Chapter 4
When Elion woke up again, he found himself chained to a wall by a shackle clasped around his ankle. It was completely dark around him, save for two brown eyes looking at him.
“Hello,” Elion said cautiously.
“Hi there,” the voice of a little girl replied.
“Do you know where we are?” Elion asked. For a few moments his fellow captive – presumably – remained silent.
“Mate, I’ll be honest with ya, I have no idea where we are. The dark’s confusing anyhow, I can barely keep me shape,” the unexpected – and heavily accented – voice of an older man echoed through the chamber. Elion noted, however, that the voice sounded like it came from the exact same source as before.
“Are you… a little girl?” he asked.
“Nay mate, ah sometimes I am. It changes you see, based on the situation at hand mostly. I tend to do the voice when meeting new people, gives ‘em a reason to protect me. Works wonders most of the time. Until this crazy farm-lady went and hit me over the head with a spoon – a bloody spoon I tell ya! Got one hell of a meal out of it though. The lady might be bonkers but she’s a damn good chef I tell ya, that much is true. I thought you were on her side for a second, but I believe you’re just as confused as I am, that’s why I switched over to me real voice. You can learn a lot about a man from his voice ya know, such as whether he can be trusted or no.”
“You talk a lot,” Elion interrupted him.
“Aye, I hear that often. Fills the silence and drowns out the bad thoughts you see, helps me focus and keep me shape.”
“Keep your shape? What does that mean?” A few more moments of silence followed.
“Well you seem like a trustworthy fellow, I’ll tell ya me secret. I’m somewhat of a natural wonder you see, born from a plant growing out of a dead man’s skull, reborn again and again and again. ‘Ave you heard the story before mate? It’s a bloody good one it is.”
“Can’t say I’ve heard it before,” Elion replied. He decided to humour the weird individual. It was not like he had anything better to do. Maybe he would be able to figure out a way to escape, if he had the time.
“Oh that’s a shame mate, although I do suppose we’re rather rare nowadays. I’m a Shiftling mate, a true-blooded, god-made, battle-tested shapeshifter. Bloody useful I once was, nowadays… not so much. Not too many people have the kind of gold needed to hire one such as me you know. Of course, I have been known to take on the occasional charity case. Right now I’m unemployed however, just trying to get to the southern lands to be honest. It’s gonna be a tough one though, crossing the border into Celestia and then making it all the way through that desert. I am not looking forward to doing that again.”
Elion paused his efforts to break the chain out of the wall and turned back to the man speaking to him.
“You’ve been to Celestia before?”
“Aye, I have. Can’t say I recommend it. The place gets worse every century see, I bet it’s fully fallen into ruin by now. I doubt I’d be able to make it on me own.” Elion thought it over for a moment, but eventually decided that he wouldn’t be able to get out of there on his own. Besides, they probably needed more than two people to fulfil their mission.
“How would you feel about joining my adventure?” Elion asked.
“Well that depends mate, where are ya going?”
“South, some place called the al-” The man’s hearty laughter interrupted him.
“South is all I need to know mate, you seem like great company. I’ll join ya! Reach out to me so I can shake your hand!” Elion cautiously reached out into the dark towards those big brown eyes – which were slowly changing shade towards more of a muddy green colour. Eventually the former stranger’s hand found his and grabbed it tightly. His hand was weirdly slimy and felt like it was almost liquid. Elion quickly snatched his hand back, surprised by the unexpected texture.
“Oh my apologies mate. Like I said, it’s hard to keep me shape in this darkness. Can’t see a thing. It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to eat too. Anyway, the name’s Randan, and yours is?”
“I’m Elion,” Elion replied, still slightly shaking from that horrible cold feeling of touching the other man’s hand.
“Elion… that Elvish?” Randan asked.
“I don’t know actually, it’s what my father wanted to call me. He told me it was somewhat of a family name.”
“It sounds Elvish. Elves are strange creatures I tell ya – very ephemeral. Hard shape to mimic, lots of weird details.”
It was at this point that Elion started to feel the bolt with which his chains were connected to the wall start to give way. A few good kicks and pulls later the bolt suddenly jolted and Elion fell backwards – straight into Randan’s lap.
“Watch out mate, you don’t wanna bust your head open,” Randan said.
“Thanks for the catch,” Elion said back to him as he got back on his feet and dusted off his clothes. “Alright, I can move around the room now. What’s next?”
“Ahh, nothing much mate. I got out of me chains a while back but I can’t seem to find the exit. This darkness… it’s a weird one. Even with my best eyes I can’t see a bloody thing,” lamented Randan. Elion scoffed and started feeling his way around the walls anyway. He reasoned that there had to be a way out, otherwise how would the two of them had gotten in?
“Randan, I’ve got a question,” he said eventually.
“Fire away mate, I’ve got the time.”
Elion sighed and continued, his patience starting to run rather thin. “Can you remember how I was thrown in here?”
Randan thought about it for a little while, evidenced by the silence that followed Elion’s question. Elion had learned quickly that the only way to get the Shiftling to shut up was by making him think – otherwise he would only continue talking.
“You came down with quite a loud thud if I remember. It was rather strange, I don’t remember the ladle-woman coming down here with you. Those chains must have fastened themselves I reckon. I’ve seen weirder things you know, fish fishing themselves ashore for instance…” and on he rambled.
Elion continued to feel along the sides of the room for any sign of a door or a hatch, but eventually he gave up on the walls and continued to feel around at the ceiling. Perhaps Randan’s observation was correct, maybe he was in fact literally thrown down here and the chains had shackled him by themselves. A strange phenomenon for sure, but not unheard of.
It took a few minutes, but eventually Elion felt something cold and moveable – a metal ring he could use to open the hatch leading upwards.
“Randan, I need your help,” he said. From the darkness he could hear Randan struggle to get up.
“How can I help?” he asked, standing right next to Elion and breathing awkwardly close to his face. The stench was absolutely horrid, like that of rotting flesh.
“Oh sorry mate, it’s the lack of food you see, makes one such as me start to rot from the inside out. It’s usually not this bad I promise,” Randan apologised. Elion realised he must have been audibly gagging for Randan to notice his disgust. A part of him felt rather guilty about it.
“It’s okay,” Elion started, “I just need your help lifting me up high enough so that I can open this hatch.”
“Are ya sure you wanna do that? I bet that crazy lady is out there somewhere.”
“I’m sure,” Elion sighed, mentally preparing himself for the worst while trying to keep hope. “It could be dangerous, I know that, but my friend is out there and I was hoping my newly-made friend would help me save her.” A few more moments of silence ensued.
“Mate,” Randan’s voice sounded raspy, as if he had a lump in his throat, “that brings a bloody tear to me eye. I’m all in, let’s go save our friend.” Elion smiled – unbeknownst to Randan – and continued to reach up towards the hatch.
“Okay, all you have to do is lift me up high enough so that I can lift up the hatch and grab onto the edge of the floor above us. Once I’m up, I’ll get you up and out of there too, agreed?”
Randan responded with a quick “Aye, aye,” before they set their plan into motion. The hatch turned out to be a lot heavier than expected, but once both Elion and Randan put their shoulders into it the hatch swung open, and Elion managed to climb out. Next he reached down into the dark hole of the cellar and – with quite a bit of effort – yanked Randan out of it.
Their new surroundings were less dark, but if anything that only made them more horrified. At least in the dark they couldn’t see the horrors that confronted them now.
In the corner of the sparsely-lit room grew a black tree out from the cracks in the wall, its branches drooping down from the ceiling. It looked rotten yet eternal, as if the very material it was made of was stuck in everlasting torture. From between its roots oozed a heavy dark smoke that covered the entire floor and seeped down into the cellar below. Elion soon realised that it was this smoke that had created the supernatural darkness they had just escaped. The most horrifying aspect of the tree however, was the elderly man that appeared to be stuck in its trunk. His arm was stretched out towards the centre of the room, his gaze fixed on the stairs that led upwards. His mouth was agape, as if he had been screaming during the moments that led up to his untimely death. The lower half of his body was completely melded together with the base of the tree. His eyes had become black and his skin was in the middle of transitioning into black bark, having turned grey and course already.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Neither Elion nor Randan could get even a single word to cross their lips, both of them paralysed by the sight of the tree. It was made of a kind of magic neither of them had seen before, some horrific curse that came from the outer worlds that learned wizards spoke of but never dared to siphon power from. Their focus was broken when they heard the voice of the woman of the house come from upstairs.
“Darling! I will be down with dinner soon, get ready!” she yelled. To their horror and surprise, the man answered. He spoke in raspy tones, as if his throat was being ripped apart by every syllable, in a language neither of them understood or recognised. He then managed to utter a single sentence in the language which both of them did understand.
“Please, end this,” he said, before falling silent once more.
Elion and Randan looked at each other, nodding solemnly before they turned away from the tree and walked upstairs. It all made sense now. The sudden disappearance of the elderly couple, the fact that no one who entered the farmhouse was ever seen again. They had all been affected by the dark magic that was in the basement before being knocked unconscious by their hostess and fed to the tree, allowing the magic to grow stronger and stronger. How it all started was unclear, but Elion knew the only way it would end. If they stopped the tree from being fed, it would eventually wither and die. If Elion’s assumptions were correct, the old man’s wife had been affected by the dark magic the most of anyone. It had probably used her affection for her husband as a way to convince her to start killing people. There was no way to save someone who had been that deeply affected by mind-control. It was tragic, but they would have to kill her for any of this to end.
Elion started walking faster as he thought about Aly, who was probably on the chopping block right now. They made their way through the hall, where Elion found – and took – the pitchfork he had given back to the woman at their arrival. Randan – who had now taken the shape of a muscular man around his thirties with brown hair and brown eyes – grabbed a sturdy cane that was hanging in the hallway. Together they barged into the kitchen, surprising the elderly woman who stood over a dazed and bound Aly lying on the kitchen table. She was holding a butcher’s knife when they entered, clearly about to start cutting into Aly. As soon as she recognised the threat they posed, her face changed.
Her teeth grew into fangs, her nails into claws, her eyes into black pits. With the same strange voice that came from her husband she shouted at them, “How dare you escape! You should have suffocated in there! Become one with the darkness!”
From behind Elion, Randan responded, “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint ya lady, but please let the young lady go.” Even in tense situations, it turned out his first instinct was to talk.
The old woman – who had now fully transformed into a hag – lunged at them with her knife. Panicking, Elion threw the pitchfork at her, but she swiftly swatted it away. As it clanged onto the ground, she closed in on Elion, threatening to disembowel him. Before Elion knew what was going on, Randan had pushed him away and blocked the hag’s strike with the cane. In a bind, he turned to face Elion.
“Mate, if I’d known you didn’t know how to handle that bloody thing I would’ve proposed to come in and face ‘er alone. Go save yer friend you bloody idiot!”
Surprised by how well Randan handled himself in a seemingly one-sided fight – him having a cane and fighting a supernatural monster with a knife – it took Elion a moment to do what he was told. When an ‘accidental’ strike from Randan’s cane knocked him in the face he suddenly sprung into action. He dove to the side, circumventing the fight, and went to untie Aly. On the ground he found the knife he had tried to use before, which he used now to cut through the ropes around Aly’s ankles, wrists, and neck. She was dazed, but awake – barely conscious it seemed. She had this absent look, her eyes darting around all over the place but seemingly not actually seeing any of the things that happened around her. Elion positioned himself in front of her, hoping to catch her attention, but she just kept looking around her in confusion – it almost looked like she was frustrated with something. Perhaps the darkness had clouded her mind so severely that it had overtaken her senses. She would have been stuck in a similar place Elion had dreamt about, the place where Artoris visited him.
As if summoned, a voice started to echo around his mind, moving around from left to right and back to the left ear again.
“Do you need help?” Artoris asked, audibly amused by the situation at hand. On the other side of the table, Randan was still doing his best to fend off the transformed hag, but he was clearly growing tired. “I know a handy little trick, one that could easily get you out of this situation. All you have to do is let me help,” Artoris remarked.
“As I said before, I refuse your help in ‘unleashing my potential’ – whatever that means,” Elion whispered to himself, unsure if thinking was enough to convey his message to Artoris.
“And I respect that. I find it infuriating when parents feel they have the right to decide what is best for their children, I would not dare impose on your right to foolishness. However, this time I offer you something else… information as to the true nature of your companion.” Elion scoffed, clearly he was being tricked – he was not na?ve enough to think otherwise – but what other options did he have? Randan was failing, Aly was hallucinating, and Elion felt powerless. Divine intervention – however treacherous the divinity may be – could be their only chance at escaping the farmhouse alive.
“Alright then, tell me. And then begone.”
“You are smarter than I gave you credit for, child, not all of your kind would be clever enough to set an automatic break condition for the summoning. Quite clever indeed. Now then, all you have to do to get out alive, is command your newly acquired servant to vanquish your enemy. The best thing is, she won’t even remember what you did. You can spin the tale any way you want, I look forward to seeing how you handle the situation…” And with that, the voice disappeared again. Besides the words that were beamed into his head, Elion also understood the meaning behind them as if the information was conveyed directly and with perfect clarity. Whatever Aly was – he still wasn’t sure – she was considered his servant; biologically, magically, socially, he did not know, but she was to obey his every command.
After struggling with the ethical quandary for a few seconds – which, in his defence, felt like a lot longer than mere seconds – Elion decided there was no other choice. He begrudgingly grabbed Aly by the shoulders, and looked directly into her eyes. The clouding behind them lifted slightly, and her gaze was affixed to his – as if the magical power he had over her overruled the dark magic radiating from the tree in the basement.
“Aly,” he started, “Defeat that hag, rescue me and Randan.” The command was simple, and Elion could feel the inherent magic flowing from every syllable that came across his lips. Strangely, it hurt his throat and he started feeling a bit lightheaded. Before his dizziness could cause him to fall however, he saw Aly snap back to reality. She caught him with one hand, holding him steady with overwhelming power, with the other she reached out to the hag. A shadowy spike erupted from her hand, skewering the hag before retreating into Aly, leaving the hag with a gaping hole in her stomach that quickly started to ooze black blood. For a few moments, everything was actually silent. The fighting had stopped, Elion and Aly stood motionless on one side of the table, while Randan stood at the other – speechless and looking slightly afraid. Elion would have to explain the situation to him later.
The hag slowly disintegrated, the black blood seeping into the floor as the rest of her body turned to ash. As soon as her head had vanished, the house started to shake erratically. Aly grabbed onto Elion tightly, and darted across the table. Despite Randan’s less-than-masculine yelp she scooped him up as well and bolted out through the hallway and out the door, landing on the grass just outside the farmhouse. Randan quickly jumped back up and dusted himself off while Aly passed out – presumably from exhaustion or simply as an aftereffect of the hypnosis.
Behind them, the house fell apart – crumbling to pieces now that the source sustaining the magic was gone. From the old well rose up a single message before the stone ring collapsed in on itself – “Thank you”.
