The Awakening Doom

The rain has just broken into a fine mist and the sun returns all the brightness to the summer hues. The haze makes the air thick with humidity and the scent of rain before it settles between the roots in the sod. He is walking slowly through the field on the rutted path, in no hurry to merit his labored breathing. His body aches and his shoulder throbs. His return was expected long before now but in the final stretch of the journey, why rush?

On the crest of the next hill stood a small cabin, smoke rising up from the chimney. He can see a woman hanging laundry in the bright sun that follows a summer storm. He can hear a child laughing and playing. They are talking but at this distance it’s just happy noise. The woman is watching the horizon but he is below the crest, in the gully. The surprise will be sweeter that way he thinks, the overdue return ending in surprise homecoming. He opens the small wooden gate at the base of the hill. Chickens scratch and peck at unseen prey. They squawk but soon forget their trifles and continue feeding. Goats wander, eyeing him then going back to chewing. They keep the grass quite short around the house and barn, mowing is an option, not a necessity. He is close enough to hear what they are saying now. A child plays with a stick, swinging it like a sword. “Mommy look, I’m daddy slaying dragons!”

The mother indulges him. “My, my aren’t you a mighty warrior!”

“Just like daddy! I want to be a monster hunter just like daddy!” He says vanquishing an unseen foe and lifting the stick skyward.

“Then you better eat your carrots tonight… and finish your milk. All mighty warriors finish their veggies. Just like dad says they do.”

The child paused. “Is daddy coming home?”

“Yes, Carric, daddy always comes home. Sometimes he’s late, but he always comes back…”

“And he always brings a souvenir!” he chimed in as her words trailed.

“Daddy!” the boy shrieked as he ran over to Soren, diving into his arms. Soren winced as the boy landed in his embrace but he hid it well from the boy, overjoyed with seeing his father again and the prospect of a new souvenir.

“Soren!” She fingered the holy symbol around her neck and whispered “by Celegon’s holy light, be praised.”

“What have you got this time, lemme see!” Carric squealed. Soren reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a wicked black claw. It was curved sharply and nearly six inches long root to tip. Pieces of fur and sinew still clung to the root. Carric’s eyes widened with excitement. “Wowie, that monster must have been huge! Were you scared?”

“When it realized who I was, it was scared of me!” Soren replied, winking at his wife.

Carric ran off, the claw between his fingers, slashing at imaginary monsters.

“I was beginning to worry Soren,” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Many more weeks had passed than you guessed and no word.” Worry creased her face now that Carric had left.

“There was a second den, it got a little... hairy…” Soren said, bouncing his eyebrows.

She smiled playfully, hitting him on the arm. He winced again.

She frowned. “This one seems like it was more dangerous than the last.” She pressed the bandage gently and looked at the red spot on her thumb. “I wish you could just retire.” She pulled him in for a hug. He closed his eyes, he could smell the rose water on her soft neck.

“I missed you too.” He said softly into her ear, his eyes still closed, savoring the moment until the wound on his shoulder ached. A flashback creeped into the tender moment: The creature's claws are dragging him across the ground, crushing him, pushing through his armor. Warm blood began to pool inside of his leather cuirass. He wanted to scream but he couldn't, he couldn't breathe!

He pulled away. “Lets go inside Elana, I have to change this bandage.” She lead him inside holding his hand as if the terrible monsters of this world will snatch him away once again. Once inside she filled a teapot and placed it on the fire to boil. He unraveled the soiled bandage. She examined him under the oil lamp. Crooked stitches closed the gash but only barely. Black blood oozed from the creases. She dabbed some of the worst away but he took her hand gently, stopping her. She got up and went to the counter to cut vegetables for soup.

Soren broke the silence. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Soren said. Elana was silent. Her knife snapped against the cutting board as she worked, occasionally she scraped some potatoes into the pot. “Besides, the payoff was quite hefty.” he continued, dropping a bulging velvet coin purse on the table.

“That’s a lot of gold.” she said absently, her ire softening.

“Platinum.” Her eyes widened. Soren smiled and continued, “Some bastard son of a noble got mixed up in things and they tripled the reward. I got some gems too but I spent them already.”

“On what?” Her eyes met his, her anger threatening to return.

“I talked to Neddard in Ilmater’s Hope. Do you remember that nice little house and store front just west of the square?”

“The one that used to be a shoe shop?” Her blade glided through the carrots before she swept them into the pot.

“That’s the one. Neddard said the old cobbler's tools are still in that cellar and I know Ilmater’s Hope still needs a cobbler.” Elana stopped cutting, her palms pressed against her hips. Soren came up behind her wrapping his arms around hers, covering her hands. “And I can think of none better.” A tear ran down her face though Soren could not see it.

Her shoulders shook and she lowered her head. Her voice was low to match. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Well I did,” he whispered, “because you deserve to be happy.”

“We tried that before, after my father passed. People refused to..”

“People from another land.” Soren interrupted. “The people of Ilmater’s Hope are different, less rigid.” Soren laced his fingers between hers, lifting her hands to admire at them. “One thing I learned plying the varied trades is that if people here need something done badly enough, they don’t much care who does it.” Soren’s eyes wandered to the cage in the corner. A rabbit munched on some straw. “What’s that?”

“Oh, that was a treat for when you returned. We were going to add it to the stew when you came home. I bought it from the market, one of the few Flygia hadn’t managed to snap up.” She pecked him on the cheek. “If you could clean it for me, I don’t have the heart anymore.”

Soren looked down. His hands and arms were soaked with blood. The front of Elana’s dress was torn and blood-soaked as well and her bowels were beginning to tumble out. Desperately he worked to push them back inside her but the slippery gore wouldn’t cooperate. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream. He could smell the hot blood, nauseating and sweet. He pulled away from her.

“Not, n-not tonight dear, I’ve seen too much blood lately.” Soren said, still shaking the echoes of despair from his mind.

Elana looked at him and then down at herself, trying to see what had unsettled him. “It’s okay, I’ve done it myself before.”

“No, I think we should keep him, like a mascot for the new shop!”

“Yes, perfect!” Her eyes lit up remembering the good news despite Soren’s passing gloom. “Now we just need a catchy name.” Soren crossed to the bed to lay down, picking up a worn book along the way. It had many dog-eared pages. “Um.. The Hare’s Tracks Cobblery.. No, too long.”

“How about ‘The Sorcerer’s Succubus Bride’ by Balmur” Soren parroted from the cover of the book.

Elana blushed while Soren thumbed through some of the marked pages. Elana cleared her throat. “It’s um, it’s actually not so bad as elvish novels go. I’ve read worse. Maybe we can make up our own ending later.”

“I think we could come up with a pretty good one.” Soren’s words dripped with innuendo. “There sure are alot of Elvish parlor tunes in this thing...” Soren said, skimming the pages.

“That’s to help with the rhythm and timing.” Elana said nonchalantly. She glanced furtively at him, his eyebrows raised. Soren turned the book upside down and studied it. Carric burst in the door and Soren quickly flung the book under a pillow then leaned sheepishly on it. Elana chuckled, turning back to her cooking. “Carric, get washed up for dinner and set the table. Supper will soon be ready.”

As the sun set, the family ate. Soren told them the heroic tale of how he and his compatriots slew the mighty many-fanged and furry beasts. How claw met with steel and fury met with resolve. A sanitized account of unsavory and dangerous work. Work for the disposable, work for adventurers.

Late that night in bed, the revelry of the first meal with his family in months kept him awake. He wrestled with the notion of how close he had come to never having been able to see them again, at least not in this world. This was the time when it all changed. They could have a life now. They would thrive, not exist. He would no longer have to venture into the lion's den. That was work for another foolish, plucky hero with more dreams than gold. Soren watched his son sleep from across the room. Carric’s leg dangling from his bed, kicking. He murmured in his sleep, fighting monsters even in his dreams. Brave kid, he thought. He had hoped he could make this a better world for him but monsters always have big families and even bigger appetites. They cannot be reasoned with, nor can anyone parley with a rabid dog. It only knows hunger and instinct and survival. The smell of crushed lavender in Elana’s hair lulled him to sleep as the shadows grew taller in the sputtering embers of the fire.

He was roused by a pounding at the door to match the pounding in his head. Carric had rushed to his side and was shaking his arm. “Daddy! Daddy, wake up! There is something at the door! It’s a monster!” His voice shrill with panic.

“It’s okay Carric, it’s okay. There are no monsters here!” Soren said not taking his eyes off of the door. It shook and shivered in it’s frame with each blow. “Carric, hide under the bed.” He reached into the nightstand looking for his dagger, the dagger. His fingers could make out the pommel when he felt a hand on his arm, a soft and small hand. Elana, he thought. “Elana, take him and run.” He whispered. When his hand closed around the handle, the hand on his arm tightened like a vice. Cold ran up his arm threatening to freeze his heart and robbing him of his breath.

“I zruid ao eizuylty isiuzw naf nu-zee. Da haf wyyc mah?” Carric said. Not in the voice of the panicked boy of before but in a baritone growl it spoke the tones of an archaic Elvish. Words unspoken in many centuries but familiar enough. Soren looked at his son in the fading light of the fire. His eyes were black, pupiless. Pitiless and blank. His lower jaw was torn off and a long proboscis-like tongue dangled from his disfigured mouth. Elana swung over Soren, straddling him, pinning him to the bed; his arm still caught in her icy, crushing grip. Her face was a featureless shadow save for three glowing red orbs.

“Do you seek him?”, She growled.

Soren awoke, dripping in a cold sweat. Someone was knocking at his door. He mopped the beads from his head with a rag and swept his oily skeins behind his ears. He strategically placed the rag to cover the worn copy of “The Sorcerer’s Succubus Bride” on the nightstand and the curved black claw beside it. He walked over toward the door still waking from the nightmare. He opened the top dairy door, peering into the dark beyond. It was raining buckets and he saw no one. Not that he would be able to in the dreary haze. Beginning to believe it was yet another hallucination or dream he snorted but then he caught a whiff of lavender, like Elana used to wear. Half lost in reminiscence, he called out: “Hello? Is anyone there?” He almost wanted the shadows to leap out upon him and reunite him with his wife and son. Dared them even.

“Down here,” a woman’s voice called. He looked down to see a dwarf clad in double linked chainmail and a tunic emblazoned with holy symbols of her order. He had recognized her from around town, Sister Tsavorite Cavernsfall, a paladin working to build a temple here. What was she doing out at this hour and at his door of all places? Her need must be dire, he thought. “Greetings and I’m sorry for waking you… I am looking for the monster hunter.”

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