The Creep of Carrock

Chapter 1

For the third night in a row, Reinhart sat exhausted on a side bench of the great hall. His arms ached from hours of battle and his plate armor was battered and filthy. His sword lay at his feet, chipped and bent from the countless hacks and slashes he'd delivered to the various forms of his foes. He looked up, not many were left. They'd been fighting the enemy from the North western mountains for at least a year now but something had filled it with a new vigour as of late and the attacks had grown more frequent and vicious. It assaulted the walls almost every night and the brave men and women of Carrock took to arms to defend their homes from this new onslaught of hatred, but people can only fight for so long.

This was no enemy of soldiers or of steel. It was The Creep. A blackish blue mass that spilled out of the mountain tunnels to cover everything in its path; slowly expanding with its viscous honey-like form. Everything it touched was consumed allowing it to grow stronger. The farmland and wilderness surrounding Carrock, once green and prosperous, was now a smouldering and desolate wasteland, greedily devoured by the Creep in less than a year. Nobody was quite sure where exactly the Creep came from or what it wanted besides destruction.

So night after night, the people of Carrock fought against the Creep. In the past they had always succeeded, holding the walls until day break when the Creep would recede for a day or two. It was different now, thought Reinhart. The army was made up of more militia and civilians than trained soldiers and every night, more were lost. Today was the third night of a continuous onslaught by the Creep. The curtain wall had fallen on the first night being quickly overrun as the Creep threw itself at the city like a vicious tide against a cliff. Tonight they had been forced to pull back from the inner rampart to take refuge within the keep. Hope was lost. Reinhart gazed longingly at the group of survivors, remembering the once proud fighting force that held fast against the Creep. Painfully slowly, Reinhart had watched the Creep cut down his friends and his comrades and now he sat alone in an echoey chamber with what could not have been more than forty survivors.

Sitting back, Reinhart released the latches on his armour and let his cuirass and pauldrons fall to the floor. Balancing his head in his hands, he ran his fingers through the sweat matted locks of brown hair that were caked in dirt and bits of dried blood. Amidst the fighting, he sustained a wound on the head when a hammer connected with his helmet, causing him to tear it off or be deafened by the clang. Letting out a shaky breath, he stood, adjusted his belt which now only held his dagger, and walked slowly to the centre of the room where the great hearth was lit providing some comforting warmth to his kin. The remaining Carrocks gathered in a solemn circle of recognition that they wouldn't see daybreak. Lips moved silently as some individuals offered silent prayers to the Elder Gods, or simply held each other to try and find some comfort.

The front door creaked. Everybody's head turned sharply to look terrified at the door. They watched as the windows of the hall were slowly masked by a dark form. As the Creep crept up the walls, the rafters groaned and dust peppered the survivors as it fell from the ceiling. The survivors looked around in fear as the building cried out in anguish with cracks and the grinding of stones. A thunderous boom climaxed the symphony of noise as the first stone fell from high on a wall and landed inside the hall. Not even the great oak rafters could hold, as it snapped into three pieces from the stress and the stone ceiling began to cave in. He ran. Terror filled Reinhart's every step as he sprinted to the back of the room to the downward stair. He watched as stones crushed the people he had known since childhood, and dodged incoming timbers and shards of glass. His ears were filled with the sound of screams as the Creep oozed its way into the hall from the holes it had forced open. Tears streamed down Reinhart's face as he reached the steps and bounded down them.

Reaching the bottom of the spiral steps he wrenched a torch from the sconce on the wall and ran down the corridor, away from the deafening crunching sound of the keep collapsing. He reached the entrance to the caves, a large cavernous system underneath Carrock which Reinhart had discovered as a boy. Searching his memory he rushed past the kegs of wine and storage boxes to find the escape tunnel which passed through the original mines of the city. Reaching the passage, he continued down for maybe four hundred metres before coming to a ladder up. He let the torch fall from his hand and hastily clambered up the rough, aged wooden ladder that creaked precariously under his weight. Pushing up on the earthen manhole, he felt wind on his face and felt the chill on his tear stained cheeks. He climbed the rest of the way up and stood to look back at Carrock.

As the sun slowly began to rise, it illuminated the destruction. Nothing remained. The Creep had destroyed every building and person together. Reinhart fell to his knees and wept.

The sun continued to rise and he heard a faint gurgling noise growing stronger. Looking up he could see the Creep beginning to boil and steam. It began to scream and recede from the rubble of Carrock. Reinhart searched and spotted a lone figure, hands raised on a low hill to his right. He was hooded and cloaked, his hands glowed. As Reinhart watched, a great stream of light launched from the stranger's hands and connected to the Creep. Portions of the brackish slime evaporated and burned. The Creep released a horrible shriek and receded faster as the rider's light grew stronger and destroyed more of the undulating mass. Reinhart had never witnessed magic before and he was awestruck. This must be an Elder Being here to save us, he thought. My prayers have been answered. He began to make his way over at a run.

Moving swiftly he made his way unsteadily down from the tall hill on which the manhole had opened. Working on his hands and knees he lowered himself from rock to rock wishing that he had continued down the tunnel to its end on the other side of the hill. After finally reaching the grass, he found himself behind the mage and started to quietly make his approach, best not to barrel forward for they might not be altogether friendly.

"Why do you hide?" came a voice that rattled Reinhart's bones with its resonance. The voice sounded polyphonic. As if it was not just one voice, but a chorus speaking in unison with deep resonant lows and rich highs. It was unlike anything Reinhart had ever heard. He stared at the back of the cloaked mage, not ten paces from him, atop his horse still facing the Creep. The mage's hands lowered and he slowly turned his mount to face the bewildered Reinhart. This was the first time he had a glimpse at what was underneath the hood. The mage's rune lined cloak was rich and flowing, not an imperfection or piece of dust marked its fabric. Underneath, he was wearing what looked like some kind of inner robe that was a dark grey and pale blue going all the way down to a pair of shining brown riding boots. Under his hood was a pair of eyes that seemed to look right through Reinhart. They were purple, but it seems as if the purple of his iris had shattered through into the whites of his eyes, leaving little flecks scattered throughout.

"I asked," repeated the mage. "Why do you hide?". Reinhart swallowed in an attempt to ease the dryness growing in his mouth.

"Who are you?" he demanded, weary of the lone magic wielder. "You've come to fight the Creep but you've come too late! Everyone is gone, my home is...". Reinhart's tongue caught in his throat, the truth too horrible to voice. The mage chuckled softly and grinned.

"Oh no. I was here in time. I simply watched to see what would happen," replied the orchestral voice. Reinhart was shocked.

"You just watched all of us die?" he asked bewildered.

"Yes. Although, evidently not all of you," replied the mage, his smile disappearing. "But don't worry, I can make short work of that," continued the mage raising his right hand and sparking a ball of blue flame to life in his palm. Reinhart took a step back. "What?" continued the cloaked figure. "You didn't think I was here to save a handful of humans did you? Ha! Get a grip, you have bravely held back the Creep for some time, longer than I expected at that, but you have since reached the end of your usefulness". As the mage spoke, Reinhart noticed the slim face, the sharp jaw and narrow chin and thought, elf. Enraged, Reinhart leapt at the mage drawing his dagger. The mage raised a hand and Reinhart was hit by an invisible projectile launching him back to hit the ground with a thud. The mage chanted something that Reinhart could not understand and his dagger disintegrated. Left with dust in his hand and bound to the ground by an invisible force, Reinhart watched as the Mage turned to his immobile person and said a word. Suddenly Reinhart felt the inexplicable urge to sleep. Unable to resist, his eyes slid closed as the mage approached.

Chapter 2

Reinhart awoke slowly. His eyelids sluggishly opening as his head wobbled a little from side to side. There was something poking into his back. He sat up and looked around to notice that he was in a cave of some sort from the craggy rock walls and ceiling. The floor was matted with straw for a little cushion but was definitely rock underneath. Reinhart could hear rushing water nearby. Where am I? he thought.

"Ah, you're awake," came the polyphonic voice from outside the mouth of the cave. A few moments later the mage rounded the corner and entered the chamber. He was no longer wearing the rich glowing cloak but a simple grey robe and boots. He carried a wooden bowl that calmly steamed. "This is a little mushroom soup, you'll want to eat it since it's been nearly thirty hours since you fell asleep".

Thirty hours, it had felt like merely a moment to Reinhart. Realizing how famished he was, Reinhart pulled against the cold iron manacles which he now noticed held him firmly to the wall. A soft chuckle ensued as the mage came close and crouched in front of Reinhart, raising the worn wooden bowl to his lips so that he could greedily slurp the thick brown soup. It tasted delicious considering it had been cooked in a cave. From the light of the single hanging lantern in the centre of the room, Reinhart got a good look at the man in front of him. He was young or at least appeared that way for you never could tell with an elf. His awe-inspiring purple flecked eyes Reinhart had noticed before moved as if the purple were a rotating kaleidoscope, very slowly shifting to create reflective squares and star patterns in his irises. His cheekbones were high and pronounced leading down to the sharp jawline and chin . His face was narrow and in fact, Reinhart noticed, were it not for the roundedness of his ears there would be no doubt of him being an elf.

"My mother," the crouching man started. "My mother was a priestess of the Aylinderfell. Against the desires of her kin, she fell in love with a common man. They were wed and then rejected by both human and elf kind alike. See? They are not so different from you, both equally filled with hate". Reinhart coughed on the last mouthful of soup to hear himself being equated to the elvish race and by extension the man before him.

"Equal?" he spluttered. "I do not watch innocent civilians die for pleasure. I am a man, you are a monster".

"Funny," replied the half elven man with no note of humour. "That's what they called my mother, the humans I mean, a monster. And they cast her and my father from their cities to live in the dirt". With the soup finished, the mage stood and moved to leave.

"Wait," called Reinhart. "If you think you are justified because of the way your family was treated, I am sorry but you are wrong". The mage stopped, slowly turned and calmly spoke,

"Remember Reinhart, you are still alive". And with that, he turned and was gone. The lamp snuffing out by itself as he left.

Alone with the sound of water, Reinhart considered the man. Where could he be from? Reinhart was not aware of nearby villages or towns. The city of Carrock was a border city state, occupying lands well away from prominent civilization in order to keep watch on the border mountain passes of the Empire. And where could he have learned such powerful magic? Not from his father, humans were known to have been cut off from the arcane arts hundreds of years ago. His mother being a follower of the Aylinderfell would have had known some basics but not to the extent that this man clearly possessed. From what Reinhart understood, The Aylinderfell was a godlike tree worshipped by elven kind. Its trunk was the thickest and tallest of all trees. It produced the sweetest most delicious fruit all year round and was called The Mother by the elves. They believe that elven kind sprouted from the low hanging branches of The Mother to walk the Earth living in harmony with nature.

As he was thinking, the half-elf appeared noiselessly in the doorway of the cave, once again wearing his cloak. "It is time for me to once again do what you could not. For now, you will sleep, when you wake I hope you have changed your opinion of me, for your sake," and he turned to go.

"Somehow you know my name. What should I call you?" called Reinhart. The hood turned slightly to the side and said,

"My name is Farlynth". As the voice faded, Reinhart once again felt the tug of sleep. Against his will, his eyelids slid closed and darkness embraced him as he collapsed onto the straw-covered floor with a soft thud.

Chapter 3

The next time Reinhart awoke it was so abrupt and jarring it was as if he had been slapped awake, although there was no assailant within sight. Reinhart heard a soft click and his manacles opened, letting his arms, which until now were suspended above him, fall to his lap. Bewildered, Reinhart cast his gaze around the room and found no one. Rubbing his wrists he shakily got to his feet which were unapologetically relieved of their boots leaving his feet bare and began to shuffle unsteadily to the mouth of the cave. He looked out and was struck by the beauty of this place. He was on the wall within some kind of canyon, although the rocks and vegetation high above him formed a natural ceiling of greenery. To his left, Reinhart saw the source of the rushing water he had heard earlier. A waterfall cascading glistening freshwater to the floor of the ravine ran its length, eventually disappearing beyond a curve. The walls and floor of the canyon were littered with all manner of flora. Trees both deciduous and coniferous, flowers and grasses of all shapes, sizes, and colours. Hanging down were great boughs of vines and mosses that must have been more than ten feet at their longest points. The walls of the ravine were lined with a walkway cut out of the stone and housing a number of rooms much like the one he found himself peering out of littering the length of it. After taking it all in, Reinhart slowly left the relative safety of his chamber and cautiously made his way along the path, moving closer to the waterfall.

Reinhart crept quietly along the path towards the next room. Looking in he saw a rough-looking straw-filled mattress and a bedside table which held a couple of books. This must be where Farlyth slept, thought Reinhart taking a step inside. The books looked to be written in an indecipherable language and without any illustrations, Reinhart found himself at a loss as to their subject matter. On top of the bedside table he found a couple of odd metal trinkets. A small copper bar, maybe an inch long with a small weighted ball at either end, a rabbit's foot, and some kind of balm which smelled of mint. The bed was neatly made and pushed up against the hewn rock wall. Next to the foot of the bed, Reinhart found a small steel hook that had been hammered into the stone, most likely for hanging that runed cloak that Farlynth hid behind. Reinhart quickly ran out of things to find in this room as Farlynth evidently led a simple existence and having nothing else to explore, Reinhart turned back to the opening to the chamber and listened for approaching footsteps. Nothing.

Leaving the room and continuing along the path, Reinhart entered a tunnel that curved darkly, downward in a loop to open up on the floor of the ravine. His bare feet padded on the soft moss that coated the ground like early morning snow. The waterfall was playfully misting off to his left to gather in a beautiful clear blue pool that upon further inspection, was home to many colourful fish of oranges and greens.

It must have been a couple of days since Reinhart had seen the sun and the rays that perforated their way through the foliage ceiling, delightfully warmed his skin. He found himself feeling very at peace here, wherever he was. The plants seemed to enjoy the environment too as all that he could see were species of plant that he didn't recognize. There was a light blue flower on a long stem which opened and closed rhythmically releasing a little blue ball straight up and down before the flower closed in a kind of game with itself. A red flower with streaks of white as if somebody had spilt fresh milk and stained its petals, shared a bed with ground cover moss with sprouting yellow stems. There were grasses which moved without there being a wind as if dancing to a slow ballad of their own. Reinhart was in awe. Where was he? And how far away had he travelled?

"Beautiful isn't it?" came a voice higher in a pitch and with a dance like lilt. Reinhart looked around and his eyes settled on a girl, no older than eight or nine sitting on a tree stump on the other side of the stream.

"Yes it is," replied Reinhart. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Melca," she replied happily. "I am the keeper of this sanctuary". Reinhart surveyed her and noticed she was wearing what looked to be an assortment of plants as clothes. Her hair was a fiery red that tumbled loosely down to her shoulders and her legs below the knee were bare.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"We are standing in the Rolhoem sanctuary," said Melca popping herself up onto her feet. "A place where nature and all of her blessings come to flourish. There are plants here that don't grow anywhere else. It's like a resting place for Mother Nature if you will".

"So does Farlynth live here then?" inquired Reinhart of the girl whom he was beginning to think was a lot older than eight or nine.

"He rests here, yes. I wouldn't say live. He hardly does more than sleep and eat while he's here. He never takes the time to appreciate the brush of the grass or the perfumes of the flowers". Reinhart looked around again and saw other beings similar to Melca emerge from the undergrowth. They all wore similar attire of leafy plants and to an unknowing eye, they would seem to be just children.

"How old are you?" asked Reinhart. Melca let out a joyous giggle,

"Aha, I'm three hundred and eighty-four years old," she stated proudly. "The appearance is just the look we decide to give ourselves so that we may run around among the forests and green spaces and not be questioned. Nobody bats an eye at a couple of children playing in the woods," she laughed. Reinhart nodded.

"What else is down here?" he asked.

"Come," and she jumped from the top of the stump and ran down the stream to where it curved away. Reinhart was not far behind, his bare feet bounding over unknown plants and accidentally splashing in the stream giving his skin a taste of the cool freshwater. The other children ran with him, purposefully kicking the stream water at each other and at Reinhart, giggling all the way down the length of the canyon. He rounded the bend of the stream soaking wet from the waist down to find it entered a tunnel that was very dark. Melca held out her hand and led him into the blackness while the other's continued their games which had quickly escalated into a laughter riddled mud fight. Led by some unseen guide or perhaps her knowledge, Melca led Reinhart through the tunnel without a moment's hesitation whenever it turned or split. The sounds of the stream were amplified, echoing off of the rock walls to create a cacophony of water. They turned away from the stream down a side passage and the sound faded as he was led down another dark passage. As they walked further down, he could see ahead of him a curve in the passage ominously lit by a faint red glow coming from around the bend. They turned the corner and Reinhart was struck with fascination.

"What are they?" he asked, turning to Melca's softly illuminated face grinning ear to ear.

"They're called Skeel. Beautiful and nutritious, but deadly if eaten raw," she said quietly. Reinhart turned back to take in the cavern. The room was teeming with glowing red and white spotted mushrooms. They stood about a hand's length from the floor and the cap was about the size of a dinner plate. They were unlike any mushroom he had ever seen. "Watch," said Melca crouching to the closest. She gently poked it and the light instantly went out like a candle being snuffed. Melca held up her hand to signal Reinhart to wait after he let out an involuntary gasp. After a few moments, the mushroom started to glow again, dimly at first but growing in strength before reaching its full brightness.

"This is my favourite place in the sanctuary," said Melca, breaking the silence. "So much life in such an inhospitable place". Reinhart only nodded, still at a loss for words to describe the mushrooms. "Come, we've been here too long. Rumour has it these fungi release spores that cause your mind to forget purpose," said Melca turning to leave. "But I don't believe it".

Reinhart believed the rumours as he practically had to tear his eyes away from the mushrooms and take Melca's hand again to be guided back to the sunny green patch of the ravine. Coming out of the tunnel he halted as a bee the size of his fist moseyed across his path to suckle on a lovely yellow flower.

"Reinhart," resounded the all too familiar deep tonic voice. "We must speak". As he and Melca rounded the corner back into the lush vale they halted face to face with Farlynth standing not ten paces away, fully cloaked, standing amongst the knee-high grasses. The children stood around anxiously watching, evidently uncomfortable with the half-elf's presence.

"We have to leave," he said, tossing a pack at Reinhart's feet. "I couldn't stop it".

Chapter 4

The pack landed with a metallic thud, the noise seeming to disturb the serenity of the vale. Reinhart looked up from the pile,

"What do you mean you couldn't stop it?" he demanded as all the children aside from Melca slunk away back into the underbrush.

"When I arrived at the ruins of Carrock, the creep had devoured all foundations and remnants," reported Farlynth. "It must have been able to expand during the day because it had engrossed more than just the valley and was too much for me to handle. I could not turn it away".

"You fool," hissed Melca. "You have meddled with forces above your ability one too many times and now who's going to pay the price? My sanctuary certainly!". She turned and stormed off, running to be lost amongst the greenery.

With this news rattling around his brain, the sanctuary seemed less lush to Reinhart. He imagined the trees and rocks caked in the undulating goo. The tall grasses and aromatic flowers remorselessly devoured by the pure hatred of the Creep. He shuddered and bent to grab the pack. He hoisted the moderately heavy pack onto his back and secured it across his chest. He looked at Farlynth,

"I'll help because I must, not because I respect you".

"As you wish," was the reply as Farlynth turned on his heels, raising up two circles of mossy earth, and started briskly towards the path up.

At the top of the canyon they were met by two horses, both saddled and with saddlebags that Reinhart hoped contained essentials for a long journey. He swung up onto the chestnut mare and began to canter behind Farlynth who was already several paces in front. Pulling up beside him Farlynth said, "We must go and find my people. We need more than one man's magic and steel for this fight, and the elvish priestesses will be able to help".

"What steel is this?" asked Reinhart cynically.

"In your bag. There's a sword, I just didn't want it visible for Melca, she doesn't like weapons", replied Farlynth. Reinhart grunted.

"Your people eh?" said Reinhart. "You expect that they'll just drop everything and help a half-breed and a human?"

"Just keep your mouth shut and I will negotiate with them. I know them," retorted Farlynth. Reinhart snorted.

"How far is it to this Elvish place?" Reinhart asked.

"A couple of days' ride".

The threat of the Creep would grow, thought Reinhart. He looked into the blue sky and the wispy bits of cloud that clung to it like lint on black fabric. Reinhart said a short prayer to anybody who might be listening for the souls of his lost brothers and sisters and then shifted a little in the saddle to prepare for a long ride.

They rode ceaselessly, only stopping briefly to feed and water the horses and snack on some bread and dried meat found in the saddlebags. They didn't talk much as Reinhart was growing increasingly angry with this delusioned man for more or less causing the Creep invasion and as the hours went by, the threat looming over them grew.

After two full days of rigorous travel over hills and plains, sometimes on a road and other times diverging to make their own, they came to the edge of a large forest where Farlynth stopped. Not turning his head he said, "This is the Greenwood. Home to three Elvish cities. We must go to the largest of Ba'taylne. Do not speak unless spoken to". With that, he plunged into the forest along a very narrow dirt path that was barely just wide enough for a single horse and rider to traverse, maybe two people standing abreast could manage but only just. Reinhart felt relief for some reason upon entering the wood. Like somehow, in entering the forest, he was returning home or to another safe place. His mood brightened.

The path wound in and around the trees, across bubbling streams, over small timber bridges that spanned little ditches, and even through the trunk of an enormous tree, the likes of which Reinhart had never seen. After they'd been riding for an hour or two Farlynth stopped abruptly and Reinhart, distracted by the greenery around him, nearly bumped into him.

"What?" asked Reinhart.

"Shush" was the quick retort as Farlynth raised a hand to signal silence, intently listening.

"Fuck" was all Farlynth muttered before the slender figure all but emerged from out of the tree to the right, bow drawn, and arrow pointed directly at Farlynth's heart. Reinhart looked around to see many similar individuals appear out of the trees, their bows drawn and trained on the two of them.

"You dare set foot here again Farlynth Half-Breed?" taunted the one who seemed to be the leader of the group as he took a step forward. He did not have his bow drawn, rather he stood directly on the path ahead of them with his bow held loosely in his left hand and a quiver packed full of brown and green fletched arrows slung over his shoulder, the hilt of what was probably a long knife or falchion protruding next to them. He wore form-fitting interwoven materials of mottled greens and browns which when worn against the backdrop of the forest seemed to shimmer and almost disappear. His long flowing brown hair was pinned back with a circlet around his brow and braided into a single plait.

"Speak!" he commanded in a voice similar to that of Farlynth but less choral.

"I've come for help," started Farlynth in a quiet voice. "Out of the North-Eastern mountains comes a threat that must be stopped. I need to speak with the council of the priestesses to-"

"Why would we help?" interrupted the elf taking a threatening forward step. "In that direction lives only men, whom you have boldly brought into our oasis," he said, gesturing to Reinhart. "Should we help in order for them to regain their footing only to turn and fell our trees and slaughter our people?" He waited for a response.

"Just let me speak to the high priestess," Farlynth pressed. "Let her decide, but know that this threat is coming for us all. It may not be now but it will soon be on the eaves of the Greenwood and then it will have grown to become too much to stop". The stranger was silent for a moment and then signalled with a hand and the taught bowstrings surrounding them were lowered.

"Bag them," the leader commanded and before he knew, Reinhart was looking at the inside of a dark sack unable to see where he was going.

Chapter 5

Reinhart's horse trotted this way and that leading him towards the city, he hoped. After about half an hour of mind-boggling bends, his horse came to a stop and at the sound of an elvish word the bag was removed. Reinhart squinted so that his eyes could adjust to the blinding light that spilt in from the canopy of leaves high above him, very high above him.

Reinhart was speechless. The city was like something out of a storybook. Ahead of the little party was an immense tree with pathways winding up and down around its trunk. Suspended from these paths were little huts that stuck out of the trunk like short knobby branches. He could also see rooms within the trunk itself with just a door and a window carved into the barkless wood. These structures continued up the tree forming four different levels until at its peak a sizable estate could be seen on a level of its own with a grand overhanging terrace and high peaked roofs. There were also homes and shops independent of the tree that speckled the forest floor or were amongst the branches of smaller neighbouring trees.

"You seem in awe of our city," remarked the leader of the elvish hunting troupe. Reinhart simply replied,

"It's more beautiful than I could have imagined". Farlynth let out a cough that was clearly not genuine and was treated with a glare from the Captain who coldly thanked Reinhart before turning and starting his horse towards the enormous central tree.

"Are we going all the way up there?" Reinhart asked Farlynth gesturing to the estate.

"Yes. That's the Temple of the Aylinderfell and the home of the priestesses," said Farlynth begrudgingly. "We'll need to petition the High Priestess if we want help". And so their horses were taken by a couple of none too happy stable hands and they began to climb one of the many twisting ramps up to the summit.

They passed all kinds of curious shops, alchemists, produce vendors, tailors, jewellers, shoemakers, and a fantastic tapestry vendor but Reinhart noticed a lack of butchers or blacksmiths, no armourers either.

"They're vegetarian," replied Farlynth when Reinhart asked him. "And they aren't too keen on fire or metallurgy either so they secret those industries away from the main city. A bit of a shameful craft in this society".

Interesting, thought Reinhart. I wonder if they drink. Sure enough, when they reached the first of many levels of the tiered city they passed an inn, The Leaping Stag, and a wine merchant who seemed to have rich looking deep red wines.

"That's not even the good stuff," said Farlynth following his gaze. "As we head higher up the population gets richer so you just wait until level four". Farlynth wasn't lying. As the group climbed up, the pathways got cleaner, the shops grew more spacious and not cramped up against each other and the houses became more elaborate, some including rooms that hung from the bottom of the main house from chains or thick corded rope.

Elvish cities are much the same in regards to the distribution of wealth, thought Reinhart. After two full hours of travelling up the tree, they found themselves at the steps of the temple which led up around a fountain which curiously operated at the top of a tree, to a great pair of ornately carved doors painted blue and green. The captain nodded to the guards at the base of the steps and started up. Reinhart's legs were aching, he couldn't remember the last time he'd climbed this much or the last time he was this high up, how did these elves manage it? At the top of the stairs, the captain turned and said,

"If either of you tries anything, you'll be dead before your first footfall towards the door" And with that, the flanking guards opened the great pair of doors and they entered the temple.

Chapter 6

The ground floor and main hall of the temple looked much like a throne room, except without a throne, it seemed remarkably plain to Reinhart. He and Farlynth had been ushered in and then made to wait, standing in the centre of a blue tile star in an otherwise plain off white, almost birch wood coloured floor. The room had many windows inlaid with subtle green accents of stained glass and every door leading to other areas of the temple was carved to have trees, branches or other flora on it.

Raised up two steps in front of them was what appeared to be an altar. A great slab of tree trunk that had been smoothed and polished until it shone almost unbelievably similar to marble. Perhaps, Reinhart thought, this was a relic of petrified wood, a piece of wood so old that it had turned to stone. A very rare and valuable find. The room was as anybody would have guessed, well lit. Being at the top of an enormous tree and sporting many windows had its benefits. Frosted glass lamps hung from the ceiling as well, emitting a diffused blue glow from something other than fire. Elvish magic thought Reinhart.

It was eerily quiet though, as if a spoken word would somehow break the sanctity of the space and tarnish the calm nature of it. The feeling of calm that Reinhart had experienced in Melca's sanctuary greeted him again. Either the spiritual nature of the temple, or the magic he assumed surrounded here put him at ease.

Farlynth felt otherwise. Reinhart could feel the anxiety radiating off of him. He fidgeted uncomfortably and was constantly looking around evidently just itching for an opportunity to leave.

Reinhart was torn away from his inner commentary when the door off to the left of the altar opened and tan brown cloaked and hooded figures began to file in. There were seven of them in total and, aside from the last to enter, they were dressed identically in the same, a simple cloak over darker brown garments, their heads hidden beneath hoods. Reinhart assumed that this was the council of the Aylinderfell.

The final person in line to enter, was silently announced by the large jewelled necklace she wore. It was no more than a leather thong but the gem was unlike anything Reinhart had ever seen. It was about the size of a human thumb, long and narrow and it was a pale, satin white in its finish, almost like ivory. The stone glowed, not like the glow of a lamp or campfire, but inexplicably emanating light, warmth and a sensation of immense power all at once. Reinhart found himself staring.

"Don't worry," spoke the High Priestess in a surprisingly natural-sounding alto. Reinhart had been half expecting some kind of ethereal voice. "That is most people's reaction to witnessing the moonstone for the first time," she continued.

"What is it?" asked Reinhart, peeling his eyes away to the gaze of her emerald green eyes.

"It fell from the sky," she explained as she rose to stand behind the altar. "There were once four of them. Worn by the High Elven Council, they allowed us to communicate across long distances with each other. They are also a light in the darknesses that no torch or lamp can illuminate. The darknesses inside of ourselves." She paused, and Reinhart felt as if she were boring into him with her eyes, like she was searching him. "Some believe they are pieces of the stars themselves, but I believe they came from the moon," she finished mysteriously.

"What happened to the other three?" asked Reinhart. She fixed him with her piercing green eyes.

"They are lost to us. One was destroyed in a great battle against Bälokyll, The Night Terror. One still remains around the neck of our kin far to the west, keeping us connected. And one," she paused and seemed to tense up slightly. "Is sitting in a human king's treasure hoard; behind his walls of stone and his swords of steel," she finished with a cold contemptuous voice, not taking her eyes off of Reinhart.

"My lady," started Farlynth taking a small step towards the dais. "If I-"

"Do not speak in my house unless spoken to half-blood," she snapped, whipping her ominous gaze to him. "You taint the very steps of our house with your every step. How dare you return here". Reinhart was taken aback. This is the first time he had witnessed Farlynth appear small and helpless.

"We're here for help," Reinhart began. "To the North East there is a great threat that has already levelled a city and no doubt consumed the Rolhoem sanctuary by now".

"Melca," said the priestess quietly as a murmur ran through the line of tan cloaks.

"Most likely dead," continued Reinhart. "This mass of modulating goo coalesces over anything and everything, obliterating all in its path. Its single purpose is to cover our world in its mass. The only thing I've seen damage it is Farlynth's magic but even that has failed to keep the Creep at bay this time. We must fight together, else all is lost," finished Reinhart, keeping gaze with the Priestess. There was a pause as no one spoke. Some of the hooded figures turned to one another and exchanged whispers. The high priestess put both hands on the petrified altar and allowed her weight to sink into one foot.

"I have read of this Creep," she began. "An evil from the old world. Before humans had settled and only the beginning of elven kind lived. It is a hateful creature and would terrorize my ancestors ceaselessly until they managed to cast it back to be imprisoned in the mountains. If what you say is true, it has found a way to escape its bonds.

"The more you fight it the more hateful and aggressive it becomes, yes?". Reinhart nodded. "Then we must destroy its source so that it cannot regenerate. Hidden in the deepest and darkest crags of the North Eastern mountains, deep in those wildlands is a creature. It is not large or physically strong but its mind is powerful. It hides in the dark, feeding on scraps of refuse left by creatures long dead and creating this Creep through pure malice for the living world. That is what my ancestors imprisoned long ago but The Source must now be destroyed".

"How can we do that?" asked Reinhart. "There is a hundred miles between here and the mountains if we cannot carve a path through the Creep and must go around".

"Yes," replied the priestess. She sighed and looked at the other members of her council. "Which is why our forces will distract it". Some of the hooded figures sharply turned to look gobsmacked at her. "If we do not fight, it will simply grow in power and crush us all," she addressed the room. "We will draw its attention as you and Farlynth skirt around it to destroy its Source. Now go, I permit you to rest in the guest residence of the upper district, for I have no doubt some of my council wish to dispute me on this and they have every right to do so. You will be summoned in due time once we have settled on a decision," and with that, she turned and left, followed by the other cloaked figures.

Chapter 7

"Hey", Reinhart said to Farlynth who peeled his eyes away from the home's central lamp and looked up. The lamp was similar to a hearth in that it lit and warmed the main chamber and living space but it wasn't fire. The Tree Elves hated fire. Instead, it was more of a weird glowing bluish substance housed in an ornately perforated pot. It was entrancing to behold.

The home he and Farlynth had been given for the time being was gorgeous. High in the tree, it sported spacious rooms spread across three floors with the lowest being a single chamber hanging beneath the house only accessible by rope ladder and possessing breathtaking views of the surrounding woodland. The upper floor contained bedrooms, various closets and fitting suites. The main floor housed a large kitchen and pantry, a meditation room, a bath chamber, and a spacious common area in which they now both sat across from each other on rich couches. "I didn't know how bad the 'half-elven' thing would go over," continued Reinhart. "I just-"

"Don't mention it, it's nothing that I haven't dealt with before," interrupted Farlynth looking back to the glowing pot of blue. "They see me as an example of weakness because my mother fell for the temptations and courting of a 'lesser being'. They believe my whole existence is unworthy of upholding elven ideals because she fell from a place of great honour being a priestess of the Aylinderfell". An awkward silence grew and Reinhart searched for words.

"What is Bälokyll, The Night Terror?" Reinhart asked.

Farlynth chuckled.

"He's a dragon," he said frankly. "Big one too. Years ago he flew up from the South and burned half the Greenwood. Killed thousands".

"I didn't think dragons existed," said Reinhart in awe.

"They're pretty rare. The stories say that Bälokyll was immense. The biggest dragon ever recorded, blocking out the sun when he took flight. His scales were as black as night and impenetrable by any weapon the elvish people had".

"How'd they kill him then?" asked Reinhart, intrigued.

"They didn't," replied Farlynth, fixing Reinhart with a look of mystery, like he was telling a campfire ghost story. "They used very powerful soul magic to turn him to stone, but he's not dead. Just entombed."

"Soul Magic?"

"Magic that requires the death of the mage, or their thrall for it to work. It's a school of magic that isn't accepted, and the ones who did it aren't praised in the history books."

"But they saved the Greenwood, didn't they?"

"Doesn't matter," finished Farlynth matter of factly. "They were banished from the Greenwood and nobody has heard from them since".

Reinhart scoffed, running his hand through the stubble that was beginning to get itchy under his chin.

"Well," said Farlynth standing up. "It's been lovely chatting with you but the council will be deliberating most of the night. We won't receive word until dawn at the earliest. I'm going to get some rest," and he went climbing the stairs to the upper level. Reinhart stopped him,

"Wait. I'm glad that you're with me in this, whatever 'this' is," he confessed. "Know that I'll watch your back".

"And I yours," replied Farlynth placing his right palm to his chest in a sign of gratitude. "Thank you, Reinhart. Humanity has proven far better than I once thought," and he climbed the stairs to find his room.

Reinhart sat and stared into the hearth and took a walk through his thoughts. His mind wandered to the task that lay before him. As his eyes transfixed on the hearth. He reminisced about his fallen friends and his home which lay in ruins. Where would he go if he succeeded? Would they even succeed? Such thoughts troubled him but he didn't dwell on them for long for the tug of sleep drew him to bed. After a time, he made his aching legs climb the steps to the upper level and found a bed chamber for the night. The hearth never dimmed.

Chapter 8

Reinhart was awoken by a banging on the door and Farlynth's voice,

"We're to report to the armoury at once, get up!".

Reinhart leapt out of bed and put on his clothes which he didn't remember folding but found them as such, odd. A simple white shirt and tan trousers with a pair of dark boots which he fell over in a frantic attempt to pull them on.

Together he and Farlynth made their way up the tree to the Temple and then into a squat building attached to its western wing. The door was similarly ornate to those in the main hall of the temple except these were adorned with leaf-shape tipped crossed spears.

Upon arrival, they were met by the high priestess at the door who looked very much the same as the night before and informed them succinctly that the council had finally agreed that it was in their best interests to band together in their fight against the Creep.

Opening the doors to the armoury, Reinhart was amazed at the Elven ability to craft metal since they disdained fire and industry. The interior walls were lined with weapon racks in glass windowed cases. Each case held different armaments. Walking further into the armour they passed a case of long daggers with a wicked looking hook on the tip; a case of leaf headed spears, much like the ones carved into the door, bows, knives, and a case that Reinhart particularly took a liking to as it held a series of elven bastard swords. Made for slashing over stabbing, their blades were beautifully tempered with an off-centre point giving the blade a slight curve to it. The handle, long enough to be comfortably wielded with two hands, gently curved opposite to the blade giving the effect of an S shape running through the whole weapon.

A table had been set up in the middle of the single large room that was the armoury and servants of the temple were efficiently moving back and forth from the table to the cases on the wall assembling two neat piles.

"We've given you each a kit with arms and armour," began the priestess. "Reinhart, I know you are not used to Elvish wares but I expect it will be a fast transition".

A servant gently placed down what looked to be a full armour set in front of Reinhart as he stood at the table. A cuirass of interlocking leather strips protecting his collarbone down to his upper thigh, with steel scales covering his upper arms and parts of the more flexible portions of the torso such as the underarms and sides. He was given a pair of studded boots that were extremely comfortable and protected his legs from the foot to the knee. As if they had read his mind, a beautiful sword was placed in front of him as he tightened the straps to his cuirass.

Picking it up he found it much lighter than the human longswords he was raised on. The grip had a raised green crosshatched pattern against the deep purple fabric providing a very comfortable and practical hilt. He gave the blade a test swing and cracked a wicked grin,

"Oh, I think it will be a very fast transition. I don't know how to thank you".

"Destroy the Source and you can consider your debt paid," the high priestess replied matter of factly.

In his kit, Reinhart also found a large dagger with a similar handle to the sword, and a blade of around eight inches in length which he attached around his belt.

Farlynth was given an identical armour set and although he had almost no use for physical weapons he was given a small falchion to offer protection in case his arcane abilities failed him. Having comfortably tightened their armour and strapped their weapons to their belts, the two of them headed out of the doors and down the winding path towards the forest floor.

"Your horses have been tended to and await you on the ground," explained the High Priestess as she walked alongside them down the winding path to the base of the tree. "Our scouts have reported that the Creep is just inching its way past the northern rim of the Alacar Valley. You know where that is, I assume, Farlynth?" he nodded. "Good, if you forget or lose your way, both horses have been equipped with saddle bags in which you will find a map and other items to support you on your journey. You are to ride East, skirt around the bottom rim of the Creep, and then turn northward and make your way up and through the mountains, Farlynth I believe you know the pass," he nodded again. "Our armies have been sent for and we will try our best to hold it off and buy you time. Good luck," and with that, the two of them were left to themselves, finishing the long walk to the bottom of the tree in silence.

They were met at the bottom by stable hands attending their horses which had been groomed and who's saddlebags were filled with supplies. The Captain they had met the day earlier guided them out of the Greenwood and wished them the best. Left alone on the cusp of the vast forest behind and the stretching plains in front of them, Farlynth turned to Reinhart,

"Well, let's go find a source shall we?" and they kicked their horses into an easy canter.

Chapter 9

The horses kept up their pace for the first couple hours of the journey but when the sun reached its peak around midday their sides heaved and their necks were glistening with sweat. As they evidently needed a rest, Falynth and Reinhart slowed to a walk.

"So, did you expect such ready help back there?" Reinhart inquired of Farlynth.

"Not at all. I thought we were going to have to argue for it. Even then I didn't expect a suit of armour and an entire distraction army," he replied.

"How far do we have to ride to these mountains?" Reinhart asked looking at the map he found in a saddle bag stuffed with various dried foods and a hearty loaf of bread.

"I would say," started Farlynth leaning over in the saddle to reach for his own map. "Based on the expansion of the Creep, we'll have to delay our travel an extra day meaning we should reach the mountains in four days". Reinhart grunted. "Then we've got the pass to deal with. I know of a path but we'll have to ditch our mounts and go on foot. It's not exactly a well maintained road," continued Farlynth. "Good news is, if we keep up this pace we should be able to stay at the 'Backwater Inn'. It's in a tiny hamlet at the crossroads here," he said pointing it out on the map. "Great beer and nice rooms. I've stayed a couple times". Reinhart nodded and turned back to look at the lush green around him. He was saddened to think that one day it may all be consumed by the Creep.

"What about my home?" he asked "When we've succeeded, what will become of Carrock?". Farlynth hesitated before responding,

"I don't know," he replied quietly. Reinhart let the silence sink into him.

"Will you help me rebuild it?" he asked expectantly of Farlynth.

"I can't promise anything," he replied. "I know nothing of masonry or carpentry and I wish I could help but I don't think that I would be helpful in the organization of the construction of a city. I'm sorry Reinhart".

They rode in silence for the rest of the day, sometimes travelling beside each other and at other points in the day one would take the lead. At dusk they found an outcropping of rocks in the countryside and set up a small cooking fire to roast up the rabbit that Farlynth had caught that afternoon. Reinhart offered to take first watch and thankfully the night passed without incident.

The second day started in a similar silence as they packed their sleeping rolls while gnawing on the bread and dried fruits given to them by the elves. The air was cool that morning and there was a soft mist coming in from the South.

They began riding with Farlynth taking the lead and Reinhart letting the rhythm of his horse beneath him lull him into a half-aware state of being which made the time pass more quickly. Reinhart looked at Farlynth roughly 100 paces in front of him. He felt as if this quest was bringing them closer together. Barely a week ago, Reinhart had wanted to cut him to pieces for not protecting Carrock but now he relied on him. As much as he had grown to like Farlynth, he felt as if there would always be some kind of divide. Whether it was Farlynth's elven blood, his magic, or past events, he wasn't sure.

Roughly three hours before they were to reach the crossroads, they began to see the frosty peaks of the distant mountains before them. A great range of mountains formed by tectonic movement millions of years ago. They were the mountains that Reinhart had grown up in the shadows of. As a child he'd always looked up to imagine himself climbing them and standing at the top, becoming king of all he could see. They'd told stories containing all manner of gremlins and ogres that lived in the deep tunnels beneath the mountains. Reinhart snickered to realize that in some parts, those stories were true.

They reached the Backwater Inn just after the sunset, and tied their horses up outside. Opening the door, Reinhart felt welcome in the stuffy room packed with locals having a well deserved rest after a hard day's work. Farlynth headed straight for the bar while Reinhart tried to secure them a table. He sat himself down in the corner at a small table that barely sat two and waited briefly, looking around before Farlynth cheerfully clanged a pint of frothy beer down in front of him.

"So, what do you notice?" asked Farlynth, taking a gulp of beer.

"Well, judging by the look and the smell of them, they're tanners and coal miners," replied Reinhart taking a gulp as well. The beer was good.

"Those industries keep this place afloat. Thank goodness for that. I've got us a room for the night, they only had the one but they said it'll be roomy enough for the two of us," said Farlynth.

"Thanks," replied Reinhart sipping his beer and suddenly catching the aroma of roast lamb wafting from somewhere that made him acutely aware of his empty stomach.

"I smell it too," said Farlynth, noticing his companion's facial expression. "Hold on," and he stood and left coming back with two steaming plates of roast lamb in herbs and butter, with potatoes and apples on the side. The two of them heartily tucked in.

"That man over there's been eyeing us up since you sat down," said Reinhart over his tankard gesturing off to a fellow standing by the fireplace. Judging by the black stains on his muscled arms he was one of the coal miners. Farlynth turned to look.

"Well, this hasn't happened in a while, could be fun," said Farlynth sarcastically and turned back to the meal.

"What hasn't...". Reinhart didn't finish as the coal stained man stood and made his way over. He was large, heavily muscled with one missing eye and a close cropped beard that must have been compensating for his bald head. His nose looked to have been broken at least twice in the past and he didn't seem too happy to see the two of them in the corner.

"Hey," the man said curtly halfway across the room. The rest of the dining hall went quiet. "I don't like having your kind here elf," he said, taking another step and then stopping, glaring at Farlynth.

"Well, I've been riding for two days and just want to eat, so please excuse me sir," said Farlynth calmly, not looking up from his plate, still with his back turned to the man.

"Leave him be Brigford," someone said from the crowd.

"Maybe you didn't understand me," Brigford said, taking a step. "You need to leave now," he said, pulling the sleeves up on his shirt. Reinhart watched as two more muscular fellows got up and stood behind Brigford, both looking equally as unhappy. Reinhart put three fingers on the surface of the table to signal to Farlynth that Brigford had backup. Farlynth noticed his gesture, looked at him, let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.

"Well, it's clear one of us does. Let me help you decide". Farlynth raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. As he did the fire flickered almost completely out and the three thug's trousers were set alight as streaks of fire rocketed from the fireplace to connect with their legs. Reinhart and Farlynth struggled to contain their laughter as the three men sprinted out of the inn cursing and yelling about a bucket of water. A couple of the patrons snickered as well before quietly going back to their tables.

Once the hum of conversation returned to the dining hall, the barkeep came over,

"don't mind Brigford. He's just a bully. Here take these two on the house for your trouble," and she dumped two more tankards of ale down on their table.

With their bellies full of ale and lamb, Reinhart and Farlynth wearily made their way up the stairs to the third floor to take in their room. It was technically in the attic so the ceiling slanted aggressively but there was a single straw mattress bed and a soft sheep-skin rug that could be slept on. Farlynth offered to take the rug and after placing a chair up against the inside of the door, the two of them had a full night's sleep. The last they would have for some time.

Chapter 10

Reinhart was dismayed to learn that breakfast was not nearly as exciting as dinner at the Backwater. It was a couple fried eggs on a trencher of day old bread and a cup of water but it was certainly better than the dried fruit that the elves had provided them.

Leaving the inn, Farlynth and Reinhart collected their horses and rode north, as by this time Farlynth assured him that they should have put enough distance between them and the Creep to be able to do so.

They rode for half of the day discussing the events of the night and how often Farlynth found himself in such a situation.

"More often than I would like to," was the reply begot by the question when Reinhart asked. They were both in high spirits that morning and for a minute Reinhart forgot that they were on the way to fight a terrible evil. Shortly after they shared a short rest at noon to let the horses have a snack and to nourish themselves Farlynth noticed something and quickly pointed off to their left. To the west, they saw the Creep.

Reinhart shuddered as he watched the pulsing slow-moving mass of sludge making its way across the countryside devouring everything in its path. As they rode the Creep seemed to sense their presence and began to expand rapidly towards them.

"Stay on your horse," said Falrynth, a ball of fire sparking to life in his hand. Reinhart drew his sword, the blade making no noise as it slid easily from the oiled sheath. It felt incredibly light and nimble as he gave the reflective steel a test swing. The Creep quickly covered the distance between them. It had become more envigoured since the last time.

When they were within 100 paces, the Creep released a squelching sound and three blobs were launched, landing about fifteen feet from the riders. The blobs undulated and grew, shaping themselves into humanoid figures, their slimy legs propelling them forward. Farlynth released his ball of blue flame vaporizing the closest one and when the second was within reach, Reinhart easily made two cuts that steamed as they passed easily through the creature which shrank and dissolved into the ground.

As the third shape ran forward, four more hunks of Creep were propelled from the mass. These took on a larger form. Standing roughly twelve feet tall and one arm being long and bulbous almost club-like. Farlynth vaporized the last man-sized creature and began chanting as light formed in his hands. Reinhart spurred his horse towards the rightmost hulk, ducked under the swing of its club and deftly removed its leg and then its head when it fell to the ground.

"RUN!" shouted Farlynth as he released the ball of light. Reinhart needed no more encouragement and spurred his mount into a gallop away from the Creep. Farlynth did the same, not looking back to see as his light ball grew in luminosity and then violently exploded in an outward ring, cleaving through everything within a fifteen-foot radius.

They rode hard, only checking briefly to reassure themselves that they were not being followed and thanking the gods that the Creep had not had time to field an army as it had in the past. Finally, they slowed their horses with their sides heaving to a walk and continued towards the now closer mountain range.

Chapter 11

As they rode, Reinhart began to doubt their ability to stop their enemy's advances. Who could fight against something that could literally spit out an army in an afternoon? If they failed however, all life was at risk, destroying the Source was the only way to survive. After another day and a half of hurried riding, the pair found themselves at a narrow path that seemed to twist its way up into the mountain range.

"We've made good time," announced Farlynth. "However this is where we must part with the horses. The way forward is too treacherous for a horse". They dismounted and Reinhart stuffed what was left of the dried fruits and now stale bread into a single saddlebag with the map, a tinder box, two small vials of liquid he hadn't noticed earlier and a compact sewing kit. Holding the vials up he called out,

"Hey, know what these are?". Farlynth walked over and took the first from him. Holding the clear colourless liquid up to the sun for inspection, he screwed up his face in confusion. Popping off the cork and taking a sniff he coughed,

"By the gods, they gave you enough Spitre Root extract to kill a herd of cattle. Damn stuff looks like water" Farlynth muttered. "It's poison. Put it on your blade and it will eat away at the target's flesh, essentially adding a burn to a sword wound. Once it's entered the bloodstream it attacks the organs and the person is dead within an hour, two at most. Nasty stuff. What's the other?" he inquired, reaching out to trade vials with Reinhart who stuffed the Spitre into his bag. Holding the viscous, seafoam green fluid up Farlynth let out a knowing sigh, "Ah, that's Naltheim. Drink that and you'll be awake for days. I got one too, something tells me this source is going to put up a fight", said Farlynth handing it back and adjusting his pack. Replacing the bottle in the bag, Reinhart checked to assure himself there were no other hiding vials. There weren't. He slung the bag across his back, turned and bowed mockingly in Farlynth's direction saying,

"Lead the way good sir. Best not to keep the Source waiting". Farlynth grinned and started up the path.

Reinhart quickly realized that the treacherous descriptor had been quite an understatement. This was far from an Empire maintained mountain trail and was instead closer to resembling a couple of rocks shifting in a storm and just happening to almost clear the odd patch of rock then a path. They were on an incline most of the time using their hands to pull themselves up and around boulders and rocky shelves. Reinhart took this to be a good sign.

After spending the rest of the day painstakingly traversing the mountain range the two of them sat exhausted in a rare smooth area of rocks.

"Do you smell that too?" Reinhart asked, inquiring about the foul stench he had begun to detect about an hour prior that had grown more intense ever since. It smelled like a ripe corpse that had stewed in a particularly nasty cesspool for a couple of days. Undoubtedly the worst thing to have ever reached Reinhart's nostrils.

"That my friend," replied Farlynth looking at him sternly. "Is the Source. We should reach its lair tomorrow would be my guess. Then I don't know what to expect. Here take these". Farlynth handed him a pair of small cotton plugs for his nose. Reinhart briefly thought about the use of the words 'my friend' as he stuffed the cotton into his nose thankfully blocking out the foul aroma.

Neither of them slept that night as they gazed into a small elven lamp that Farlynth had been given. The night passed as they shared stories of their childhood and Reinhart learned that Farlynth had grown up secluded, on a small coastal farm far out West with his parents who had been killed when he was barely ten by a band of sea raiders. After hearing that, Reinhart decided to hold onto the question about where he learned his magic from. At dawn, Farlynth packed the lantern and the two of them began slowly continuing up the path.

At noon they came to the top of a small cliff in the mountain range and Reinhart's jaw dropped. Below them in a small rocky clearing was the mouth of a cave that burrowed downward. Its walls were tainted black and steam rose from the entrance. Reinhart felt a stab of fear and he was forced to his knees remembering the destruction of his home as he took in the scattering of human remains that littered the area. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Farlynth who, gazing at the opening to the cave wearily asserted,

"This is an evil place. It may show you many things that frighten you and it will definitely threaten and attack us. Come, together we can defeat this monster". Reinhart took Farlynth's other extended hand and pulled himself up taking in a large breath, thankfully through his mouth. He met Farlynth's gaze,

"Thank you". Farlynth grinned and pulled out the vial of Naltheim from his bag giving it a shake,

"Shall we?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. Reinhart retrieved his own bottle and popped off the cork.

"Bottoms up," he replied, and the two of them downed their vials. Reinhart felt instantly more aware as a ticklish burn that started in his throat ran through his body to fizzle out in his extremities. He pulled the bottle of Spitre out as well and dripped some of it on his sword. Ready to go and with enough energy to run a marathon, the two of them walked towards the mouth of the vile cavern. Taking their first steps in, Farlynth produced a light which hovered above them cutting through the pitch blackness which attempted to engulf them.

Chapter 12

The stench in the deep blackness of the cavern made the outside seem like a field of petunias. Reinhart could smell it wafting through his cotton nose plugs making him gag.

"Why is there no Creep here?" Reinhart asked quietly, noticing that although the walls were caked in a mysterious black substance, they weren't covered in the invasive slime.

"The Creep flows out of the bottom of the mountain," explained Farlynth. "The Source uses this as a fresh air exhaust type hole. We shouldn't encounter any Creep until we reach its chamber". Although there was no Creep, the ground was slick with moisture and the black, soot-like, moss that covered the walls gently moved without any aid.

After a number of winding turns, they came across a large cavern with a pool of calm water. Farlynth cast his light to hover in the centre of the room where it intensified and illuminated the whole chamber.

The walls were decorated with carvings of scenes in between archways that jutted out into the room almost like those in a church. The archways curved up to meet in the middle of the room, each one engraved with elegant runes or leafy vines and at the spot where they met in the center of the ceiling, there looked to be the remains of a skylight, long since blocked by the black moss. In between the arches on the walls, the scenes depicted mythic creatures frolicking in fields of barley and scenes of lovers caught in an embrace. Reinhart noticed ornate pillars reaching up from the glassy surface of the water only to have crumbled, never again to reach their counterpart that reached down from the ceiling.

"What is this place?" he asked enthralled.

"This was once another sanctuary like Melca's," explained Farlynth sadly. "It was known for being a place where lovers would come and enjoy, shall we say, each other's company. But it was also a calm place of reflection where somebody, looking to be at peace, could come and gaze at the waters.

"It was once known as the Mirror pond, now it is forgotten. It was tainted and partially destroyed by the Source. Possibly never to see a pair of young people again". Reinhart paused before following Farlynth around the rim of the pool towards the exit on the other side of the room. He could just imagine what it had looked like before the Creep came.

They continued down the tunnel as it swerved left, right and ever downward. Farlynth's light had resumed following them as they had left the Mirror Pool and was now illuminating their way. Reinhart's mind again wandered to the tales of ogres that had frightened him as a child.

Deeper they went. The stench grew ever stronger while the temperature and humidity rose with it. After squeezing through a narrow hall that barely allowed one to walk straight on, Farlynth stopped before turning a very noticeably ninety-degree left turn and the light went out. Grabbing Reinhart's arm and pulling him close he whispered,

"Be ready, around the next turn is the opening to the Source's resting chamber. The Source cannot see but it can feel, so stay slow and quiet". Releasing his arm the light returned and Reinhart, brandishing his poisoned blade, slowly rounded the corner at Farlynth's side.

The Source was like something out of a nightmare. It was an oblong fleshy mass that was covered in large pores and wrinkles that stretched and constricted as The Source undulated with what seemed to be regular shaky breaths. It hung about five feet from the ground, suspended by six black fleshy arms resembling spider silk in structure that clung to the walls of the chamber. The mass in the centre of the room dripped with what Reinhart thought was a mix of sweat and pus as it breathed and occasionally violently pulsed once or twice.

After a few shuddering breaths, the bottom of the fleshy mass opened like a disgusting cross between a blooming spring flower and the sphincter of a heart and excreted a mass of Creep that flowed down a hole laying directly beneath it with a squelching noise.

The Source closed up as Farlynth produced a flame in his hand, gesturing to the support limbs. As Reinhart raised his sword, the Source shuddered quickly and releasing a series of grunts and quiet screeches, it began to breathe faster. Humanoid creatures with the same club-style arm they had seen before started to climb out of the hole in the floor and charge at them. They had been discovered.

Reinhart began slashing left and right, the poisoned blade needing only one stroke as the toxin did its job and burned away the rest of the Creep's minions. Farlynth was throwing fire with both hands, vaporizing the creatures as they came. The Source continued to scream as it opened again and spat Creep directly onto the floor of the chamber that took the form of large cat-sized rats. The swarm of rats made for Farlynth as Reinhart decapitated his last opponent. Through a blast of fire, Farlynth shouted,

"Get the limbs!". Pirouetting on his heels, Reinhart turned and with two hands slashed through the closest arm of the Source. The arm violently slackened and quickly sprung back into the Source to hang uselessly to the ground. A scream, of what Reinhart hoped was pain, nearly split his eardrums as the Source opened again and the mass of Creep that followed created three large quadruped beasts. Reinhart let out a cry of adrenaline as he ducked an incoming paw and made an upward cut to the belly of the first beast killing it. He then felt a blow to his back and flew a couple of feet to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. As he moved to get up, the beasts charging rampantly towards him, the sound of electric discharge and another ear splitting scream made it known that Farlynth had destroyed a second arm. Only four more, Reinhart thought, finding his feet, His back was in pain but nothing seemed broken. The armour was doing its job and he could still feel the Naltheim coursing through him. The closest beast leapt and Reinhart jumped to the side bringing his sword upward in an arc to connect with what must have been its face as Farlynth scorched the other to ash.

The Source began to pulse and shudder even more rapidly as it attempted to produce more Creep. Missing two support strands its mass sagged closer to the floor's central hole which was smaller than the wrinkled ball of matter. There would be no escape for the Source. As a new batch of Creep formed itself into two great big ugly trolls who's gaping maws dripped with pus, Reinhart and Farlynth moved together towards the four remaining arms.

"Let's try this!" shouted Farlynth producing a wall of eight-foot ice crystals between them and the trolls. Taking advantage of the barrier, Reinhart turned and ran at the nearest supporting strand bringing his sword up to cleave it in one stroke. Another scream followed by the wet squelch of more Creep hitting the floor. Turning, Reinhart watched as one troll fell to the ground, an enormous hole through its chest. The second grabbed Farlynth around the torso, picked him up and threw him across the room to hit the rock walls with a thud and lie motionless.

"No!" shouted Reinhart, running towards the troll and with one stroke he removed a leg causing it to topple over and following up with a clean decapitating slash.

He turned to see the most recent batch becoming a murder of crows intent on devouring Farlynth. Running to his side, Reinhart cut at the crows slaying them two at a time. He felt a sharp pain and then warm blood on his arm as he grabbed the crow who'd bitten him and crushed it against the wall. A wet slapping announced the arrival of more Creep.

Reinhart's arms ached with exhaustion, his chest heaved and his brow was dripping sweat in the intense humidity of the chamber. Protecting the body of his fallen friend, Reinhart prepared to face more four-legged beasts that were ape-like in nature but far larger than a human. He felt a hand on his ankle and quickly glanced down to see Farlynth, his face pale, muttering something. The hand on his ankle grew warm and Reinhart felt an immense power flow up and through him reinvigorating his tired muscles. He ran at the nearest beast, ducked under its massive arm and opened its belly from collarbone to navel. The second made the mistake of standing on its hind legs and beating its chest with its fists accompanied by a roar, lost a leg followed by a slash across the chest. Whirling on his heels, Reinhart threw his sword at the third, embedding it hilt deep in the beast's chest. Using its disintegrating body as a step, he retrieved his blade and leapt into the air bringing the sword down with all of his might to cleave the fourth leg. Only having two supports left and on the same side of its body at that, The Source sat on the edge of the room, its mass sagging against the rocky floor.

The Source had turned about three quarters and its opening now faced Reinhart. With a shudder, it opened and Reinhart saw pulsing yellow sacs inside its fleshy maw before more Creep streamed out and it closed. The Creep took the shape of an enormous spider and it clambered towards him. Raising its front legs the spider attacked, attempting to bite with its large venomous mandible. Reinhart dodged only to be caught on the back by one of the hairy legs and forced to the ground. He felt the mandible close on the back of his leg and let out a scream. Turning around and wrenching his dagger from its scabbard at his waist, he plunged it deep into one of the larger of the spider's eyes and twisted. The spider let go with a feral hiss and retreated a few paces. Reinhart's leg felt numb as he got to his feet unsteadily. The spider charged and Reinhart threw a handful of dust he had picked up into its face blinding it, stepped to the left and with all the remaining strength he had left, he removed its abdomen completely with a swing of his sword. The spider hissed in pain as it shrivelled up and disintegrated leaving the dagger to clatter to the rocky floor.

Reinhart stumbled to The Source which was now pulsing more slowly, evidently injured. He reached it and as the mouth opened Reinhart plunged his sword into the foul, pus-filled opening up to the hilt. The Source let out a blood-curdling shriek as Reinhart twisted the blade and pushed it laterally to cut itself out of the mass of flesh. The Source continued to pulse irregularly and shriek, its flap opening and closing but not producing Creep as thick black blood oozed from the gaping wound the sword had left. Reinhart watched as it shrivelled in on itself and seemed to dry out until it deflated with a final shudder and lay motionless as a limp sack of wrinkled membrane. The Source was dead.

Reinhart stumbled over to where Farlynth lay and collapsed next to him. His leg felt completely numb and it was spreading up his torso. He heard a chuckle next to him.

"That", said Farlynth quietly. "Was fucking disgusting". It hurt to laugh as Reinhart joined his friend in mirth.

"Farlynth, I can't feel my leg," Reinhart said. "That spider-"

"Don't try and move," interrupted Farlynth. "It will speed the spreading". Farlynth groaned as he struggled to sit up and look at the wound on Reinhart's leg. Placing his hands on the wound, Farlynth began to chant in the elder tongue, words that Reinhart didn't understand. Not that it mattered, for numbness and exhaustion became overwhelming and Reinhart's consciousness fell into blackness.

Chapter 13

Slowly, his eyelids slid open and Reinhart saw sunlight and smelled grass around him.

"He's awake," he heard an unknown voice say. A rustling of motion followed and then Farlynth's blurry face appeared and said, "Here, drink this," and Reinhart felt the mouth of a bottle press against his lips. He let the cool sweet liquid slide easily down his throat and warm him from the inside as his consciousness again drifted into darkness.

Chapter 14

Reinhart's eyes opened slowly as he inhaled the morning air. He looked around to discover that he was lying in the grass freshly touched with dew. Where am I? Is this what death looks like? When did I last eat? These were all questions that ran through his mind as he shifted his weight in an attempt to set up.

"You're awake!" exclaimed somebody as he sat up. The sound of bounding steps dampened by the earth brought a young girl into his view.

"Melca?" Reinhart asked in astonishment. "I thought you were dead". The girl threw her arms around his neck in an embrace.

"I could say the same to you," she said. "And us sprites are pretty hard to kill," she laughed. "When the Creep devoured the sanctuary we ran but we saved many seeds so that when we go back we can replant".

"How did I get here?" he asked as she pulled away.

"Farlynth pulled you from the cave while you were unconscious and looked out for you until the army arrived. Once the Creep receded, we weren't too far behind though". Farlynth, the name struck warning into Reinhart. Where was he? Was he okay after being thrown? Reinhart looked around and not seeing anybody, he was filled with an awful sense of foreboding.

"Not to worry," said Melca. "I'll take you to see him and to everybody else. Let me help you up". Using her extended arm for support, Reinhart got to his feet, still unsteady on the leg that was bitten. It was bandaged tightly and there was a slightly cool sensation of some sort of balm underneath but no serious pain and he could still move it, all good signs. He felt a bit funny being helped by what looked like a small child to walk to the top of the gentle rise in the field, the mountain range to his back.

Coming to the top he paused to look into a small valley and over the sea of tents that occupied it. They were all cloth in an array of whites, browns and greens of assorted sizes with a large green command tent in the middle recognizable by the Elvish banner of the silver Aylinderfell on a blue field gently blowing in the wind. They were organized into neat concentric circles, radiating out from the command tent with paths running straight out so that all had a quick route to the center. There were fresh water barrels set up every couple tents, and Reinhart even noticed a couple of small cooking fires. I guess the elves have to put aside their hate of fire to cook, he thought. His stomach growled just thinking about food. People milled about what Reinhart thought must be their duties, cleaning weapons and armour, patrolling the perimeter, beating the dust out of sleeping rolls, busy work.

A horn sounded from somewhere in the camp, making him jump a little. He looked to Melca as it gave a second blast and saw that she was grinning from ear to ear. As she led him down the other side of the rise towards the camp there was a third horn blast and everybody seemed to stop what they were doing and look towards him. People came out of tents, grindstones halted, packs were dropped, and food was put aside. Everybody just watched as he descended the rise supported by the steady hand of Melca. Reinhart felt a little ridiculous and embarrassed having this many eyes on him. As he neared the bottom he heard a familiar voice call out,

"Where is he?" and the crowd parted to reveal Farlynth, still in his armour, smiling like a child. He walked swiftly forward and caught Reinhart in an embrace which was gladly returned. "Thank the stars you're alive, otherwise, they would only be thanking a half-blood and that's no good eh?" joked Farlynth taking a step back and appraising him. "You look good. Melca all the toxin has left his body?"

"Yep," she replied triumphantly.

"Good thing too, we thought we lost you there for a stint," said Farlynth grinning and clapping him on the shoulders.

"Reinhart", said the High Priestess as she stepped through the aisle that had formed in the gathering crowd. "You have done what was previously thought impossible. The Creep is no more. We all bow our heads in thanks," and she pulled back her hood revealing a shaved head, the opposite of what Reinhart was expecting, and knelt before him, bowing. The whole crowd followed suit in a way that seemed almost rehearsed.

"If you think I'm bowing to you. You lost your mind in that cave," chuckled Farlynth standing by his side. Returning to her feet, The High Priestess replaced her hood and announced,

"I hereby title you to be Reinhart the Unyielding amongst my people, and grant you any wish you may have that we can fulfil". Reinhart paused a moment and said,

"Well, some breakfast would be nice".

Chapter 15

After staying with the elves for a number of weeks once they had returned to the Greenwood, it was time for Reinhart to return home. He and Farlynth gathered all of their things, which was very little, and prepared to leave. They were accompanied by a band of masons, carpenters, and metal workers amongst other tradesmen because Reinhart had simply asked for help to rebuild at least a part of his home knowing full well that a complete reconstruction was impossible. After much discussion with the elven guild masters and the priestess council, they had come to a decision to help rebuild Carrock into a small village and some of the Elven people even offered to move there to start a population. It looked as though Carrock would bridge the gap between elvish and human settlements, and Reinhart was happy to be going home.

They said their goodbyes to the city of Ba'taylne and were seen off with a small procession organized by the elvish people in honour of their heroic actions. Reinhart was almost sad to say goodbye as he exited the Greenwood for what he hoped was not the last time.

Reinhart sat on the stump of a tree whose trunk was being sawn into planks and looked around. He was surrounded by piles of stones and dirt as people dug foundations and buried support pillars for the town that was rapidly coming together with help from the elves. Reinhart's home was being rebuilt. Not to the grandeur of the once tall and proud walled city but it would be just as cozy and feel just like home, minus a few people.

Reinhart took a deep breath, watching as the sun was slowly dipping beyond the mountain range in which he and Farlynth fought for the world just a couple of months before. His leg had almost healed. It still gave him a little trouble as it was stiff and less mobile than the other, and the elvish druid told him that he may never have full functionality with it again, but Reinhart was just glad to not have lost the limb.

"Coming together quick isn't it", said a familiar voice off of his shoulder.

"Yes, it is," replied Reinhart, turning to look up at the shattered purple irises of his friend. Appraising Farlynth's cloak and attire he asked, "Leaving? Already?". Farlynth nodded,

"I'm sorry my friend but I cannot stay. There are other lands I wish to explore and new people to meet". Reinhart stood nodding and embraced his friend. Pulling away he said,

"You are always welcome here Farlynth Half-Blood," a name the half elf had decided to embrace as a sort of mystical title.

"Thank you my friend" he replied repeating the well-known gesture of placing his right palm to his chest. Parting, he turned, mounted his horse and rode off south. Reinhart watched his friend leave until the coming of night and the tears of possibly never seeing him again obscured his vision. He wiped his eyes, let out a shaky breath and made his way to the temporary town of tents that had been thrown up while the houses were still being built. He shared his dinner around the fire with masons and woodworkers telling stories and laughing. Elves did still use fire to cook it turns out.

Finally, after many a swig of wine and a laugh, Reinhart retired into his tent, coincidentally the largest within the camp. He collapsed into bed and slept almost immediately. Ever since the battle in the mountains, Reinhart's sleep had been plagued with nightmares reliving the event. He tossed and turned in his sleep, sometimes lashing out or screaming. In the young hours of the morning, before the sun had risen and while restlessly asleep, he rolled over and from his nose came a single drip. The thick, brackish goo landed on the bed and wiggled onto the ground where it burrowed down to bury itself in the earth.