As we entered the woods the wind died away. Sunlight pierced through the trees, casting a myriad of light over the path. The path was cobblestone; though cracked, it was clear where to walk. As we turned the bend, the city was swallowed by the forest, and we continued on.
The vegetation enclosed us, consuming our sight of the sky just as it did the city. For the first hour, no one spoke. The only sounds were the scuff of our boots on the old stones and the occasional, distant skittering of unseen animals. Annalise, who had seemingly recovered from the field, was near the center of the group and was staring at all the sights.
The sun, which had been directly overhead when we left the gate, began its slow descent to the west. Its light turned from a bright white to a warmer gold that slanted through the canopy, painting long shadows across the path.
The cobblestones grew more fractured as we traveled, with thick roots and green moss breaking through, forcing us to watch our step as nature became reclaimed what was once its own.
The repetition of footfalls was a familiar meditation, and I let my mind drift from the tension of the group to the life teeming around us. After the unnatural stillness of the bloodroot field, the simple, honest life of this forest was a balm.
Plants have always fascinated me. They exist where no other species can, from the coldest of tundra's to the hottest of deserts. They had the ability to heal or kill if processed correctly. Some possess various degrees of sentience.
. Which meant, in a way, the plants that mortals ate, stepped on, and harvested had enough power to rival the gods. If plants could do it, why couldn't mortals?
We had been walking for nearly three hours when Qapla, leading the way, suddenly raised a hand, his form going still.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Velyan asked, "We don't know what you are doing."
Qapla looked back at us, who were looking at him confused, and sighed deeply. "It's an arm signal. It means stop. When I do this, you all should echo it so we all stop. It usually means danger in the front."
"So why are we stopping?" Annalise asked.
He pointed ahead, "I need to check my map and wanted cover while doing so."
The trees ahead thinned, and the forest opened up. We had reached a cliff, maybe two people tall, and the road split into two. A large pond sat to the left, with the road intersecting between the water and the cliff. The other road traveling the opposing direction. Qapla pulled out a map and began to mutter under his breath, his eyes flicking from the paper to the landscape.
Velyan, who had been surveying the area, suddenly tensed. "Something's coming."
I took a deep breath. It smelled of rot and blood. A light crashing could be heard from the top of the cliff.
Qapla stuffed the map away, "Get into position. Adrastos, Annalise, back up."
I moved backward away from the cliff and hid behind a large rock outcropping. Annalise followed and knelt beside me. Velyan darted across the clearing to the left towards the lake where a large rock jutted out of the ground.
She reached into her belt, pulled out a hook attached to a rope, and tossed it to the top of the boulder. She hauled herself on top and lay in the prone, aiming towards the cliff. Qapla and Nox stood closest to the edge of the clearing, back to back behind a large tree.
The crashing above the cliff grew louder and louder. Something large was coming.
A large figure appeared at the edge of the cliff, before jumping off the almost twenty foot drop. Something flew out of his hands and nailed the ground: A sword as tall as a goblin and almost four palms wide.
The figure hit the ground and rolled, picking up the object as he got roughly to his feet. He stood tall, at least two heads over the rest of us. A half giant.
Annalise whispered from beside me. "Rodger?"
The noise above the cliff did not stop. Something else was coming, and it smelled hateful.
He looked behind him at the cliff, then turned towards the road, took a large step and crumpled to one knee. He used the sword to prop him up as he tested his weight. Then he let out a deep sigh and turned to face the cliff side, hauling the impossibly large sword up.
A large, piercing scream rang out. The sound of a pig being slaughtered. The sound of the mother from last night at the wall. The sound of the dead and dying.
A black blur shot over the cliff. It hit the ground hard, landing in a low, skeletal crouch that stirred up a cloud of dust. It unfolded itself, sharp cracks echoed from ligaments sewn too close together clashing.
It was a thing that may have once been a humanoid.
The half giant swung his massive sword in a wide arc. The creature didn't dodge. It met the blow. An arm, but far too long and bending in places an arm should not bend. Swiveled nearly a hundred and eighty degrees to parry the steel. A deafening screech of metal on metal echoed across the clearing.
The half giant stumbled, his bad foot unable to support his swing as his blade was parried. The creature was fast and took advantage of it. It's other arm, just as elongated and tipped with black, claw like fingers, lashed out. The half giant twisted, but not fast enough. The claws raked across his cheek, drawing blood.
The creature threw its head back and shrieked again. At the noise, my blood ran cold, but I finally saw it's face.
Yaelin save us. It was a face, or had been. An orc's, perhaps, but horrifically transformed. The skull seemed to have been stretched forward, pulling grey green skin taut over a new, bestial snout.
Its jaw hung open, impossibly wide, revealing a maw of broken, needle like teeth. Its skin was stretched drum tight over a frame of jutting bone, and its arms… it arms were so long they nearly dragged on the ground, even as it stood hunched on its two legs.