The soldiers had taken over the moss covered remains of an abandoned fort. Ivy scaled the crumbling and reached for the shattered tips of broken towers. Fresh timber had been cut and stacked into a barricade in place of the old gates. The rusted metal twisted and ran like melted wax, as if the steel had been blown inwards by a massive fireball. The forest around the ruin was sparse, and the grass was short and rough. It was as if the Faelands themselves were recoiling from this place. Tallis knelt in front of a skeleton and pulled a blackened helmet from its head. It was a simple dome with two large loops that extended down to protect the eyes and bar to cover the nose.
“What is this place?” he asked.
Callan knelt next to him and gently took the helmet away, placing it back on the skeleton's head. “It is a dark place, a place where the war between our kind was fought, a place steeped in tragedy and terror. Do not disturb the dead here, Tallis. The souls in this place sleep lightly and they do not care to be woken up.”
“Okay,” he looked out to the field of patchy grass leading up to the fort. Jagged spars of white bone pierced the ground in a steady pattern leading up to the walls. “Why don’t you just stay hidden for now, Setia and I will talk to the soldiers.”
Callan glared at the ruin and let out an impatient huff. His breath fogged the air. “Fine. But at the first sign of trouble I am coming in there and I will end the pathetic lives of everyone inside.”
With a flash of green light Callan disappeared and a grey coyote stood in his place. The animal gave a nod and trotted off into the forest. Setia and Tallis walked towards the fort, stepping gingerly through the mass grave of ancient bodies. Each one was clad in rusted scraps of armour and clutching broken weapons. The corpses lay in neat lines and ordered squares, like they had been in formation when suddenly, they all dropped dead.
Setia shuddered. “I hate this place.”
“I’m not crazy about it either,” Tallis whispered. Something about the place made him want to keep quiet. “What do you think happened?”
“Don’t rightly care. But it reminds me to never piss off an entire Fae clan.”
“Noted.”
Five soldiers peeked over the barricade in front of the ruin, rifles raised. “That’s close enough.” One of them shouted. Her voice was painfully loud, defying the grim locations demand for silence.
Something dark answered her with a wordless whisper.
The soldier stepped out from behind the barricade, looking over her shoulder for the source of the whisper. She was a tall woman with dark skin and short hair. A pair of shiny sergeant’s bars were pinned to her shoulders. “Who are you?”
Tallis held up a hand in greeting and prayed to whatever gods and spirits might be listening that he could keep the terror out of his voice. “Lieutenant Allistair Cromley. Cold Iron Detective Agency.”
The sergeant lowered her rifle a little bit.
Great, thought Tallis. Now if it goes off I’ll take it in the gut instead of the face. Much better.
“What’s your business here?” asked the sergeant.
“Here to see your commander. They’re supposed to have some kind of Fae medicine they want the agency to take a look at.”
The sergeant frowned and slung her rifle over her shoulder. “But the liaison from the Agency just left. Why are they sending someone else?”
Tallis took a step forward and squared his shoulders. “Do I look like I have the Gods damned time to sit and explain every little thing to you, sergeant? Lives are on the line here! You may be plum weak ‘tween the ears but that doesn’t mean you can sit there and waste my damn time.”
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Faerunners
الخيال (فانتازيا)It is the turn of the century and night is falling on the last days of the old west. The wild years of settling the frontier with a rifle in one hand and a spell book in the other are at an end. But the magicians of the Old West are not going down w...
