Chronicles of Espiria Season 3
Episode 14 – The Sorenlands
Written by the Dude
The small band of Graveborn fugitives paused in their flight from the forces of Oden, confident that they had lost their pursuers, so that they could decide their next course of action. Before any other discussion could take place, however, Grezhul turned to speak to the three-headed giant who aided them in their escape.
"Thank you, friend, for your help back there."
The head in the middle just grunted.
"They destroyed our home," the head on his right answered. "Seems only fair we do the same to their spines."
"What is your name?" Grezhul asked. "Err, names, I guess?"
"My name be Porter." the head on his left answered. "The scoundrel on the other side be Horwich. The brick wall in the middle be Torne, and since everyone winds up staring at him anyway, ye may as well call all three of us Torne."
Torne just grunted his ascent.
"Now ye may be wonderin' how we came to be like this." Horwich continued. "It's a fair question, and it has a pretty good yarn for an answer, but if ye don't mind, I'd like to get someplace we can sit a spell 'fore we tell it."
"I would like that as well," Grezhul sighed, "but the Island of the Banished was our last idea for such a place of refuge. I fear there is nowhere left in Bantus to find safety or reinforcements."
"Have ye thought about outside Bantus?" Porter suggested.
"Outside?" Niru asked.
"Aye, he's got a point." Horwich admitted. "When we were alive, we could always lay low in Rustport for a while whenever we got in trouble. Except for that one time when Porter found that map..."
"Oy, who was it snatched it from under the cap'n's nose?!" Porter countered.
"And who's idea was it to take the cursed thing in the first place?!" Horwich countered. "And to distract the crew with a jig that came this close to sinkin' the ship!"
"Hey, I danced good!" Torne piped in.
"Ye danced like a wounded puppy and ye sang like a stuck pig!" Porter shouted.
"Take that back!"
The right fist of the giant came up and punched Porter in the jaw, causing the whole body to reel and nearly fall.
"Ye call that a punch?!" Porter taunted. "Here, let me show ye a proper punch!"
The left fist came up and missed Torne, striking Horwich instead, once again causing the body to stumble backward. This bizarre brawl continued far longer than it needed to, until at last, they sat down and started laughing.
"Sometimes, ye just need a good brawl to lift yer spirits." Horwich said with a chuckle. "So, where were we?"
"You suggested we leave Bantus." Grezhul answered. "But where can we go?"
"There's always Rustport." Horwich answered. "We were always safe there."
"That was when we were alive and had skin." Porter objected. "Now we'd stick out like a pair o' sore thumbs."
"But, there's three of us." Torne said.
"Aye, your thumb don't count cuz you're too dumb to feel pain."
"Hey!"
"Enough!" Shemira shouted at the three in her most terrifying mommy voice before they could start fighting again. "How you three have survived this long, I'll never understand!"
"They may be on to something, though." Vedan stepped in. "Most of my old contacts who helped me build my library are still alive, or at least their descendants are. I am certain that they would give us shelter for a time."
"Very well, we'll try it." Grezhul consented. "But we must be cautious; we are talking about the lands of the living. We have spent untold centuries conditioning the cattle to keep their distance from us; they will not welcome us easily."
"I haven't seen the Lightbearer lands since we came to live in Bantus." Daimon said. "I wonder if it's changed any."
"Change is a part of life in the lands of the living." Niru answered him. "I more wonder how they stand it."
The group began their journey east into Lightbearer territory, the nervous silence broken now and again as Porter tried to play a tune on an old flute fashioned from the femur of one of his enemies. Once he got into a rhythm, Daimon and Isabella would try to dance together to pass the time.
"How long do you think it will take to reach the living lands?" Niru asked Grezhul.
"I honestly don't know. We spent so much time running from Oden and his forces that I've lost track of precisely where we are. So long as we continue east, though, we will leave Bantus eventually."
"There you are!"
Oden had tracked them down. Silas and Nara were at his side, neither in nearly the jovial mood they were in on the beach. Behind the three of them was Admiral Hodgkin and the crew of the Sacral Ark, ready to finish what the Bantus army had started, reinforced by even more Bantus soldiers. Seeing that they were grossly outnumbered, Grezhul made a snap tactical decision.
"Run!" he shouted.
The fugitives ran for it, with the Abyssal Creed and the Bantus reinforcements in close pursuit. Oden managed to drain the energy of Daimon, who was promptly picked up and carried by Shemira. As hope of escape began to dwindle, Hodgkin and his crew came to an abrupt halt.
"What are you waiting for?!" Oden shouted. "We cannot lose them again!"
"Don't ye see where they're goin'?" Hodgkin asked as he pointed forward. "They're headin' fer the Sorenlands!"
"Oh, you superstitious fool!" Oden swore as he turned from Hodgkin.
"A fool I may be, but a livin' fool. Me crew and I'll go around and meet ye on the other side...if ye make it out."
The fugitives soon looked back and noticed that they were no longer being followed, so they lessened their pace and tried to take in their surroundings. The air around them took on a more sinister chill that made even the Graveborn shiver. Daimon and Isabella clung to either side of Shemira, who in turn clung to Niru, who clung to his scythe as if it was the only thing keeping them safe. Theowyn, too, drifted closer to Grezhul; though she had found her courage through hard necessity, the atmosphere of this place was filled with more concentrated hate than anywhere they had yet been. Vedan seemed the least affected, and even he could not help but search for some hidden danger.
"We shouldn't be here." Horwich said in a shaky voice. "This feels like a cursed land."
"Aye, we can agree te that." Porter concurred. "It reminds me o' the old tales of the Soren."
"The Soren?" Torne's curiosity was piqued.
"Back in the days when Bantus still breathed," Porter said, having already shifted to his storytelling voice, "there was a regiment of soldiers stationed on the eastern border te watch fer invasion. It was a time of uncertainty, when so many nobles were laying claim to the throne that no one was quite sure who was supposed to be king. It was at this time that the enemies of Bantus tried to take a bit o' the empire fer themselves. But the border regiment fought back, made the invaders pay for every inch they took with buckets o' their own blood. Finally, the invaders figured out that they weren't welcome and decided to cut their losses and leave on their own.
"Eventually, word got out about the heroics of the border regiment. The people fell in love with the story of these men who sacrificed everything to defend the empire. Unfortunately, this also spooked the people who had won the power struggle. Rather than a victory parade to honor the courage of the regiment, they instead got a visit from assassins, who stabbed them all in the back and buried them in unmarked graves.
"But ye all know how Bantus can be; even dead men can tell tales. Betrayed by the very people they swore to protect, the soldiers of the regiment were kept from passing into the Underworld by their resentment; instead, they stayed in their unmarked graveyard, where their resentment and thirst for vengeance could grow and fester for hundreds o' years, until at last, it found an outlet. A fool of a Lightbearer knight named Soren wandered through the graveyard and accidentally released the spirits of the regiment. He was consumed by their pent-up hate and resentment, and in his place was a fearsome beast that could no longer tell friend from foe and attacked everyone without mercy.
"The Sorenlands, named in honor of the poor fool of a knight, are now a cursed land, tread only by those who are tired of life or are foolish enough to think he guards a treasure. The land belongs to him, and he shows no mercy to anyone who trespasses."
As Porter finished his story, a faint, incomprehensible whisper began to emit from the petrified trees that they walked by. The whispers seemed to come from multiple voices, and even though no one could make out what they were saying, it was obvious that they were whispering at the fugitives, and that they were not happy. As the voices grew louder, a thick fog began to form around the fugitives.
"Everyone stay close!" Grezhul called out. "I don't want anyone getting lost in this fog!"
Grezhul could feel Theowyn at his side, still clinging to him in response to the cursed atmosphere they felt earlier. But the same could not be said of the others, who failed to respond to his warning.
"Niru? Vedan?"
Still nothing.
"Niru?!"
Niru could not hear Grezhul; he, Shemira, and Daimon were already too far away.
"Dad, this looks like that place where we help those nice people sometimes." Daimon pointed out.
"I do not think this is the Realm of Denial, son." Shemira said. "There is no real danger there."
"Stay close, everyone." Niru said. "I've no idea what's out there in the mist."
"Wait, where's Isabella?" Daimon asked in a panicky voice. "Isabella?!"
Isabella could not hear him; she and Vedan were too far away.
"Father, can you hear anything?" she asked.
"Only the incessant whispers," Vedan answered with an exhausted sigh. "They drown out even our own footsteps somehow."
"Could you, perhaps, fly above the fog and find a way out for us?"
Vedan thought for a moment. "That would not be advisable. Even if the fog does not interfere with my bat senses, it is so thick that there is no assurance that I would ever find you again. And as you know, abandoning you to your fate is a measure of last resort only."
"I like you too, Father."
Isabella glanced around a moment. "Where is Daimon and his family? Daimon? Daimon?!"
Grezhul and Theowyn continued on their path, despite not knowing what became of the others. Theowyn would likely have been more concerned for them if not for another thought that weighed heavily on her mind.
"Grezhul, do you think it is possible that Quadam resurrected Edwin to lead the empire in Thoran's place?"
"It is." Grezhul answered with a sigh. "Edwin was most certainly an evil man, but he was also a brilliant tactician and skilled warrior; if Quadam intends to wage war on the lands of the living, Edwin would lead the armies very well. But as we both know, he surrendered any right to the throne when he murdered Thoran the first time; once we have the ability, it will be our duty to get him back off the throne."
Moments later, the fog lifted as quickly as it came. Grezhul looked around him and found Niru and his family, as well as Vedan and Isabella, back at his side where they should be.
"Are you all alright?" Grezhul asked them all.
"Isabella!" Daimon shouted as he ran to her. Isabella received his relieved hug warmly.
"How did we get here?" Theowyn asked absentmindedly.
They all stood in what appeared to be a long abandoned cemetery, dominated by an ornate but heavily worn crypt in the center. On the other side of the cemetery from the fugitives were Oden, Nara, and Silas, flanked by the soldiers of Bantus that did not follow Hodgkin, all prepared for battle.
"There you are!" Oden shouted. "There is nowhere left for you to run! You will submit, or you will be destroyed!"
"Please don't submit." Nara requested with a sinister grin.
"Cone head's right about one thing," Porter said, "none of us is leavin' 'ere alive."
"Father, I sense a powerful, evil presence!" Isabella said with growing anxiety.
"I sense it too." Niru confirmed. "It is many presences, spirits tainted by centuries of fermented hate."
At that moment, the whispering voices fell silent. It was replaced soon after by a low but loud growl that seemed to emanate from all around; Oden alone noticed that the sound truly came from the crypt. While everyone was distracted looking for the source of the sound, the crypt exploded, and from its remains rose a towering figure with the appearance of a man with rusted swords embedded in most of its flesh, its face partially hidden under a thick iron helmet. It took a moment to assess its surroundings, then let out a roar that disoriented everyone.
"Scatter!" Grezhul shouted.
Soren brought its massive clawed hands down at the Graveborn intruders, crushing many of the soldiers who Oden had brought and forcing the fugitives to find refuge under the shattered remains of the crypt. Isabella and Shemira cast a few spells at it, but for the most part, its attention was on Oden and his forces, who were mostly brushed aside like crumbs on a table. After a bit, Soren let out another roar, summoning a rain of purple fire to burn away its enemies. The fugitives were protected by their makeshift shelters under the rubble of the crypt, while Oden was forced to form portals over himself and the other Abyssal Creed to redirect the fire at Soren. The remainder of the soldiers, however, were burned to ashes.
"This creature is but a distraction!" Oden shouted. "Focus on the traitors! Catch them before..."
At that moment, Oden was forced to duck as Nara's hook sailed past his head, just missing him and hitting Silas' tank of rejuvenative fluids instead. Silas fell to the ground as the glass in his tank shattered, backing away with knives drawn and trying to determine where the blow had come from.
"Nara, what are you..."
Oden and Nara dodged again to avoid another slash from Soren's claws.
"Oden? That was you?" Nara asked, aghast. "I was sure you were one of them!"
Oden looked back at Soren with steely eyes as it roared again.
"It seems if we are to catch our true prey, we must defeat this obstacle. Nara, Silas, be ready to attack!"
Oden turned his wand at Soren, opening a portal and releasing a stream of lightning at it. The sudden attack temporarily stunned Soren, allowing Nara a chance to drag the creature's face next to them with her hook. While Nara and Silas attacked the stunned Soren, Grezhul and Theowyn slowly emerged from their hiding place and motioned the other fugitives to join them. Once together again, they escaped from the cursed cemetery to the east. Oden noticed their flight, but he realized that there was no way to follow while Soren stood in their way.
Frustrated, he open a massive portal directly above Soren, from which a grotesque tentacle reached through and wrapped itself around Soren. With Soren thus restrained, Nara began to swing her axe by its attached chain in ever-growing circles, building momentum until she brought it down on Soren's neck, severing the head with a sickening chop. With the head severed, Soren vanished into a fine mist; with nothing to grab onto, the tentacle retreated back through the portal with a disappointed roar.
"What the devil was that?!" Silas asked.
"That was the demon king of the Hypogeans, whose name I dare not utter here." Oden answered. "He will be most displeased by our failure."
"What failure?" Nara asked. "He's got all of Bantus under his control. The Graveborn and the Hypogeans working together should be able to handle whatever the other Espirians throw at them."
"We still do not know why these fugitives were able to resist Quadam's call." Oden pointed out, his concern apparent in his voice. "They could prove to be a threat if they can free more Graveborn; we cannot afford such a threat."
"Then perhaps it is time to unleash my masterpiece." Silas suggested. "It is vastly superior to any of us in every way, and is entirely devoted to me. It will find these troublemakers and do whatever you wish to them."
"Very well, but he must be swift." Oden replied. "They must be stopped before they can do irreversible damage. Kill the others, but be sure to bring back Grezhul and Theowyn alive so that they can be studied; I must know how they defeated Quadam's call."