#acrowamongsparrows

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 1 - Hypnotic/Star

Hammer blow after hammer blow resounded throughout the smithy ringing in the new work day as the cock coaxed the sun from it's sleep. Night had yet to fully depart as the sky was quickly winking out the tapestry of stars from it's blanket of lightening purple. Yet even as the night had come to a close the forge had already been brought back to life despite what slow burning embers had been left to keep it from cooling, it's raging flames billowing and burning to heat the crucible. The acrid stench of coal and wood burning would mix with the ozone of melting iron followed by the heavy pounding of the blacksmith's weapon of choice for shaping his works. Was it swords for a king? A helmet for the local knight? Or was it just one of the many horseshoes for a cart horse to make it to market?

In the hamlet of Markhor, one could be so lucky as to even own a horse and that was how Eld liked it.

Eld of Kovir or as he was known these days Candell, was not one to be considered a powerful looking man. Most smiths looked barrel chested, bald, and with arms like tree trunks to match the shoulders that bore the metals of their trade. Candell was not of the usual type. Surely he had the strength in his shoulders and back, but despite his heavy work over the last 11 years in the hamlet he appeared to only have gotten leaner and more wiry. Tight of shoulder and hard of back, the man worked like the devil for his craft despite it's mundane purpose of shoeing beats, repairing tools, and occasionally the odd or end needed by one of the villagers. His hands though were another story.

Powerful, thick, and uncannily dexterous for a man who swung a hammer for most of the day and played in fire. Strong enough to bend metal with a natural way speed and skill in near always striking true as he bent iron as necessary. Bent was a lame way to describe it, Candell guided the metal to it's true forms. A horse shoe, A scythe blade. Once there had been call for a new gate that by the end looked fit for a manor more than a field guard. Markhor was lucky to have him as much as he would beg to differ.

He was lucky to have it.

There had been rumors of trouble following the middle aged blacksmith despite the mediocre life he appeared to lead. But people noticed. As simple as they lived, they were not stupid. The supposed higher echelon of folk or better as they liked to think of themselves always perceived those who lived small as dumb or backwards. Really they should remember them as practical, hardy, and stubborn. Who else would be brave enough to live int he frontier and raise a family or crop. One could easily find as much fortune among the social hierarchy as they could in lining their pockets with flax, tubers, or coal. Someone could start over in the northlands near the Targo.

Someone could disappear.

Disappear was what Eld of Kovir had planned for and had nearly succeeded in. But things never always went as planned or wanted. Trouble seemed to always follow those that want to be left alone and then they had to redouble their efforts to remain in plain sight. A blind eye and slumped shoulders could be as much a shield as it could be a mark of shame.

A heavy sigh would issue forth as the a finale of to the hypnotic blows rebounded against the walls of the humble workplace. Hammer tossed aside with a clank to the ground as Candell gingerly took a step back before collapsing down onto the stool he kept near the anvil. Matching breaths to his sigh would follow as he sat giving his body the well deserved rest it needed after the series of blows, his hands resting on his knees before reaching over to massage his aching leg. It wasn't a new pain but it was a constant that he'd lived with forever and half. He hated it as much as it reminded him of his mortality and the hubris of remembering he was human. Sort of.

The yellow pupils were a dead give away of his other-worldliness. It wasn't the wasn't from the Continent or this world, it was just that he wasn't mean to really be alive. Not after the rigors he had been subjected too. That child should have died in those days. Poetically though he had died a hundred times over during his time among the 'grasses'. Eld had been a man who created nightmares as much as he faced them in the dark, but some dark memories can never be shaken by time or trial. He would always hear those moans. They were as much his as they were his fellows, only he was still here.

Sitting back again on his stool, the blacksmith would lean his head back to breath gently through his nose to calm his heart and breath. Old techniques for ordinary tasks. 11 years of exile and it still did not feel like enough.

It might never be enough.

A heavy series of thumps to his door brought the smith back to reality. His eyes lifting to the door and noticeable lack of sunlight that should be breaking through the cracks of the old wooden door. Suspicion sobered him quickly as he grimaced and got to his feet with as least amount of grunting he could muster. Standing shakily a moment would remind him to reach over to his crude cane that he'd made a few years back. There were other options to help with his motion but the true mission was always to keep questions at a minimum.

Clearing his throat with a cough, Candell would grip his cane tight and call out to the door. "We're closed. Come back after the eight bell."

A repeat of the initial heavy thumps was his only reply, causing the grimace to grow deeper as the smith planned his next move. Clearing his throat again, Candell's voice would raise as he yelled at the door again. "I said I'm closed till later int he morning. You'll have to wait."

The door quaked and shook from it's hinges as the thumps came again. Suspicion had now fled int he face of peril which meant was the time of action as he checked the cane, noting the heavy iron ball that worked as it's handle. Multi-function for everyday tools was a must in being a skilled smith and seller. The smith began the march to the door, each step painful but pushed aside as previous lessons kicked in on instinct more than need.

"I'm coming," Candell called again as approached the portal to the outside of his shop. Eventually reaching within the cane's distance to the door, he would come to a halt and reach forward with the end of his cane to swipe up the heavy latch that held his door locked. It was all done as practiced as ever as he let the cane slide back through his loose palm before gripping it tightly by the shaft. Eyes locked to the door as his free hand began to gently twist the fingers into an odd position to the common man but well known to those of his past.

"It's open," the smith did not call out this time, his voice even and flat as he spoke the simple phrase. It was all that was needed as the door handle clinked and pulled to push in.

The free hand went limp as Candell both relaxed and grimaced at the same time. "The hour is early and Duncan Waycrest comes to my door."

Filling the door with broad shoulders and face thick with a well groomed beard stood the the least seen man in all of Kovir. Perhaps even all of the Continent. But how he was seen here was a very curious sight for the smith as Waycrest was not one to wear his emotions like a lovelorn farm-girl. There was fear. An unsettling drop in Candell's stomach happened seeing his friend's stricken face. Vampires should not be afraid.

"Duncan?"

The door was closed quickly behind Waycrest pulling he hook again to lock the door once more. With his back to Candell and Duncan leaned his head into the old planks of the door, knocking softly with his forehead. "Eld I'm sorry. Truly I am."

Duncan shift about to face his friend, his hazel eyes shifting to the cane and then back to Candell's yellow. "Were you going to hit me?"

Candell dropped the cane to his side as he leaned his weight on the stick, forgoing it's previous planned life as a weapon. "Duncan, what are you doing here? What is wrong?"

Teeth would pull back to chew on his upper lips softly as Duncan spoke again. "Maybe we should sit down."

"Maybe you should spit it out already. You've already broken your vow by coming here."

"I know," a wince clear on the man's face as he rubbed his hands together. "But I had to. I had to find you before."

"Before what?"

Duncan Waycrest sighed softly and reached into the folds of his robes, drawing out a parchment. "The boys brought it to me. They said they were going to go after and see what was going on."

Eld hobbled closer to the vampire, his dragging his right leg along with a soft wince each step that made the other do the same as he watched. Taking the parchment with a suspicion plastered to his face, Candell would look to the paper and find the original drop in his stomach going further.

"Eld it's back."

Eld of Kovir locked eyes with the vampire as Duncan spoke softly again. "And it's worse."

@daily-writing-challenge

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 2 - Cage/Power

Eld's eyes blinked wearily as he looked ahead along the muddy road into Yamurlak. It had been a long two weeks of travel from the village and as much as he wished he had his doubts that it would get any easier. The wagon rocked uneasily as mud splashed up around the wheels as he did his best to adjust himself on the driver seat, each jostle causing his leg to send pins and needles throughout. His jaw was beginning to ache as much as twisted thing from how much he had gritted his teeth. It would be a wonder if he didn't need to visit a barber when they reached the city.

Jamurlak.

Dark and gloomy with a past of vicious lords who found great pleasure in the torture of all manner of smallfolk. Judging from the fields of flax and grain one would think it to be prosperous just as it's sister state to the south Redania. But the pox left by the old kings had left such a blighted presence over the land it was more mercy when Radovid finally took it. A shame they never gave it the attention it needed. But such blind sighting did work in favor of others, some good and a lot bad.

"I never thought I'd come back here," murmured Duncan from behind him. Eld had gotten used to the vampire being as silent as he was and skulking despite his lack of predatory habits, which in itself was probably good for many people. Himself included.

Eld gave a soft nod as he held the reins loosely, an absent lick of the leather straps to keep the plodding beasts hooked to their wagon on their already ingrained direction. "It is definitely not in my mind to ever return either."

A strong hand would gently grip his shoulder and squeeze. "I'm sorry my friend. But, I didn't know what else to do."

The witcher would turn his head slightly and nod to the man behind him, reaching up to pat gently back. "I know."

~

Candell looked over the parchment for a third time, his palm rubbing absently at his chin as he reread the words again and again. The pair of old friend sat in the now quiet forge, the once roaring flames still hot but now crackling with sleeping embers.

'By decree of the Alderman Stok the south quarter of Jamurlak is hereby placed under military quarantine until further notice. Under no circumstance is any plant or vegetable to be removed from the burgh bearing maximum penalty to status or life. Further instruction will be provided soon.'

The blacksmith gently folded the paper and unfolded it a few times as he read the words again. They were short and vague but held a similar meaning to him from those many years ago. "And why do you think this is like before with the archespore? Quarantines happen for all sorts of reason. Plague is my better guess."

Duncan frowned and rubbed his hands again before reaching into his robe again to draw out a folded piece of leather. How the vampire was always about pulling what he needed from those ratty things Candell would never understand. Or question.

"I received this with the parchment from a traveler near the keep," Duncan explained quietly as his friend unfolded the leather to discover it's contents. "It was from Alfred."

Candell stared at the contents as a cold shiver tightened about his spine. A small yellowed pustule lay in the leather, dried and dead but recognizable from the time in the sewers. He could still smell them, foul and rank as that of a bloated corpse that had cursed those fetid tunnels. There had been hundreds of them then coating the stone in vine and root as they writhed in search of prey to feed their vengeful hunger. Or in this case, provoked vengeance.

'The earth shall rise again. We are the eaters of the dead. Now the living shall be supped. See how my flowers bloom.'

His eyes closed softly as the hag's broken monologue burned bright again in his waking nightmare. How those flowers had bloomed.

A shaky breath came and went as the smith closed the leather again. "What does it have to do with me?"

Duncan tilted his head looking at him confused. "What do you mean? You know what it is. It's grown back."

"And?"

A tilt of impatience came to the usual calm demeanor of the vampire. "And? They're at the city Eld. Janus. Alfred. They're there dealing with this or trying to. Hell. I hope they're alright."

"Since when did you care so much for the Klaudins?"

"Since when did you not?" Duncan shot back with an icy venom. Candell did his best to not flinch as he looked down once more. "I'm sorry Eld. But you can't hide here. Not right now. I know that you're worried about what will happen."

A short shake of Candell's head as he felt an ache in his hip from sitting to long. Duncan came to kneel down in front of the other man, his rough soldier's hands coming to hold onto his as he looked at him. The vampire for all his melancholy and usual stoicism was still always able to show a sincerity that the world sorely missed. "My friend, this is not your life. You are not a smith."

"I'm not a hero."

Duncan smiled with that sadness that he wore as easily as his robe. "No one needs you to be. We just need you to be yourself."

A gentle squeeze was given to his hands. "And as sad as it is for me to remind you, you are a witcher."

Candell's shoulder would droop as he took in a deep breath in and out. "I don't know."

"I do. And you can." The vampire would release him and gently grasp him by the shoulders. "I believe in you. They believe in you. Now it's your turn, Eldridge of Kovir."

~

They had left shortly thereafter, Duncan ever prepared had already packed the case he'd left a decade ago. It smell horrible. Just like how he felt. But the brace still fit. The bolts were still silver and bright. And his steel was still sharp to match the silver pommel of the griffin head that adorned his medallion. The forge went cold for the first time in 11 years.

The trail burned hot.

By cart they traveled for days south toward Lan Exeter, Duncan taking the brunt of the driving as Eld began to reacquaint himself with himself. The leg brace was nothing fancy but it was a marvel none the less. Originally forged by the mages to give him some ease in his studies within the Seren, time had worked as an ally for the clever survivor who took it upon himself to improve the design. Metal much like his sword was shaped and guided to fit his leg snugly while tight oiled leathers would grip him to support his weight in his step. It still made an eerie creaking noise when he stepped to fast but at least it kept him moving when before he would struggle with a crutch. A decade without it meant having to learn how to step lively again.

From Lan Exeter would be the first ship to Point Vanis and some direly needed new attire as well as supplies for them both. The north was hard enough if not so much on your clothes and heading south from the mountains meant a light brand of dress. Thankfully despite a poor smith's coin purse, a reluctant witcher had left a sizeable nest egg among his laid to rest equipment. The sea venture was comfortable as a sea voyage could be for a lame human and his apparently sea salted companion. Despite the incoming danger of the south, time had apparently changed nothing for the friends as they fell into the old rhythms of nostalgia, wine, and philosophy as they had shared during the downtimes within the old Griffin school.

Landing in the farming town of Blaviken had been hard as storm rocked the coast and forced them to stay in the a humble in for a few days. The rainy season always put this part of the country at a standstill when it got like this. Eld had mused that perhaps the world was trying to deter him from rejoining it. Duncan was not amused.

Two weeks of travel south had taken them to the road now east, hope and determination writ on their faces as their rented covered wagon slogged muddy roads toward the ancient capital of old Yamurlak, Jamurlak.

Now Eld could spy ahead through grey mists and low clouds the old battlements of the castle city, the mixture of grey smoke of those within added to the imagination of birthing the weather above. The witcher frowned heavily as he pulled his hood up over his head, feeling the spattering of an oncoming drizzle to them.

"Here we go again."

@daily-writing-challenge

[acrowamongsparrows]

The Return of the Archefire

And so the witcher, Eldridge of Kovir, returned to a story of his past to right a wrong that haunted his present and set in motion his future.

A compiled post for the Daily Writing Challenge: February 2025.

I opted to revisit an old blog and old characters that I didn't think I would ever again. But thanks to some prompting by friends and a renewed interest in the world (audio books, new game, music, etc), I slipped right back into that creaky step.

I've created a master post to ease of reading and enjoy the little extra epilogue I tried to use to cap off the event.

The Return of the Archefire

Day 1 - Hypnotic/Star

Day 2 - Cage/Power

Day 3 - Suspicious/Salutation

Day 4 - Salty/Euphoria

Day 5 - Undersea/Navigate

Day 6 - Annoy/Holiday

Day 7(1) - Rage

Day 7(2) - Loyalty

Day 8 - Epilogue

Special thanks again to @daily-writing-challenge for hosting the writing event and for the inspiring list this year.

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 6 - Annoy/Holiday

Orange and yellow light flickered silent against cobbled walls around them as the four men rounded another corner of the labyrinth that lay beneath Jamurlak. The city was ancient, built who knew how many years before, and it could have been assumed that the city had been built on top of another entirely. There was an old joke about a king who built a castle three times. The first one sank, so he built another one. The second sank as well, so he built a third. It burned down. But the fourth one stayed up. Try and try again.

"And so that's how they go the Cintra's strongest castle," Janus chuckled as he ducked his head down to avoid what could only be assumed was moss on the ceiling. His hand was held in front of him with the lantern lighting the backsides of the men in front of him. No one else laughed with the bard. "Oh come on now, it's a funny story."

"No it's not," muttered Alfred, a long knife held in one hand as he crept along ahead of his brother. "It wasn't funny the first time and it's not funny now."

"Well 'Wally', I think we're all well aware of your sense of humor or lack thereof," Janus made a face at his brother's back as he stalked along. "Why am I in the back anyway?"

"Cause we all know how you do in a fight," the younger brother snarled quietly back at him, annoyance clear in his tone.

Janus could only make another face and mimic his brother with no real barb to throw back. He knew how was with swords or knives. Crossbow was his best bet, unless it was a full moon and they were crazy, it was best for him to handle the lantern. At least for some.

Ahead of Alfred in the line was Eld, his creaking step muffled by a wrapped cloak causing him some difficulty in his gait but at least kept him quiet. The cloak was the least of all their worries as the four of them were wrapped from head to toe with whatever clothing they had to keep their exposure to the minimum. As Eld had explained to them all, the sap of the spores was terribly corrosive to flesh as he made for them all to see by the black scarring along his neck. All it took was one bauble of the flowers and it would go downhill fast. To help with keeping the creature at bay they had doused all their clothing heavily in vinegar causing quiet a stench at first before they entered the sewer and were mildly grateful for the sour note that clung to them now.

The witcher did his best to ignore the men behind them, their banter back and forth reminding him why he always viewed them as the same boys who nearly burned down the west tower at Kaer Seren. Pushing each other's buttons as much as they could until one or the other broke. It was very clear who was still always the victor in the 'game'. There was a song pang in his heart for those years and a missing for Gregor and Mina Klaudin. He would have relished in seeing the boy's mother giving each a thrashing as Gregor would follow his wife's hand with a cuff of his own. Boys will be boys was not in the Vistani family's dynamic. Respect and responsibility was their way.

A bit of wet moss caught the older man's step as Eld felt his footing give to send him pitching forward onto the walkway they traveled above the thankfully dried out canal. Hands braced to catch himself Eld found the floor stopping it's approach as a strong arm caught him and propped him up. Duncan looked to him with his eerie glowing eyes, his face grim but also bearing concern for his friend. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you. I just caught a bit of this overgrowth," Eld replied, keeping his voice to a whisper to hide his embarrassment. Duncan kept a steady gaze on him for a few moments longer before nodding and propping him back up on his feet. The vampire looked like a shadow of his usual self. The old robes he usually melted into were gone replaced by dark trousers, vest, and hood making the man look nothing like the monk he usually portrayed. Thin limbs and body belied a creature of supernatural grace and strength. Not to mention constitution as he walked barefoot now down these tunnels, advising he could keep a better grip without footwear as he lead them down into the depths. The three others had been shocked how little Duncan cared for himself but Eld knew in his heart there was hardly anything that could hurt the vampire down here.

Waycrest's concern was for his friends as always.

Naked steel shone shimmered in Duncan's left hand, a gladius that looked more ancient that the city they wandered the depths of. Eld had seen it a few times and had been curious of it's make but Waycrest never offered it for more than a brief inspection when he had it. One got the feeling that the vampire hated it being out and especially hated holding it. The past always complicating the present.

The travel was slow but the memories were swift as Eld kept a hand against the wall to steady himself as he kept a brave face. The people of Markhor had been whispering as they borrowed the cart from Cuthbert to head south for the initial journey. Candell on holiday. Holiday was a foreign word to the people of the village as the idea of going somewhere for no reason was a ludicrous notion, especially for the private smith just outside the village. Eld supposed they liked him enough but an odd one in a hamlet usually lead to a lonely life. The first years were fine as he lived in fear of the consequences of being found or his 'family' being found, but those later years just lead to far to much introspection. One could go mad in such a routine and maybe he had gone slightly.

"We're here," Duncan whispered over his shoulder and stepped into the antechamber that was the crossroad.

The room was wide and held more than just cobblestone as Janus widened the shutters and lifted the lantern higher to alight the room. It was built much like the tunnel they had been traveling from but opened into three other tunnels for what could only be the cardinal directions or the very least right and left tunnels. As much as the chamber was like the tunnel they had traveled the black tendrils of vines and still bodies of flowers above them reminded them of why they were really here.

The archespore were horrid in tales and even worse in person. Bulbous wide roots cork screwed from the walls and ceiling, the skin of the plants a deep mixture of the color of manure and the sick of a rotting dog. The smell matched as well from the fetid clouds that drifted from the heads of the dreadful plants. Crimson crowns opened and closed like the gasping breath of a sick child as bits of tendrils bearing the same amber baubles that Alfred had described of the fateful end of the patrons of the Silver Lady. Heavy was the head that bore the crown and the red maws did little to disguise the puckering bulb within as those same tendrils that hung their bells also licked the sickly air.

'Oh gods they're here Eld where do we go?'

"Uncle?" Alfred asked as he gently touched Eld on the elbow causing the witcher to snap back with more than just reality.

"What?"

The younger Klaudin looked as if he'd been struck by the tone the older man had given in his sudden response. Eyes downcast with a cough the mustachioed man would do his best to face the yellow gaze of Eldridge. "I was just asking, which way should we go?"

Eld stood quiet a moment, feeling the release of the venom of his voice and regretting it instantly. The eyes of his other companions could be felt just the same for his harsh word to Alfred as he grimaced hard deciding as ever to push onward. "Right was the way to the hag. We go that way first."

"Together?"

Eld was already limping his way toward the right tunnel, his hands flexing and releasing as at his sides. The Klaudins looked to Duncan, hoping for some kind of guidance or advice with the way their godfather was behaving. The vampire could only shake his head softly as he followed up to reach the witcher as they delved back into the pit of the catalyst.

"I got a bad feeling about this," Janus murmured softly as he looked up at the flowers in the ceiling undulating in their fixed positions.

Alfred frowned as well but motioned with his knife toward the tunnel. "Take up after them, I'll be right behind you."

"Don't trust them," the bard quipped as he motioned up to the ceiling.

"Do you?"

Janus smiled sardonically before he shrugged and jogged after the older companions. Alfred gave a final looked up above and followed into a darker memory.

@daily-writing-challenge

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 4 - Salty/Euphoria

A break in the rain this time of year was a blessing as well quite an omen in Jamurlak, for the three men who stood under the hanging sign of the Bat it was marked as a blessing. High above them the clouds had shifted to reveal a short break in the veil of clouds that swallowed the city showing the shining stars and a bright moon beside brightening the cobbled streets as if it's opposite in the day. The creak of the brace echoed the quiet alleys as they gathered to conspire nearby under an old awning, the dull choir of drunks and peasants following them to the drone of the hurdy gurdy.

"I can't believe you came," Alfred murmured again as he began to fish out his pipe and pack it. There was a mild frown on the witcher's face as he watched his nephew fill and draw with far to much absent skill. Eld wasn't sure if it was the fact of smoking or that the boy was now more of a man than he'd been when last they'd talked three years ago. Time waits for no one.

A bit of straw in a low lamp was burning bright as Alfred dipped into the clay bowl, slowly drifting smoke rising about his face as he got it well on it's way. The embers finally lit red and orange there was a quick wave and soft hiss as the straw was dropped into the wet stone below. Alfred sucked on it a moment or two before offering it to the two older men. Both politely raised hands to refuse, glad for the cover of darkness to hide their looks of discomfort.

Despite the dark, Alfred could feel it as he coughed a bit and took a step back to give some room from the smoke. "Sorry, it's kind of a nervous habit."

"Since when did you take to being nervous?" Duncan peered after the younger man, his eyes bright and shining in the moonlight. Night or day mattered little to the vampire's gaze.

"Since I sent you that message," Klaudin replied as he chewed on his pipe. "I didn't want to, but Janus thought it better we try to involve Uncle here."

"You didn't think I'd come?"

Eld and Alfred both looked to the vampire with the same incredulous look.

"Oh to hell with you both," the vampire snapped with a certain level of salt that would have sent Janus howling if he wasn't so busy inside. A shared smile between the warriors was enough as they let the situation's dire circumstances sink in again.

"What's been happening?" Eld finally spoke up as he adjusted his hip, feeling a soft release of tension in his leg as he folded his arms over his chest.

Alfred took a long pull on his pipe before blowing it away from the group and turning back to them. "I wish I had more to report than what you likely already know."

The two watched him for a moment as he stood smoking looking back at them.

Duncan let out a sigh as he rubbed his jaw. "Pretend we know nothing, boy. What have you been doing?"

"Oh sorry, well we arrived here about three months or so ago. Things were not great but they definitely were not shutting down parts of the city from it," Alfred began into his tale feeling a bit sheepish in assuming they knew more. "There were rumors of things going upside down in the south quarter but nothing more than whispers at the time. We came in just fine through the quarter, they were fairly pleased to hear a bard had landed. I guess they haven't had any new entertainment in some time."

Alfred slowly crouched down into a comfortable squat as he continued with his report. "We hit a new tavern every night for the first week. Janus was in high demand as he'd do a show in one spot and the next morning we'd have invitation to another room. We haven't had this much work in some time or least of all this welcoming."

"As they'd let us in we'd notice the downtrodden nature of the peasants and the clearing out of the streets come dark," Alfred continued. "Don't get me wrong, I'm used to towns shutting down at dusk but this was a mad rush. The streets would empty and doors locked up. Taverns full of more hearty men then the usual mixture of women or even families in the early hour time. They'd sulk and stew, asking for less bawdy songs and more of what you saw in there."

Alfred would thumb back to the Bat as he chewed on his pipe a moment. "So Janus would do his thing and I would work the crowd. Usually setting him up for a bit of a laugh to get people interested."

"I saw," Duncan nodded making a slight motion with his hand as if throwing a bottle.

Klaudin let out a half-hearted laugh as he shrugged. "Drama and comedy make coins drop just as easy."

"As I worked the crowd I'd ask here and there about what was going on, where everyone was and the like. I'd get mentions of darklings or kobolds causing trouble which seemed the basic answer for superstitious folk but this didn't feel right. Till I spied Rufial."

Alfred sucked on his pipe again blowing out a stream of smoke down to the cobblestone. "The man looked like hell when he wandered in. Sweating and sickly as he stumbled about to the barman for a drink. He caught my eyes as he didn't order that swill I was drinking. He just wanted water."

"Water?" Duncan piped in appropriately and curiously.

"Yah, water with starch. A lot of it."

Eld's face darkened more than just by night and shadow. "Then what happened."

"I moved up to stand nearby him, watching him guzzle this water down like he was a fish. Dropping big clumps of the stuff into the water and not even waiting for it to break down at all. Barman was perplexed by it but he was charging him for drinks that should be free in water and gaining twice that. I was as well, until he began to shake."

"It was horrible," Alfred spoke softer now. "The whole bar came to a halt and there was silence watching him shiver. He never spoke a word before suddenly he grabbed onto his shirt and began to pull with all his might. It wasn't exactly good quality as it tore like a sheaf of paper and revealed something terrible."

The young man would stand up and pull his pipe out of his motioning with the stem from his midsection to his throat. "Vines. Black and bleeding growing from his navel up to around his throat. Thorns big as nails digging into his flesh and all these little baubles hanging off like bells jingling as he thrashed about. Watching him thrash it was only a moment to really notice the vines moving tighter about his neck."

"Damn thing was strangling him."

There was a moments pause to let the imagery sink in for the three of them. Janus may be the storyteller and bard of the duo, but both were keen to the power of a tale.

"Go on," Eld whispered as he watched his nephew still.

"Right. So the bar starts to empty and they start calling for a guard. Rufial has already hit the floor, his hands flailing as he tries to pull them off his neck. Men rush forward to try and help with knives drawn to cut him free, but no one can get it loosened enough without getting stabbed by these thorns."

"What were you doing?"

"Staying out of the way," Alfred nodded. "I know where my sword is needed and when six is far to big a crowd to be trying to save one man like this. So I keep my eyes on the situation and for Janus."

"Where was Janus?" Duncan asked, hoping for confirmation or perhaps a way to gather some more to the story.

"My brother was detained at the time," Alfred grumbled as he chewed on his pipe, a knowing nod sent to them as they both returned it. Alfred's brother had a way of finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Especially if it happened to be someone else's bed. "So I was 'alone' when all this was going on."

"As the men are trying to cut him free, one of them lets out a cry and jumps back from Rufial," the young man holds up his arm and taps it with his pipe. "The baubles. They had come loose in the struggle and began to fall like leaves or in hindsight now, seeds."

"And they started planting," Eld spoke softly.

"Aye," Alfred confirmed as he bit his pipe. "Sliding into any open skin they could find and latching like a leech. Pulsing and burning them as those grabbed them started to flail about trying to be free of them. Screaming of burning and bites."

"By this point, Rufial has stopped squirming. His face a plum," Alfred spoke softer now as he remembered the death rattle of the gasping man. "The guards were starting to come in now spotting the body and the others crying in pain from the baubles attached to them. They clear us out and the bar empties."

"And then the real hero shows up!" Janus called as he stumbled out of the Bat with a jig and a laugh. Three sets of grim faces did not find amusement in his antics as he skipped to join the trio. "Oh come now, don't be such- Eld! By the gods above an below uncle! You came! HA ha! Now we got it! Shoulda never doubted ya Wal-"

"Janus," Alfred cut his brother off curtly. "Stop being you for just a few moments more."

'That' brother scowled a moment but did as he was bidden as he motioned with his hand for the pipe. 'This' brother sighed and handed it over as he looked back to Eld and Duncan. "Sorry."

"Continued on," the witcher urged.

"Right, so we were cleared out. Janus did show up then."

The bard made a bow behind his brother before puffing on his pipe again.

"But we waited there. Waited near two hours. No one came out. By then most people had cleared off and we deemed it best to stay in the wagon that night."

"The next day I came back to see about getting paid for the night before," Alfred spoke softly again.

"Which we did not," Janus muttered as he smoked.

Alfred sighed. "Which we did not as the place was boarded up. Door. Windows. All of it just locked down like it had been condemned in the time it took for a short sleep. Now lights or sound."

"So you broke in," Duncan frowned.

Janus chuckled softly with the pipe between his teeth as his brother sighed and nodded. "I know it's not my proudest thing to do, but it was all to strange. I found my way in and made my way into the common room. The sight was little to nothing new from the night before. But the smell."

"Rotted flowers and vinegar. I could barely make my way to the spot of Rufial's death before I saw the dried black stains on the floor," Alfred softly added. "It's where I found the yellow sack I sent you. I wrapped it up in my tobacco pouch and made my way out as quickly as I could."

"A few days later those signs started popping up about closing off the south quarter and the guards started blockading off the area of the city," Alfred slowly came to a close. "I remembered your stories Uncle."

Eld nodded.

"I remembered the stories," Janus corrected as he pulled the pipe from his mouth and poked his brother. "And it was I as well who discovered that those who did not leave before the quarantine were not allowed to leave thereafter."

The witcher's eyes blinked as he spoke up now. "What do you mean? There's still people in there?"

The elder brother sobered up hearing his uncle's question, his own voice grave for once as he spoke. "Only thing coming out of the south quarter these last few weeks has been smoke."

@daily-writing-challenge

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 3 - Suspicious/Salutation

"Lords and ladies, friends and countrymen, ladies and what we might perceive as gentlemen," a rising voice broke over the loud din of the common room, head perking up now and then though many stayed with their conversations. "May I have your attention please one and all?"

"Shuddap!" Came an ugly answer followed by a raucous laugh, with surprisingly the previous voice joining in the loudest.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that friend, for you are not yet paying for my supper," the previous caller pressed back with a smattering of chuckles. "But you are more than welcome, my throat is tired from the roads and I could use a few more beers before I nestle up with some fine young body."

Another chorus of chuckles followed as heads began to lift and shift toward the center of the Boarded Bat's common room. Standing in his own homemade spotlight was a taller man than main patronage of the evening, a dark blue coat billowing about his calves as he spun around to face the crowd. A grin was plastered to his bearded face while matching wild black hair did it's damnedest to follow the loosening of the coat tails. As strange as it was to having a smiling idiot call to the crowd, the strange instrument in his arms was another thing entirely.

Beautiful sleek and twice the size of any fiddle, the man carried the thing by a bootstring and prayer across his abdomen and hips like a sleeping child. One could guess what awful shriek might come from it as he steadied the thing by a bright silver crank. As many of the eyes of the people who watch the fool, they also watched his contraption with curiosity and suspicion. Jamurlak had had many troubles and none of them began with a turnip farmer.

Always an outsider.

The man in the middle of the common room could feel plenty of eyes on him now, perhaps not as many as he wanted but enough for him to get started. "Enough of my jabberin on, let's get this night going eh? My name is Janus Klaudin, tonight's performer. Is it just a random week night? Of course. Does that stop me?"

Janus's head would swivel amongst the people expecting an answer but accepting none. "Of course not! As a handsome and extremely talented troubadour of the world I must express myself. Especially to approval and a bit of coin."

Silence followed to his extremely bad attempts at humor, but it didn't seem to stop Janus as he pranced about a few more times. His fingers that did not hold the crank began to drum gently on the wood body of his choice of torture. "But I'm talking far to much and not introducing you to my pride and joy. You are gazes are quite drawn to their beauty and curious of their voice am I wrong? I assure you, Kogut will make your hair rise, you smiles wide, and your toes to tapping."

Someone coughed.

There was a long moment of awkward pause as it seemed Janus had finally reached his limit with dealing with the smallfolk, but a twist and shake of his hea brought him back to speed as he began to crank slowly. The gentle whine of Kogut unleashed it's crow with a low drone swallowing whatever hope of conversation was going on in the bar. "Shall we start with a song then eh? Ah here we go. Now you all know the bar-"

The cacophony of boos and jeers nearly knocked the candles from their holders as the crowd turned on the tune all to fast.

"Hell in a handbasket! You all went south on that one real quick!" Janus laughed as the crowd glared and continued with the grumbles over one of the most overplayed songs to ever roll through a tavern. "Alright, we'll skip that ol classic and move on to a more popular modern tune we all know and love."

The crank spun up a bit more as his fingers danced over the frets and his voice began again but in different livelier tempo. "When a humble bard, graced a ride a-"

A bottle whizzed by his head and smashed into the floor nearby as the boos started up again. Janus's eyes went wide as he followed to the crash sight of the bottle, his boot coming to tip through the glass with a short nod. "Well at least you had the sense to throw an empty one."

"You know what? Fuck it," He growled with a wolfish grin and jumped into a crouch as he span the crank. The whine that screamed from Kogut was enough to make men put their hands to ears and yell the same back at him. Janus's voice took on a husky gravel as he growled as loud as a lion into the grind of the hurdy gurdy. "Down from the glen came the marching men! With their shields and their swords! To fight the fight they believe to be right."

The instrument droned loud and raucous as the crowd had been with him as he screamed out above the sound the low roar from the contraption. "Overthrow the overlords!"

The steam was hot now as the crowd came to life stomping their feet, a barrage of bottles flying here and there to smash as men pounded a long. With just one verse of the heated battle song, Janus had grabbed the crowd by playing to the frustration of a people under lockdown by the as grumbles would murmur as 'the man'. Alfred just rolled his eyes as 'that' brother did his thing.

Alfred Klaudin or as not affectionately called 'this' brother, continued to stand at the bar wishing he'd had a bit better aim to nail Janus between the eyes with the bottle he'd chucked. He wasn't opposed to this brother antics or playing, but he wasn't eager to rile up these townsfolk into a riot with songs like he was parading at the moment. The younger brother reached up to rub at his thick mustache as he tried to tune out the screaming song that the bard was barreling through the people knowing full well his parents would approve them helping Janus get work right now. He just hoped it didn't mean he'd have to clean up afterwards.

"Yeah right," Alfred answered himself as he lifted his pewter cup and took a hard drink of the spirits Jarmaluk called liquor. It certainly burned right but burning shouldn't be a flavor as he grimaced. Alfred was fairly close in looks to his brother in the face with green eyes, black hair, and hawk noses that signified them as family. Personalities though leaned more into opposite side of the coin. Janus was gregarious and antagonistic to anyone he could get under the skin. Alfred was calm and withdrawn choosing to choose his battles carefully. The elder brother was taller, the younger was stronger. One could sing, one could fight. He felt he got the better deal.

His left hand would idly come to thumb at the pommel of his mother's rapier, there was a tough time to remember it was technically his now. Tymora knew how much he had used the silver lined rapier to do his work in protecting 'that' brother and those that seemed to get mixed up in all manner of troubles. Supposedly it was should be the other way around in siblings but Alfred could have written a eight piece novel for the amount of times he had to pull him from the fire. For as much as he might complain or frown, the younger Klaudin brother knew in his heart he would always be there.

Turning about he'd watch his brother sing louder as he moved about the crowd, finding a slight smile coming to his face at seeing Janus so alive.

"From their graves I heard the fallen,

Above the battle cry;

By that bridge near the border,

There were many more to die!"

"Brother, what am I going to do with you?" Alfred muttered as he lifted his cup again to sip at the drink, his face twisting after to wonder if he could actually finish this or not.

"That good?"

The cup nearly tumbled from his hand as Alfred turned to his right to see an all to familiar face. "Holy hell! Duncan!"

There was but a hint of a smile to the vampire's face as he saw the shock on Klaudin's face. Whatever might have been on Alfred's mind at the time of his surprise was lost as the young man reached over to embrace Duncan with his thick arms. Duncan gasped a bit in surprise at the hug, unused to such affections. The hard squeeze was something unexpected as well as he let out a croak.

"Alfred easy!" Duncan grunted as he clapped the young man and gave a slight flex to solidify his need for space.

Alfred laughed, a look that suited him better than the usual grim visage he bore most of the time. "Holy Hera, what in the nine are you doing here? Why aren't you in Seren?"

The questions were squashed though as his smile faded quickly and he looked at Duncan with more seriousness. "Is everything alright? Are my parents alright? Are you alright?"

Steady hands were raised to ward of the assault of worried questioning, the vampire's voice soothing and calm as he did his best assail the man's fears. "Easy, Alfred. Easy. All is well in the north, I promise."

Duncan's hands would lower just as much his voice as he leaned in closer to speak at least under the newest solo from Janus's instrument. "It is you and your brother I am more worried over."

"You came all the way here because you were worried about us?" Alfred looked perplexed at the vampire. Duncan had always been kind and patient with the brothers, but the idea of love for the Klaudin boys was a bit of a stretch. Waycrest had the manners of a saint but he was very keen to let them be adults on their own. To hear him say he was worried about them made Alfred's face slip back quickly into his usual grimace under his mustache.

Klaudin wore his heart on his sleeve and doubts on his face like a book. Duncan being the avid reader he was had no trouble guessing what was on the man's mind.

'Then onward over the mountain

And outward towards the sea

They had come to claim the Emerald

Without it, they could not leave'

Another solo began to rock out the Bat as the crowd began to thrash around the bar, which the bartender looked all the more concerned about. It was all lost though as Alfred could hear the creak as clear as a crow's caw in mid-morning. Eyes widening as he looked beyond the vampire to see the middle aged man make his way toward them, his limp quieted but still clear as the sound he made when he walked. Duncan followed his gaze a moment before looking back to Alfred with the same hint of smile.

"We were worried about."

"Uncle."

"Salutations, Alfred." Eld spoke clearly as his own face eased into a smile at the sight of his godson.

The tavern exploded in cheer as Janus finished with one more scream like he originally began in his tune.

"Overthrow the overlords!"

@daily-writing-challenge

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 7(Part 2) - Loyalty

The clamor of arms and armor echoed throughout the halls as the fighting continued. A billhook sliced through one of the flowers with ease as it collapses into a head of thrashing weeds, the puckered bud gasping and thrashing with it's feelers into the fetid air of the sewer.

"Buggers just don't know when ta quit!" Roared the mercenary with a cackle, that is before he was sprayed with the sap of the flower. It coated his mail hauberk quickly and sent it to a sizzle before dropping his hook. Hands would scramble at the mail as it burned through the cloth of his tunic and between the chainmail quilting. "Get it off get it off!"

A strong pair of hands with a sharp knife quickly ripped away the melting cloth and tossed it aside. The woman standing over him with the knife was grim and splattered with grime upon a face that could have been called almost pretty. Handsome was the preferable term for her. "Pick up that hook! We haven't got time for you to be sloppy."

"Aye ma'am," gasped the fallen man as he patted at his chest a moment a sigh finding that the dirty tunic had taken the brunt of the sap. Turning away the knight would march among the men as they held the line against the Hag's garden. Her long knife was still wet with sap from her own pruning but it would hardly be the last as she surveyed the tide. The plants just kept coming.

"How long has this been going?" she asked quietly to what she thought was herself.

"Years," the knight would turn quickly to find the creaking step of the witcher, Eldridge. His face could have been a mirror to her own considering the circumstances surrounding them. He looked tired but also determined as he came to stand beside her. "Status?"

"We are under siege from all sides except with how we came thankfully," she responded with a faint hint of satisfaction in her men. They weren't the Knights of the Rose or heroes from any story, but they were stalwart and knew their business. Though their business was less about clearing fields and more about murder usually. "We will hold and push forward."

The witcher did not respond as he watched the mercenaries swing their pole-arms in the open room. In the tunnels the hooks were practically useless for how and they had to travel along the rancid canals but here is where they were meant to shine. Keep the archespore at bay. Avoid the sap. Pray the numbers would thin.

Kill the Hag.

"Where is Paxrin?" The lady would ask curiously, as she looked back where they had come from. She had asked the question but she could clearly see him, he was standing at least right now despite his ruined face and wide eyes behind the bandages. Arms wrapped about his body he rocked back and forth watching the events unfolding around him with a mixture of terror and a strange level of calm. Eld would nod toward him.

"I've got him sedated at the moment, but I'm unsure of how long it will last." The witcher spoke low still despite the chaos growing around them, his yellow eyes would leave the bard to see the carnage growing around them. "They're growing wilder."

The knight would nod softly as she adjusted her belt, the strap tightening as she frowned. "Where are they all coming from?"

"Judging from the right and left tunnels here it would suggest the Hag has set her nest in one of these spots. Which has yet to be determined but," Eld watched the left tunnel with a grimace as he fingered the hilt of his Griffin pommeled sword. "We can't fight these all day."

As if on cue the line to the right broke. A wide swing of one of the hooks went to wide and clipped the other mercenary in the hip causing him to cry out in pain as he dropped his weapon. It was all the spores needed to rush forward with the killing field broke. The man who had missed had all of a moment to say 'I'm sorry mate' before the vines had him. Thorns rushed through him like knifes as they constricted on him, sucking and rending into the body with the ferocity of a starving dog. He didn't even have a chance to scream.

His wounded companion did.

10 men had come down with the witcher, knight, and bard armed for a an eye rolling battle against the flora of the undercity. It was laughable to think flowers were as dire as imagined. But after Paxrin's tale and look, they had sobered before they came down. Now with two men being feasted upon by the cannibals of the sewer, heads were perking up and glances growing far more fearful.

The witcher was first to act as he limped forward with his long creaking step, his right ripping the silvered sword from it's wide scabbard to brandish the hacking weapon. His left hand was curling quickly in an odd formation. Thumb out. Index in. Two and four spread. The fifth curled to form a cup. The flames swept the archespore quickly and brought hot mercy to the dying.

"Reform the line! Back up! Reform the line!" The knight cried as she rushed forward, waving her knife in the air to rally her men to close up ranks. Hearty and well versed the eight others back up, swinging their poleaxes at the monsters as they began to press in. Eld began to back up along with them, swinging his silver sword with a flash to lop off vines and burn the rest. He was glad that the poisons running through his veins were feeding him so, with this much fire called he doubted he could hold out as long as he would be needed to.

But there wasn't going to be enough time.

Closing his fist to silence the fire, Eld would fall back further letting the hook men do their work as they threshed the maddened plants. Paxrin had run back up now and was on the ground cowering in the middle of the round of soldiers. The sedation was running out again as he held himself rocking back and forth.

"There's whiskey in the jar. There's whiskey in the jar. There's whiskey in the jar."

Eld grimaced hearing the haunted words, guilt was beginning to fester in his heart for bringing the man back down here. It had been a poor choice.

He needed to get the Hag.

"I need to get to the Hag," Eld spoke loudly for the knight to hear. The woman looked back at the witcher, her face speaking volumes of what good his obvious need was.

"What do you want to do?" She spoke now, frustration in her words. The fallen had been her men, she didn't want to bury anyone down here.

The witcher licked his lips in thought as he looked from the left tunnel and right tunnel. Two choices. Choose wisely.

"We split up."

Brows arched hearing that, the knight curious and dubious at the same time. "You want to split the party?"

"We can't last this siege, there's to many of them. We take the gardener though and we stem the tide of archespore. Right or left?" Eld pointed toward where the line had originally broken and where it still held strong.

"It won't work," the knight replied. "There's to many for four men to handle on either side. So unless you're gonna torch your way through it all, gonna need a different plan."

Nearby the vines began to grow wilder as they fought back on the left side, the hooks flashing in the low light and still burning remains to the right. They were mad but they seemed to pressing harder to reach the center. The mercenaries were fighting hard and holding but the flowers seemed to be ignoring the killing blows for them almost as if they were eye their true prey.

Cold fear grasped the witcher as he felt his mouth go slack as he looked to the center of their hold-fast. Paxrin. They wanted the bard. He was marked by them and they needed meant to finish their meal. Eld looked to the knight who was already coming to realization as well to what was happening and what needed to be done.

"Left," she spoke softly. "Take three and I'll take five. We go left. You go right."

"Why left?"

The knight shrugged. "I don't want to step over my burnt brothers."

"I'm sorry," Eld grimaced and nodded. "I didn't know their names. I don't even know yours."

"Would it matter?" She replied softly before moving past him.

Nodding was common for the those with lives of violence, it saved on time as well as breath. She gave him only two more. "Get moving."

She knelt beside Paxrin and gently lifted him up to his feet, her gloved hands gently rubbing his arms as she spoke softly. The bard would nod to her. Eld hoped she had told the man the truth, but he knew he'd be lying to himself as much as she was to him. The knight had the bait and he was the hook now.

The knight was urging Paxrin on as he gave a look around him, whispering again to himself the same words over and over again.

"There's whiskey in the jar. There's whiskey in the jar."

"There's whiskey in the jar," Eld whispered softly as the pair continued down the tunnel away from the oncoming battle and into the maelstrom that could only be the hive. Eld was in front, his hand outstretched in the same formation as earlier. Thumb in. Sign of Three. Fifth bent. Quen. The shield before them used as almost a battering ram to push through whatever archespore go in their way as the sign's magic pushed those it touched away. Those that did not steer away were soon caught in a very surprising power all it's own.

Crossbow slung over his back with lantern held in front of him, Janus had his own hand cocked in a formation as well. Thumb out. Index up. Middle bent. Ring stands. Fifth out.

"Aard!" The bard's voice rising above the squirming and thrashing masses of flowers, a short burst of kinetic energy blasting forth to push one back into the wall that had come up the canal. A grin was plastered to Janus's face as he watched it slam into it with a splat and plaster of sap to the stone. "Not bad huh?"

"You don't have to say it each time," Eld spoke as he pressed on, concentrating to hold his shield as he pushed down the hall.

"Oh I know but ya know, adds to the drama ya know? Quen! Igni! Fongu!" Janus laughed as he kept his lantern raised, his mirth a clever way to mask the fear of diving head first into the hornets nest.

Eldridge felt like he should reprimand him for his joking at a time like this, but despite his downing of his potions earlier he dared not lose his focus on reaching the end of the left tunnel. This all had to end today.

The march forward was hard but fortunately not slow or as long as anticipated as they at last arrived in the what could only be the lair of the archespore. To call it shocking would be an understatement.

Much like the Hag's lair this too was a small alcove of a room, the canal from the tunnel arriving to an old grate at the base of the western wall likely leading further into the sewers or even outside the city. Above the grate was a landing and the horror truly began there. The stone floor which had been a mossy and lichen encrusted mess from entrance on into the old sewer was teeming with black roots here. Vines pulsing and undulating with a life all their own, hundreds of the baubles that had been seen on the archespores elsewhere were quaking as the seeds festered with a sickly green glow. As the floor writhed with the roots of the monstrosity so to did the walls and the ceiling, half grown flowers pushing forth from thicker roots to squirm in their spot as they begged to flourish. But all roots came back to one spot, just as the Hag silhouette had been tattooed to the wall so had this figure.

It's arms were lashed to the wall by the roots, it's belly a grotesque bloated planters box of the roots and vines that might have been thought to the strung out innards of a man. In a way they were as they rose through the corpse as it shivered against the wall. It's face hang loose with a rotted jaw hanging opened, small red flowers growing from between bare bone as they quivered to match that of the gold baubles every few moments. Eye sockets as well produced a pair of the same archespore that grew on the walls, the red petals burning bright in the green glow of it's seedlings. Flesh had long since melted from the corpse but it's strange chest still seemed to rise and fall with the root system boring out from it's midsection. The hands hung like a prisoners as it lay pinned to the wall, one hand full of bone fingers hanging limply. The other only held half a middle and ring finger.

"Tymora," Janus whispered staring at the horrific effigy.

Eld grimaced and bowed his head as he felt his shield fall in a scatter of ember dust. "Pax."

"What?" Janus gaped as he looked from his uncle to the thing hanging on the wall. "The survivor?"

The witcher nodded softly as only men of violence understood. Or rather of shame.

"Well what do we do?" Janus looked back down the tunnel, the walls starting to move again with what they had pushed to get here. Beyond that he could hear the sounds of fighting again. The boundary was down.

A deep breath was taken and released as he looked back up to the trapped Paxrin, his flowered gaze staring back at him. He'd damned the poor man by sacrificing him to get to the prey for his job. In the long run, the bard's demise had been worth it to save the city. But it didn't change the fact that he'd betrayed him and left him to die here. Eld's eyes drifted beside the trapped troubadour to see a soft glint of rusted metal beside him, a pauldron long since wasted. At least he hadn't been alone.

"I'm sorry Paxrin, truly. I am sorry," Eld's voice spoke evenly as he looked to the pair of crimson flowers, locking eyes with the dead. He doubted there could be forgiveness for what had happened, but there would be rest.

A sudden shake to his shoulder brought him out of reverie as Eld looked back to Janus, the green eyes wide with fear. "Eld they're here! I can't hear Al or Duncan. What do we do?"

Eld grimaced and looked to his nephew before looking back down the hall at the squirming massive plants inching their way toward them. The witcher moved in front of his godson and took up a position with his hands fixed. "We burn it. We burn it all."

Thumb out.

Janus started to breath heavily as he held the lantern, his eyes wild as he looked about the vile room.

Index bent.

Eld extended his hands as he began to see in the soft green glow the large petals of crimson inching into the eerie light.

Middle straight.

Flowered eyes began to quake as a slack rotted jaw jiggled with a wet rattle.

Ring spread.

The vines began to whip about as three of the archespore passed the final portal into the hive room, the buds within petals wide open with hungry thorn riddle teeth.

Fifth curled to form the bowl.

"Go to hell ya lily livered shit!" Janus roared as he reared his arm back and chucked the lantern at the growing corpse. The metal cage spinning through the air as Janus lifted his hand quickly in the formation of Aard, teeth bared as he felt the surge blow through his spine and up through his palm. Kinetic force slammed into the lantern as the metal smashed into the chest of Paxrin covering it in the lantern oil and sparking it to flame. Quickly the flames spread over it and began to follow the path of the dripping oil as they began to lick at the base of the roots of the archespore hive. Behind him, Janus could already begin to feel the heat as see the light as Eld let loose his own flames.

Igni.

@daily-writing-challenge

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 7(Part 1) - Rage

"Janus to the side!" Eld cried as he planted his foot and turned his hand, teeth gritted as he felt the familiar pain of drawing out the energies into his hand. Thumb out, index in, middle out, ring off a few degrees, and cone with the fifth finger to curve his hand into a bowl of heat. Igni. That familiar burn started in his palm and worked it's way out in a jet of bright crimson flames rushed forth at his call to consume the bright flower hanging from above. Pustules burst like popped corn and one could swear they could hear the plant scream as the flames at away at it's pea soup flesh.

The bard was diving to the side as he covered his head watching the flames span up into the ceiling, gaping as his godfather unleashed the elemental forces of his sign. Fire crept and crawled along the vines that had swallowed the stone of the tunnel eating away at the hungry archespore the same ferocity the hellish cannibal plant had shown to many victims before. Watching the burn was almost beautiful as it sparkled and burned through the vegetation to create a starry sky of embers. The falling ran of flesh eating sap was another thing to worry about, as Janus grabbed his coat and tried to pull it over his head as quickly as he could to avoid ruining one of his best attributes.

But no drops burned his coat as he peeked back up to find Eld now standing over him, the true power of Eldridge coming to bear from his years at study. A broken boy could not learn as other members of his school so the magi had turned to other ways of weaponizing even the hurt. Eld's other hand was outstretched as he turned his flame to face the wall blasting it to curve the flames beyond, his other hand already twisting.

Thumb in. Sign of three. Fifth in. Quen.

Droplets of sap sputtered and burned away as they struck the invisible shield above them. Never even taking a moment even bead off it as the heat of the witcher's flames burned off any of deadly moisture that threatened the pair of them. Yellow eyes could not break concentration as he directed the shield and began to move, but his voice hoped it would break to the younger man at his feet. "Janus, up! We need to go! Now!"

Janus Klaudin did not need any more coercion as he scrambled up to his feet, grabbing hold of the crossbow and lantern in his hands before running down the tunnel they had come originally come from. The witcher continued on, turning his body and hands to deflect the awful sap with his left hand while he slowly closed off his right. A weariness flooded his arm as he ended the first sign but continued to keep his other sign going to protect himself and Janus as they ran from the smoldering rain of death.

"Alfred!" Janus called as he ran already spotting ahead where his brother and the vampire were doing their fine work.

The mustachioed brother quickly side stepped a thrashing tentacle as he swiped his mother's rapier through the air to wound the creature, lopping off the squirming appendage down into the murky depths of the sewer canal. Alfred's body held loose and at the fencer's stance continued to dodge the wild swipes of the newest flower creature, the flow of them never seeming to cease as they crawled from the ceiling and the depths. He'd complained initially as they came down into the sewers about the amount of clothing he'd had to wear and how hot he was but after the first spray of sap that had struck his layered chest he'd make sure to thank his godfather for the warning.

A strong parry worked both in and out of Klaudin's favor as the tentacle vine clipped itself. Whipping about it sprayed it's clear acid like blood about the murky stones before a heavy swipe from behind sent the deadly blossom spinning back into the canal followed by it's limp 'body'. Duncan breathed heavily from his nose as he flipped his gladius about in one hand to turn to face the next monster that would come to them.

Alfred was a dancer with his sword, flitting from space to space as he dodge relying on his speed and accuracy to deal death to those who came close to his blade. Duncan was the complete opposite. He was a soldier. Fighting was not about flare or showmanship, it was about killing. And the vampire knew his business.

Hundreds of years ago, Waycrest had found creatures of all manner from the dark. Wicker beasts of red leafed forests. Bone and flesh monsters formed of comrades in search of means of bolstering their own armies. Even the very earth had risen against his people to slay them in the name of a corrupt god who had taken route in their island. Massacres were an understatement as the war waged on. But Duncan fought, killed, and survived.

Until he didn't.

But today was not to be his day to repeat that fateful day of his curse. Today was a day of solving problems and protecting those he called friends. As the short wide blade hacked through another flower, his bare hand caught a tentacle and ripped hard to bring the archespore close before clipping another bulb. Dull pain blossomed in his palm and on his feet, but it all was superficial to a creature such as him. To the vampire, the flesh need not be strong only everlasting.

Janus reached his brother just as Duncan had finished off the one they faced, keeping his hands well away from the fighter as he knew 'this' brother's business. "Alfred, we're here but there more coming."

"Funny you should mention that," the younger Klaudin motioned ahead of them toward the cross room they were striving to reach. Ahead another pair of the spores were squirming along the ceiling along the track of vines that gripped it. Janus stared up with a look of dismay.

"Tymora for fuck's sake, how many of these things are there?" Janus tried his best not to whine but failed as he looked back to find his godfather limping up behind them at a hurried pace.

"Too many," Eld grumbled, his face ashen as he put a hand to the wall to steady himself. "Duncan?"

The vampire nodded and motioned to Alfred. "Come, Klaudin. Day is not over yet. Janus, help your uncle we're almost there."

The swordsmen went back to weeding as the four inched onward through the pruning.

~

The right tunnel had been a mistake.

There had been nothing but the memories of some forty years prior in the former den of the Hag of the South Quarter.

The quartet had crept their way through the sewer without incident, the vines above and on the walls laying dormant as they passed beneath their gaze. Duncan had reached the room first, his soft glowing eyes peering easily through the dark as he motioned for the three to follow inside with relative safety. With the blooms above, safety was always questionable.

Eld had followed in next, his yellow eyes peering about the room as he looked to the rotten hovel that housed the creature. He could still feel her there. The Hag had been here for years, stewing and simmering with rage at the former who king who had ruled Jamurlak with such a cruel hand. There had a been a moment where the witcher had felt a slight pang of guilt for her when she began to tell him her story.

Born in the wrong place and definitely the wrong time, the Hag had been part of a loving family of forest folk who lived for the most part a quiet life in wilds beyond the burgeoning city. A chance time to bring in trade to the city had lead to a mugging and murder of her father followed by the kidnapping of a mother and sibling. She'd been left on the street to scrounge and survive amongst the downtrodden. It was a funny thing to imagine a new city already struggling with the homeless and downtrodden at such an infancy stage of it's building blocks. Such was civilization.

Despite being but a child she was still a child of the wilds and knew things that could just as easily aid her as hinder her. With a secular king upon the throne the hindrance was all to clear to follow. The cruelty of the powerful was rampant in those days and the Hag learned first hand what it was to be the weaker of those sides. She dared not speak of what happened to her in those times or the years spent as a prisoner for her skill as much as her body. The nightmare only ended when she finally escaped and prayed for a true end to her life in the undercity of Jamurlak.

But her rage would not let her die. Nor would the wild.

Festering and growing like a rotted apple the girl would live. The woman would grow and learn. The elder would plot. The Hag would plant.

How she had lived for so many years in the sewers like this was only a testament to her hatred. She would never give up. She didn't care who died or why they died in her path, only that the city would fall and with it the memory of old king Abrad. It could man or woman or child, as long as Jamurlak suffered she would smile. As long the city moaned and cried out in terror at how her pretty flowers grew in a row, she would cackle.

And so she burned. It all burned.

The Archefire.

Eld's fingers gently traced the blackened stone where she had stood, her silhouette forever burned into the wall from where had set her to blaze. His head bowed softly as he let his hand drop as he heard something softly on the wind.

'Mush-aring dumb-a do duma-da, Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o.'

The witcher's head shot up hearing the song as he whipped about to look at his milling companions. Alfred on watch with a nervous hand at his sword hilt, Duncan inspecting some rotten book shelves, and Janus.

"What are you singing?" Eld asked quietly.

"What?" Janus replied arching a brow at his godfather. "I'm not singing."

"You're not?"

Janus shook his head looking confused and worried, which did not suit his usual grinning handsome face. "No, why would I sing down here? This."

He waved his hand about the room with a sad sigh, his green eyes coming to rest on the older man again. "This is terrible."

'There's whiskey.'

Eld's eyes widened as he heard it.

'There's whiskey in the jar.'

"We need to go. Now!" Eld yelled as he reached down to tighten his brace with a crank and twist, his limping run already propelling him past the startled bard and toward Alfred at the entrance way.

No one had a chance to ask why before the walls came to life with floundering hell.

~

Eld leaned on the wall again as they finally reached the crossroads of the sewer system, the familiar layout and walls almost clear as Alfred and Duncan continued to met out death to the vegetation. The witcher was getting tired. Age and work at the smithy had kept up his bodily strength, but the vigor required to pull on magic this way was taxing in a much different way. His spirit ached. Eld was out of practice and at this point a worry was setting in that maybe he was not ready for such a task like this. The witcher closed his eyes as he tried to steady his breath.

"Janus," Eld called out as the bard came back up to him.

"Ya?" Janus asked as he leaned down before looking back over the shoulder of the witcher at the still burning tunnel they had come out of. Flames were not the only thing stirring back that way.

The witcher took in a deep breath and stood up straight again. His hand slipping to his belt and drawing out a trio of vials, blue, purple and green. Popping the top of the purple one and letting the cork fall away as he drank deeply of the Tawny. The familiar burn felt like the fire he expelled racing down his gullet and into his belly, eyes closing as he felt the numbness begin to leave him as he shook his head to squaring his shoulders better. "We need to go down the left hall. I need you with me."

"Me? Why me?" Janus asked as he looked back down the hall and to his brother who had finished off his dance with the last archespore in a flurry of cuts. "I'm no good in a fight."

"Exactly."

Janus frowned. "Thanks."

Eld smiled slightly as he clapped his nephew on the shoulder. "I need you with me because you have skills I have taught you already. Skills I hope you've not forgotten."

The bard frowned more before flexing his hand into a fist and uncurling it. "I'm not that great at it."

"Better than Al still?"

That caused the older brother to turn his frown upside down as he shrugged. "He's got swords and I got my fingers."

There was a hard squeeze as he nodded to Janus. "Get the bow and the lantern. I'm gonna see if I can hold this for them while we move on ahead."

Klaudin looked like he was going to say something but shook his head as he ran off to gather as he was instructed. Eld turned back to the hall they had escape, seeing clearly the movements in the shadows as well. Sighing he eyed the other vials and nodded, everything was about to hurt. Tipping back green first he could feel the fire in his belly grow as he felt the weariness leave his bones even more and an energy of a weeks rest fill him. Invigorating was an understatement.

The blue bottle was the real worry though. It would be his last to be able to use in this. Looking over his shoulder, Eld regarding his friends and looked back to the bottle. He trusted them. The philter bit hard as it swam down his throat and caused his teeth to itch. His eyes widened and his hands loosened more as he smiled forgetting how much he secretly enjoyed this swarm of intensity to flood him. He felt cocky despite the sloshing in his stomach and itch through his veins.

Lifting his hands he began to the motions for an old Griffin trick that was taught a long time ago. Thumb in. Sign of Three. Fifth in. Quen. The power flooded out of him in the familiar invisible shield as he raised his left hand and spread his fingers. Fold the middle. Part the sea. Trace the horizon. Vorg.

The portal to the tunnel shimmered softly as the shield extended and filled the space that he traced with his left hand. A grim smile came to his face as he nodded to the magical shield, the boundary strong as he could for them. Turning Eld would stalk back to his companions, his fingers flex and cracking from the expenditure of power.

"How are you doing?" The witcher asked as he looked between Duncan and Alfred. Alfred flicked his sword and shrugged softly, doing his best to keep his heaving chest in check while Duncan stood with dripping blade still.

"It's been quite a dance, uncle." Alfred commented as he looked back toward the tunnel they had come down. "Are we clear?"

Eld shook his head. "I've given you a bit of time to recover, I don't know how long the boundary will hold but it is something for you."

Duncan would nod softly as he marched toward the tunnel. "I'm guessing you're going to the left then."

"We are."

Duncan nodded again. "Very good. Tides be with you, my friend."

Eld would tilt his head. "Tides?"

The vampire would shrug offering a coy smile. "You're not the only one who's living a memory."

A soldier's salute as Duncan motioned to Alfred. "Come, Klaudin. Our work is not yet done."

Alfred would hesitate a moment as he looked after Duncan before looking to Eld and then Janus. As much as the youngest member of their party would try for bravado there had always been a serious and grim mindset to the duelist. Especially when it came to protecting his older brother.

"Go on, Wally. I'm with the witcher, I'm a lot safer than you." Janus could see the worry in his brother's green eyes and despite the laugh he gave with a flippant wave of his hand, the older brother couldn't hide his own trepidation of leaving Alfred behind. All he could do was lift the lantern and start for the left hall. "Shall we?"

@daily-writing-challenge