t even acknowledge them.

Seelios had never seen Gregory in such a frantic state before.

After walking Gregory’s horse across town, Seelios heard shouting from inside the forge mill. Something is very wrong. Giving the horse reigns a tug, he walked it closer to the entrance to be in a better position for listening.

“Gregory, that’s impossible. I would’ve sensed it. The gods would’ve taken notice,” his father said. “There’s no way they could’ve marched halfway across the continent without anything being done about it! Even if the Paloise military didn’t notice, the God of Earth surely would’ve.”

“My lo- sorry, Ricker, I saw them with my own eyes.” Gregory said. There was a quiver to his tone.

“Describe them to me. What did they look like?”

“I was on the path towards Paloise and saw them from the Trade Road. It was in the shade of the forest, but what I saw I know wasn’t human. At least human enough. There was a whole group of them, slender creatures with but a few strings of hair. They walked like men but didn’t seem to have any strength or control in their step, almost like they were puppets. And their eyes… there were nothing but black sockets where eyes should have been.”

Seelios tied the reigns to the iron rod that held the sign for their mill, protruding near the door. He crept closer and peeked his head into the doorway.

Ricker stared at Gregory with piercing blue eyes, deep in thought.

“Monsters. They must’ve found a way to bring them here,” Ricker mumbled to himself. He turned and looked out the window. “How many were there?”

“I don’t- there were several, maybe even a sizable army, but I didn’t get a good count. They spotted me and gave chase. I was able to outrun them on my horse but-”

Ricker pounded a table with his fist. “I’ve put everyone here at risk. How could I not see this coming?” He raised his gaze back up. “Gregory, you remember what is most important above everything else, don’t you?”

“Protect the simulacrum.”

Seelios furrowed his brow. Why did that word strike a feeling of familiarity? It was like a forgotten memory that I couldn’t fully reclaimed.

“How far were they?” Ricker cleared off one of the work tables and unfurled a map of the land areas surrounding Fembleton.

“The sighting was here and they appeared to be moving in this direction.” The paper rustled as Gregory placed an index finger on the map. “They’ll be upon us by nightfall. What do we do?”

Ricker moved a crate of supplies to reveal a bare spot in the stone floor. He pried it open the concealed slab to reveal a stock of bladed weapons. “I’d sworn that I was never going to resort to fight again.” He lifted a sword and scabbard and unsheathed the blade to inspect it. “But if I’m to break that oath, I’ll need something better than what I have here.”

“You mean to rebuild the Spear?” Gregory asked.

“Yes, but with monsters on the way here there is very little time. It may already be too late.”

“Father, what can I do to help?” Seelios said, standing in the doorway. Both of the men turned their heads.

Ricker paused for a moment. “Did you hear everything?”

Seelios nodded.

Ricker gave Gregory a concerned look, then turned back to Seelios. “We’ll need to flee the village. Gather supplies and ready one of the boats for yourself.”

“Where are we to go?”

“Paloise, it’s the closest kingdom that can offer protection. All others are too far.”

“What of the monsters?” Gregory asked.

Ricker belted the sword around his waist. “I will take care of the monsters. I need you to personally escort Seelios to Paloise.”

Normally it was the priest who had the answers and the guidance, but Seelios’s father was the one taking control over the whole situation.

“Gregory said there was a whole army of those things! You can’t stay behind and fight them all yourself, let me help!” Seelios said.

Ricker turned to face Seelios. His broad intimidating frame and angry look made him terrifying. “This is no time for nonsense. You will obey my order and leave with Gregory!”

The words stung, leaving him speechless. He just wanted to help but knew he was being dismissed because he was too weak to fight. The truth was, Seelios was more likely to hurt himself with a weapon than anyone else.

Gregory put a hand on Seelios’s shoulder. “You heard your father. Gather what you need, we’re to leave immediately. Paloise will take us at least six days by river.”

“Avoid land unless absolutely necessary,” Ricker said, turning back to his weapons stock.

Gregory nodded.

Seelios took but a few steps out of the forge mill towards his house when something stirred in the woods. In the shadows of the trees a single silhouetted figure stumbled towards them. Seelios thought that it might have been Garrick lost in his drunken stupor, but the figure was too small.

“Impossible…” Gregory whispered to himself.

The silhouette emerged into the setting sunlight. It was a scrawny creature with almost nothing but bones and gray skin stretched over its limbs. The folds of its skin shaped the outline of a figure resembling a human, except its face wore a permanent grin of exposed teeth that stretched across its face. Where Seelios expected to find a pair of eyes looking at him, he saw nothing but black pits of eerie emptiness.

“Move! To the nearest boat!” Gregory urged Seelios.

They ran, but several more of the same creatures emerged from the river and crawled onto the shore. The monsters’ stumbling gate turned to a full sprint with flailing limbs that thrashed about the air, heading straight for Gregory and Seelios.

Gregory protruded a long sword that he kept hidden under his robes and readied himself. As the monsters closed in an arrow brought one down, leaving Gregory to dispatch two of them with a few quick slashes.

“I thought you said by nightfall!” Ricker shouted behind them.

Seelios turned and saw his father standing by the forge mill, holding a short bow in his outstretched arm. He fired another arrow that met its mark on another monster’s head. His sword flashed in the light as he withdrew it from his belt and engaged two more than had emerged from the river and circled around the forge mill. He made short work of them with a swordsman’s skill unlike anything Seelios had ever seen.

A series of raspy, high pitched roars came from the forest beyond the village huts. All three of them turned to see a large number of the gray creatures emerge from the trees.

“We can’t fight them all!” Gregory shouted at Ricker.

Ricker glared at the monsters closing in on them while throwing quick glances towards the statues at the face of the town.

“What do we do?” Gregory eyed the creatures that appeared in limitless numbers from the woods and the river, swarming the borders of Fembleton and creeping their way into the heart of the town.

“At your first opportunity take the boat and head down river. Remember, at all costs the simulacrum must be protected!” Ricker turned and sprinted towards the front gate.

“Father, no! Don’t leave us here!” Seelios cried out. Before he could run after him, Gregory gripped his arm with surprising strength.

“Seelios, listen to me!” Gregory’s withered face was pulled close to his, boring into his eyes. “Where your father is going, you don’t want to follow.”

“But, we can’t abandon-”

“Don’t be foolish! He will be able to look after himself, it’s you we need to worry about.”

From the corners of his eyes, Seelios saw movement in all directions. Gray monsters appeared from both sides of the forge mill and emerged from behind nearby huts. He and Gregory were completely surrounded, not even an escape route to the river.

Gregory sheathed his sword and pushed Seelios behind him.

“Cover your eyes,” Gregory said.

Seelios looked at him with confusion. How could that possibly help their situation?

“I said cover them!”

Not knowing what else to do, Seelios obliged and drew his hand up to his face. Just before he covered his eyes he saw Gregory reach for something that hung from his neck. He thought it looked like a small carved stone.

Through the cracks in his fingers Seelios saw a bright flash of light, followed by inhuman screeching. A moment later Gregory’s grip yank him into a run. The nearest monsters were flailing around on the ground with smoking burn marks on their skin.

“Barricade the door!” Gregory yelled as he pulled Seelios into the forge mill.

“They’re all around us, we can’t survive in here!”

“We only need to be in here long enough,” Gregory said as he grabbed a large piece of wood and threw it across the closed entrance.

Moments later something slammed into it from the other side, forcing the door to cave slightly and hit against the debris that they frantically piled up behind it. Grey slender hands burst through the windows, fumbling around and grabbing at anything they could. Gregory stabbed through the shattered windows as the monsters tried to pull themselves in. Their bodies were surprising fragile and offered no resistance to sharp metal, but did not seem to be phased by pain or injury.

Seelios picked the nearest short sword off the wall and almost dropped it on the ground. He didn’t expect it to be so heavy. With a two handed grip, he carried it towards a nearby window that had a monster hanging halfway in. A combination of terror and adrenaline guiding his hands, he swung the blade wildly. The sword arced through the air over Seelios’s head and showered the forge floor in sparks as it came down and sliced a shallow cut through stone. The weight of the swing threw Seelios off balance and spun him around, landing him hard with his back against the stone wall, right next to the monster’s face.

Claw like nails scraped across his chest as the monster seized the front of his tunic. The strength of the monster was unyielding as Seelios desperately tried to free himself of its grasp. Its rotten breath nearly made Seelios wretch.

“Gregory, help!” Seelios managed to yell out. The monster tightened its grip and tried to pull Seelios through the window as it retreated outside.

Gregory flew over and lashed out with his blade, separating the monster from its limb.

Seelios flopped to the ground with the severed hand still attached. In a panicked flurry he managed to pull it off, ripping his tunic to shreds in the process.

“We’re not accomplishing anything!” Seelios said. “What is it exactly that we need to stay in here for?”

A heart shaking boom vibrated the earth beneath their feet, rattling the foundation and causing pieces of equipment to crash to the ground. Seelios felt as if a mountain fell over right outside their window.