The Curse of Elmaraen Woods

Ebonvale sat like a shimmering pearl on the edge of the churning Sirgus Sea. It was the booming hub of trade and commerce for the Central Kingdoms. It overflowed with riches. Its Swift Crest Pillars, which welcomed wary seafarers, were cast from pure gold, and towered like twin flames over the great Mist Harbor, such was the wealth of this land. But its opulence and ostensible good fortune belied a dark secret, one that was spoken of in hushed tones, and lurked deep in its forests.

August Miles looked out on Ebonvale's shores from the deck of the Nelly's Crest. His pulse quickened as he surveyed the land. Not only could he taste his fate on its shores, but both the gruel and the bickering on the ship had grown tiresome. He was ready to be off the old cog.

Like most men from Reeven, August was a robust and towering figure. Lean, powerful muscles rippled beneath smooth, caramel skin. He kept the look of a Reevenite hunter, with a weekly shave of his head with a dagger.

When the ship docked, August made his way to the wharf below. The imposing man flagged down a guide, a young man barely out of puberty. August loaded his bag on one of his steeds.

"Where's the nearest inn, boy?" August asked.

"The best is the Stuck Pig in Guilderton" the boy said.

"Expensive?”

"A night there will cost you ten satter, sir. There are girls nearby too. And the food’s a sight better than the gruel you’ve been eating on that thing." he said, gesturing to the ship.

"That's where we'll head."

As he fastened his pack to his steed, a beautiful woman caught August's attention across the wharf. There was something about her, her eyes. The woman walked slowly across the crowded dock towards him. August took a step back as she drew near.  

"Reevenite,” she said. Her eyes were pale, colorless and surrounded by waves of blonde hair. “I see your soul and what it craves. You will choke on it if you’re not careful."

“What was that?” he said.

“Pride is the path to hell in these parts.” Her colorless eyes searched his face. She smiled. “Some things feed on your flesh, you see. On this ancient land, things will make a meal of your soul.”

The boy jumped down from his horse. “Hey, you blind churl! If I lose another customer because of your mad ravings I’ll throttle yo –.”

“We’ve already spoken of your fate, haven’t we?” she said, turning to him.

The boy went pale. He spat at her feet. “Leave us alone, you fucking witch.”

She turned to August, and stared at him. A wave of pain and terror swelled in him and crashed through every inch of his body.

“Get away from me," he said, shoving her. He broke out into a sweat.

The giant man grabbed the horse's reins and mounted it. "Let's go," he said to the boy, looking at the woman.

"Don't slip here, Reevnite," she said.

She kept her eyes on him. August turned back and peered at those bottomless, pale eyes. She kept her eyes on him until they were out of sight.   

Guilderton was a busy city. The Stuck Pig, which sat by the town square, was a popular inn for visitors traveling up the coast. August booked a room, then convinced the boy to meet him in the morning and take him on the three day ride to Elmaraen Woods. The boy took significant persuading, but the 85 satters August promised finally sealed the deal.

The Reeven hunter grabbed his bag and made his way into the inn and down to the common hall for a meal. He was hoping that the boy was right about the food here. Two weeks of passable porridge made him ravenous for a good, hot meal.

As he waited for his food with an ale in hand, he could hear overlapping conversations. Many were about the abomination that prowled the forest. Two men at the neighboring table were recounting a story about the creature. He leaned in and interrupted.

"You know of the beast?" he said.

The two eyed him. "The curse, you mean? Of course," the man said. He had old, sunken eyes and a pale, thin face. He looked over the dark-skinned foreigner. "It's the albatross that hangs around the neck of this great kingdom," he said.

"You're here for the bounty," the other man said, slurring his words.

"I'm here for blood. And glory. The bounty is just a bonus, old man."

"Calm your ass, boy-o, I was just checkin'," the drunkard said.

"Vengeance is also one of my undertakings. Reprisal, for the death of my countrymen, good Reeven men, family. Many of them made landfall on your shores over the years, to rid you of your curse, only to perish in your jinxed forests," he said, fixing his deep brown eyes on the soberer one.

The man leaned in. "You should go, young master. Leave and never return. This place is cursed, hexed."

"I can't."

"You must."

"Not without the beast's scalp."

"No, it's gold that you want," the tipsy man said. He reached clumsily for his tankard, then threw down a gulp. Much of it spilled down the front of his tunic.

"You know nothing beyond that tankard of ale, let alone what I want, you beer-guzzling, old lout. My kin and I are blessed with skill and agility men like you only possess in your dreams. We track down your demons, your monsters, through snow and biting rain and we slaughter them by the dozens. I will look your bastard-child of Ebonvale in its hollow eyes and I'll plant this steel deep in its belly. And he will know that a Miles man, a Reeven man, has banished his soul back to the blackness from whence it came. Then you, everyone here, and your kin, will praise my name for ages to come." He chugged his ale. "That's what I've come for."

"I see," said the clearer-eyed one. "If you are a master of death, as you claim, then the King will only be too glad to part with his gold."

"He'll tremble when he honors me with it."

"The gods willing," the old man continued. "The King rarely leaves his fortress. It's been like that for years now. He's even abandoned his hunt. A king too afraid to hunt is a bad omen for any kingdom. The land surrounding his keep is no longer his. The black death lurks by every tree, in every pond, from every bough. Even the animals have fled, they say. There isn't anything there for the King to chase if he wanted to."

"In three days time that will change."

"In three days time, you'll be dead," the slurring one said, laughing.

August shot up and snatched the inebriated man by his face. He held his sharpened steel to the man's eye. "Watch your tongue you repugnant varlet. Or I'll cut it out and wear it for jewelry."

"Sir! Please, no bloodshed, please!" It was the innkeeper. She placed his food on his table. "Please, sir." Her bottom lip trembled as she looked at him.

August snorted a laugh. He released the man's face and shoved it away from him. "Piss ant," he said. The two drunken men scurried to the other side of the room. August waved the woman away, returned his falchion to its sheath, then sat down and ate his meal. He ignored the stares from around room.

The tasty, sauce-soaked chops went down just as well as he'd hoped. He guzzled down a few more tankards of ale, then found the man that could procure him a girl for the night. He directed August to a place next door where the Reevenite found one to his liking, a young, red-haired girl. She was a big cheeky but he liked it when his women fought. He needed to relax. The trip had him anxious, on edge. He needed to forget about what waited for him in the bedeviled woods of Elmaraen. The ginger in his arms would work well in that capacity. She'd work just fine.

******

The morning sun peaked through cracks in the drapery. August stretched and yawned alone in his bed. His companion had left in the middle of the night, worn out but well compensated. August slipped on his pants, then his tunic and linen cloak. He laced his boots up to his knees and fetched the guide. The young man came up and brought down August's gear, then loaded it on to a horse.

They headed west through Ebonvale. The first night, they lodged at an inn. Their second night they camped at the edge of the forest itself, making a slim meal of a pair rabbits in the bush.

The following morning, the young guide awoke to the song of a sparrow. It's melody dipped and turned like the flight of a butterfly. The boy picked wild berries until August arose. When he did, the two had a wordless breakfast of wild fruit. The guide then prepared for his long journey back east. He would be returning to Guilderton and steering clear of the savagery to come.

As the boy readied himself to mount his steed, August stopped him.

"Hold out your hands," he said. The boy cupped them together. The hunter emptied his entire purse of satter into the boy's palms.

"Sir?"

"The King's bounty can get me home and back ten times over and there'd still be enough for my parade when I get there, boy. Take it. And tell everyone that you met the killer of The Devil on this journey."

The boy looked down at the heap of coins in his hand. He dumped them into a hip-pouch hastily, then procured a fistful of herbs.

"Take this," the boy said. His face was brighter than it had been the whole trip. "When you're ready, burn it. Then call to the beast. It will come."

August took the sprigs in his massive hand. "I will."

The boy mounted his horse and turned the Shire steed east. August watched as the boy disappeared out of the forest.

The Reevenite rode to the interior of Elmaraen Woods that third day. He rode until the twittering of jays and the calls of blue finches ceased. When he was sure there was silence, he dismounted his horse and removed his sack. He unpacked his weapons from it, a javelin, a dagger, a whip and his glistening falchion, and lined them up, side by side, in the thick undergrowth.

He removed a sling from his pack, then slid each weapon into a slot especially fitted for each armament within the sling. He undressed to his bare ass, then whipped the sling over his head and across his shoulder. August took a deep breath, removed the dagger from the sling and ran its sharp edge against a pec. The skin there bled and he licked the knife clean. The Reeven man screamed into the descending twilight.

The colors all around him grew vivid and sharp as his heart thumped in his body like a war drum. He pounded on his chest vigorously and bared his teeth.

The Reeven man grabbed a length of spark wood from his pack and lit the herbs. He tossed them to the ground.

August walked to a tree whose boughs overhung the burning herbs and looked up its long trunk. Then, with lengthy swipes of his muscular limbs, he dashed up it with the grace of a cat. He was balancing in its canopy within seconds.

"Demoooon!" he shouted. "Come meet your deathhh!!" He shook the trees and howled.

August waited, his keen senses on sharp alert. After a few moments, he could hear something coming from the west. It was big and was thrashing the trees. August's mouth went dry as the noise came closer. Then it stopped suddenly, stilling the wood. August looked down at the burning herbs, then all around.

It wasn't till the last moment that he noticed the flaming red eyes in the treetop directly across from him. The creature lunged at August. The Reevenite spun deftly in the air, avoiding the beast, and landed easily on the ground below.

"Come, bastard!" he yelled.

The thing growled. It drooled from the trees above and circled him. It wailed at the man then charged from the canopy. The Reevenite's javelin was at the ready. August drove it through its belly as it crashed down on him. The thing howled in agony.

The creature rolled and clambered to the side, then slowly stood on its haunches. It wrapped its claws around the javelin, and pulled it through its body. The beast snarled at August, then heaved the spear into the darkness.

The two eyed each other, each hunched over and pulling in heavy breaths. The thing was ghastly looking. It had rows of pointed teeth, a massive barbed spike on each elbow, and was covered in poisonous, red quills. Silver blood gushed from a gash in its belly.

August drew his falchion. The beast crouched down on all fours, leaped over his head, and darted through the wood. The Reevenite followed.

They charged through the forest, darting between trees and over streams, shaking the forest floor with each step. The creature dashed up a tree like a streak of lightning, and shot through the canopy into the night air. August raced up the tree effortlessly behind it, unlatched his whip and cracked the long thing at the beast. The length of leather found its target, wrapped itself around the animal's neck and with a groaning pull, August snatched it from the sky.

The thing plummeted through the air. August jumped from the canopy after it brandishing his sword. As the animal hit the ground, he landed atop it, plunging his falchion deep into its chest. It bellowed a harrowing scream.

The Reevenite tumbled across the turf. He looked at the animal. It was moaning and clawing at the ground. He got to his feet, walked to it, then kneeled down. The hunter's nostrils flared as he whispered into the thing's gnarled ear. "Now, you die." August grabbed the falchion, then twisted the blade deeper. His eyes hardened into black stones as he leaned in. The thing bellowed in anguish.

Silver blood poured all over its body. August watched as its eyes rolled back and its hands trembled feverishly in a death-rattle.

The Reevenite arose. He grabbed the thing by its long, mangy mane and drove the dagger into it's neck. He sawed back and forth, threw muscle and bone until the head separated from its body.

He looked at it. He bared his teeth and clenched his jaw. "I am August of the Reeven Miles clan, you fucking putrid beast! Aaaaarrrhhhh!!"

He held the skull up to the sky and howled into the night. He screamed in triumph as a soft breeze wafted through the woods and caressed him. The Reeven man was immortal now. The name August Miles would be praised in poem and song throughout the Central Kingdoms for eternity.

He sat down next to the body and chuckled.

He wasn't sure at first, but something caught his attention. Yes. Chittering and hooting began echoing all around him. Chirping and squawking filled the forest. It was alive again. He smiled and the edges of his eyes moistened.

August relished the symphony. After a few moments, he decided to admire his work once more and gazed down at the corpse.

Wha...?

Was it the moon's dim light? Or was it his fatigue playing tricks on him? He put a thumb and middle finger against his eyes and rubbed them. He looked again. The thing had shrunken. By two or three feet, and it now had the limbs and look of a man.

He kneeled down and ran his hand along its extremities. This can't be. He thought for a moment.

The head.

He grabbed it and held it up to his face. August gasped as he dropped the skull to the floor.

The man blinked uncontrollably.

How?

His mouth opened and his upper lip curled back when he ran the movie back in his mind of what he'd just seen. He held his hand over his mouth and took a few wobbly steps back. It couldn't be, he thought. No.

The dulcet sounds of the forest began disappearing again. His hands throbbed and a pain swelled in his arm so excruciating that it forced up the morning's berries from his belly.

He screamed.

Long, barbed spikes burst from his elbows, and claws erupted from the tender skin under his nails, hooking from his fingers at inhuman lengths. He fell to his knees when the razor-sharp quills broke through the skin on his back in endless, agonizing bites. And his legs twisted and deformed, sending him sprawling across the floor.

He tried to scream but he drooled down his chest through rows of massive teeth. He tried again and his twisting vocal cords could only produce a yelp. His eyes moistened at the very touch of the air against his body. The soft breeze in the wood sent a roaring flame cascading through his skin.

He howled.

August looked again at the severed head as it laid eyes up beside him.

What he saw was the last thing he would ever see with human eyes, because the curse was ensnaring him in its cruel irony now. Before him was the broken face of a man who had gone missing years before, someone who went searching for the glory of Ebonvale himself. August looked into the eyes of the last one to successfully slay the beast of Elmaraen, the eldest of the Miles clan, Jephim Miles, his long-lost father.

August howled into the night.