The Pit of Monsters
So I wrote this story for Creative Writing class, and it's set in the same world as my NaNo (Pigeontale) was. I just figured I'd post it here for the heck of it. xD Even though, ya know, I kind of hate it.
--
Ruth remembered John’s parting question: “You sure you’ll be all right?” She’d told him that it didn’t matter if she was going to be all right, because at least she would have done what she had to do. If this worked, no one would ever have to look over their shoulder wondering whether the monsters were going to attack them again.
That had been the last of her goodbyes, she thought as she walked along the dusty road to the army camp. She wasn’t going to be very far away, but she wanted to say them anyway, just in case. Her boldness when speaking to her brother had been partially assumed; this was going to be very dangerous, and she was frightened. But it was important work.
She shook her fiery red hair out of her face and looked forward again as she neared the top of the hill. Below her, she saw the makeshift town of tents that was the army camp.
Home for however long it took, she supposed.
* * *
“Who’s that?”
“Samuel Morris. He’s in charge, at least of us witches.”
“Why’s he walking like that? What’s the matter with his leg?”
“He doesn’t have one, just a wooden fake. They say a wyvern ate the real one.”
“I heard it still gives him pain.”
“I bet he’s got lots of magic, then.”
The man in question had just walked to the front of the tent where Ruth and the other witches were gathered. He looked dour and grim, with a face lined with experience (and perhaps pain). He swept his gaze over the room and everyone fell silent. When he was satisfied, he opened his mouth to speak. “We are here to act as a link in a chain of gatherings of witches, all focused on one single, important purpose: to forge a spell that will repel the monsters whose depredations reach halfway across this country, who daily drain us further, killing and injuring and hampering the lives of our people. We aim to rid this country of a scourge, soulless creatures that inflict and sometimes even prey on human misery.
“The most powerful component of this spell will be made here; it is absolutely vital that we not fail. The spell we create here will be the anchor for all the other spells involved. What we will create, we and the other witches up and down the border, will be a wall of pure energy that will not permit monsters to cross the border into our country. It will be death for them to even attempt such a crossing.
“This is our objective. If any feel that they cannot summon the proper energy - whether it is fear, anger, pain - then they may leave now. We need no half-magicked witches throwing off the spell.” He looked around the room once more, and nodded curtly. Ruth remembered to breathe. The spell he had described, if they pulled it off, would be remembered long after their deaths as a great feat of magic. “Very well. You will each be provided with descriptions of the processes that will be involved. Familiarize yourselves with them and work on gathering your energy. In three days’ time, we will begin work.”
* * *
The next day, Ruth bent over the pages she’d been given, trying to wrap her mind around the spell. It was an adaptation of a common protective spell, that much she knew, but the changes went beyond just making it larger and more powerful with the addition of extra witches. Part of it was that it also had a knot spell worked in, to tie itself to all the other spells along the border and make them one. But somehow it was meant to also simultaneously strengthen itself and the other spells, making the spell-wall uniformly impenetrable along its entire length.
“You doing okay, kiddo?”
Ruth glared up at the speaker, her train of thought derailed. The man who had spoken had salt-and-pepper hair and a kind smile. She remembered his name was Walt.
“The spell isn’t giving you trouble, is it?” he asked.
She kept glaring at him for another moment, then looked down and rubbed her forehead. “As a matter of fact, it is. I’m having a little trouble grasping what this strengthening bit is.”
“Think about it this way. You’re familiar with how pottery is fired, yes?” She nodded. “What will happen before the strengthening bit will be us working with wet clay. The strengthening bit will be the heat of the kiln.”
“Oh…it’s the trigger mechanism for the rest of the spell, isn’t it?” Ruth furrowed her brow and worked it out in her mind as she spoke. “When we start that spell, it will set in place what we asked of the first spells…but the trigger mechanism for that spell…oh, that’s what that bit with lighting the fires is for! I thought it was for the entire thing, but of course it makes sense if that’s just for the kiln spell. That is a spell for a kiln, isn’t it, just adapted?” Walt nodded. “That’s brilliant…I never thought that would work for hardening spells too!”
Walt smiled. “Of course it’s brilliant, it is Samuel Morris we’re talking about here. He’s-“ The sound of guns firing nearby and the shouts of soldiers stopped him short. “What the…?” he said, turning towards the sound.
Samuel Morris stepped into the tent, his face grim. “Has everyone fixed the idea of the spell into their heads?” There were assorted confused yeses. “It is very important that you answer. More important than trying to guess what is happening out there. I will tell you, but first you must do your duty and answer.” This time, there was a loud chorus of yeses. “Monsters are attacking this camp in force. It seems as if they are being guided by someone…perhaps one of the greater fey, or perhaps even a witch. The soldiers will hold them off for a time, but we must get the spell in place before they fail. The other groups of witches have already been alerted and they will start early as well. Now, let’s go!”
* * *
They stood in a great circle, clasping hands. Ruth reached inside herself and concentrated on today’s fear, that the monsters would break through the soldiers before they were done, along with remembered fear from monster attacks in the past. She felt her heart pounding, sweat dripping down her face, that feeling like someone had punched her in the stomach. She gathered that fear and pushed it out of herself, into the air around her, and felt it mingling with the other energies in the center of the circle. She could suddenly feel everyone else with some not-quite-sense, their hearts beating alongside her own. As one, they focused on the spells, molding the malleable energy in the center of the circle until they had what they needed. They drew in a breath together, and suddenly Ruth clutched her side, feeling a phantom pain there. People gasped and cried out around the circle, but only one screamed: one of them had been attacked by a monster. The witches lost their focus on the spell, turning to help their comrade, but it was too late. He lay dead, and the great black…thing that had killed him launched itself at someone else. It let out a long, eerie ululation as it leaped, and several other monsters plunged into the fray. Ruth saw a cat-sized dragon out of the corner of her eye as it jumped, and then she felt it bury its needle-length teeth into her arm. White-hot pain shot up her arm, and she nearly retched. There was something sick about its bite, as if she could feel it poisoning her. Dimly she heard Morris shout, “Focus on the spell! Use your pain if you must!” and she remembered the gossip about Morris using the pain of his lost leg in his magic.
The dragonet released her and sprang away, and she collapsed to the ground and concentrated with every scrap of will in her body on the spell. She was abruptly thrust back into the hyper-awareness of the others, her pain compounded by theirs, and she poured all of that feeling into the spell. She was no long aware of anything outside the spell; she felt the clinching of the protection and knot spells as they began work on the kiln spell. The very air seemed to become solid for a moment, and Ruth gasped for breath, thrown out of the spell momentarily. Again she forced herself into it, and she felt the spell slowly hardening. A percussion rang through her, like the sudden clang of a great bell, and then there was nothing.
* * *
Ruth woke to bright light and hushed voices. She stared up at the ceiling of the tent she lay in, wondering vaguely why she thought there was something she should be worried about. And then she remembered.
“Did we do it?” She frowned; she had meant to say that louder, and to bolt upright when she did. Apparently her body was not having that.
“Calm down, kiddo.” Walt leaned over her, smiling. “The border spell’s up and as powerful as we expected. A feat well accomplished."
--
Ruth remembered John’s parting question: “You sure you’ll be all right?” She’d told him that it didn’t matter if she was going to be all right, because at least she would have done what she had to do. If this worked, no one would ever have to look over their shoulder wondering whether the monsters were going to attack them again.
That had been the last of her goodbyes, she thought as she walked along the dusty road to the army camp. She wasn’t going to be very far away, but she wanted to say them anyway, just in case. Her boldness when speaking to her brother had been partially assumed; this was going to be very dangerous, and she was frightened. But it was important work.
She shook her fiery red hair out of her face and looked forward again as she neared the top of the hill. Below her, she saw the makeshift town of tents that was the army camp.
Home for however long it took, she supposed.
* * *
“Who’s that?”
“Samuel Morris. He’s in charge, at least of us witches.”
“Why’s he walking like that? What’s the matter with his leg?”
“He doesn’t have one, just a wooden fake. They say a wyvern ate the real one.”
“I heard it still gives him pain.”
“I bet he’s got lots of magic, then.”
The man in question had just walked to the front of the tent where Ruth and the other witches were gathered. He looked dour and grim, with a face lined with experience (and perhaps pain). He swept his gaze over the room and everyone fell silent. When he was satisfied, he opened his mouth to speak. “We are here to act as a link in a chain of gatherings of witches, all focused on one single, important purpose: to forge a spell that will repel the monsters whose depredations reach halfway across this country, who daily drain us further, killing and injuring and hampering the lives of our people. We aim to rid this country of a scourge, soulless creatures that inflict and sometimes even prey on human misery.
“The most powerful component of this spell will be made here; it is absolutely vital that we not fail. The spell we create here will be the anchor for all the other spells involved. What we will create, we and the other witches up and down the border, will be a wall of pure energy that will not permit monsters to cross the border into our country. It will be death for them to even attempt such a crossing.
“This is our objective. If any feel that they cannot summon the proper energy - whether it is fear, anger, pain - then they may leave now. We need no half-magicked witches throwing off the spell.” He looked around the room once more, and nodded curtly. Ruth remembered to breathe. The spell he had described, if they pulled it off, would be remembered long after their deaths as a great feat of magic. “Very well. You will each be provided with descriptions of the processes that will be involved. Familiarize yourselves with them and work on gathering your energy. In three days’ time, we will begin work.”
* * *
The next day, Ruth bent over the pages she’d been given, trying to wrap her mind around the spell. It was an adaptation of a common protective spell, that much she knew, but the changes went beyond just making it larger and more powerful with the addition of extra witches. Part of it was that it also had a knot spell worked in, to tie itself to all the other spells along the border and make them one. But somehow it was meant to also simultaneously strengthen itself and the other spells, making the spell-wall uniformly impenetrable along its entire length.
“You doing okay, kiddo?”
Ruth glared up at the speaker, her train of thought derailed. The man who had spoken had salt-and-pepper hair and a kind smile. She remembered his name was Walt.
“The spell isn’t giving you trouble, is it?” he asked.
She kept glaring at him for another moment, then looked down and rubbed her forehead. “As a matter of fact, it is. I’m having a little trouble grasping what this strengthening bit is.”
“Think about it this way. You’re familiar with how pottery is fired, yes?” She nodded. “What will happen before the strengthening bit will be us working with wet clay. The strengthening bit will be the heat of the kiln.”
“Oh…it’s the trigger mechanism for the rest of the spell, isn’t it?” Ruth furrowed her brow and worked it out in her mind as she spoke. “When we start that spell, it will set in place what we asked of the first spells…but the trigger mechanism for that spell…oh, that’s what that bit with lighting the fires is for! I thought it was for the entire thing, but of course it makes sense if that’s just for the kiln spell. That is a spell for a kiln, isn’t it, just adapted?” Walt nodded. “That’s brilliant…I never thought that would work for hardening spells too!”
Walt smiled. “Of course it’s brilliant, it is Samuel Morris we’re talking about here. He’s-“ The sound of guns firing nearby and the shouts of soldiers stopped him short. “What the…?” he said, turning towards the sound.
Samuel Morris stepped into the tent, his face grim. “Has everyone fixed the idea of the spell into their heads?” There were assorted confused yeses. “It is very important that you answer. More important than trying to guess what is happening out there. I will tell you, but first you must do your duty and answer.” This time, there was a loud chorus of yeses. “Monsters are attacking this camp in force. It seems as if they are being guided by someone…perhaps one of the greater fey, or perhaps even a witch. The soldiers will hold them off for a time, but we must get the spell in place before they fail. The other groups of witches have already been alerted and they will start early as well. Now, let’s go!”
* * *
They stood in a great circle, clasping hands. Ruth reached inside herself and concentrated on today’s fear, that the monsters would break through the soldiers before they were done, along with remembered fear from monster attacks in the past. She felt her heart pounding, sweat dripping down her face, that feeling like someone had punched her in the stomach. She gathered that fear and pushed it out of herself, into the air around her, and felt it mingling with the other energies in the center of the circle. She could suddenly feel everyone else with some not-quite-sense, their hearts beating alongside her own. As one, they focused on the spells, molding the malleable energy in the center of the circle until they had what they needed. They drew in a breath together, and suddenly Ruth clutched her side, feeling a phantom pain there. People gasped and cried out around the circle, but only one screamed: one of them had been attacked by a monster. The witches lost their focus on the spell, turning to help their comrade, but it was too late. He lay dead, and the great black…thing that had killed him launched itself at someone else. It let out a long, eerie ululation as it leaped, and several other monsters plunged into the fray. Ruth saw a cat-sized dragon out of the corner of her eye as it jumped, and then she felt it bury its needle-length teeth into her arm. White-hot pain shot up her arm, and she nearly retched. There was something sick about its bite, as if she could feel it poisoning her. Dimly she heard Morris shout, “Focus on the spell! Use your pain if you must!” and she remembered the gossip about Morris using the pain of his lost leg in his magic.
The dragonet released her and sprang away, and she collapsed to the ground and concentrated with every scrap of will in her body on the spell. She was abruptly thrust back into the hyper-awareness of the others, her pain compounded by theirs, and she poured all of that feeling into the spell. She was no long aware of anything outside the spell; she felt the clinching of the protection and knot spells as they began work on the kiln spell. The very air seemed to become solid for a moment, and Ruth gasped for breath, thrown out of the spell momentarily. Again she forced herself into it, and she felt the spell slowly hardening. A percussion rang through her, like the sudden clang of a great bell, and then there was nothing.
* * *
Ruth woke to bright light and hushed voices. She stared up at the ceiling of the tent she lay in, wondering vaguely why she thought there was something she should be worried about. And then she remembered.
“Did we do it?” She frowned; she had meant to say that louder, and to bolt upright when she did. Apparently her body was not having that.
“Calm down, kiddo.” Walt leaned over her, smiling. “The border spell’s up and as powerful as we expected. A feat well accomplished."