The Scepter of Namiss (The Books of Braenyn 1) Page 4

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  It was nearly two months before Braenyn was able to find a way out of Redfern Forest. It was truly a world of its own with seemingly no end. But according to the map he was nearly through it and on the other side an oasis awaited him. He was looking forward to that. Practically living in the forest posed quite a challenge and was a bit confining.

  Every trail looked the same. The trees closed in on him. Food was scarce and there was not a single friendly face to be found. No other contact aside from the dangerous animals and foes that crossed his path. The days were lost to him as one melted into the other. The sun and moon rose but their energy escaped him. Strange sounds haunted him. Phantom scents teased him but Braenyn remained steadfast.

  He was on the last leg of his trip through Redfern and it became apparent that he was almost out as the final part of the forest came into view.

  The map said he’d travel through the hunting grounds of the Netherling, creatures half in and half out of this world. It was said they existed both in this world and the abyss. They were horrid abominations filled with decay and shadow. Feeding both on the living and the dead with voracious and insatiable appetites. Only the Gods knew where the creatures really came from.

  This was the thickest part of the forest, towering black trees choked out every bit of sunlight allowing no luminance. A dense wall of palpable darkness permeated everything. Shadows moved between the trees.

  Lost voices whispered hauntingly among the branches.

  It was cold here.

  The ground beneath his feet felt soft and damp. There was something rancid in the air and it tasted bitter as Braenyn drew in his breath.

  He took no chances and immediately grabbed his sword.

  His heartbeat fluttered and his pulse raced as he started through the dense trees and overgrown brush. If there was anything to fear in the forest it was the Netherling.

  He cursed the map for forcing him through the most reviled and dangerous areas.

  Braenyn felt eyes on him but continued to move forward. Footsteps echoed around him causing him to pause. He turned his head around and found nothing.

  Suddenly footsteps resounded in front of him now. He jerked his head around and still nothing greeted him but there was no denying a presence was with him.

  Something cold and wet struck his cheek. He wiped his fingers across his face and saw them coated in crimson. His gaze swept slowly up and there in the trees he saw the skins of the dead. Pale sheets stretched over monstrous tree branches, soaked in blood they wavered in a foul breeze that rolled past. Human, elf, goblin, shape-shifter, trow, their desiccated shells proved that none were spared.

  A form moved among the remains. It leapt from tree to tree, illusive, fleeting, a shade, a specter among treetop graves.

  The footsteps circled all around him now, Braenyn now realizing they came from above. He crouched, brandished his sword and waited, his eyes locked above.

  They were here…

  Whistling calls reverberated in the air. Movement fluttered among the gloom-filled branches and suddenly they hurled down toward him.

  Braenyn sailed onto his back and rolled out of the way of their oncoming attacks. He gained his footing and sneered at three foul creatures standing before him.

  Their faces were misshapen, noses like snouts, baldheads and skin that was pale, almost colorless. Their tall, thin bodies were gaunt appearing malnourished with bulging ribcages but these beings were far from starving. They contained a gluttony that knew no bounds, an insatiable appetite for anything living or dead. The Netherling had been seen pillaging tombs and eating corpses as well as raiding villages for children.

  Their deep sunk, feral yellow eyes scanned him up and down before settling on him as new quarry. Slowly they moved towards him, taking small steps while Braenyn noticed their flesh rippled and changed, appearing cracked like the bark of withered trees.

  Suddenly he was having trouble getting a fix on them, his eyes losing them as they almost blended in with the trees around them. “A curse on thee for ravaging the forest!” He cried, a deep seeded hatred for any who defiled the natural beauty of the world.

  He swung his sword hard in a sweeping arc as the three scattered out of his reach. The elf charged onward, locating them again to his left and lifted his sword high when a hand grabbed hold of his arm. He looked over his shoulder to see a fourth Netherling rise out of the nearby ground. Its skin was the appearance of dead leaves, a camouflage to execute attacks.

  It twisted the elf’s arm with spindly fingers and hurled him through the air. Braenyn hit the ground hard, his sword slipping from his grip. He looked up to see the Netherling standing over him with a bone in its hand. It sucked the last chunk of rancid flesh off it and then used it as a weapon to attack him

  Braenyn caught the creature with his boot as it came rushing towards him and pushed it away before flipping to his feet and retrieving his sword.

  The other Netherling hissed at him and attacked. Sweat already dampened his face and with a battle cry he swung hard in a wide arc…

  The sword cut right through the first Netherling to face him, severing its body in half. Yellow innards and blood tumbled to the forest ground as the two halves flopped about like dying fish. Braenyn had never seen anything like it. His mouth hung agape as vermin crawled from inside the body.

  The other Netherling took advantage of his distraction and grabbed hold of him. One tossed him to the ground as the other kicked him in the ribs. The third stole his sword from his hands as he buckled in pain. Gasping for breath he struggled to get to his knees but they pulled him up again.

  He soared helplessly through the air again and hit a wide tree trunk. A snap filled his ears and his spine jumbled. The searing pain shot through him like a burning flame. He fell onto his belly and panted. Their short, whistling calls resounded all around as they closed in on him.

  His sword was in the ground and out of his reach but he knew if there was any hope of surviving this fight he needed it back. He called upon his magical training once more, reciting words as his eyes glowed.

  Gusts of powerful winds blew through the forest. Mighty trees bowed in roaring wind. Braenyn grabbed hold of the tree against him and repeated his words. Leaves whipped past as branches clattered like bones.

  The Netherling, caught in ferocious currents, were thrown into the distance. One smashed into a tree and its flesh morphed into its texture and color, appearing to vanish before Braenyn’s eyes.

  Braenyn climbed to his feet as the wind died and fetched his sword. He detected movement in the branches high above him. The tree trunk on his right rippled and he swung hard. His sword beheaded a Netherling. Its head rolled to the ground and the body returned to its pale, sickly color.

  He pulled his sword from the tree and looked up. The movement above dwindled and quiet returned to the area. Whistling calls could be heard in the far distance but for now he surmised they’d backed off. With eyes glued above, he pushed through the last refuges of the forest and basked in the sunlight that greeted him.

  He smiled at the rolling green hills that awaited him, the lakes flowing with precious water and the lakeside town known as Oasis.