Panic sets in as soon as he opens his eyes. Where am I? Where did Elijah go? Shit, did I lose the horse again?

  After a moment, his eyes adjust, and he is lying in a bed. He sits up and looks around the room, spotting Elijah across the way.

  That’s right, I made it to a village. I was exhausted and must have passed out. Someone put me in a bed after that; that was nice of them. Standing up, he stretches before heading out of the room and into what could only be described as someone’s house.

  I think we came through here when I arrived. The exit should be over this way. Trying not to wake anyone up, Max walks through the dark house until he finds the door. Leaving the house behind, he stands on the village street and looks around.

  This village is small. Looks like they have a small rough wall around it made of wood with a guard tower by each entrance. They probably only have a handful of guards. I doubt that they will have a Rookery or Man of Letters here.

  I won’t be able to send word to Ashbury that way; I will just have to try and find who is in charge around here and see if they have any idea how I can get a hold of the Braye family. It is too early for anyone other than the guards to be about; might as well go see if they have anything they can tell me about this place.

  The village layout isn’t complicated, so Max finds his way to the entrance he came in by pretty quickly. There is a guard up on top of a small watch tower. He has a spear leaning against a wall and a bow with its quiver sitting on the table in front of him.

  Letting the guard sit on night watch? They are just asking for him to fall asleep on duty. I probably shouldn't just climb up there. It might give the man a fright or the wrong impression. Max thinks for a moment before knocking on one of the legs of the watchtower.

  “Who's there? Show yourself!” The guard jumps to attention and grabs the spear, looking around, confused as to where the sound came from.

  “Hello, it is just me again. I brought Sir Elijah in earlier.” Backing up Max waves to the man. Kinda skittish for a guard, isn’t he?

  “What are you sulking about at this hour?” He glares down at Max, knowing he has to be up to no good.

  “Mind if I come up there? I have some questions about this place, and I bet you probably have some for me too.” Ignoring his question, Max asks what is more important to him.

  The guard hesitates and looks around for a moment. “Fine. If you try anything, I will not go easy on you just because you are a child!”

  Definitely skittish, this will be fun. Max climbs the simple ladder up to the platform and leans on the railing, looking out the way he came. “I don’t even know the name of this village. Where am I?”

  “You traveled to a place without knowing what it is? That seems rather foolish. This is Winsbrook. Why did you and Sir Elijah come here?” The guard grips his spear and stays tense as if the child might attack at any moment.

  “That is a very long story. Simple to say, I helped out the daughter of Baron Braye a few years ago. We lost contact suddenly without warning. When they found out where I was, they sent Sir Elijah and his squire Ganis to see if it was really me; if it was, they were to bring me to Ashbury. A lot happened on the road here.”

  “Elijah and I were wounded fighting a mage, so we ended up delayed. We tried to leave as soon as we were able, but it was a foolish decision. Bandits on the road attacked, killing two of our horses and scaring one off. Ganis was killed, and Elijah was wounded even further. We were low on supplies to begin with, and without the horses, it got rough.”

  “Eventually, Elijah’s wounds were too much, and he collapsed. I tried to treat him with the little forestry I know and managed to find one of our horses, that's how I got him here.” Max recapped their adventure for the guard. He had no reason to hide it or go into detail; the brief summary would be enough.

  “So, Baron Braye is expecting you?” The guard's eyebrows raise, and his aggressive posture eases.

  “Overdue, actually. We should have reached Ashbury today, I think? Four days ago, we sent a message about resuming our trip, so they should be aware that we are seven days behind schedule as it is. I fear what should have taken maybe two days has taken us over four, though. I take it this village doesn’t have a Rookery?”

  “No, the closest Rookery is Barksdale. That is a hard two-day ride, if not three, from here. Your horse doesn't seem to be in the shape to do that. You’ll have to rent one.” The guard ponders for a moment, trying to think of any other way.

  “Even if it could, I don't think I should leave Elijah. I will seek out whoever is in charge here once it is an appropriate hour. Who would that be?” Sighing, Max leans heavier on the railing. Rent a horse, as if we have that kind of coin left.

  “That would be Lord Kennell Sloan. He lives in the manor up the hill. Once he hears that Baron Braye is looking for you, I’m sure he will try and help however he can.”

  Nodding Max turns and faces the guard. “Any work nearby? I can hunt decently enough, and I apprenticed as a smith. I’m also not opposed to odd jobs or hard labor.”

  “You apprenticed as a smith?” The guard's eyes light up at this.

  “Not for too long, I mostly know some simple things like nails, horseshoes, axes, arrows, and spear heads. I am a quick learner, though. Why does the village smith need help?” This interests Max; he very much enjoys working at the forge in his spare time.

  “Our smithy is cold. A few weeks ago, we were set upon by gnolls, nasty creatures, and the smithy was badly damaged. The smith who worked there decided it wasn’t worth the risk to stay and rebuild, so he left. The gnolls attack regularly, and without him, we are running low on supplies.”

  “We have been sending riders to get nails, arrows, brackets, and other parts for things like the wall around the village and damaged homes from their raids.” Hearing that Max might be willing to help with their smith issue, the guard can’t help but be excited.

  Crossing his arms, Max thinks about it before offering to help. “I can offer assistance while we wait to see if Elijah will recover. I would have to ask that someone send word to Baron Braye, though, since he is expecting me.”

  “With Elijah’s state, I’m sure he will either ask me to stay until he heals or send another escort. Either way, until I leave, I will try to relieve some of the burden. Which way is the smithy? I might as well get it up and running since I have nothing to do until the Lord is awake.”

  “I can show you right away!” The guard moves to the ladder, but Max tries to stop him.

  “Wait, you can’t leave your post, can you? Aren’t you watching for bandits or gnolls?”

  “It is fine, it won’t take long. Come along.” The guard happily leads Max not too far away to a part of the village where the wall seems to have been destroyed. “It doesn’t seem like much now, but it once supplied all of Winsbrook. You can feel free to use the attached house, but it is pretty damaged.”

  Max checks the cold forge and smithy. Everything seems to be relatively fine. There is even a lot of metal left unused here. Looks like the smith left in a hurry, he even left his tools.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  After being satisfied with the state, he checks the small house attached to it. The house is similar to the smith’s from Briargate.

  Well, the table is intact, and I should be able to fix that chair easily enough. The bed needs cleaning, but will be better than the floor. That’s the only real problem. In the bedroom, an entire wall seems to have been burnt and broken away, along with part of the roof.

  Honestly, still better than sleeping outside, but it would be best to repair it. I think some of the stones from the wall lying around might be able to be reused. That and some planks of wood, and it will be serviceable till winter is in full swing; then it would probably need more work to keep it warm.

  “I do have one question; you might find it weird.” Scratching his eyebrow, Max faces the guard.

  “Well, what is it? If it is about the village wall, once we have the supplies, we will repair it.”

  “Well, that is a bit of an issue too, isn’t it? The gnolls will be able to stroll right in, and the smithy is the first thing they will attack. That isn’t what I’m curious about.”

  “What I want to know is what exactly is a gnoll? I’ve never heard of one before; I come from far away.” Leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom, Max looks at the guard.

  “Well, they aren’t as prevalent as some other threats like goblins, where they are everywhere. They are kind of like… a mix of a cat, fox, and wolf. Bigger like a dog with its longer, wider face, but almost like if you just had a long-legged, bigger fox.”

  “They have more cat-like teeth and claws, and unlike a wolf, they don’t even have loyalty even to their own packs. They also stand about 7 feet tall, talk and walk like us. Their language seems more yips, barks, and snarls, but they can manage simple common words.”

  “They are highly aggressive predators, they are savage and like to cause havoc, once worked up, they seem to give into bloodlust.” Scratching his chin, the guard tries to describe them when he simply just wants to say, they are gnolls.

  That sounds dangerous, almost like a werewolf. Judging from the damage to this house and the wall, I would say they probably use weapons too. That might actually make them less scary than a werewolf, but they still sound very bad. Thing is, if they are that bad, how did this small village survive?

  Pondering this, Max decides to simplify what he is looking for in regards to information about them. “How do they compare to something like a needleleaf, goblin, or corpse lurker?”

  The guard grins, for this is a far easier question for him. “Needleleafs cannot compare. They have no tactics or weapons and stay in small groups. Goblins are better than needleleafs, but nowhere near gnolls. Goblins use scavenged or scrap weapons and are known to be prone to panic and turn cowardly. Their bodies are also pretty weak, making them only dangerous in hordes.”

  “Gnolls take it to the next level; most of their weapons and armor are scavenged as well, but better kept. They use some tactics and have skill with their weapons. They like horde tactics as well. Goblins can be kept as a fighting force for other creatures, but gnolls are too savage and in-fight too much.”

  “The biggest issue with gnolls is when they go berserk, they give into bloodlust and lose all sense of tactics, becoming wild beasts. This can also be used against them to break their formations.”

  “Corpse Lurkers are far worse; they always seem to be in the best places for them and the worst places for someone trying to deal with them. Being as resistant to damage as they are from anything other than fire also makes it hard to kill them.”

  “The only reason you might say they are easier is because they tend to be solitary creatures, while the others use numbers. Fire also works pretty well against gnolls since they are afraid of it.”

  They both make their way out of the house while talking, and Max starts to move about the smithy. “Last question, then I will get to work on some nails since it looks like repairs are most needed. When do they usually attack?”

  “Night usually. Sometimes they attack right after it gets dark, other times in the middle of the night. A couple times, they even attacked right near dawn but retreated as soon as the light hit them. That isn’t to say they won’t attack during the day.”

  “They usually come with about twenty to thirty fighters. We kill a few and use fire to drive them off, but they always return. Yes, nails and rails for the wall are what we most need at the moment. Well, I will leave you to it.” With all being said and done, the guard turns and walks back to his post.

  Gnolls eh? They sound far worse than most of what I’ve fought. I bet those mutant goblins are still stronger than them, though. The important thing is just to use fire, and it should help dealing with them. That’s probably how this place got damaged.

  Max gets to work, firing up the forge and begins heating metal. As the metal heats, he cleans his workspace so things will go more easily. It isn’t long until the ring of his hammer is heard against the metal, carrying off into the night.

  ? ? ?

  A cloaked figure looks down over an abandoned encampment in a basin. They make their way down past all the unused huts, walking swiftly. Their pace slows as they near the sections of burned-out huts and pause to inspect one before continuing on towards the remains of the tents.

  They search each of the six tents and retrieve multiple items before making their way toward the large platform in front of all the tents. They open a pouch and pull out different materials and begin to etch a complicated series of runes, glyphs, and sigils all over the platform. It takes hours for the cloaked figure to finally finish its work. Once done, they stand back and begin a chant.

  “O Theé mou, ákouse tin prosefchí mou, kaló ti dynamí sou na apokatastísei to kommáti pou cháthike se aftón ton istótopo. Eíthe na féreis píso ó,ti katastráfike allá den cháthike poté, óste i dóxa sou na faneí óti anatéllei xaná!”

  “Evlogíste aftón ton enkataleleimméno kósmo kai apokatastíste to kommáti sas, óste oi tapeinoí ypirétes sas na synechísoun to ieró sas érgo exagnízontas óla ósa den échoun charitotheí me ta dóra sas!”

  An indigo light forms in the center of the largest sigil as all the runes and glyphs light up. The energy grows, and soon particles that were lost begin to gather. The cloaked figure prays for hours as the particles come together and begin to form a crystal. Days pass before the ritual is over, and once more the large crystal adorns the top of the platform.

  The cloaked figure collapses in exhaustion at the crystal’s base. A day comes and goes before the figure stands again. They inspect the crystal before placing their hand upon it. Energy surges out, causing them to moan. The figure moves to a large scorch mark on the ground, not far from the platform the crystal is on. Once more, they take ingredients out and start the workings of another ritual.

  “O tapeinós sou ypirétis zitá mia chári se séna ton paníschyro sotíra kai theó mas! énas apó tous pistoús sas épese sti máchi edó enántia se echthroús tis dóxas sas. An boreís, se parakaló, dóse mou ti dynami na anypsóso ton ypiréti sou píso sto vasíleio ton zontanón! Dóste tou morfí kai leitourgía, dóste tou dynami kai dynami dóste tou ZOI! Eíthe i epistrofí tou na simatodotísei to télos ólon óson stékontai apénantí sas!”

  Like before, an indigo light forms in the center of the magic circle, and particles gather. Hours pass, and the particles begin to take the shape of a man. After a few days, a light indigo statue of a man with a scar coming down its forehead and a large burn scar on his arms and chest is complete.

  The cloaked figure collapses to the ground and pants heavily. The statue begins to move slowly, its joints seeming to crack and small parts turning to powder as it stretches. The statue moves before the fallen figure, and the indigo light it has as eyes focuses on them.

  “How long has it been since I was slain?” The statue asks in an unearthly voice that booms.

  “About two weeks, Bishop Healy.” The cloaked figure prostrates itself before the statue.

  The statue looks at its arms and then down at its body and legs. “The revival ritual has gone awry. What did you do?”

  “I-I did as I was instructed. I followed the rituals to the letter. My glyphs, sigils, and runes were perfect; otherwise, I would not have been able to raise the crystal, and we would not be speaking.” The figure panics. They have no idea what is going on, either. Connor Healy should be returned flesh and bone, not as whatever he currently is.

  The statue continues to look at itself, flexing its muscles. "I feel… Stronger. Echthrós has arrived. They appeared at Summit Oak and destroyed the blessed goblin warriors. They then sought us out here and set fire to our camp. The paladins were slain along with the priest.”

  “I used the Katára exorismoú on them, but for some reason it did not seem to work. The offered Imítheos reacted as it should, but the energy only caused both the Imítheos and Echthrós pain. Echthrós then took an axe and actually killed an Imítheos.”

  “When he did, the power rebounded back into me. Echthrós then slayed me as I was unable to move from the rebound. I did manage to mark him before the Imítheos was slain. We should be able to locate him no matter where he goes. With the right spell, we should even be able to send people directly to him. Relay all that I have told you to the Apostles.”

  “Yes, Bishop. I will report to them immediately. Where shall you go now?”

  The statue pauses to think before looking down at the priest. “I will return with you for now. Whatever has happened to me must be important. We have to find out the meaning behind my transformation.”

  The cloaked figure walks up the stairs to the platform and lays their hands and forehead against the crystal. Connor follows them up the stairs and stands beside them before reaching his hand out and tentatively touching the crystal. Energy pours into him, and he quickly removes his hand, gasping.

  Alien words escape the lips of the cloaked figure, and it isn’t long before a bright indigo light envelopes both the statue of Connor Healy and the cloaked figure. When it fades, the two people and the crystal are gone.