ESKER I

  What started as infrequent and minor tremors, had taken on a rhythmic percussion. Being of low social standing, Esker and her assigned workmate Loess brought this information to their crew chief Vug. Vug ordered the two of them to report to the engineer of their project, Karst, who was displeased to hear of this development. While crew chief Vug bowed until his nose touched the cave floor and apologized to engineer Karst, Esker and Loess were punished. Both were stripped of their outer garb and flogged on the buttocks and back. After thanking the judicial officer for being merciful enough to only give each of them twenty-five out of the fifty possible lashes, Loess and Esker tended to each other’s wounds. Sitting down in the near future would prove tender and painful, but one could always rest on their knees or squat.

  After a tense exchange with his supervisor, Vug returned and assembled the work crew to make an announcement. “Due to your laziness and incompetence, we are behind schedule. Top engineer Karst is gracious enough to allow us to find the source of the mysterious vibrations. We will now work a second shift. You are all welcome.” As Vug turned with his long nose held high in the air, Loess made a rude gesture with one hand that Esker quickly covered with her own. Once again they separated into their workmate pairs and crawled back through the narrow tunnels that splintered off of the primary work shaft.

  Tired, sore, and still bleeding, Esker was relieved to be free of social obligations. Loess practically jumped at the opportunity, “You are more competent than that nose presser Vug, you should be the crew chief Esk!”

  “You need to be more careful Lo, the others will report you for insolence and we will both get more lashes.” She took the lead, her nimble and long arms aiding the ascent up the twisting and narrow crawlway. In her left hand Esker hefted a carefully wrapped log covered in small mushrooms, a faint green light emanated from the bioluminescent fungus and aided her in navigating her way through the rough-hewn nooks and crannies. Her large eyes were well accustomed to seeing in dim light, but not in complete darkness.

  “What are they going to do? Put me on a work crew? Make me work double-shifts and expect me to be grateful?” Loess was nearly panting as he labored behind her, cradling the heavy tools they used to excavate the rock. His red skin and prominent nose was highlighted a sickly green by the night-light mushrooms.

  “We have it better than most and our work is a blessing to Great God Saruto.”

  “Yes, yes. ‘Long may the tunnels of the land spread like branches of the life stream.’ He has not allowed an audience for hundreds of years, Esk, maybe we should think about what would be best for us?” Loess said as he flashed a smile, his teeth neatly meeting at pointed tips.

  Her workmate was casually flippant, but this was too far. “There is trust between us, yet speak no blasphemy about Saruto,” she said in a low growl, pointing a sinewy and powerful hand towards Loess. Their people, the Tengu, had lost much of their spirituality generations ago and Loess’ lack of faith reflected the general consensus. The old gods had been replaced by new ones, those of industry and efficiency.“I will respect your beliefs so long as you extend the same courtesy to me,” she punctuated this statement with a wave of her fungal torch.

  “Ayah, lighten up will you, Esk. I need to blow off some steam and besides my ass feels like it has Vug’s crooked nose shoved up it!” He exaggerated his grin and after a failed attempt to stay serious, Esker could not help but join her workmate in laughter. Shaking her head, she carefully maneuvered up the tunnel towards where they had felt the vibrations earlier. As the stratum shifted from sandstone to limestone, their bantering stopped and the two Tengu grew focused. Loess delicately placed the bundle of tools in a nook and they made their way silently towards the end of the tunnel. What had been gentle vibrations before were now booming reverberations that shook the entire tunnel. The intensity crescendoed overhead and as Esker considered retreating, the rock overhead fissured. Cracks arced in every direction and debris rained down. Loess grabbed her from behind, yanking her backwards as a metal point shattered through the stone roof and massive fragments of stone rained down.

  GUILLAUME I

  A temporary wooden palisade encircled the rocky rise and already the limestone foundations of a glorious castle were in place. Guillaume could picture banners whipping in the wind high atop the parapets of the rectangular donjon and visualized a curtain-wall surrounding where he stood in the center of what would be the courtyard-like bawn. The wooden motte-and-bailey fortifications were being slowly converted into a stone structure, a message to the locals that his people, the Jotman, were here to stay. At the base of the donjon, massive limestone blocks were being mortared in place, thicker and tapered to form the batter. Unlike the walls that will eventually be fourteen feet thick, the batter extended another six feet in a slope, simultaneously preventing attackers from undermining the castle, using a battering ram, or getting flush to the wall and safe from any projectiles rained down by defenders. Guillaume had gotten a glimpse at the intricate designs Sir Godefroy’s architects had painstakingly illustrated and immediately felt a calling. A majestic structure such as a castle would truly be a testament to civilized man’s impact on the world.

  Guillaume was shoved roughly aside as a knight and a detachment of men-at-arms rushed towards the wooden keep atop the motte, which rose nearly a hundred feet above. Their chainmail rattled with metallic susurrations and at the center of their formation they carried two strange creatures: both were unusually tall, had vividly red skin, long noses, and bizarrely elongated limbs. Horses shied away from the monstrosities, while workers and artisans stood with their mouths agape. One of the devils was broken and twisted, its joints extending in awkward angles and leaking purplish ichor from countless wounds. The other was also significantly battered, its left arm appeared to have been crushed, yet the creature showed signs of life. Guillaume slowly rose to his feet from the well trampled grounds and brushed as much of the mud off of his clothing as he could. The camp had been on high alert since the horrible attack at the lumber site and now there were rumblings about an incident at the quarry. The young squire hurried after the knight and his retinue, hoping that this new development would not end in Lord Osmond punishing him, even though that was his Lord’s right.

  The interior of the wooden keep was dim, but Lord Osmond’s mood was even darker. Guillaume had begun to notice tells that his Lord was about to explode in anger and it appeared that the kettle was about to boil over. Sir Godefroy stood in front of Lord Osmond’s desk, attempting to placate him, “My lord, I am sympathetic to your grievances, but I suggest that we weigh our options carefully.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “A BLOODY WITCH SLEW OUR KNIGHTS AND SUMMONED DEVILS TO TORMENT US, YET YOU ADVISE CAUTION?!” the greying knight bellowed, slamming his gauntleted fist down hard enough to crack the wood of his desk. “WE ARE BESET BY PLAGUES, THIS LAND WILL KNOW FIRE AND STEEL!” Sir Godefroy shrank back involuntarily during this onslaught, his wispy frame resembled a scarecrow caught in a gale.

  “These are dire circumstances my Lord, I do not wish to diminishtheir severity. Yet we depend on the local populace for labor and do not have an ample workforce in their absence.”

  “THEN WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST? WE THROW A FEAST IN THEIR HONOR, CELEBRATE THEIR DISOBEDIENCE?!” Lord Osmond roared as he took a menacing step towards Godefroy, who immediately raised his frail hands in supplication.

  “Of-of course not my lord. We must get the laborers back to work immediately, I only wish to bring to attention how little we know about this witch. Allow me to gather additional intelligence so that I may provide adequate counsel.” The advisor’s eyes were wide and his typically unruly eyebrows were flattened against the side of his temples, like the ears of a frightened cat. Lord Osmond’s mouth opened briefly, then shut with a snap. His jaw muscles grew taut as he ground his teeth in frustration. His anger diminished from a raging bonfire to smoking embers.

  In a barely audible rasp the old knight said, “We will make an example of any laborer who refuses their assigned task. First offense is flogging, second offense is death. Am I clear?” Godefroy nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “And that abomination, the one slain by the collapsed tunnel. Mount it high atop the keep by our banners, I want all to see how the forces of the Betrayer stand against us!” Osmond punctuated this statement by extending his burly arm and closing his mailed fist.

  “And the other creature my lord? The one that clings to life?” Godefroy’s eyebrows had relaxed and were slowly returning to their unruly natural state.

  “Keep it under lock and key, I will have it questioned. But sever its damaged arm first, who knows what regenerative properties these devils possess.”

  “Most prudent my lord.”

  “And Godefroy, summon Sir Marin. I have heard that he has developed effective techniques to loosen a tongue or tear it out. I want that devil interrogated. You are dismissed.”

  “Very good my lord, I will keep you privy to any developments.” Like a dam being released, the advisor, several knights, and the rest of his staff flooded out of Lord Osmond’s chambers, leaving Guillaume alone with his lord. Lord Osmond stood facing away from the entrance and gazed up at his great-sword mounted on the wall.

  “Squire, approach me.” Lord Osmond said once again in a rasp barely above a whisper.

  As Guillaume tentatively approached, he said, “What is it m-“ before being interrupted by the crack of Osmond’s metal gauntlet across his face. He tasted blood and as he slipped into darkness, his tongue found a loose tooth.

  ESKER II

  The last clear memory Esker had was the stone tunnel collapsing overhead and a brief glimpse of Loess’ determined face as he used his own body to shield her. Everything after that was fragmented, like light refracting through the facets of a gem. She slipped in and out of consciousness, dreaming of the comfort of her childhood and awakening to excruciating pain. What she could remember made no sense: impossible brightness that felt strong enough to burn the pupils out of her eyes, pale creatures adorned in crude metal alloys and bizarre structures made out of materials other than stone.

  At every opportunity she tried to call out for Loess, but could rarely raise her voice above a whisper. Time had lost all meaning: it could have been a single shift, a double-shift, or even the entire span of a work order. On one occasion, she regained awareness after being drenched by fetid water. Standing above her each time were a pair of those pale fleshy creatures. They barked gibberish at her in a harsh tongue and would punish her when she did not respond to their satisfaction. This at least was familiar and reminded her of crew chief Vug.

  At last Esker awoke unprompted and alone. She found herself in a comfortably dim chamber, slumped against a cool wall that felt familiarly of stone. However, when she craned her long neck, she was aghast at the shoddiness of the masonry. Malformed bricks were pieced together haphazardly and mortared with disgusting debris. She was confined in some sort of prison.

  Esker moved away from the wall, shuffling across a filthy floor lined with some kind of plant fiber. After moving an arm’s length away, she was jerked to a halt as a metal chain connected to her right wrist grew taut. She flexed her sinewy arm and braced her long legs against the wall for leverage, but the restraint would not budge and she collapsed in pain. She went to reach out her left hand to explore what shackled her, but nothing happened. Looking down in confusion, she saw that everything below her elbow was gone. Crying out in horror, she raised the mangled stump of her left arm as phantom pains emanated from where her fingers and hand should be.

  Her confines spun and once again she lost consciousness. Memories flickered through her mind: the camaraderie of her childhood play-brood, the doting care of the amahs who tended to their needs, and the wonderful toys that she now recognized as miniature work tools: picks, shovels, and mine carts.

  When Esker next woke it was to steps singing heavily on the stone floor. She drew herself into a seated position, subtly turning her body so that her right shoulder faced forward. She perceived a pair of approaching steps, but was surprised when three figures came into viewthrough the crude iron bars of her cell. One of these creatures was adorned with metal alloys, another carried a sloshing vessel of water, and the last, who was significantly more slight than the others, brandished a smokey torch. As the light from the flames melted away the comfortable shadows of her cell, her manacle rattled as she brought up her right arm to shield her eyes. The pale creature with metal hands said something in its harsh language, while the others seemed to show signs of deference.

  Esker tried her best to bow forward in a supplicating gesture, but the short length of chain attached to her wrist greatly restricted her motion and she ended up partially suspended above the grubby floor. The one with the metal hands uttered a series of staccato noises that were unmistakably laughter. Esker brought her right arm closer to the wall and was able to bow low enough to bring her forehead down to the floor. The creature grunted, she hoped it was satisfied by her show of humility.

  With her forehead still pressed into the ground, Esker was unable to see what the strange surface-dwellers were doing. She heard the jangle of metal, followed by a mechanism unlocking and the shrieking of poorly crafted hinges protesting as the door to her cell was swung open.

  Footsteps approached heavily towards her, yet she did not dare raise her head. They stopped in front of her and cold metal fingers closed around her neck as she was lifted off of the ground. She tried to gasp for breath, but her windpipe was closed from the pressure of the creature’s powerful hand. Esker did not resist, instead she timidly raised her eyes to briefly meet the pale stranger and was shocked by the aquamarine color of its pupils. The creature sneered with disgust at her and she could not help but notice his ugly features: the squashed nose, a squarish jaw dotted with hair growth, and most unappealing of all, skin the color of a cavefish.

  The force of the grip on her throat relaxed enough for Esker to draw breath, while the other metal hand found her chin and lifted it upwards. It seemed to be inspecting her features and as the hot breath of this creature flooded her senses with a wretched stench, it turned slightly to call out to its companions. Without warning the metal hand left her chin and painfully yanked on her prominent nose. As tears welled up in Esker’s large eyes, she again heard the unmistakable sound of laughter. This time the creature’s partner who carried the vessel of water joined the other in this clipped barking. Abruptly she was released and fell to the floor in a tangled heap. The pale stranger strode defiantly away from her and past the one who stood holding the water with a crooked expression on his face. It drenched her with the brackish water and laughed again, before closing the cell door and locking the mechanism with a metal key. Outside in the hallway, the smallest creature of the three remained, studying her intensely.