William

A thick fog hung over the forest, unnatural and creeping further up the trees. The snow never ceased. Drifting softly then in a violent storm. The cold reached to William’s knees and bit through his nerves. They wouldn’t risk Charmaine’s flames though. Not in the open where something may see them. He remained vigilant, waiting for danger to make its move.

Finally, they came upon the monster’s corpse laying broken among shards of evergreen. Creatures feasted upon the carcass over the days. Footprints led to and from the heap of meat. Once white snowflakes melted into red pools. The beast’s gut had been shredded by teeth and mostly devoured. Rib bones peaked through a leather hide. The other eye had been gnawed away and the skin picked clean from the two back legs. The tail had been ripped off entirely, strewn about the area in pieces. A familiar stench encircled the beast.

“Sulfur,” William noted under his breath. He smelled it as they marched through the woods. That gave him a nagging suspicion that the scent didn’t come from the Deadlands, but rather the beasts themselves. They could have circled the encampment waiting for an appropriate time to strike.

Charmaine slipped away from William, showing her own interest in the monster. He kept a watchful eye on her and the two fae now circling the carcass. Nicholas approached the creature first, eyes alight in ways that made William vastly uncomfortable. Though most things fae did made him vastly uncomfortable, so this wasn’t any unexpected news.

“Fearworn saw use in the ratwings,” Nicholas remarked. He observed one of the wings so thin it was nearly transparent. Two claws sharpened to razors decorated the ends of each appendage. He pinched one claw between his fingers as if he suspected it secreted poisons like the stinger. They did not and he dropped them.

“Creating a flock of flying beasts to dive on an unsuspecting army is a tactic he would use,” he added. “Certainly would do more damage than even a hundred ratwings.”

“But why did this one shoot acid and not the other? The beast had every opportunity to fire upon me, or the mortal.” Arden inquired from somewhere behind the corpse.

Charmaine rolled her eyes. Neither were surprised that Arden didn’t recall her name. She gave him two middle fingers behind his back. William stifled a chuckle and rubbed his shoulder. Though the wound healed, an ache remained that the cold didn’t help. The sage settled into a warm tea would have helped, but all had been used on Nicholas, which William sorely regretted.

“I suspect these are monsters in the work, not quite perfected.” Nicholas lifted a hind leg that looked far too big for one of his size to hold. Fae had unnatural physical abilities, capable of wielding the great weight as if it were nothing. He leaned closer, inspecting the area.

Grimacing, William muttered, “Why are you staring at the monster’s groin?”

“It doesn’t have one,” Nicholas replied.

His interest momentarily piqued, William shuffled forward. The beast had a smooth backside, save for a rectal area. Then Nicholas dropped the leg. His nails grew into sharp spears.

“You may want to step back. This will get messy,” Nicholas warned.

“Guts do not bother me.”

“What does?”

“Nothing I will ever share with you.”

Nicholas snickered and cut further into the beast. The stench grew. More guts and blood oozed into the forest floor. Snow melted in heaps of steam. Nicholas cut and dug. After a moment of squishy inspection accompanied by soft murmuring, he retreated from the interior.

“I don’t see reproductive organs either, which I doubt Fearworn wants. He needs beasts to multiply on their own to grow an army,” he declared while waving his arm. The filth splattered on the ground and evaporated from his arm in a wave of bubbling heat.

Charmaine peeked over the head of the beast. “Are we certain he created this one and did not pull it through the Shimmer?”

A century ago, the world suffered horrendous storms and drought. Terrifying weather conditions, and then, the Shimmers appeared. Mages declared the weather had been a result of Terra and Faerie realms colliding, like two glass globes knocking against each other. Rather than separating, they clung and the broken bits let the worlds seep into each other. Fearworn learned how to reach into another world through small Shimmers, at first. Monsters slipped through, equally as small and not worthy of worry. But as his power grew, so did the Shimmers, and soon monsters such as spions, debraks, ratwings, and grumps made it into both Terra and Faerie. It would not be odd for him to have discovered even more.

“I seriously doubt this beast came from a Scar.” Nicholas climbed a hind leg to strut along the beast’s crooked spine. “This beast is not well, not right. With such a mangled spine, it probably wouldn’t survive long either. The wings are mismatched, too. Do you recall the look of yours?”

Arden pondered a moment, giving Charmaine a chance to reply, “It had two legs instead of four and struggled to walk. No stinger on the end of the tail either.”

“Both misfits. Both likely initial creations and thus expendable for him,” Nicholas claimed, then slipped the book from his tattered shirt. The entire front had been burned away by the acid, leaving his chest for all to see. William wished the fae would cover himself so as to not entice further unwanted staring. But the cold didn’t even cause goosebumps to break across his flawless skin, so William was stuck reminding himself that Nicholas was a rotten bastard. Nothing worth admiring.

Nicholas leapt off the beast to flip through the pages of Fearworns’ journal, glancing continuously between the two. “I have not stumbled across their kind in the book yet, but I am sure they’re here.”

An almost mad glint flooded his eyes. A smile crept over his lips, clever and devious.

“You truly are excited by all this.” William crossed his arm in a poor attempt to keep the cold at bay.

“Are you not?” Nicholas shot him a perplexed look. “Your heart races.”

“We’re in unknown territory waiting for monsters to attack.”

“Which you handled fine until now, so I don’t see them as capable of frightening you.”

“Your belief in me isn’t the least bit flattering.”

Nicholas chuckled while flipping a dozen more pages. “Think what you must, mortal, but I will not deny that this is the most fun I’ve had in my short life.”

He shivered, as if the thought of all the evil that transpired lit a fire in his chest.

William scoffed. “I’m continuously baffled by the humor fae find in the face of pure evil. Do you not appreciate life because you’re needlessly gifted so much of it?”

“You are always so touchy,” Nicholas chided. He slammed the book shut to hide beneath his clothes. Stepping forward, he breached William’s personal space to lean in, hands on his hips, and voice a whisper, “I sense you do not have many fond memories of fae.”

William recalled a horror that visited him on the worst nights. A place of heat and smoke, the echoing of screams, the roar of monsters, chittering of spions, and fae laughter. Deep, vicious, conniving, and cruel as a devil. The noise ripped at his eardrums, like needles piercing the tender skin. He remembered running. A moment where he spoke to the Holy Soul after many years. Begged for the moment to not be real, but deep down, he knew begging was pointless. The chance of a sweet future withered away in front of his tearful eyes.

And he learned to hide all of that behind a mask of apathy and a chilled voice, “Your senses are correct. I do not have fond memories of fae, especially considering one would have let me fall to my death the other day. Another used my friend as bait and I’ve been on the field enough to witness the joy fae get out of torture.”

“What’s wrong with a little torture?” Nicholas laughed and might have honestly expected William to answer. When he didn’t, the fae huffed and circled him like a lion stalking prey. “Fine, humor me. What do you like to do?”

William wasn’t so certain anymore. Normalcy hadn’t been a part of his life in so long. He didn’t like much of anything. Not here. But he remembered what he used to like as a boy, safe and loved in a warm home. He hoped to like those same things, hoped to see and feel them again one day. That he could be that boy again.

“I like to tend to the garden, knit at my mother’s side, read a good book, and take long afternoon naps after a warm cup of tea,” he replied.

“How unexpectedly tame. What of bloodshed? Of the adrenaline on a battlefield? Of liquor during a grand celebration?” Nicholas hesitated at his back. His warm breath tickled the shell of William’s ear as his voice shifted into a low purr, “What of a good fucking?”

William shifted, catching the wild glint in Nicholas’ roseate eyes. The promise of danger and taunting destruction.

“I do not thrive in the face of death because I am so bored with my pathetic life, though I do enjoy a good fucking. I just didn’t think to mention it as you wouldn’t know what that is,” William replied.

“A bold assumption I should be given the opportunity to disprove.”

“So you can tell everyone later that I’m a traitor and laugh as they hang me? How dull do you think I am?”

Nicholas laughed. “Oh, I find you unbearably pedestrian.”

“The simple mind of a child would think that way.”

“Maybe you should act more like a child. Seek fun outside of testing my patience.” Though Nicholas growled, amusement strangled his tone.

“I am not in the position to be childish, unlike a certain coddled prince.”

“Prince? Fae don’t have monarchies, though I’m flattered by such a lovely title.”

“I am well aware, and yet your kin treat you with a safe distance that others do for our royalty, which is by no means flattering. Quite a few have met an unpleasant demise.” William’s gaze swept over the beast to Arden. He prodded at the stinger with his foot, unaware of the attention. Then William’s gaze landed on Nicholas, who strengthened at his next accusations, “You’re prince-like, pretentious, juvenile, moronic, and infuriating.”

“Have you met many princes to come to these conclusions?”

“I know enough to make an educated guess.”

“You’re quite insufferable yourself. Every moment I yearn to hear your screams.”

“My screams are one of many things you will never have.”

The gleam in Nicholas’ eyes stated he was about to test that theory when the forest rustled. In the silence of the Deadlands, any noise caught their attention. The sound of crunching branches and a low growl spoke of violence.

“We should leave,” said William, gesturing for Charmaine. She rushed to his side. Nicholas passed the monster’s corpse a glance.

“Stay if you are idiotic enough to do so, but we value our lives.” William tugged on Charmaine’s arm, insisting they move towards the forest. Surprisingly, Nicholas and Arden followed.

A couple steps between the trees and a great howl reverberated through the foggy terrain. Certainly not any kind of wolf, a much larger creature. Charmaine’s eyes met his. Fear embedded itself within her wide pupils. The howl sounded too near and unfamiliar. It could be the surviving beast that caught them or another, one potentially worse.

“Can we risk returning to camp?” Charmaine muttered, eyes shifting about the trees. She stuck close to William, limping slightly.

“Why would we?” Arden bit.

“Food, dumbass,” William replied. “We have enough dried spion legs to last a couple of days.”

“We’re likely to run into more.”

Charmaine shivered. “That is not a good thing.”

“Keep quiet,” Nicholas ordered. The group fell silent, ears straining to hear heavy steps growing closer. “Returning to camp is an unnecessary risk. We move on. Now.”

Nicholas didn’t wait for agreement. He snuck through the trees, ducking under low branches and keeping to the shadows. William and Charmaine followed with Arden taking up the rear. Fae steps rarely made noise. They didn’t now. William and Charmaine did their best, but nothing truly prevented the snow from crunching beneath their boots. However, the snarling whispers among the fog lessened the longer they walked. None uttered a word, though William and Charmaine’s breaths grew ragged and steps slowed as the day slogged on without rest.

After the fog dispersed and the sun slipped towards the edge of the horizon, William saw the shape of a building, then another. He tapped Nicholas on the shoulder. The fae gave him a cursed look, though followed where he pointed. Nicholas took a careful step forward and another. Closing in, the buildings came into shape.

A town, or what was left of one, sat among what must once have been a cleared grove. Now, young trees sprouted within. Snow rose up the old bricked walls, covering portions entirely. The houses had withered and decayed. Roofs collapsed. Doorways caved apart. Walls crumbled. Not a single soul seemingly lived there, mortal or otherwise.

“We can camp here tonight,” Nicholas said.

“Is that a good idea?” Charmaine’s teeth chattered. “This place is abandoned for a reason.”

“Yes, because Shadowed Disciples inhabited these lands. The villagers either fled or died decades ago.” Nicholas nodded to Arden. “Let’s search the buildings and find one suitable for a night’s rest.”

The fae moved without considering the thoughts of others. Charmaine passed William a concerned look.

“I would like a roof and preferably four walls tonight. We could risk a fire, beat back this cold,” he said while huddled against her side. Their uniforms normally kept them fairly warm, but the previous attacks tattered their attire.

Charmaine huffed, her irritability had grown over the day. “I would too, though I still find this to be an atrocious idea.”

Regardless, they entered the village together.