Ancient Terror
Verse 1
When fields lie calm and wind stands still
(Run home, Run Home)
As the crows make night of the fading sun
(Hide now, Hide Now)
Verse 2
When the Trees do bow, as if they weep
(Stay down, Stay Down)
Though its light beckons forth, a Melody calls out
(Too late, Too Late)
. . . . . .
It was a cold night. Things were strange lately. There were those incidents with the town; people dying strange and mysterious deaths. Mages of course, what could it be? Demacians don't feel the desire to let their stout hearts feel fear, but fear is a thing that can take any form. It gets into the mind, the senses, and then it begins to dig even deeper and deeper.
Fear is not something to laugh at. Fear is something to resist. But how do you resist the fact that life itself is the cause, the origin? The simple truth is that it is not so simple. He quietly walked to join his companion at the campfire. It was cold tonight and the fire was most welcome. He heard a few birds calling somewhere as they flew overhead.
Why was he out here tonight with Tedric? He was not scared, but it was colder than usual tonight. The woods seemed more disturbing despite the light of a full moon. Maybe it was the light. Everything just seemed emptier, hollow even, this night. Besides, what joy was there to be had doing watches?
Tedric stood and greeted him. Then he sat with his friend, giving vent to his frustrations. "A warm tavern and a full tankard…" Somewhere in the distance there was cawing from the throats of several birds. "That was the plan. Not doing extra watch."
Tedric glanced his way. "Whole of the countryside's been on edge since Fossbarrow."
"Yeah… Filthy mages." But Sylas and his kind would get theirs in due order. They were fanatical, not invincible. But Fossbarrow… people just dying in the night, or whatever it was. Strange things were happening, and it was difficult to explain. It had to be magework. If it wasn't… that gave a slight chill to the soul. The fire was a slightly reassuring presence in the night but it going out was not a welcome thought.
"They show up here—" Fwup-fwup! Rustle. His head jerked to the right, to the shadows beyond the small circle of their fire and the broken masonry of the stone pillar that formed their seats. What? What noises were these? Strange. An animal perhaps. He resumed. "They show up and I'll cut the throats of each—" Hrrsshh! Chnk! Tink-tink.
His head jerked left. The helmet lay upon the ground. Tedric… gone. Nothing? What magic-? "Tedric?" He sat up straighter, eyes straining beyond into the trees. "Hey, Tedric."
"Help me…" It was a low, whimpered, weak, pleading from somewhere. Behind him? How did he get over—? Where? Where?! His hair was starting to raise with concern, his senses were tightening, adrenaline lacing his body.
"Help me!" Back to the left— A lantern. Squeaking and swinging near a tree in the center of his potential path. Tedric's voice had come just beyond. But what was this sudden light? No time for concerns when a soldier and friend was in need of aid. He quickly abandoned his place at the fire and began to work his way through the barren, dry bushes and thin tree limbs. "T-Tedric!"
"nOt TedrIc..." rasped something.
He was getting closer, but something, rusted and strange was in the light of the old lantern—and what were those ugly, slobbery, nerve-grating sounds? He reached the tree… and the thing behind it, just simply collapsed into nothing, as if it were naught but fine dust, the lantern going dark and falling with a rattle. Tedric? But it was just empty metal plates! Where was he?! Where?! He had been right there!
This… this couldn't be magic. No, it was something… something else was… "HELP ME!" The voice cracked out like a flash of lightning and he instantly snapped his gaze right. What in the?! It had moved. He could swear to it. A strange and bizarrely shaped thing was standing about five feet from him with only the light of a simple lantern dangling from the rightmost "limb" of it. Was it a scarecrow? But it was all wrong, rusted metal and a misshapen head, along with one attachment that looked hook-like with three fingers.
How had this thing gotten here? What was with that lantern? Where was Tedric? Something felt suddenly terribly wrong. He should not have left the fire. Caw. …Caw, caw, caw, caw. The cries of birds. Getting closer to him. Multiple shadows illuminated upon the ground by the moon's light shining down upon them overhead. So many of them.
K-r-r-r-r-rnk. The left arm fell out of its extended position parallel to the ground. He took a step back from the tree he had stood against. It-it was…alive… The head of the scarecrow shook, trembled, arched upwards to rear up to the sky with a metallic groan. Red shone where the eyes were supposed to be.
Tink! The lantern hit the ground, completely dark. It snapped to lock on him! Shink! It was fast! It suddenly was crouched, coiled like a predatory animal! Scuttling towards him on garish limbs! He screamed, the cawing of crows in his ears, his fear bursting.
The fire still snapped and crackled. A second helmet now joined it.
An ethereal voice of fear… "Fiddle… stickssssss." A voice that spoke like the grating of rusted metal.
The cawing of crows.