IABD 52: Enduring and New Life

“It’s eerily quiet.” Bregindoure gripped his shield and mace, moving cautiously through the woods, eyes glancing frequently at the surrounding trees.

Reds, yellows and browns had begun to bleed into the green canopy—autumn was near—his immense boots crunched on the occasional fallen leaf. The sound was jarring in the dead silence of the Windwood.

 “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a forest this quiet before…not that I’ve been in many forests,” Bregindoure admitted. “The woods around my tower were always alive with animals and birdsong of some sort or the other. Even in winter, I could watch deer from my window. But here, there’s…nothing.” 

“I don’t even hear insects,” Dagma said.

“It’s like this entire forest is dead.” Matthias kept a tight grip on his weapons.

The Stonebreaker family made their way through the northern Windwood Forest, leaving Windstone Abbey behind. Gradually, the ruins shrank at their backs as they moved through the silent wood.

Dagma and Bregindoure were right: the only sounds to be heard were those that the family was making as they stepped on the underbrush, following old pathways. The paths were most likely used by ghouls.

“I would wager everything I own that all beasts avoid this forest,” Bregindoure said. “Most living things would probably shun a cursed ruin with an army of ghouls living inside it.”

“I certainly would avoid this place whether I were beast or man.” Matthias’s eyes combed the forest floor. “Everywhere I look I find ghoul tracks.”

Ghoul footprints—human-shaped except for the clawed toes—were pressed into the mud. The forest floor was thick with them.

“These tracks are fresh enough.” Beggahasta followed behind her children, holding her sword in one hand and carrying an immense basket for firewood in the other. A large woodcutter’s axe was belted at her waist. “These woods are not safe, and likely far more dangerous at night.”

“Then we should find out how far from the abbey the tracks go.” Matthias’s eyes traced the prints on the ground. “We might learn the ghoul’s range that way.”

“Hmmm…good thought, Matt. It would be useful to mark where the tracks stop.” Beggahasta looked over her shoulder. The abbey had nearly disappeared in the trees behind them. “The cautious hunter stakes out the range and territory of his prey…as well as the territory of beasts that would make the hunter their prey.”

“Yes, and if we are able to determine how far they travel outside the abbey,” Bregindoure said. “Why couldn’t we make our camp beyond the ghoul’s territory, outside their range? We would be safer there than in their courtyard; we could even build a cabin in the forest if we wanted to and be free of those ghouls completely.”

“A clever idea, Breg, but it has two problems,” Beggahasta said, with thought. “First, there’s no such thing as a hard boundary to a predator’s territory. It’s not as though there is an invisible ward around a bear’s range, preventing it from leaving. A territory is where a predator tends to stay, not where it must stay.”

“But the ghouls are different than a bear in the woods. They are bound to Windstone by the curse,” Bregindoure pointed out. “Otherwise, they would have spread all through the mountains by now.”

“Also true, they are bound by the curse, but ask yourself this: do we know exactly what that means? Does that mean that the ghouls must only stay close to the abbey? Does that change, depending on whether it’s night or day? Is every ghoul bound, or only those that were changed by the monk’s curse a thousand years ago? Are the stronger ghouls able to range farther? Curses are things of Old Magic, my son, we do not know quite how they work. Why does power come to those who speak hatred with a powerful will? Why does magic heed some grudges and not others?”

“I don’t know, but finding out seems simple enough: if we see that the tracks have fallen away, won’t that provide an answer? Wouldn’t it mean that the ghouls didn’t go farther? It's an answer, even if it’s only a vague one,” Bregindoure continued.

“We shall see, my son. Though that still leaves the second reason why we must live in Windstone: for training. In the Wolfwood, you will be in a hostile place; a place where most things will kill you out of hunger, territorial instinct, outright malice or all three reasons combined. In the Wolfwood, the beasts are not as skittish as they are in wildernesses outside it; they do not fear mortals in the way most animals do.”

She looked up at the trees, her eyes distant, as though examining an old memory. “When camping in forests, you can trust that most bears, deer and cave lions will avoid a camp of mortals. In the Wolfwood, there are many beasts that see a campfire as an invitation, a beacon inviting them to come for a potential meal. My children, you must get used to sleeping, living and working under harsh conditions, and Windstone is the perfect opportunity to experience that. Besides—”

She stepped forward, clapping Matthias on the shoulder. “Polla said that Matt’s training will be enhanced by being close to Windstone, where the ley lines converge. So, what would be the point if he trains far from its walls?”

“I wouldn’t mind, mother,” Matthias said quickly.

“No, she has a good point,” Bregindoure said. “It would defeat the purpose of coming to this accursed abbey in the first place if you don’t get all that you can from it.…and besides, Dagma and I need to prepare for the Wolfwood ourselves, so it makes sense to live in a way that prepares us for that too. Still, I think setting up another camp outside the ghoul’s range—where we can retreat to for safety—would be a sound idea.”

“We shall see,” Beggahasta’s voice took on a mysterious note. “Come on, let us continue exploring. Look over there. Do you see that boulder that resembles a moose’s head? That is one of Polla’s landmarks; so, we are heading in the right direction for the river.”

The family fell quiet as they navigated the forest, passing from landmark to landmark on their way to the water source. All the while, Matthias watched his surroundings closely.

Soon, the Windwood was no longer quiet.

As they walked, the wind began rustling the trees, blowing the canopy in a southerly direction—spraying fallen rainwater from the branches and leaves—tugging on the Stonebreakers’ cloaks. Matthias squinted against the wind.

“It sems this entire valley is something of a wind tunnel,” Beggahasta raised her voice to be heard over the wind. “Even the forest doesn’t blunt the wind’s bite.”

They continued pushing against the wind gusts.

Meanwhile, the ghoul tracks began to fall away, waning on the forest floor; and after a half hour’s walk—and they could no longer see Windstone’s tallest towers through the gaps in the trees—the ghoul tracks disappeared.

“Aha!” Bregindoure cried. “Well, we have solved it, haven’t we? As soon as we lose sight of Windstone, there are no more tracks! It must be that the ghouls can go no further once they can no longer see the abbey.”

“Looks that way,” Matthias said. “I can’t see any more signs of them.”

“Me neither,” Dagma agreed.

“I see, well let’s keep going. Perhaps you are right, Bregindoure,” Beggahasta said.

For a time, they continued on, finding no signs of ghoul tracks.

Matthias relaxed a bit, growing more comfortable and confident, especially after finally hearing the rushing river in the distance to the north.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “It won’t be long until we reach—”

He didn’t notice the bones until he’d almost stepped on them.

He rounded a tree, startling and jumping away from a rib cage protruding from the ground. Swearing, he leapt back. “What in the name of the Ascended?”

His family came up beside him.

“Ugh!” Dagma gagged.

“Monstrous,” Bregindoure rumbled.

Beggahasta said nothing.

The skeleton was fresh.

Wet.

Grisly.

Bones were scattered among the roots of a few trees; many were cracked apart for the marrow. Items of clothing and equipment were spread haphazardly around the carcass; clothes were torn to shreds, yet various pouches and a traveler’s pack were left closed and untouched.

Ghoul tracks appeared in the mud all along the forest floor.

“Agh, that smell!” Dagma put a hand over her face, pinching her nose. “It stinks! This is awful.”

 “I wonder who they were?” Bregindoure said. “Maybe a forester? A bandit? Maybe someone looking for water? But where did the ghouls come from? The ground was still muddy on the way here, but I saw no tracks!”

“Neither did I,” Matthias noted.

Beggahasta’s eyes drifted to the trees. “Look up.”

They looked at the tree canopy. “Oh.” 

Above them, masses of broken branches and shredded bark hung limply. “The ghouls climbed those trees!” he cried, realising what had happened. “They climb the stone walls in the abbey easily enough, so why wouldn’t they be able to climb trees?”

“So, maybe they stopped walking and started climbing trees to use the branches to ambush their prey from.” Dagma added.

“The wind’s dying down,” Beggahasta said. “Stay quiet for a moment and listen.”

The family listened; around them the wind died, bringing the forest back to silence…

…no, not quite silence.

It was still quiet, but now Matthias could hear insects buzzing in the distance, the sounds of birds calling from the treetops, and small animals rustling through the underbrush.

“The animals are back,’ Matthias said. “Oh…oh.”

“What did you realise, Matt?” Beggahasta asked him.

“We’re in an area where most animals think the undead do not visit, because the ghouls make their ambushes from the trees,” he said.

“That’s what I think as well,” Beggahasta said. “Which is why I say do not assume anything. I don’t doubt there’s a set distance at which the ghouls cannot venture further from Windstone, but we don’t know where that point is…and the creatures are cunning enough to use ambushes on creatures that think themselves safe. We must treat this entire forest as a dangerous place, understand? Do not let the enemy grow too comfortable…but also don’t let yourselves grow too comfortable either. Come ahead then, keep your eyes and ears open. We’ll be at the river soon. One of you…gather that pack and those pouches.”

Dagma looked up at her mother. “Are you sure? Don’t they belong to the dead person?”

“Nothing in the physical world belongs to the dead,” Beggahasta said. “One day, I will be gone and all I had in life will belong to the three of you. As for this poor devil, we have no way of knowing who it is that should inherit their belongings. And so, we shall put them to good use. Keep that in mind.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Whatever is in the abbey and beneath it has probably long since spoiled, broken, or rotted. But if there is anything that can be useful? Take it and use it, while giving thanks to those who once owned it. It is a good lesson to remember. It could help you survive one day.”

“Right,” Matthias said, thinking about what treasures or supplies might await in the abbey. One day, he intended to find out.

For now, he simply picked up the victim’s gear.

Inside were tools, food rations, a water skin, rope and a crude map of the mountains.

Was this person a treasure hunter?

Somebody on the run?

He would likely never know, but at least he would take their death as a valuable lesson.

Offering a silent prayer to Amon Koth, the young greatfolk walked away, leaving the mangled corpse behind. That person, unlike him, wouldn’t be returning from death…but he wondered what had made him so special? Why was he—unlike that shattered skeleton—still walking, breathing and living life?

What had changed him and why? 

How was he so different from those hungry undead?

Answers to those questions would come one day…for now, though, he was left wondering about his Towers. There were many more powers for him to unearth; he hadn’t even truly begun his climb of the Tower toward the Endless Sky.

Would one of his powers…allow him to defeat death itself?

‘Tonight, we kill death,’ he recalled the words clearly. ‘That’s what that voice had said when I went off the cliff. But how does one kill or defeat death? Through immortality? Resurrection? Maybe one day I’ll have the power to bring the dead back to life. If it happened for me, then why not for others?’

He shook his head. ‘No, down that path lies madness. I don’t think I could bring the dead back to life…and hopefully, I’ll never have a reason to wish that I could.’

Leaving such thoughts behind, he and his family continued walking toward the life-giving river, leaving the gruesome scene behind. 

###

A massive fire illuminated another grisly scene.

It was early evening, and the Stonebreaker family was back at the abbey. The courtyard was cleared of corpses and refuse; every stone not gathered around the two houses—one belonging to Polla and Ellian and the other to the Stonebreakers--had been piled at the abbey’s many entrances, blocking most of the routes the ghouls could use to exit. The stones would not stop them, but they would slow them if they flooded from the building again to attack in force.

The Stonebreakers had collected water and surveyed the surprisingly clean river, they’d then gathered firewood near the abbey. Both houses were stocked for now, though no fires burned in their fireplaces.

It was the piled bodies of the ghoul horde and the refuse from inside the hermit houses that burned this evening, igniting in great mounds in the courtyard.

Three hills of rotting organic matter formed three immense pyres that reached high into the sky like towers of open flame; the heat rising from them was so intense, none of the abbey’s new occupants wanted to get close.

Steam hissed, rising from the moisture within the mounds, but The Gift kept it burning all the same.

The stench was unbearable; hundreds of years of rot and filth all released in smoke from the fire. Nearby, Beggahasta played her harp, and the gentle song did much to improve everyone's mood.

Matthias understood that—even if the surroundings were grim—this would be his home for at least a few years. It was better to make the best of things…but there was one specific thing that was going to make that incredibly difficult.

The miasma.

Even now it was plaguing his senses, turning his stomach and making his soul cringe.

He turned to Polla and Ellian, who were sitting close by; the powerful mage sat cross-legged in mid-air as though the wind had formed an invisible cushion beneath her.

The fire played across her face, darkening every line.

She looked older.

Harder. Stronger.

“Mistress Polla, could you get rid of this miasma with The Gift?” he asked her, fed up with the stench.

She looked at him. “In most places in the world, I could wipe the filth and stench from a place of this size with ease. Around Windstone Abbey, the stench would return unless the ghouls were gone, and the curse was broken. Perhaps one day the curse will be lifted. Until then, we will have to endure. You will grow used to it eventually.”

“I find it affects me strongly,” Matthias admitted. “But I will endure it until it becomes second nature to me.”

“I also think it smells terrible.” Ellian wrinkled his nose. 

Matthias looked down at the boy. 

He knew very little about Polla’s apprentice, though he supposed he’d get to know the youngster better over the years they’d be living here. “Tell me, Ellian, can you defend yourself against the ghouls?”

“Oh, yes! I know many combat commands!” Ellian said proudly. “We learn them in the sanctum very early in our training, and Mistress Polla expanded my training. I’m…not the best at them, but I can defeat a ghoul.”

“And that is why you will still stay close to me while we’re here, Ellian,” Polla said. “So I can protect you.”

“Do you think they will come tonight?” Dagma looked up at the abbey through the flames. There were no signs of movement in the windows.

“If they do, they will run afoul of my wards.” Polla’s smile was grim. “I have warded both of our homes powerfully; if they come, they will learn a very crucial lesson.”

“Alright then, children.” Beggahasta stopped playing. “It has been a long day. It’s time for us to get some rest.”

Polla looked at Matthias intently. “I will be interested in hearing how your training goes tonight, now that we are settled here.”

“I’m eager to find out,” Matthias agreed.

###

Something was different as soon as he entered The Realm in Dream.

The mists in the distance were thicker, the shadows deeper and there was a charge to the air. No miasma existed in his dream, and he could concentrate far easier than he could while dealing with the soul-rending stench.

It was a relief.

He looked down at his spiritual body, which felt more solid. Looked more vibrant.

In the far distance he could hear…a rushing sound, much like a river flowing. “Is that the sound of the ley lines?” he wondered. “I wonder if they will help me, like Polla said they would…and if they do, how? Only one way to find out.”

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, in his dream that was taking place in the middle of the village of Barrowgate, Matthias began circulating life energy.

He felt no different.

Pumping his soul with care, he was able to accomplish twenty-one repetitions before it slipped from his grasp.

At first, he was puzzled; he thought being in Windstone was supposed to make his training easier. It hadn’t at all.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Let me try moving while circulating.”

Slowly, Matthias tried pumping his soul while curling a single finger. It was very difficult, of course—just as it had been before—and he quickly failed in his attempt.

A frown took the young man’s face.

“So far, nothing’s changed. Let me try it again.”

He tried the exercise again.

And failed.

He tried again.

Then again.

He failed each time.

For thirty times, he attempted to move a finger while pumping his soul.

For thirty times, he failed, his frustration growing.

Yet, he had not rested at all between each of those attempts, and it was only after his thirty-fifth time that he noticed a difference.

“Wait!” he cried. “I…I didn’t feel tired!”

Each time he’d tried to circulate his life energy while moving in the past, he had immediately exhausted himself, needing to take breaks between attempts. Even trying to move one finger while circulating had called for a rest.

Now, though?

Now, the fatigue was coming on very slowly; at attempt thirty-five, he hadn’t needed to rest and figured he could go on for even longer before he finally needed to.

“The power of this place must make it easier to train, like the difference between running uphill and downhill!” he cried. “Probably because of the ley lines and magic in the air. This, this is legendary!”

Eagerly, he set his mind to circulating his life energy while moving a single finger. After every failure, he recovered quickly, only needing a brief rest after forty repetitions.

With less recovery time, his training was more efficient.

Matthias threw himself into practicing with abandon. Forty repetitions became eighty. Then one hundred and sixty. Then over three hundred. Each time, he became a bit better at it.

Hours passed and the hundreds of repetitions became thousands; he was accomplishing weeks' worth of training in mere hours.

Until…eventually…

He concentrated, gripped his soul.

And squeezed it, all while bending his finger slowly and carefully.

His grip on his spirit was solid, he felt energy rush through his body and soul even as his finger bent completely.

He’d done it.

A rush of satisfaction coursed through him.

“I moved my finger while circulating! Yes! Soon, I’ll be going into that abbey and seeing what’s inside it,” he promised himself, excitedly.

Then he turned his focus back on his hand and gripped his soul.

He worked on bending two fingers.

Matthias had taken his first step toward moving while circulating his life energy.

It was going to be a long road, but one very much worth walking.

And the powers around Windstone would turn that walk into a sprint.

###

Author's Note

And so it begiiiiins in earnest! I am so excited.

I do like the idea of locations helping different rituals, training and spells and such. Kinda how I was fascinated by Stonehenge when I was younger. Still am, but now I don't imagine druids, witches and wizards meeting there to cast grand spells.

...well I don't imagine those things AS often.