The Curse of Elmdell

Anotace: One of my dreams shaped into the form of a short story. Fantasy style. An old ranger is reminiscing about one of his adventures...

"The Curse of Elmdell" (by Jan Elgroth Talvinen)

 

As we were getting deeper into the forest of Elmdell, our vigorous talk slowly waned and was replaced by silent observation of the path's surroundings. This wasn't caused by any distinct change in the vegetation, nor by any peculiar appearance of animals or beasts, not to say of people, but the forest grew (at least in my own view) somewhat grimmer.

 

We were five, all of us being skilled rangers. Me and my beloved, Triia, were walking abreast, followed by our three companions and two ponies laden with our belongings. The destination of our journey was quite a large village, maybe a town we found in an old map. It bore the exact same name as almost everything in these parts - the forest, the valley, even the hill in the westernmost place of the valley, all was called the same name - Elmdell. The purpose of our visit was quite simple. Our swords had lost their sharpness and our arrows had lost their quantity. Also we thought it would be nice to use a bed once instead of sleeping in the woods, however used to that we were. So we decided to find a place to stay over night and resupply.

 

The forest, apart from getting grimmer (be it only my impression), grew also silent. We couldn't hear a noise, not of birds, nor leaves, not even of wind - it was so silent we could hear our hearts beat. I realized none of us was walking upright, the silence made us crouch a little, and I noticed the cautious expressions of all my friends. Something's coming, we all thought. The silence always preceeds the storm, yes, we all knew that saying. Still, nothing happened at all until we reached a village.

 

The gate of the village was extraordinary in a number of ways. First it was by appearing much too soon - We didn't expect to reach Elmdell village before sundown and it was early afternoon. Then there was the gate itself - it was very crude, like it had been built the day before and in a hurry. It was made of two logs sunk in the ground, crossed at the top. A plank was nailed up there and on that there was written "New Elmdell". That was another surprise.

 

We entered. The buildings, hardly worth to be called homes, were as crude as the gate, if not more. They looked like some wooden tents, carelessly erected hovels, crooked like if there was no sense in their shape or in the integrity of their construction. I wondered if this village had been recently built or ruined. It also was - that was another surprise - small, a lot tinier than we assumed from the map, but, since we had read the sign on the gate, we started to doubt if this is really the Elmdell we were heading for.

 

Instantly when we were noticed people started to turn away from us, closing their windows or walking aside, always muttering something. All of them looked age-torn, they were wearing old, rugged clothes, had shaggy hair, weathered skin and tired eyes. Everyone seemed troubled by something. What I felt from their glimpses and from the general air to the place was not enmity, nor hostility. The place had the mood of desperation, hopelessness.

 

We weren't able to approach anybody. When we tried to come closer, they either hid inside their homes or ran away. After numerous unsuccessful attempts we proceeded further into the village reaching a place that probably had to serve as the village square.

 

In the north corner stood a hovel, bigger than the other ones, with a torn, murky, dirty flag at its entrance. We assumed that to be the residence of the chief or leader of some kind. When we entered the doorway, I could see four men sitting around a crude table, discussing something very quietly. Near there was a would-be throne, a big wooden armchair with cracks and fissures all over it, in which a man sat gloomily. He was dressed no better than an ordinary inhabitant, but wore an amulet with a beautiful red and white stone in its centerpiece, a jewel worth a thousand times more than the whole village.

 

They didn't see us coming so they were startled quite much just by my greeting. First spoke one of the men around the table.

 

"What... Who... No one ever comes here..." He was clearly overwhelmed by our presence.

 

"We seek the leader of this village," I said and turned to the man with the amulet. "Are you the chief here?"

 

"Um, yes."

 

"We are looking for a place by the name Elmdell. I understand that this is 'New Elmdell'. Can you tell us the way to the old one?"

 

It was like I'd unleashed a dozen of ghosts. Fright came to their eyes, but I couldn't tell why. The chief rose.

 

"There is no other Elmdell. Forget us and go from where you came. Nothing good awaits you... there."

 

With that he fell exhaustedly back to the throne. I was convinced by that time, that something is not well with this place. I could feel a kind of menace or evil spell lying upon New Elmdell, but I couldn't perceive what that was in particular.

 

"Very well, we will leave, if that is what you want," I said with a bit of regret.

 

Turning back I politely asked him to let us stay over the night and to sell us some supplies, for we were running out of almost everything. I even told him that we would pay double the price, for I pitied the people living there. To my surprise, he agreed to let us stay and even told us about an abandoned hovel within the square. He even encouraged us to take whatever supplies we might want, but at the end he almost furiously rejected any payment, telling us no one in New Elmdell has any use for gold. Letting us say no more he dismissed us from his hovel encouraging us not to speak to anyone and commanding us to leave as early as possible.

 

***

 

Later that day a drizzle started and a moderate wind blew. That made us duck into the hovel and light a small fire. The roof leaked at almost every spot, but we managed to find a dry corner. We were quietly speaking about the situation. Not one of us believed, that the village had always been like that, all dirty and desperate. Until dark the drizzle tirelessly persisted and showed no tendency to stop. Our talk was similar in that manner. We were half decided to find out what was wrong with New Elmdell, when suddenly a visitor came. I recognized him. He was one of the men, who had been sitting around the table in the chief's hovel earlier that day, namely the one responding clumsily to my greeting.

 

"Excuse me, may I speak to you?" he asked, standing in the doorway, raindrops dripping all over him.

 

A thunder sounded from afar.

 

I invited him to sit with us around the fire. When the fire illuminated his face, I noticed a tattoo on his forehead. I didn't know what it meant, but it seemed important.

 

He thanked for the invitation and at the same time apologized for what had happened in the hall before. He told us, that the chief is a tired old man, as well as himself and the other three men, scholars he said. He introduced himself to be Ahran by name and offered to answer our questions, if we had any. I told him my name, as well as the names of all my companions. Then I asked, where Elmdell was, and if it was the place we currently were in, then what happened to it. He described a glorious town with a fort in its heart, a lot of markets and guilds and people living there happily. When I showed him our map, he sighed.

 

"This map must remember a lot of decades," he said, "for Elmdell is depicted here as a market town."

 

He pointed at a small sign next to the town's name.

 

"That would be a place everyone likes to visit. A place overflowing with mirth, song, dance, joy...."

 

He sighed again. It was a sigh of a ruined, dying hope.

 

"And it used to be so, creators know that I remember. Can you imagine such a beautiful town? Not big, not tiny, but always mirthful... Now that," he waved towards the village, "that is all what remains. I was twenty-something when we had to flee. Like that..."

 

He snapped his fingers.

 

I could see tears coming to the old man's eyes, but I couldn't resist asking what had happened there.

 

"A legend came true. It is never good to dig for the truth, when it needs to remain hidden. We learned that literally and it was the most illustrative lesson, I can tell you."

 

"A legend came true?" I repeated.

 

"Yes. There was this legend, passed on and on through generations. We used it to scare the children, when they wouldn't go to bed... It was called "Of the Creature of Elmdell and its Eternal Curse". I guess, as it grew older, people took it more and more for a fairy tale, but, as we learned, legends are no fairy tales."

 

"You mean..."

 

"Yes, the Creature is real. You see, there was a king, who strongly disapproved of all tales and legends and tended to prove all of them to be fabricated myths. So he did, until unfortunately he proved one to be true."

 

He paused. We asked him to say more about that so he offered to briefly retell us the legend.

 

"Centuries ago, there was a man, brother of six, who was possessed by rage. It throve in him, showed itself ony occasionally. At times he would smash things, or ignite tavern brawls, but eventually, an outrageous frenzy of unmanageable rage befell him. He took a dagger and killed all his brothers, in the most violent way. Then he beheaded his own father, all that in their own home. When his mother came and saw all the mayhem, her soul was torn apart by grief and sorrow. While the son was dealing fatal blows to his own mother, she, suffering an outbreak of anger and desperation, cursed him with her last breath. As she fell to the ground, her tears and blood mixed and thus blended, and petrified creating an unique crystal.

Then the creators came, for they heard the mother's last words. He took the killer and designed an eternal punishment. His soul was repaired, made a merciful, caring one, one that would be tortured by any violence it would ever behold. The soul was imprisoned inside an immortal abomination, the Creature. A being with an insatiable bloodthirst, a being which has only one thought - a persistent desire to kill and destroy."

 

He took a sip of water from his flask.

 

"The Creature was then imprisoned in a vast dungeon below Elmdell, and many apparitions of people, animals and other living things were created there, so that it could execute its violent desires at any time, everytime and for all times. Thus, the punishment of an eternal suffering was to be performed. The only redemption for the son's soul is the death of the Creature."

 

"But, how do you kill an immortal?" we asked all at once.

 

"There is a way. At the end of this legend, there was another writing. It said: The tears you shed, the blood you spilled, only they can redeem your soul. I remember that exactly, for I have studied the legend before... well, before we learned it's real."

 

I didn't know, what the writing could mean, so I asked about it. Ahran spoke forth, he also said that the legend is much longer in its whole, and that there are many clues. But to bring death to the Creature, there is but one way. The key was an amulet. It was indeed the one worn by the chief, for the stone in the centerpiece was exactly the one, that had risen from the mother's blood and tears.

 

We asked more questions. How did the Creature manage to escape the dungeon, if anyone had ever tried to kill it, or what did it look like. The last question brought another story.

 

"You see," started Ahran again, "no one really knows, what it looks like. It might be a bear, a mouse or a giant flame-spitting snake. As the legend says, it can change its shape to whatever living thing, except for human. I heard people saying its favourite shape was an ape-like half-giant, for it feels to him most similar to human. But then again, since the king in his folly dug into the dungeon and by that grave mistake set the Creature free, no one had ever lived to speak of actually meeting it."

 

After some more talk we offered to discuss the matter thoroughly and see if we could be of any help to these poor, beaten people. Ahran promised to convince the chief and we agreed to meet him and all the scholars in the hall with the first ray of sun the next day.

 

***

 

The chief wasn't pleased with us willing to fight the abomination, and warned us of a certain death. "If you crave for death, be my guests..." - those were the actual words he pronounced hopelessly. After that he threw his amulet on the table, sighed "be my guests" again and desperately collapsed back into his throne.

 

The scholars showed also little hope, but they were willing to answer anything we wanted to know and also offered some information they believed to be vital. We learned that the Creature couldn't be killed nor hurt by ordinary weapons. The scholars claimed, that any wound inflicted by a regular weapon would heal instantly, only making the Creature angrier. When we asked how they could know things like that, they referred to the Legend and its ancient scriptures. However, we also learned, that there is a way of  actually hurting the Creature. We were told, that there was a special rare ore, which has some influence on it. One of the scriptures, Ahran said, included information about the effects. Wounds inflicted by weapons made of that particular ore were supposed to heal slower and bleed, also a physical contact with the Creature's body would prevent it from changing form and make its movement harder. We were ensured, however, that not even these weapons are capable of killing the beast.

 

"There is only one way, as I told you yesterday," said Ahran. "The tears you shed, the blood you spilled, only they can redeem your soul. That's what the legend says. Since everything in this legend proved to be true so far, I ensure you, that this amulet is the chest containing the death of the Creature."

 

"We agreed," one of the other scholars spoke, "that a touch of this amulet, precisely of the stone in this amulet, which was created from the mother's tears and blood, should bring death to the Creature."

 

"Also," continued the third one, "the Legend has it, that once the soul is redeemed, the stone shall turn into a sunstone."

 

The fourth one kept nodding in agreement.

 

We spoke a little longer and then we went back to the hovel we slept in. We took thought about all the facts known and shortly we were decided.

 

"We will attempt on banishing the Creature," I offered our help to the five representatives.

 

The chief sighed again. Ahran spoke.

 

"Very well. We do wish you success, although we assure you, that this battle is nearly impossible to prevail in. We give you our blessing, though, and pray to the creators to give you theirs. Hereby we entrust you the Amulet, as well as these."

 

He uncovered a blanket to reveal three swords, a pike and seven arrows. the metal of the blades as well as of tips of the arrows and pike was not steel. It was very dark, reddish black.

 

"These are made of the Ore, the only pieces we possess. We hope they'll help you on this quest. Take them and march to battle. May the creators guard you on your way."

 

***

 

We departed. I wore the amulet and took one of the swords, Triia bore the pike. Two of our three companions took a sword each, the last one had the arrows. All unnecessary belongings were left in the village along with our ponies, for we decided to go as fast as possible, without any needless load to slow us down.

 

Because we were told that the Creature roams only the surroundings of Elmdell Hill, we paced straight there. On the way we passed a lot of ruined dwellings, it was clear that the place now overgrown by elm trees, bushes and moss were once houses, squares and streets. All the trees we saw around were elms. One would never await any peril in a beautiful place like Elmdell, I thought, this town had had to be a true place of mirth back in its old days. Now the ruins were telling the story.

 

As we were closing in, we slowed down, walked cautiously, trying to avoid any unpleasant surprise. The forest was silent, it was the same dull silence as we heard the day before. We could see Elmdell Hill in the distance as well as two large towers sticking up from the green of the elms there.

 

In a while we noticed that someone or something kept striding along our way, always staying hidden in the bushes and behind hedges, but treading quite heavily on the ground. In a while Triia glimpsed its shape - over seven feet tall and quite collosal. She told me in a whisper and I thought that the rumour of its favourite form might be true. We prepared for attack, but the Creature wasn't around anymore.

 

It was late evening, when we reached the hill. One of the towers stood at the base of the slope and was built of wood and stone. It was not very tall, but all the more massive. The upper one, about a hundred paces uphill was tall and slim and was built of blue and silver metal. It had a spiked crown with six pointed turrets. Both towers had tiny fortresses at their bases, but as we later found out, almost all the doors and windows were damaged or destroyed, as well as their furnishing.

 

I took one of the men and went to explore the lower tower, Triia and the others explored the upper one. We were looking for a lair of some kind but found nothing, no entrance whatsoever. When we started exploring woods around the towers, the moon was rising.

 

At one point I heard Triia shouting in alarm. She was running away from the forest into the metal tower, waving towards the sky.

"Hide! Hide! It's there!"

 

I looked up and saw the moon eclipsed by a snake-like shape with broad, skinny wings. The Creature was whirling around the place so quickly I could hardly follow it even by sight. It was a good of fifty paces uphill to the tower, but we managed to get there and hide. We ran inside and rallied in an octagonal hall.

 

In the western wall of it, as well as in the eastern one, there were doorways. The western door closed behind us, the eastern was half open. In the north-east and north-west walls there were large windows; on the north one, between the windows, there was a torn tapestry of some kind. Through the south-western wall led another door, a very small one. A thin screen covered it from the east, in a south-north orientation, penetrating the room to about a third of its width. On the other side of the screen was a staircase leading into the south wall, winding around a thick ornamented pillar up to a small terrace, that was, viewed from the hall, on the left side of the pillar carved into the south-eastern wall.

 

We were standing in a circle near the middle of the room, catching breath. I stood with my back to the half open doorway, Triia was facing the tapestry and the others stood near the screen. We heard a dull noise of something heavy falling into the forest nearby, breaking branches on its way down. About the time we all caught our breath the Creature approached. Through the window it flew as a sort of indefinable mass, that splattered near where we stood and begun to gain its form. That gave us just enough time to hide. I hid behind the half open door, Triia stood behind the pillar, holding her pike upright and our companions hid beneath the screen.

 

The Creature gained its form in a blink of an eye, and I believe that to have been a display of its temper at that precise moment. It was about ten feet tall. A thick, short snake tail, covered by red-green scale blended into a strong torso of dark red colour. The beast stood upright on its tail and had very long, full-fleshed arms, dark red skin with scarce black curly fur. Its hands had scrawny fingers with long green pointed claws. There was no skin on its head, it was just a great skull, sparsely covered by flesh with blood sprawling all over it, tipped by long twisted red horns. It looked as if someone tore its skin off. I didn't see its face, but later I've been told, that no nose was present, as well as eye-lids and lips. Its mouth, however, was filled with rows of pointed long teeth, overflowing with saliva and blood. It kept rattling, roaring, snuffling and sniffing.

 

Now two of our men with naked swords ran screaming across the hall. The Creature noticed them and attacked immediately. The third man stepped out from beneath the screen and shot two of his arrows into the head of the beast. It growled a deafening noise, but stopped moving. The swordsmen attempted attack, but were averted by the beast's claws which proved to be as strong as swords. The archer was observing the beast. When it managed to remove an arrow, he pierced its eye with another. At that time, Triia attacked. The beast, removing the arrow from its left eye, painfully roaring, left its armpit unguarded and thus allowed Triia's pike to find its place between the Creature's ribs. She thrust it in there and held on. The creature almost couldn't move. It grew angry and relentless, but also careless. It started to attack wildly with its right arm, causing much trouble to the two swordsmen, who were hardly able to retaliate.

 

I ran, unsheathed my sword and thrust it deep, right above the Creature's tail ensuring it would be well stuck there. Then I used it to jump at the Creature's back, clasping it with my legs. With one hand I held on to its horn, with the other one I took the amulet. At that time the swordsmen managed to cut its hand off, blood from the wound spraying all over them. The archer shot another arrow. Triia held on to her pike with all her heart and strength. I pressed the amulet against the Creature's skin. The scream it made was the most horrifying sound I have ever heard in my life. It took just a few moments, but felt like eternity. The amulet went ablaze, I thought my hand would burn to the bone. I screamed as well.

 

Then the Creature died. It turned to dust and the amulet shone. The stone shone bright yellow, becoming a sunstone.

 

***

 

We returned to New Elmdell the next day. It's not necessary to say, that it was to the surprise of all local folk, and twice that to the scholars, not to speak about the chief. When we gave him the Creature's hand and the Sunstone amulet, he lost his gloominess and prepared the best feast he could. We were pronounced the Champions of Elmdell, Slayers of the Creature. Within a week we left, our battle wounds all healed. I looked around and saw a village relieved of an evil spell, with laughter sounding in the air.

 

Since that time, I have visited the place several times. I saw homes being rebuilt, heard children laugh, smelt fine food - I also grew fond of tasting it. I even saw a monument, a newly built statue in the courtyard, right at the foot of Elmdell Hill, depicting 'Five brave strangers, the Champions of Elmdell". I used to seek council with the Elders and Scholars - one of which was called Ahran.

 

I daresay I know the place well, and I swear that the mirth, the songs and all the dance and joy have found their way back to the valley of Elms.