Questing Sucks (Book 1) (32 page)

Orellia nodded. “When did you kids manage to grow up? Shina,” she said turning to face her, “have you ever killed a man before?”

“No.”

“Well, unless you want to start now, you’ll do everything I say. I have an idea.”

 

 

“Nora, fetch me some more water, sweetheart.”

“Okay, daddy!” Franklin watched in pride as his daughter ran off, kicking up dirt behind her tiny feet. She loved to help her father and mother tend to the crops. She was his treasure, his heart.

“She’s going to be taking care of us one day, dear,” Britta said. “Let’s just hope that day doesn’t come too soon.”

Franklin pulled in his wife for an affectionate kiss, making good use of the few seconds of alone time before their daughter returned with water. Tending the land was never easy, and he was grateful to have such a beautiful wife and daughter to help him. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, and looked around at the land his father had left for him.

Dad,
he thought.
I truly am grateful.

His daughter returned a few moments later, smiling, with a pail of water held in each arm. “Did I do good daddy?”

Franklin bent down, and ruffled her hair. “Of course you did. You always do, sweetheart.”

The sound of an approaching pair of horses caused him to turn. “Ah, Geoffrey, have you come to buy some potatoes? I’ve got some freshly grown right here, and I’ll even give you a discount. Say, fifty copper and one free meal at the inn?”

Geoffrey didn’t answer, and it took Franklin a moment to see the fear covering his face. “F-Franklin, B-Britta, we’re…we’re being invaded.”

The words didn’t register in Franklin’s mind, and judging by his wife’s blank stare, she didn’t seem fazed by them either. “Calm down,” Britta said. “What’s wrong, now?”

Geoffrey leapt from his horse, and grabbed Franklin’s shoulders. “Listen to me, damn you! We’re being invaded. There are sixty men on horseback, heading towards us as we speak.”

“T-that’s ridiculous! This is Kingdom land. Who would dare invade the land of our good Prince Patrick? He’d have their heads on a pike.”

Franklin refused to accept the man’s words—the idea of an invasion was ridiculous. Yet, Geoffrey had never been one to spin tales, and the look of fear in his eyes was far out of the ordinary for the man.

“I beg of you, friend. You must listen to me. They are real, and they are coming. I know what you’re thinking, that it must simply be Kingdom soldiers on some new kind of training regimen. No, I assure you this is not the case. They are coming, and they are coming now!”

“Daddy, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, sweetie, it’s alright.”

Franklin gathered his family and followed Geoffrey to the village square. There were always defense protocols set in place in the unlikely event of a bandit raid or invasion. Each and every month a Kingdom noble would appear to collect taxes, discuss any possible outbreak of disease or dangerous animals, and to ensure proper defense standards. In their humble village, the plan was very simple. In the event of any kind of danger, they were to gather at the square, and wait for the soldiers to diffuse the situation. There were only three or four stationed guards. No threat was ever expected to befall such a peaceful place.

Franklin looked around, and he could spot the terror on the faces of every man, woman, and child.

Please,
he prayed.
Let this be a false alarm.

There were screams, followed by the gurgling cries of death. Franklin recognized their voices. They were the few soldiers sworn to protect them. Every villager moaned, huddling together as sixty armed men clad in black armor swept through the village square and surrounded them. Franklin clutched his daughter to him for dear life, sobbing into his farmer’s shirt.

“Everyone just stay calm!” Franklin called out. “Just do as they ask, and I’m sure they’ll leave us in peace.”

The lead rider dismounted. He was a disfigured man, with scars covering every visible portion of his sickly-looking skin. “I be called Delatore, leader of this here band. Who be leading here?”

Franklin let go of his daughter, and stepped forward. They had no leader, but he was certain he could diffuse the situation. He’d make sure the other villagers gave up their valuables without a fight. The last thing Franklin wanted was for some pig-headed jewel-salesmen to get himself or others killed because of refusal to cooperate.

“I am, sir. I’d like to offer you and your men our unconditional surrender. Please, take what you’d like and leave us in peace.”

The rider, Delatore, looked at him. His face was disgusting, most of his teeth either yellow or missing. “Who be that girl? The one that be over there?”

Franklin looked to where he was pointing, and filled with alarm. “That is my daughter, sir.”

“I be wanting her,” he grinned, the disgusting stench of alcohol joining his words. “Give her here.”

“I-I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Franklin said. “Why do you want my daughter?”

“What are ye, a moron? For slave, of course. Ye be givin her here, ye will.”

With the man’s words, every last trace of fear, worry, and even the desire to survive, was instead replaced by a terrible rage.  “I’d sooner die than give you my daughter!”

The man laughed. “Ye be dying either way, I just like it when daddy watches.”

Franklin couldn’t believe his words. He refused to accept what the man was saying. He mind tried to put together some rationalization, some explanation for all of this. Nothing in life had prepared his mind to cope with what he now faced. Before Franklin could utter another word, he was thrown to the ground. The villagers cried out, but none made a single move. They were paralyzed with fear. Even hearing they were to be slaughtered, they still chose to huddle together rather than fight back. Franklin didn’t blame them—they were as confused and frightened as he was.

“Daddy! Daddy! Why are these men grabbing me, Daddy!”

They dragged over his daughter, and Franklin struggled against the men pinning him down, filled with an overwhelming desire to protect his offspring. He screamed, fighting with every ounce of strength he had. He would not allow them to hurt her, no, they couldn’t!

“Hey there,” Delatore said, unsheathing his knife. “You looks like you be some fun. You screams I cut, get it?”

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER!” Franklin roared. He needed to stop this. He needed to protect his daughter. Britta tried to charge at the man, and she too was thrown to the ground, helpless to protect her child.

“Now, now, don’t be fighting.” The man ran a finger along Nora’s cheek, and then howled in agony as she bit down on his finger.

“Ahh!” he screamed. “Ye be dying for that one, missy. Ye be dying for sure.” Delatore grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off of the ground. She kicked, screamed, and struggled, but much like her parents, she was as helpless as the rest of them.

Delatore pulled back his knife, ready to strike. Franklin watched in horror as the most precious thing in the world to him was about to be destroyed. “Boss!” came a shout from behind.

The man turned, a look of annoyance crossing his grotesque features. “What ye be wanting? I be trying to have me some funs.”

“There’s something weird above us.”

Franklin looked up, along with the rest of the villagers, the black-armored soldiers following in suit. “What in the gods?” Franklin whispered.

Two humongous bird-like creatures soared over them. There were people on top of them, like the ones spoken about in children’s tales, the magical people that lived in the skies. Three people leapt from the animals, and Franklin’s heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. They were hundreds of feet in the air—surely they’d die!

As the three fell through the air, Franklin could make out their features. One was a young Elven girl, alongside an equally young human boy, his tunic flapping in the wind around him as he fell. The other was human woman, perhaps in her mid-thirties.

The three crashed into the center of the square. Rather than end up as a smear on the chalky-brown pavement, they landed like anvils, crashing into the ground with a loud boom, sending pieces of rock flying in every direction. There was a flux of lightning surrounding all three of them, forming a circular barrier around them, and sending waves of blue electricity scattering along the broken rocks and into the parts of the pavement still intact. The electricity surged along the road, stopping inches from the feet of the frightened soldiers.

Franklin was too confused to care who they were. All he wanted was his daughter, his little Nora.

“What in the Gods? Who do you be?” the man, Delatore, spat. He was still clutching Nora by the throat. She kicked and screamed, but the man paid it no mind.

The lightning ceased, and the young Elven girl stepped forward. There was a look of dark fury in her eyes. “My name, you ugly, disgusting, turd of a man, is Shina, and unless you wanna find out why they call me the ‘Lightning Goddess,’ you’ll let go of that girl.”

Delatore growled at her. “What ye be saying to me! After this sweet is no more, ye be next!”

There was a violent shaking, and it took Franklin a moment to realize that it was the Elven girl, Shina, trembling with anger. Each time she shook the ground rumbled along with her, causing more rocks to scatter. Perhaps she really was a Goddess!

She looked over to Franklin, and the two met eyes. “That girl, her name is Nora, isn’t it?”

Franklin nodded, far too flooded with terror and rage to feel any surprise. “Y-yes, Shina,” he answered.

The other two stepped forward. The boy’s face turned from bold to vengeful, and the older woman’s took on a similar look. “So, she was right, Kellar,” the woman said.

The boy called Kellar answered. “It’s Nora, just as she said it would be.”

Shina pointed a finger at Delatore. “I know what you were going to do!” she hissed.

“Ye think I be caring?”

“You will now.
Mallos
Salas
!” Every villager gasped as a thick bolt of lightning left the girl’s fingertip, striking Delatore in his extended hand. He dropped the girl, and danced on his feet, crying out and flailing around his burned hand.

Franklin wasted no time. He didn’t know who the mage was, he didn’t know who the invading army was, either, but as his child fell to the ground, he dashed at her for all he was worth, clutching her in his arms.

Delatore’s hand was dark, and burnt to a crisp. He’d never be able to use it again. “KILL THEM!” he bellowed. “KILL THEM ALL!”

The villagers cried in terror as dozens of black-armored men drew bows, and began firing arrows into them. Franklin closed his eyes, not wishing to see the death of the men and women he had grown up with. Through the darkness he thought he could hear their screams, but they were off, something was odd about them. They weren’t the screams of death. Instead, they were shouts, filled with surprise and wonder.