Shadows in the Valley

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. So, the tales say. Once, ages ago, the Valley was a lush, verdant expanse. It is said that it was the domain of a powerful king. His kingdom was one of the mightiest in the land. One day a wizard came to the king’s court to make a request. The exact details of this request have been lost to time; some say he came to ask for the princess’ hand in marriage. Others claim the wizard came demanding outrageous things from the King. Regardless of what the request was the tale holds that the king denied it and the wizard in his rage rent the veil between this world and a darker one. The portal ripped the castle asunder and poured forth horrors. The king’s forces fought valiantly by all accounts, but they were but mere mortals in the face of evil given form. The darkness seeping from the gaping wound in reality began to transform the king’s men, twisting them into monstrous forms. Those that had fallen in battle against the creatures began to rise to their feet once more, rotting corpses in ruined armor heeding the call of darkness and joining the battle against their former comrades. The skies themselves began to darken over the valley. As his kingdom fell the King had his court wizard send out a desperate call for aid. A great red dragon answered the call, swooping in from beyond the valley and burning the corrupt creatures to ash. As the fight wore on the dragon began to succumb to the corruption spewing forth from the portal.

When news of the dragon’s fall reached the neighboring kingdoms the most powerful wizards of the age gathered and created a barrier around the valley. Intricately carved standing stones were erected all around the outer rim of the valley and empowered with enchantments. Since that day no creature of darkness can cross through the barrier. The center of the valley is now a swirling maelstrom of darkness, only lit by the flickering red lightning that arcs through the clouds.

Maeve Brooksong watches the lightning dance in the gloom of the valley from her camp site high up on the rim of the valley. She sits, running the whetstone along the gently curved edge of one of her swords. Her eyes trace the wave like patterns in the steel of the blade. The pair had been passed down to her by her father. As a child she had asked why he had never named them, all the great weapons in her favorite stories had names after all. His response had been that these were tools of his trade, crafted for the specific purpose of felling monsters. When she was old enough, he had begun her training, teaching her how to wield weapons, how to track the things that stalk humans in the night. Most importantly, how to destroy them. The rhythmic scraping of the stone across the steel of the blade works in tandem with the hypnotic red flashes in the valley to calm her mind. She becomes so lost in it that she almost doesn’t hear the twig snap behind her. The wind carries the smells of incense and old books to her.

“You never were very good at sneaking around Owyn.” She says in a reproachful tone as she carefully sets her blade down and turns to face him. “Seems years spent hunched over books in a library haven’t done much to improve that either.”

Owyn is still rail thin as he had been when they were growing up together, but now he is tall, at least a head or two taller than Maeve. He pushes his wire framed glasses up the bridge of his nose and then runs his fingers through his dark red hair before replying.

“It seems years of hunting monsters in the wilds have done nothing for your manners. Good evening, Maeve.”

Maeve chuckles and shakes her head, sending her dark curls cascading around her face. “Good evening Owyn.” She embraces her old friend warmly. “I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything too interesting.”

“Mostly just pouring through ancient tomes, researching new ways to cast.” Owyn says, waving the fingers of his left hand in an intricate pattern, blue flame dancing between his digits for a moment. He smirks. “You know, just the standard life of a wizard.”

“Nice trick that, sure it comes in handy lighting candles to read by in those gloomy old towers your lot tends to frequent.” Maeve’s voice remains playful as she gestures toward the fire, an invitation for her friend to make himself at home.

Owyn reaches the fireside in two strides of his long legs, his deep azure coat ruffling with the movement. He takes in the campsite Maeve has prepared. A reasonable fire crackles in the center, hemmed in by stones his friend no doubt set herself. A bedroll and the log Maeve had been using as a seat when he arrived sit off to one side, her pack and swords resting against the log. He begins weaving his hands into a short series of gestures, finishing with a swooping flourish and a chair appears beside him, the same deep blue as his coat with legs made of a dark wood.

“You always favored that shade of blue.” Maeve muses as she reclaims her seat on the log.

“I could create one for you as well.” He says anticipating the shaking of her head. “Of course, your lot prefers a more austere lifestyle.”

“Too much comfort makes you weak.” Maeve says from across the fire.

Owyn smiles thinly at her, examining her in the light of the fire. She had gained a few new scars since he had last seen her, apparently, she had an eventful few years. The jagged one bisecting her right eyebrow before running down the cheek to her jaw certainly wasn’t there the last time they had seen each other. Her leather armor looked to be well maintained as he would have expected it to be, but there were a few spots where it had clearly been patched, the new leather was even studded with metal in an effort to add to the protection it could provide. He also noticed she was fidgeting, picking at her nails nervously, that wasn’t like her. Of the two of them she was always the calm and clear headed one.

“Not that I am displeased with the opportunity to catch up with you old friend, but your letter was vague…Why did you summon me and to here of all places?”

“How long has the barrier been up?” Maeve asks, inclining her head toward the valley, the red light from the flashes of lightning in the valley throws ominous shadows across her face. “How long has it held the corruption at bay?”

Owyn leans back in his chair and scratches at his thin beard thoughtfully. “Well, our best histories mark the creation of the barrier stones at around seven hundred years ago, though to be fair the veracity of those histories is the subject of much debate amongst scholars. I myself believe they are likely much older. Why for events to drift away into myth and folklore like these have…”

Maeve brings him to a halt with a calmly raised hand. “How long do you suppose the barrier will hold?”

“In theory the spell should last indefinitely, the stones draw on the innate magic of the world.”

Maeve sighs and draws herself to her feet. “Those stone have been holding that barrier for more centuries than we can accurately measure. Holding back the corruption, that raging maelstrom of pure evil, for all that time and you still believe it will last forever?”

Owyn leans forward in his chair, eyes intent on her. “It’s what we are taught…”

Maeve lets out a bark of laughter. “What you were taught? Elders balls man…”

“No need to swear Maeve…”

“I know for a fact that the barrier is breaking down, little by little, and things are leaking out.” Maeve’s face becomes grim. “I know you and I know you’ll be wanting proof.”

“Which is why you called me here…” Owyn stands as he says it.

Maeve leans down and retrieves her swords. “A friend of mine noticed it first, strange creatures sighted in the areas nearby, people going missing…so we came to investigate. All of our findings lead us back here. We watched as the lightning stitched its way across the barrier.”

She is pacing as she speaks, putting her blades through graceful, twirling arcs. Owyn begins to grow nervous, she looked like she was limbering up for a fight.

“We eventually noticed a pattern to the lightning strikes, then one night the strikes ripped a hole in the barrier. Wisps of shadow pouring out of the rift like smoke. Brandt went to check it out, against my advice, and I watched as something snatched him off of his feet and dragged him back through the rift…”

She stops for a moment, draws a breath and stares deep into Owyns eyes. “He screamed; I wish I could say I stopped hearing his screams when the barrier closed but the truth is I hear them still...every time it’s quiet his screams echo in my head.”

“Gods Maeve…” Owyn starts to stand; he flinches as lighting crashes into the barrier. “That’s terrible, losing a comrade…a friend…”

“Is hard?” Maeve chokes back a laugh. “Lose a lot of friends in the library?”

“Maeve, that’s hardly fair…” Owyn breaks off as scarlet lightning crashes into the barrier nearest the camp site.

“Won’t be long now…” Maeve says, turning to face the barrier, flashes of red illuminating the determination etched into her features.

Owyn approaches her with caution, uncertain what to think. The barrier is supposed to be indestructible, and yet Maeve seems convinced that something broke through and took her friend. He had never known her to lie or even exaggerate before but trying to wrap his mind around the idea that the barrier could be failing was too much. The potential consequences if it were true are too horrible to contemplate. He stares in horror as the red lightning smashes into the barrier again and there is a bluish flicker in the barrier afterwards.

Maeve approaches the barrier, blades at the ready. Her breath coming slow and steady, she’s spent her life training and fighting, this will be no different. At least that’s what she tries to tell herself, if she lets the full weight of the upcoming fight truly impress itself on her then she fears her mind will break. She has to prove to Owyn that what she has said is true, but she will also have to protect him from whatever shambles through the rift that is about to form. Ideally, she will also have to survive the fight as well. The world around her flashes red again as the lightning strikes the barrier once more, this time it is accompanied by a shriek, like metal being wrenched apart by something powerful. She watches as the barrier shimmers in bright blue and white tones as a rift forms in its surface.

A jet-black fog begins to bleed out of the rift, billowing over the rocky ground. Maeve watches a rime of frost appear at the edges of the fog, only to be swallowed a second later as the fog spreads. A chill wind hits her a moment later, carrying with it the stench of rotting meat. She tightens her grip on her swords, bounces from one foot to another, readying herself to stay mobile while striking. A shadow moves into the rift. It’s shaped like a man, but the proportions are wrong, one arm seems to be huge in comparison to the rest of it and its staggering gait gives the impression that its body isn’t working in concert quite the way one would expect. It shambles out far enough that the fire light catches it. It is wearing breastplate, though the metal of the armor is torn in several places and stained with a black substance, black shadows leak from the holes like smoke. In one hand it carries a large sword, the tip scrapes the stone as it walks, the other arm is in fact massive. The arm is heavily muscled and covered in rotting flesh, it ends in a huge hand with three fingers, each one ending in a wicked looking curved talon. It's head raises to take in it’s surroundings and Maeve can see the once human face, now a twisted mockery of humanity, all rotting flesh and bone with red lights burning where the eyes should be.

Maeve dashes forward, one sword parrying as the creature lashes out with its own sword, sending sparks flying as the blades clash. She slashes with her other sword, opening the flesh of the creature’s throat. Smokey black tendrils of shadow seep out of the wound. She dances away as it swings the massive, clawed hand at her, the talons tear ruts into the ground she had been standing on a mere second before. Maeve launches herself forward once more, slashing at the creature’s massive arm, her blades bite into its flesh, cleaving through the muscle down to the bone. The creature hisses at her as the black smoke leaks from the wound. It brings its heavy bladed sword to bear, swinging it faster than it should be able to given the weapons apparent weight. She gets both swords up just in time to block the blow, but the sheer force of the strike sends her flying.

She tumbles through the air for a moment, careening toward a large oak. She is stopped at the last second by a cushion of roiling air. As she drops to the ground and onto her feet, she shoots a grateful look to Owyn and sees that he is already in the midst of casting another spell. His hands weave intricate patterns in the air before him. As his hand move the air beings to distort with the heat building within it. Flames flicker around him for the briefest of moments just before he thrusts his right hand toward the creature and sends a ball of fire sailing across the gap between them. The fireball crashes into the creature, creating a small explosion. Maeve averts her eyes to avoid being blinded by the flash. When she turns back, she sees the creature pushing itself back to its feet, chunks of steel falling to the ground from its ruined breastplate, smoke curling off its scorched form.

Maeve darts forward, trying to close the gap between them while the creature is still off balance. The creature bolts toward Owyn, snarling with rage at the young wizard. Maeve is astonished by the creature’s speed, but she doesn’t let that distract her. She follows behind the creature as it runs through the campsite, sending flaming logs flying as it crashes through the fire. Owyn walks backward as quickly as he can while weaving his next spell. He sweeps his hand up, fingers splayed, just before the creature reaches him sending seven small darts of glowing energy into the creature’s face. The impacts knock its head back and to the side. Owyn sees shards of skull pinwheel off into the night, but the creature barely slows. Owyn throws himself to the side and the creature plows passed him, trampling the chair he had conjured earlier, rendering it little more than a pile of splinters and stuffing. He breaths a sign of relief as Maeve leaps onto the creatures back, stabbing over and over with her swords.

The creature spins trying to dislodge her, but she sinks one blade into it’s back and then begins hacking at the shoulder of its massive malformed arm with the other. Owyn scrambles to his feet and tries to think of a way to help his friend as she savagely hacks at the muscular shoulder of the creature. It releases its grip on the heavy sword and tries to reach behind it to grab Maeve. Owyn begins to panic as the fight becomes more desperate. The creature latches onto Maeve’s ankle and begins pull. She lets out a cry of pain as the beast squeezes her ankle, she slashes at the wrist with her blade, trying to cut the hand off. A large stone hurtles in from the darkness and smashes into the creature’s elbow, Maeve can see that the bones shattered as they erupt through the skin. The grip loosens as the integrity of the arm is compromised. Maeve silently thanks Owyn for the assistance. She decides to switch tactics and bring the fight to a close before the monster finds a way to get the better of her.

Pulling her blade free of its back, she brings both swords down onto the creature’s neck, a scream of rage and unfettered savagery escapes her throat. The blades cross as they pass through the creature’s neck, the black, smoke like shadow bursts forth from its neck as the creature’s head tumbles to the ground. Maeve leaps free from it’s back, rolls on landing and comes to her feet a few paces from a stunned Owyn. She wipes sweat from her brow with one forearm before sheathing her swords and turns to him, panting from the effort of the fight. The creature collapses onto the ground, lifeless and limp. Owyn looks from Maeve to the rift in the barrier and sees that the barrier is knitting itself back together. He is glad that the gap is closing itself but feels a pit open in his stomach as the implications of what he just witnessed truly begin to sink in.

“So, do you believe me now?” Maeve asks, throwing her arms out to her sides.