The Forsaken Hero

The darkness gave way to starlight, and that to threads of color and sound that entwined me, drawing me into a vision. I inwardly groaned, watching with some irritation as a city formed around me. At least a vision meant I was still alive. With any luck, Selena was too.

The city was strangely familiar, but no name came to mind. The buildings were half-timber, with gray stone foundations and off-white, speckled plaster. The windows were cracked, the eaves bowed, and the walls sagged. Some of the smaller homes leaned unsteadily to one side, all in the same direction, as if a hurricane had blown through. Underfoot, the streets were cobblestone, but the rocks were sharp and uneven, with over half of them being submerged beneath mud and earth.

The trees and plants were yellow and brittle. Brown leaves littered the gutters, rising and falling with a brisk autumn breeze. The sun’s light was cold and dim, casting long shadows despite the early hour.

The city was eerily still, with no signs of people in the homes or alleyways. With my tail twitching uneasily, I made my way down the street, crossing a bridge whose stone foundations sank into the muddy slurry of what had once been a canal. It hadn’t been properly cleaned in ages and was clogged with old leaves, branches, and debris.

My ears twitched as I heard the sound of voices floating over the hollow city, and I willed myself forward, flickering through fate until I appeared above a market square. Dozens of people dressed in rags and tatters huddled around several rusted braziers, their breath fogging the air. They shifted anxiously, clutching dull-eyed children and what little possessions they had to their persons.

It was a sobering sight, as terrible and hopeless as the countless refugees we’d passed on our long journey from Heartland. People who lived only because they hadn’t died, who had nothing to cling to but the ashes of what once was.

The sharp, metallic click of armored boots echoed down one of the streets leading to the market. I turned with the gathered people, frowning as I saw a patrol of soldiers swagger into the square. There were two dozen of them, and calling them soldiers might have been generous. Their armor was tarnished and stained, their weapons dirty and greasy. They eyed the people like predators, grinning as those they leered at flinched away.

Their leader was a fifth-level man wearing much the same, save he had donned a lavish purple cloak with white fur trim. His sword was the only enchanted gear among them, bearing faint second-level enchantments.

”This is everyone, my Lord,” an old man amongst the refugees said, giving a low, awkward bow.

”Everyone?” the lord raised his eyebrow, frowning in displeasure. ”I see barely five hundred.”

The old man bowed lower, his knees trembling. ”This is all that’s left. After Lord Gall–”

”Lord?” The lord arched an eyebrow.

The elderly man flinched. ”...the usurper, Gallen...” He waited for the lord to nod approval before continuing. ”He conscripted almost half of us for the war.”

”Then they died like fools for supporting him. I personally plunged my blade through that bastard’s heart.”

The old man’s voice fell to a whisper. ”Yes, my Lord. None should dare question you again.”

”As long as that’s understood, I’ve come to collect the tribute your city owes.”

”T-tribute? But my Lord, we lack the hands to work the fields to provide for our own mouths this winter. How could we–”

The sharp ring of steel stole his following words as the lord drew his sword, brandishing it threateningly.

”You dare withhold our due? Would you go without our protection this winter?”

”N-no, my Lord! We would never do that! We just need more time...”

”It’s already autumn, and the snows will be upon us. If you won’t bring your tribute, I’ll have my men take it. And if you can’t provide it in provisions or coin, we’ll be forced to take it elsewhere. At ’em, boys. If they won’t fill our bellies, they’ll warm our beds through the winter.”

His soldiers started forward, forcing into the crowds with drawn weapons, jerking back hoods, and grabbing women and girls from among them. They fought and screamed, but any who dared stand against them was ruthlessly beaten, though none were outright killed.

”Please, my Lord. We’ll do anything you ask,” the old man pleaded, tears in his eyes.

The Lord looked down at him, scoffing. ”This is

what we ask. If you’ll not fill our bellies this winter, you’ll damned well warm our beds. Perhaps, come spring, you can trade them back for some real provisions. Presuming they’re willing, of course. My men have a way with women, see. Once we’re done with em, they’ll be begging for us to–”He stopped abruptly, turning his head toward the other end of the market, eyes narrowed. At the same time, the sound of clanking armor and boots filled the market as yet another force of armored soldiers marched in, some two hundred strong. Their ranks were neat and orderly, their armor polished to a gleam, and their faces were young and well-groomed, the weakest of whom were third-level. Their leader, a tall, broad-shouldered man with gilded armor, carried an enchanted spear of the fourth level. As he observed the square, his eyes fell on the lord and his accompaniment, and his sixth-level aura rose to seize the square.

”To what, Baron Gradshaw?” he asked in a voice as cold as ice. ”Would you care to explain what’s happening here?”

Chills ran down my spine as I recognized the voice. It had once spoken to me in that same, disgusted tone.

”L-Lord Joel?” the lord asked, stumbling a step beneath the weight of the aura. ”But you’re...you’re dead!”

Joel, captain of the Last Light Company, strode forward. The townsfolk parted before him, looking up with fright and confusion. His men followed after him, circling around and forming a perimeter around the courtyard. Several jumped onto the roofs with effortless grace, notching arrows to magical longbows. Gradshaw’s men edged back, shooting panicked looks at the closing exits, but none dared try to flee.

”I believe I asked you a question,” Joel said, stopping not ten feet from the Baron. The tip of his spear rose, pointing at his neck.

”I...I was merely doing my duty as a noble of Brithlite. These people were under the dictatorship of Baron Gallen, but I have freed them. They owe me their lives, and I was merely ensuring my men and I have sufficient care to survive through the winter,” the baron said hurriedly. He nodded as he spoke, gaining confidence with every word.

”I see.” Joel nodded, slowly, looking down at the old man, who cowered on his knees. ”And you are...?”

”E-Est, my Lord.”

”And you speak for these people?”

”I was once mayor of this city, before the demons...then the lords...we have nothing, my Lord. Nothing

. We can’t lose anyone else. We won’t last the winter.””Don’t listen to this commoner. I was merely doing the best I could to ensure the survival of our people. We live in hard times, and some sacrifices have to be made,” Baron Gradshaw said.

Joel turned back to the baron, staring at him without a word. The lord shifted, licking his lips nervously.

”I can provide room for you and your men, if you wish, before sending you on your way with what little provisions we can spare,” he offered.

”I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Joel said, frowning. ”We’re not passing through. We’re reclaiming our territory. As of this moment, this city and the surrounding lands are under the protection of Lady Elise Lastlight. I understand you’ve overseen this land for some time, so I will give you a chance to withdraw or yield to our rule.”

The baron’s face cracked, a vicious snarl breaking the mask of subservience. ”What? That whore? I’ll be damned if I let some slut steal my land and riches. I’ve got six hundred men waiting for me, and if I fail to return, they’ve orders to level this city and every village around, killing, raping, and enslaving whoever they wish. You wouldn’t dare to–”

Joel’s spear fluted forward, burying itself in his neck. Gradshaw screamed, clutching the wound, his face white with terror. He stumbled, blood pouring past his fingers, and fell to his knees. Someone in the crowd screamed, but no one dared move, fixated on the ghastly scene.

Joel raised his spear, watching silently as the baron gasped and shuddered, choking on his own blood. His struggles lasted for almost ten seconds before the flow of blood slowed. The baron collapsed, falling on his side, the light leaving his eyes.

”Kill them all,” Joel said dispassionately. ”We have no use for bandits anymore.

The market erupted in screams as the Last Light soldiers sprang into action, yet none of the soldiers bothered with the fleeing townsfolk. Instead, their arrows and swords found Baron Gradshaw’s men, cutting them down mercilessly as they tried to flee. Some tried to use the women they’d captured as human shields, but the arrows of the Lastlight were unerring, slipping past them with perfect accuracy. In seconds, it was over, the two dozen men as dead as their lord.

”Est, was it?” Joel asked, squatting beside the trembling old man. ”I’m afraid Lord Gradshaw is unable to protect you any longer. As Captain of the Last Light Company, and an old lord of Brithlite, might you allow me to leave some forces here for you instead? They’ll aid in your efforts to rebuild and secure this city while asking nothing but sustenance for their efforts.”

”B-But the five hundred Lord Grad–”

Joel waved dismissively. ”I’d already sent a thousand to dispatch them. Not bandits, but soldiers blooded against demons, men, and Risen alike. You needn’t worry about them again.”

Est swallowed hard. ”You mean you didn’t mean to let him go like you said?”

”Lady Lastlight is too soft-hearted. She believes that everyone deserves a second chance. I’m duty-bound to offer it to them, but I see no reason I have to enforce it. Lord Gradshaw was right about one thing. Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices. And I’m willing to sacrifice every bandit, ruffian, and warlord in this land if it means paving the way for a peaceful future. They can say what they want about me afterward. At least there will be those who are alive to say it.”

Joel patted the stunned man on the shoulder. As he turned to leave, Est reached up, catching his sleeve.

”Um, Lord Joel? Is it true? Did Lady Elise really return for us?”

Joel cracked a rare smile. ”It is. Rekindle your hope, Est, and that of your people. The dawn has finally come.”