Still the beginning of a longer story, Master of the Dungeon.
This concludes Chapter 2, preceded by The Ranger (2)
The farmland surrounding the road on both sides turned from small plots of pasture to larger crop fields, now empty post-harvest. Colorful and ornate signs still periodically beckoned welcoming locals and tourists alike to visit roadside stalls, for fresh vegetables or to sample a new cheese. Aeron said, “All the chicken coops were closer to town, Stewart told me that these last few farms were just produce makers.”
“Was Stewart the farmer you were chatting up at the pub?” asked Gris.
“No, his horse. We met on my way out for the evening. I think my accent was off as a human, come to think of it.”
“I thought you were going to say he was a sheep you met,” said Mister Nao.
Aeron laughed. “Good one!” He asked, “Hey, Nao, what are those things that you carry on your hips? They look like handles for something.”
“Or, hilts without blades,” said Gris.
“I carry weapons forged by my uncle.”
“Are they magic?” asked Aeron. He could see that each pointy end was nestled in its own small scabbard, but he was failing to grasp how they might work, or what they might do.
Walking ahead, Sorcha and Walda quickened their pace.
Nao said, “No. It is a chemistry not very well known outside of Kazoku.”
“Right, that far away place. Sorcha knows, then,” said Aeron. His attention wandered, distracted by leaves in the trees overhead.
“Yes,” said Nao.
“The oxidizer,” said Gris. “We forgot to go shopping in Garthburg.”
Aeron refocused and asked, “The what?” He vaguely remembered their conversation this morning, but that memory was already mostly concerned with the little trees called broccoli.
Nao swept aside the front of his outer clothing, something that reminded Aeron of the small rug in his room at the Angry Goose. “The weapon’s payload are these,” said Nao. He plucked a small metal nub from his belt, and held it up between two fingers. “We call it a bullet. The oxidizer is one component of the fuel that fires this, a certain necessary chemistry for rapid combustion.”
Aeron said, “I am sure that Gris understood that.” He scratched his upper lip and thought, It throws pebbles, but not with magic?
Nao said, “I planned correctly, and I am carrying a proper defense for our journey ahead, should I be called upon to use it. More importantly, if I were to run low, I understand the recipe to produce more.”
Gris smiled. “I bet that makes a nice popping sound.”
Nao replaced the bullet in a notch in his belt. He paused, and said, “I have sworn to only use these weapons against enemies who deserve to die.”
“You sound very sure about that. I’m glad you are with us,” said Aeron.
“I am well-trained, but these are not – what is an appropriate phrasing? Everyday protection?”
“That would be why you also carry knives,” said Gris.
Nao said, “And, what do you prefer?”
Gris deftly grabbed a handle over his shoulder and unrolled leather covering the double-bladed head of an ax that almost matched the width of his shoulder blades. He said, “I feel more comfortable on the road with this more handy. ” He slid the ax head-first into a padded space in his backpack. “Does that stick on your back also go pop?”
Nao said, “When we are out of town, I am permitted to practice my skills.”
“I look forward to it,” said Gris.
Aeron said, “I have this.” He pulled on a braided hilt and released a well-polished steel sword from the scabbard on his hip.
“It is very nice”, said Nao.
Aeron put his sword away. He sniffed the air. Something didn’t feel right. He realized it hadn’t felt right all morning, not since breakfast.
Sorcha stopped ahead and turned around. “Are you done yet?” she called out. “We aren’t even fully out of town and you are already comparing weapons?”
“Hey, Walda,” said Aeron. He had circled around silently to the front of the group.
“Yes, Aeron?” She smelled of lilac today.
“Do you hear that?” His attention returned to the leaves shifting in the breeze.
“No.”
Aeron nodded. “Right. Where are the birds?”
Sorcha looked around on both sides of the road. Aeron always wondered what it would be like to wield magic. Does she now know where every living thing is in this area? Creepy, he thought.
She said, “I think Aeron is right. Walda, what is your opinion?”
Walda closed her eyes briefly. “I know we are still close to town and agriculture, but something is out of balance.” She whistled like a bird, and frowned when there was no response.
“Aeron, go find Zon for us,” said Sorcha. “He might already know what is going on.”
“Can I be a bird? That sounds faster. He left a good two hours ahead of us, I think.” Aeron looked at Gris. “You might not believe it, but I actually planned for a nap this time, and I used my rented bed last night.”
Nao asked, “Be a bird?”
Gris said, “Give him a moment. He does this sort of thing all the time.”
Aeron dropped his bag on the road and unbuckled his sword belt. He shrugged. “Whatever Sorcha says is best.”
Sorcha rubbed between her eyes. “Okay, Aeron.”
Her magic ability must be tiring so early in the day, he thought. Aeron started to pull his shirt over his head while untying his pants with his free hand.
Gris said, “Buddy.” Walda failed to hide her smile.
Aeron began to sprout black, brown, and silver feathers. “What? Birds don’t wear anything.”
Sorcha said, “Improvise, please.”
Gris said, “I’ll untangle you as needed, but please. It is not even noon.”
“Neither do cats, or wolves, for that matter,” said Aeron, his eyes darkening. Gris stepped back. Aeron shrunk down and disappeared into his pile of clothes.
Nao adjusted his glasses. “Does he now resemble a bird when viewed by us, or did he transform his physical self?”
“I’ll explain later,” said Sorcha.
Aeron-falcon flapped his wings in protest as he kicked out of his pants, and immediately flew away. The sun and rushing air were exhilarating.
Stewart had told him a lot about the last farm at the north side of town, though it was far from missing chickens. This morning, from Aeron-falcon’s overhead viewpoint, so much looked wrong that he was immediately afraid. Zon was sure to be nearby.
The yard between the farmhouse and the barn was empty. The farmhouse had burned just enough to destroy everything inside and render it uninhabitable. A skeleton of scorched interior wall framing remained in isolated pockets. One exterior wall was defiantly only partially collapsed.
Something strange and incomprehensible was painted on the roof of the barn. Aeron-falcon landed and sniffed at the roof. He found an unsettling mix of animal blood, dry at least one day. So much to make a mark this big, he thought. Gross. He scanned the tree line and could find the road, but these buildings were set back far enough to have plausibly gone unnoticed.
Aeron-falcon flapped to the roof edge and swooped down. He landed and immediately froze in place. “But, why?” he cried out.
The shadow under a simple horse cart, parked to one side of the open barn door, crawled in front of Aeron-falcon. Zon raised his hands in the air, throwing ragged darkness in all directions and covering most of the doorway. Zon said, “Aeron! You, most of all, should have been prepared for what I have found. I owe you for this disservice, friend.”
Aeron-falcon screamed, beating his wings into the dust. How many dead? he thought, his mind racing. Aeron-falcon said, “Too many.”
“For once, I agree.”
Aeron-falcon learned that birds cry tears. He said, “And, missing heads. All of them? That’s almost a personal insult aimed at you, Zee.”
“I noticed.”
“Do you know what the symbol on the roof means?”
Zon raised his hood slightly. “It was dark when I arrived. I was more preoccupied with whether or not the beings who did this might return. What did you see?”
Aeron-falcon flew to the horse cart and tried not to look inside the barn again. “I really have no idea. I was hoping you and Sorcha might know. It was a big open mouth of sharp teeth, biting a bunch of squiggles and swirly shapes.”
Zon clenched both fists. A nearby hitching post exploded into a cloud of splinters.
Aeron-falcon lifted off and hovered for a moment, hoping his friend would calm down. “I’ll … I’ll get the rest of the team.” He flew back to the road, but there was no joy in this flight.
Still the beginning of a longer story, Master of the Dungeon.
This concludes Chapter 2, preceded by The Ranger (2)