On Death and Locals

Deep in the dark forests of the Rukh kingdom, far away from great cities and law, there was a small quaint village. Its residents were happy and contempt with their small lives that seemed so big to them, where the greatest worry was only if the crops would grow too large for their stomachs. And yet as any good deed in the world it did not go unpunished for their lives were changed swiftly by a sudden appearance of an evil necromancer. No one knew where he came from, when or even why. All they knew was that the evil being would not rest until their village would become a ghost town full of horrifying undead slaving away for their dark master. Luckily for them when good deeds are punished, the good rises back against the evil to restore order and balance.

When the morn struck, Wallace, the village elder, woke up to the sun beaming through the crack in the closed curtains. With a groan he stretched and got out of bed. It felt empty after years without a woman’s touch. He smiled sorrowfully as the memories of his late wife filled his mind with nostalgic kind warmth. Oh how Wallace wished he could kiss her again, tell her about their great-grandchildren running amok the garden full of vegetables, and just once more see the smile on her beautiful face full of wrinkles of many happy years. And yet he was grateful that she was not here to see the necromancer slowly but surely begin to destroy their quaint lives, as the village was raided once every month for coin and bodies of the late residents.

Wallace shook his head, and went outside, where sun and nature were beaming for all things living and happy. The birds chirped their songs, children laughed, and adults worked as they could. Some bore smiles on their faces, some wore the mask of concern, for everyone deals with terrible times in their own way. The elder watched over the residents with care to see who had the most need of his advice. As he viewed over them all, one younging stood out. Not a kid anymore, nor yet a wise adult, young lady Lucy was walking by with barely a face on her shoulders, as her grim expression told all about her inner turmoil. Wallace knew her struggles just as every other resident did, for her parents tragically passed away during the last necromancer’s attack. Their bodies were taken away by the evil minions of darkness and she was left alone, unable to properly mourn the only family she had.

With a mission in his mind and a heavy heart in his chest Wallace walked over to her and asked: “Do you wish to have a chat, Lucy?” Startled out of her grim thoughts Lucy looked at the elder. When she saw him, she stammered, unable to respond. A big ball of stirred up feelings and tears was stuck in her throat, and after a moment’s thought, she nodded. Wallace did as well as he beckoned her to come in. “How about some tea, young miss? In case the fancy strikes, I’ll get some honey and jam ready as well”. Lucy kept silent and did not object to the old man’s generosity.

When the large golden ball with a chimney and a boot on top was put atop the table along with the assortment of jars full of yellow honey and dark red berry jam, and the teacups were passed to the guest and the host, Wallace put himself atop a thick log he kept as a chair and stared at Lucy for a moment before speaking out: “Please, feel free. The water is fresh, and the tea will freshen you up.”

The young lady took the teacup and gingerly poured herself some hot water, where the tea brewed. With some hesitation she took a sip. As she did that, the ball of pent up emotions inside her throat finally broke and tears and snot burst out of her eyes and nose respectively. She wailed for minutes on end, as Wallace brought her a tissue, which she eagerly used to clear her nostrils. Her breaths were short and frantic, as she finally spoke: “I didn’t even get to say goodby! Oh, elder, it was horrible, horrible I tell you! Those evil… evil… horrendous evil creatures came into our house and just killed them… and I did nothing… You hear me, I did nothing and they died, and I lived, and and and…” She finally took a deep breath. “Why did I do nothing, dear Wallace?! Why did I not try to help my dear mom and dad, how could I have left them defenseless? How could I let them die?”

Wallace grunted. The dam of feelings and tears finally broke, just as he hoped, and now it was his responsibility to help the young troubled lady, for it was his duty to help the younger generation when they so desperately needed. “Lucy, dearie, you did not let them die. No one could have done anything to stop the minions of darkness. We need not worry what could have been, as we are unable to change the past. We only need to think of what we can do now to make sure their memory lives on.” The elder shifted forward and took both of Lucy’s wet hands into his, as he tried to calm her. “All I can tell you is that I know they loved you just as much as you loved them, and I believe they were happy that you have not died with them. Please, if you truly want your love for them to live on, make sure you live your life to the fullest. Start a family, teach your kids to love them too, and teach their kids that love as well. Then their memory will live forever more and they will never truly die.”

Lucy silently stared at the older man as she sniffed, and tears inside her eyes slowly dried up. She whispered a quiet thank you to the old man and took another sip of the warm tea to calm her unrestful soul. His words rang true in her head, and she knew that he was right, but deep down she could not let herself rest so easily, not quite yet. She asked the elder if she could stay in his home for a bit longer, and he was eager to let her stay.

Lucy’s mind brewed many schemes of revenge, of how she would defeat the evil necromancer who took her family right in front of her eyes. With her head busy, she continued to help herself to the sweets on the table and even more tea, as her soul calmed a tiny bit with each bite and sip she took. However, when she was finally ready to leave, a bang on the front door caught hers and Wallace’s attention, and before the older man could even ask who was there, the door was kicked in with a force unknown to both of them.

On the porch stood a man of outrageous proportions. Well above seven feet tall, with musculature rivaling that of a bear, skin bronze, hair long, and a battle axe large on his back shined silver in the morning’s light. His square jaw moved around a bit as he took in the interior and opened wide when he saw Wallace watching him dumb founded. The man’s voice boomed: “Are you the elder of this village, good sir?”

After a couple of false starts Wallace answered the strange man’s question: “Indeed I am, young man. And who might you be?”

“I am Grognark the Barbarian of Rukh!” boomed the warrior. “I and my crew came to your quaint village for the sole purpose of fighting evil!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Grognark, I am not your crew, for we are equal!” said another voice from behind the giant’s back. When the barbarian took a step inside the house, the owner of the voice was seen clearly in the morning’s light. It was a young man fully clothed in dark blue robes adorned with tiny dots resembling late night stars. His beard was carefully trimmed, and glasses adorned his face. When he walked inside the open door, he addressed the house’s owner: “So sorry, Mr Elder, Grognark here was raised by giant wolves and has barely any knowledge of manners, and it’s hard to keep him on a leash, so to speak.” The man snorted at his own joke, while Grognark rolled his eyes. “My name is Timothy the Third, a wizard by profession and skillset, trained in the finest schools of Rukh, here on the assignment from the king Malter the Great himself. As my associate here already said, we are here to ‘fight evil’, if one can call it that. Would you mind telling us what exactly is the problem?”

Wallace found himself speechless. He was not ready to have been blessed by the gods so soon after the necromancer appeared in these woods. It has been only months since the dark force first attacked. He was happy for his village was sure to be soon saved, mortified for the quickness of the event, and justifiably outraged that his door was so unceremoniously destroyed. And so the elder was powerless to stop Lucy’s inevitable outburst.

“Are you here to destroy the necromancer and his evil army?!” she blurted, not daring to hope.

“Well, if there is a necromancer and an army, I suppose we are,” confirmed the young wizard.

Lucy ran to the adventurers and jumped to them, embracing Timothy within her locked arms, hugging him tight. “Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank the almighty gods! Thank the king Malter the Great! Thank you brave adventurers!”

Timothy was completely locked up, barely able to move, and not wishing to stop this truly divine moment, but he knew that he had to answer her: “Oh… emm.. Of course. We are glad to help the people in need. However…” He made a long pause before continuing: “We are not yet aware of the necromancer’s whereabouts.” Lucy unclutched the young man’s body from her own to look stupefyingly at him. “That’s why we came here? We need a guide.”

Wallace knew what was going to happen next. “Lucy, please, don’t…”

“I’ll do it!” the young lady confirmed the elder’s worries. “I will be your guide. I will lead you to the evil necromancer who destroyed our way of life. I will make sure you eliminate the darkness from these woods, for I will not rest easy until I know my family is avenged.”

Timothy and Grognark exchanged a tired glance. This was not the first time they had to banish evil for a quaint village, so a tragic death of one’s family was neither surprising nor shocking at this point. “We will gladly accept your help, beautiful lady!” boomed Grognark. “Be ready to depart at tomorrow’s dawn! We shall meet at the wood’s grove”.

Lucy bounced up and down with excitement as thrilling thoughts of bringing justice to the world cruel enough to take away her loving family filled her head. She watched the strong muscular barbarian and the young handsome wizard leave with adoration and hope. All the while Wallace carefully watched as the two adventurers left his house through the opening once occupied by a door, and when the sounds of their footsteps left his perception, he finally spoke up: “Lucy, your mind is occupied by dark thoughts, and dangerous ones at that!”

“What are you talking about, Wallace?” she asked him, confusion spreading across her face.

“Your desire for revenge, dearie! I was once just as young and foolish as you are, I know how young minds work, and that the only thing you wish for right now is vengeance upon the evil creature who killed your parents. But I must, must tell you that nothing good will come of it, for you will bring upon yourself a terrible fate”.

“But Wallace, life for me is meaningless without them!”

“Meaning will come. Loss is hard and is never truly forgotten, but it eases with time and work. You will find your meaning in your own family, in your hobbies, in the world’s beauty, but not in revenge! If one’s thoughts are those of death and destruction, only death and destruction shall come to them. Lucy”. He took a step towards her and clapped her hand in his. “You are young and don’t deserve to die. Neither I, nor your parents would wish death upon yourself. They would hate to see you throw your life away in a pointless attempt to bring justice to the unjust world”.

Lucy stared at the old man’s face. His wrinkles deep and soft were as rivers in the woods creating a historical map of a long life of ups and down, of happiness and loss, of wisdom that came from foolish mistakes. She then looked at the hands that groped hers, and she yanked hers out. “Wallace,” she spoke softly and sternly, as her face was filling up with determination, “I know what you speak of, but just like your wisdom came from your young foolishness, so shall I become as wise as you are. This pointless attempt you speak of is mine to make, not yours to stop. These adventurers brought me hope that justice can exist, and that I have the opportunity to help bring it to life. Neither you nor I will rob myself of this chance, for evil, whether in the pursuit of vengeance or glory, must be punished by the hand of those affected by it”.

Grimness and sadness filled Wallace’s eyes. When Lucy turned to leave, he finally spoke: “I will not let another person die in this village. I will not let you throw your life away for no good reason, Lucy, and I will make sure that everyone in the village knows that you are not to leave this village for as long as I breathe! And before you even think of it, I will ask Mr Volson to draw a map with a path to the necromancer’s lair, so those two will have no reason to ask any more of us to march to our deaths. Believe me, I am grateful for the king’s generosity, but the residents of this village are far more important to me than those warriors’ ease of travel. You will stay here, where it is safe, and that is final”.

Lucy has never heard the elder speak in such a manner with anyone before. That fact only outraged her more. He had no right to stop her, no right to dictate whether or not her parents were worthy of revenge, no right to step in the way of the adventurers’ noble goal. “We shall see,” she answered him and marched out of the wooden house leaving the tea and sweets on the table, as a wasp was sampling the sugary delights.

When the morning sun peeked over the forest’s jagged horizon, and the roosters crowed their morning alarm, the woods’ grove was full of sleepless residents. There were not many of them, but they filled the path compactly. There were women, men, even a couple of teens walking around and carefully searching for the one ready to throw away her life for nothing. Yet as time passed they could not find the orphaned lady. Even the two adventurers were nowhere to be seen. Only when the sun reached its peak and no sign of either adventurer or Lucy was found, did they realize that their efforts were futile, for they were tricked.

Lucy, Grognark, and Timothy were many miles away from the village. They were taking a well deserved break from a long and early walk. In spite of Wallace, Lucy has gone away asking around for the adventurers’ whereabouts and soon found them. She asked them to leave straight away for she would surely be stopped. They were hesitant at first, but after listening to her harrowing tale, which they already knew the gist of, and having a short discussion amongst their two persons, they decided to help the young aspiring adventurer, but in a manner more experienced. They suggested that they would depart in the middle of the night to avoid the village residents’ prying eyes. When Lucy suggested she stay with them to leave as soon as possible, they refused and emphasized how little gear she had on her person. When she asked them if she should bring her late father’s sword, they again refused for it was clear she had no experience with the weapon. Their recommendation was for Lucy to become more powerful in the shadows than in light, become a rogue element in the fight, striking fast and precise, eliminating foes slowly but surely. She heard wisdom in their words and agreed with them. And that same night they departed away from her home village, the place where she grew up, had friends and many wonderful memories. But with the absence of her family the village did not feel like home anymore.

And so they were relaxing their sore legs in the middle of a forest path. Felled logs were placed on both sides serving as resting places for weary travelers. Lucy was weary with last night’s excitement and current thoughtless moments. Then the three started up a conversation. It was simple, not about anything particular, but it let Lucy get to know the two adventurers. “Is it true what Timothy said about you?” she asked Grognark.

“He says many things for he has too much dung in his head. What do you mean in particular?” the barbarian boomed.

“The wolf thing,” she specified.

“Ah that,” Timothy said. “No, that’s not true. If it isn’t obvious, he’s from Boravia”.

“Indeed”, seconded Grognark. “The northern lands are treacherous, but they are home. For one, I would have never been able to get as strong as I am now, if I didn’t have to fend for myself in my young years”.

Lucy was aghast at the revelation. “I thought”, she finally spoke up but stopped for another moment before continuing. “I thought all boravians spoke all funny-like? And that you were all as white as the birch bark”.

Grognark smirked and demonstratively flexed his bronze biceps. “You are not wrong, girl. My brethren do speak all funny-like, as you so eloquently put. But no, years of practice and constant concentration made it so I speak no worse than any one of the rukhans. And as for my skin, well…” In order to demonstrate what he meant without a single word, he lifted one of his leather armor shoulders to reveal white skin so bright, Lucy was afraid she would go blind in the eyes.

“My theory is that boravian people’s skin due to generations of living under dark clouds has lost the ability to properly process the sun rays more common to other lands”, Timothy explained. “Grognark, on the other hand, has been exposed to the sun gradually as he traveled from his home lands to the Rukh kingdom, giving him his tanned body”.

“And that is when I learned to speak properly, just like you and Timothy do, Lucy”.

Lucy fell silent, fascinated by her own imagination of what it was like for the barbarian in front of her to travel so far and wide. She imagined fierce battles against the wildlife, cunning tricks against the provinces’ evil warlords. She knew in her heart that the man before her was a great hero righting wrongs and bringing justice to the continent of Drevzold. She wanted, needed to know more about him in hopes that he would inspire greatness in her as well and, of course, she asked him of his grand adventures. He was happy to oblige.

When they resumed their journey, Grognark told many stories of his adventuring life, of slain monsters, of conquered villains, of vampire lackeys, werewolves, slimes, of corrupt nobles, and of quaint villages just like her own. Lucy drank in each syllable with every shallow excited breath as the stories inspired her. But one thing still stirred her mind. “How did you two meet then?” she asked the barbarian.

Grognark looked at Timothy, who shrugged and spoke for the both of them. “We’ve known each other for no more than a year or so. Honestly, it was not too big a deal, but my professors at the Stolrag University of Magic were sending out apprentices, myself amongst them, to different parts of the world to practice our magical abilities in a more practical setting. In short, they sent us to fight evil. I have been assigned to some remote village near the dwarven mountains, can’t recall the name, to assist the residents in their fight against a manticora. Apparently, this big guy has heard about the creature and was headed the same way, and as per Lady Luck’s wit, we have decided to attack the beast at the same day and time! His bravery was a sight to behold, as well as his stupidity. He nearly got his head bitten off when the snake tail sneaked up on him.”

“‘Tis true, I will not lie, and I am thankful for your quick wits that saved my life, but do not leave the tale of how the goat head nearly crushed your pathetic build.”

“What was I supposed to do?! I knew no teleportation spells at the time! They are too high level!”

Grognark bellowed with laughter and explained to Lucy: “When the beast was slain, Timothy stood too close, and its goat head nearly landed on the poor bugger! He was in luck that day, for I was nearby and rushed to his aid in mere moments, pushing the weasel out of the goat head’s wake.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me weasel? It’s patronizing!”

“Just as many as it will take you to finally realize that you should improve not just your mind, but your body too.”

“I am not as genetically gifted as you are! You know I tire easily!”

“For a wizard, you are not quite as wise as you wish to appear, good friend, for your gifts have nothing to do with your physical strength.”

And with tales high and mighty they continued on their journey. The journey took two days straight, and they suffered no ill effect, as they had ample supplies, and Mr Volson’s map was helpful along with Lucy’s knowledge of the woods. She led them quickly and precisely without missing a single turn and clearing, and the deeper they went into the forest the more sure they were of their destination. The woods grew darker, trees were drier and weaker, an occasional body of a forest critter laid before them. Necromancer’s lair was getting closer with every moment.

Finally, they have arrived. Deep in the dark forests of the Rukh kingdom, far away from great cities and law, there was an inconspicuous hill with a tree on top and a hole underneath. Once it was home to a family of foxes, but now it was a front for the evil wizard’s lair. Deep inside the hole there was a hidden latch, and underneath the hatch a cavernous system was buried. Full of evil minions, horrible experiments, undead skeletons, zombies, and death knights, it was teaming with unlife. Somewhere underneath there lived a necromancer, who was raising his unholy army against all that is good and just.

Their target merely beneath their feet the adventurers got ready to face the great evil. Grognark and Timothy convinced young Lucy that she was to be their support and lend her the barbarians short bow. After some argument she agreed that she would be most helpful from the hidden position in tree tops. She climbed, and the two men went ahead to fight the necromancer.

Grognark and Timothy stood legs apart, chests full, and noses high. Grognark bellowed a roar and proclaimed: “Necromancer! Come out and face!...”

And at this very moment, the earth beneath their feet cracked open, as a razor-sharp blade mounted between two metal rods sprang up behind them and cut the adventurers in half.