Irobu's Odyssey of Deceit Chapter 8: Forgotten Lair

Notwithstanding a few false starts, Harold found the drag marks the party had previously been following. Once the path was clear, Ser Griffiths relentlessly drove the squad forward. He marched with purpose beside Harold, diligently looking ahead as the shepherd looked to the ground. With Harold and Ser Griffiths leading the ensemble, Irobu and Swift were left trailing behind. Irobu struggled to keep pace with her taller companions; the blisters on her feet from months of travels only impeded her further. She walked awkwardly to avoid the worst of them.

In contrast, Swift moved gracefully through the damaged forest, deftly avoiding the downed branches and sticks that littered the ground. Irobu was captivated by the elf dancing through the woodlands ahead of her, certainly a welcome distraction from her sore feet. Despite Irobu’s misgivings about Swift being a savage, Irobu wanted nothing more than to talk to her and bask in her melodious voice. Simultaneously, Irobu was wary of disturbing the elf, reluctant to risk the goodwill that she had garnered by saving her.

“So are there any Swifts in these woods?” Irobu finally asked after several hours of nervous consideration.

“I have not seen any,” Swift replied curtly without turning face the young Sanusite.

That was your plan to break the ice? Thrun laughed. I’ve seen children more charismatic than you.

Irobu ground her teeth. Hush, Sanusites are taught to keep to themselves and not bother strangers, so it’s not like I have experience in this sort of thing. Besides, Swift seems rather introverted. Enlighten me, what would you have said, o magnificent liar-king?

I would have wooed her by highlighting your magical prowess. Women can’t resist accomplished spell casters, Thrun asserted.

I hope you don’t mean that literally. Your suggestion is about as out of touch as I expected, Irobu sighed. Didn’t you pay attention to her story?

Why would I bother? She’s another simpleton among many. A rare simpleton, but a simpleton nonetheless.

Another pointless exchange, Irobu concluded.

Still more hours passed. Notwithstanding their progress, the gloom under the tree cover was pierced by great rays of sunlight where deadwood had toppled adjacent oaks. A faint mist still clung to the battered groves, though the warming sun prevented it from becoming too opaque. This made the tracking all the more trivial for Harold, allowing the squadron to keep up their brisk clip towards the vampire lair. In time, the damaged forest transitioned to the pristine woodlands they’d encountered in days past, replete with a dense mist and an impenetrable layer of leaves overhead. With the sun now out of sight, their surroundings were rapidly darkening.

“We should make camp,” Swift called forward to Ser Griffiths.

“We’ll do no such thing, we still have several hours of light,” the former paladin rejected. “By Buain, I won’t sleep while there are innocents in mortal danger.”

“So you’d have us travel through the night?” Swift asked.

“The vampires might ambush us and give us a swift end. Then the innocents would stand no chance,” Irobu added.

“We’ll march a few more hours and reassess,” Ser Griffiths conceded.

Minutes later, Irobu heard a faint shushing ahead. She stuck close behind Swift as the slender elf snuck forward to investigate. The pair came upon Ser Griffiths and Harold crouched low at the edge of a clearing, quietly whispering to each other. Both had their weapons drawn. Within the clearing the mist thinned, allowing the final beams of daylight to illuminate this silent void in the forest. A structure sat at its center, whose sharp lines and corners were visible through the slight haze. Ser Griffiths motioned to Irobu and Swift to come closer. Notwithstanding their light steps, the crackling of dead leaves heralded their approach and disturbed the serene grove.

“Drag marks lead right there, no mistaking it,” Ser Griffiths pointed to the structure. With the thicker mist behind her, Irobu saw that the structure was a long rectangular building, complete with a wooden door and several blocky windows on the long side. These windows were covered with cracked planks and green boughs, while the structure itself was made of smooth, seamless stone.

“Those must be the horse carcasses,” Swift surmised, looking to a brown pile by the edge of the building.

“Swift, sneak around to the other side to see if there’s a back door. We don’t have long until the sun sets,” Ser Griffiths ordered urgently. Wordlessly, the elf nocked an arrow on her bow and crept around the perimeter of the clearing.

“There’s no way that building was made without magic. Ever hear of vampires summoning a structure?” Ser Griffiths whispered to Irobu.

No, they are only capable of minor charms like the sleep spell, Thrun explained. Which, now that the rest of your puerile band have already been affected, should be easier for their feeble minds to resist. Irobu relayed the message to the paladin squatting next to her.

“Then perhaps the stories of sorcerers living in these woods were true in the end,” Ser Griffiths mused. “Regardless, vampires are in there now. I have no doubt they could pounce through the windows; only Buain knows if they could do the same with the door. Though the short sides appears windowless,” Ser Griffiths noted and scratched his chin.

Thinking back on her escape from Gargam’s Library of Hekal, an idea popped into Irobu’s mind. “If I can touch the structure, then I can seal over the windows and any other doors with stone,” she strategized. “That would allow us to funnel them through one opening.”

Irobu heard a tapping beside her. “No doors on the back, only more windows,” Swift’s soft voice informed as she crept back to the rest of the party.

“Good work. Is it possible to sneak up to the building without them noticing?” Ser Griffiths pondered.

“They should still be sleeping, but it might not matter. I can start the spell while we’re running up to the building and start closing over the windows before they know what’s happening,” Irobu insisted, estimating it was a ten meter sprint from the edge of the clearing to a short side. “You all must guard me.”

“And what if there’s another mishap?” Swift inquired harshly. “All of us barely survived the last one.”

“Need I remind you that I give the orders, Irobu? Regardless, I’m not fond of the idea either, but if not for Irobu’s magic, we would all be vampire fodder right now,” Ser Griffiths reminded, watching the lengthening shadows in the clearing. “We don’t have any safer alternatives since there could be a massive horde hiding inside. If they all get out we might be overwhelmed.”

“Fine,” Swift grumbled. “But I’m staying back here.”

“We don’t have time for this; they’ll be waking any moment,” Ser Griffiths declared anxiously. “Just shoot any vampires that jump out at us, elf. Harold and I will guard Irobu as she’s casting the spell. Harold, watch her left side and I’ll watch her right side. Make sense?”

 Harold hesitated. “Yes, left side,” Harold confirmed after rubbing the collar at his neck.

“Once Irobu casts the spell, we’ll move to the door and slaughter the beasts as they run out. Follow me,” Ser Griffiths ordered as he moved around the edge of the now gloomy clearing. The former paladin stopped when he faced the short, windowless side of the stone structure. His companions were right at his heels when a scream pierced the dusky scene.

“What’s going on! Get away from me!” a panicked man called out from the center of the glade. A shrieking—that Irobu recognized belonged to a vampire—subsequently drowned out his pleas.

“Buain has sent a servant to aid you! Run out the door!” Ser Griffiths bellowed.

“Really? The plan was stealt—” Irobu began.

“The plan changed. Start your spell!” Ser Griffiths commanded as he sprinted towards the stone structure, Harold by his side. Gravel crunched under their large strides; Irobu felt the pebbles stinging her shins.

What an idiot! So much for the element of surprise, she fumed while frantically commencing the stone manipulation spell. She hurried after Ser Griffiths and Harold, feet kicking up the gravel that apparently surrounded the structure.

The situation only became more chaotic when Harold and Ser Griffiths were halfway to the stone building. In the blink of an eye, the building’s lone door burst open, and out stumbled a figure in leather armor. This escapee was grasping at his neck and emitting gurgled cries. Ser Griffiths changed course to intercept the figure to his right, and immediately the shrieking from within intensified. Irobu caught the cracking of wood as two chainmail-clad vampires dove through the boarded up windows on opposite sides of the structure.

Harold charged the vampire on the left side of the building, letting out a roar while hefting his bone club over his head. The vampire on the right side pounced on the fleeing figure’s back and stopped him in his tracks. Ser Griffiths rushed to smash the undead creature with his warhammer; the vampire was already reaching for the figure’s neck with its fangs. Prior to the creature savoring its meal however, an arrow whizzed by Irobu’s head and sunk into the vampire’s pale skull. The monster howled, fell off the escapee’s back, and then awkwardly rose to its feet. Looking back to the left, Irobu watched Harold dodge the raking claws of a vampire. In retaliation, he delivered a savage blow to his undead opponent’s shoulder, sending it staggering backwards.

Irobu took the opportunity to dart the final few meters through the deepening darkness. Gravel shot backward in her wake as she sprinted towards the short wall at the center of the chaos. Upon arriving, Irobu said the final word of the incantation and placed her right hand against the building. It was cool and extremely smooth. Irobu felt the familiar tingle in her hand and then felt an unfamiliar tingling wash across her body. Ignoring the latter effect, Irobu visualized thinning the building’s walls to cover all the windows. Furrowing her brow in concentration, she focused on imagining the stone flowing over the numerous openings.

Meanwhile, Harold shoved his undead adversary to the ground and crushed its skull with a powerful stomp. He savored the sickening crunch and shouted in an unknown language, although his celebration was cut short when another vampire leapt through the same window and landed on the shepherd’s back. Its razor-sharp claws sliced through his cloak and animal skins, leaving gashes on his upper back.

Ser Griffiths similarly dispatched his dazed vampiric foe with his warhammer. Afterwards, he approached the wounded victim in front of the door, who had collapsed onto the gravel covered ground. Prior to reaching the man, two more chainmail clad vampires dove out of the still open door. Unlike their predecessors, these vampires had patches of hair on their pale heads, which they twitched around the grove to survey the scene. Their icy blue eyes settled on Ser Griffiths; he looked past them to the shrinking windows of the building.

“It’s working Irobu!” Ser Griffiths shouted from the Sanusite’s right.

Irobu maintained her visualization, though she wondered about the unfamiliar tingling she had felt across her body. Also troubling, was that the screams of battle sounded farther away, whereas the crunching of gravel became both closer and louder. Nevertheless, she kept her eyes clamped shut.

Harold backpedaled and slammed the vampire on his back into the unforgiving stone wall. In spite of the surely excruciating impact, the vampire showed no signs of faltering. It bent to put its head by the shepherd's neck, digging its claws deeper into his flesh in the process. Unrelenting, Harold punched the creature and grabbed it by the head. His muscles flared as he sought to overpower the foe clinging to him. Ultimately, he twisted his back to one side and flung the vampire onto the ground in front of him. Blood dripped down Harold’s back as he unleashed another primal cry and stomped the squirming vampire beneath him.

Across the building, the two vampires eyeing Ser Griffiths barreled towards him, only meters away. He swung his warhammer for a horizontal strike, hoping to hit both of his assailants with the same blow. The cracking of ribs confirmed that Ser Griffiths’ hammer connected with the first vampire’s torso. Simultaneously, the second vampire entered claw range, and lashed Ser Griffiths across the face. Wincing from the searing pain, Ser Griffiths continued his swing and succeeded in pushing the wounded undead into his companion. A heartbeat later an arrow whistled by Ser Griffiths’ head, passing through the spot the wounded vampire had occupied a moment earlier. Regardless, the two vampires fell to the ground in a tangled heap of leather and pale flesh. While Ser Griffiths flattened the cranium of the wounded vampire, its companion was able to disentangle itself and roll away.

Ser Griffiths then wiped away the blood seeping into his eyes and glanced at the stone building, whose former windows were sealed shut. Their preferred egress no longer an option, several more vampires scurried out of the door in front of the former paladin. One wore chainmail and the other two wore ill-fitting leather armor. Clothing aside, all four vampires eyed Ser Griffiths hungrily.

“Harold I need you over here, NOW!” the former paladin boomed over the vampires’ shrieking. “Irobu your spell is done—do something else! Swift, shoot the vampire on the left, I’ll get the one on the right!”

Finally assured her spell had succeeded, Irobu opened her eyes and took a deep breath. The stone wall she had her hand against now towered over her, and the trees in the clearing seemed to rise to staggering heights.

What in Hekal’s name…? Irobu questioned. She felt a great rumbling and clung to the stone facade. An enormous golden cloaked figure sprinted by in the gloom, madly running towards Ser Griffiths’ voice.

You’ve shrunk, Thrun informed her. To about six or seven centimeters tall. Yet another blasted mishap. Curse whatever corrupted this once great land.

Can I still cast spells like this? Irobu inquired as the clangs and howls of battle carried over from the building’s entrance.

Yes, Thrun confirmed. Don’t overdo it with the lightning bolts. You only have capacity for one more.

I’ll do what it takes to protect the rest of the squad, Irobu declared fiercely. They’re my ticket to getting rid of you. The young Sanusite dashed for the edge of the wall, a task that took her miniscule legs almost twenty seconds to complete. Peering around the corner, she did her best to observe the—now moonlit— melee unfolding far in front of her.

Ser Griffiths and Harold loomed like titans in the distance. They were several paces from the front door, in heated combat with a small throng of armored vampires. The vampires were running circles around the pair, alternating between pouncing and lashing out with their clawed hands. Arrows hurdled into the throng, occasionally downing a vampire when Swift could line up a shot amidst the fast moving brawl. Irobu had similar difficulty determining where, or even if, she should cast a lightning bolt. Nonetheless, Irobu began the incantation, and waited on an opening to utter the final word.

The vampires outnumber them three to one. Why are they circling them like that? Irobu mulled, concurrently watching for an opportunity.

They seek to replenish their numbers after this massacre, Thrun put forth. Vampires have a strong desire to reproduce, and one must begin the transition while alive.

Irobu finally saw her chance when Harold flung yet another vampire from his back. The impromptu projectile was caught by two of its sprinting brethren, who momentarily paused to set it down.

“I’ve got the thrown one!” Swift called from Irobu’s right. Irobu completed casting the lightning bolt, and pointed at the two supporting vampires. A huge flare of white light arced from Irobu’s tiny finger and lanced through the chests of the unsuspecting creatures. Fractions of a second later, an arrow thudded into the back of the thrown vampire, followed by a second and third, which prompted its collapse.

Seeing three more of their kind slain, the vampires’ shrieking raised in pitch until even Irobu’s miniscule ears ached. The diminished horde then ceased running. One pounced on each Ser Griffiths and Harold; the third got on all fours and strafed towards Swift at the edge of the clearing. Irobu raced through the lines for another lightning bolt without delay. Across the grove, the vampire charging Swift dodged the first shot from the elf’s bow. With a deafening bang, a second lightning bolt burst forth from Irobu’s hand, this time severing the vampire’s legs at the thigh. Swift ended the creature with two more arrows to the skull.

In the interim, both Ser Griffiths and Harold had dislodged their assailants, though not before they had suffered long lacerations down their backs and arms. The vampires kept lashing out viciously at the pair, while dodging swings from warhammer and club alike. Eventually however, they succumbed to the barrage of blows and arrows raining down upon them.

“Irobu! Swift! Come here! We need to clear the building!” the wounded Ser Griffiths directed. Swift slipped from between the trees and glided over the gravel that covered the glade, pausing every moment or two to extricate her arrows from the fallen vampires. Irobu began the long trek to her still enormous companions, weaving around scattered bodies. A minute passed and Irobu was still only halfway there.

“Irobu! By Buain, we need to go in there NOW! Lives are on the line!” Ser Griffiths barked while wiping the blood from his eyes.

“I’m coming,” Irobu shouted. “There was a bit of a mishap.”

The ground rumbled as Ser Griffiths strode towards her high pitched voice. He almost stomped past her, but somehow noticed the shrunken Sanusite below him. “Wha—” he began confusedly. “Never mind. I’ll ask later,” he said as he looked to the door then back to Irobu. The former paladin crouched and laid his palm flat. “Hop on, you can sit on my shoulder for now.”

The middle-aged knight then rose to his feet and placed his hand next to his shoulder. Carefully, Irobu jumped off and firmly gripped Ser Griffiths’ maille. With all the squad accounted for, Ser Griffiths returned to the wide open door. Harold and Swift stared at the diminished Sanusite perched on Ser Griffiths’ shoulder.

“It was a mishap,” Irobu offered. “A much less harmful one than the earthquake, so be grateful.”

Harold broke into laughter while Swift scoffed.

“Enough,” Ser Griffiths interjected. “Harold, take the left side when we go in and I’ll get the right. Swift, watch the forests to prevent us from being flanked. The last thing we want is to be trapped in there. Irobu, just hang on. We go in three,” he instructed in hushed tones.

Ser Griffiths held up three fingers, and Harold sprung left through the doorway with his club in hand.

“Another test of my patience,” Ser Griffiths grumbled. Shaking his head, he ceased his count and followed Harold through the doorway.

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