“What in Inari’s name is that?” Rodney said.
Chapter 1 — Ivel the Ripper. Mark of the Shadow — Book 1 of the Phantom Lord Saga.
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Rumors.
That is what brought Ned Burke, the new Champion of Quilendell, to Elyora's eastern territory, Eradad.
Ned inhaled the crisp evening air, grateful to Inari for the west wind that bolstered the urgency of their quest—a promising omen indeed. He had never been particularly devout, but since accepting Caius’ mantle, the burden of his friend's outstanding morality weighed heavily on him.
Too much time had passed since Caius's mysterious death, and Ned was no closer to finding the culprit. The only clues he had uncovered was a half-inch knife wound in Caius’s back, the mysterious letter from General Stone — something he kept on his person at all times, and Caius' final words, "Trust no one." Ned desperately wanted to put the issue at rest. The others had, but they hadn't heard Caius' warning. True to his word, Ned had told no one, and until he knew who to trust, he was on his own.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a dense wall of fog that manifested itself as their platoon ascended a steep hill. Ned tugged on Juniper's reins, causing the gray horse to whinny in protest. Ned quickly raised a fist, signaling the rest of the platoon to stop before the towering wall of dense fog.
“What in Inari’s name is that?” Rodney said, ushering his horse up to Ned’s and whipping the long locks of hair out of his face.
"What does it look like, kronp?" Darnell said, mirroring Rodney's ascent.
"Well, obviously, I know what it is," Rodney said, "I've just never seen it look quite like that."
"It's progress," Ned said.
"It's a wall," Rodney said, "And we can't see the end of it."
Ned squinted, trying to see beyond the dense fog wall. He felt unease where he had once felt excitement, and he hated it. Life had been so much easier when he could shift the burden of decision on others, or when he could rely on Caius' keen wisdom. Pushing the feelings aside, he tightened his grip on Havashal, drawing it from its sheath. The amethyst moonlight of Indigo reflected off its smooth surface as he scrutinized the dense, almost wool-like fog wall.
"Eh, kronp! I know that look," Darnell said. "Do you really think it's wise to move forward?"
Ned felt a flash of anger at the question but forced a smile. He couldn't fault Darnell for being cautious; they were all still mourning the loss of their friend and leader. However, he couldn't shake the suspicion that Darnell's wariness stemmed from fear of what Ned might uncover. Determined to find answers, Ned knew he couldn't afford to stand still.
"Better to face whatever lies ahead than stay stuck here," he said firmly. "Men, be ready for a fight."
Ned urged Juniper forward, leading the way into the fog with his platoon trailing behind. They advanced cautiously, hands poised on their weapons. As they pushed through the dense fog, it seemed to grow even thicker until it was like riding through a thick blanket. Ned's senses remained on high alert, attuned to any sound or movement around them, but for now, all was silent. Too silent.
"Stay close together," Ned called out, his voice muffled by the thick fog.
He glanced around to reassure himself, only to realize he was alone. His heart rate surged as he swiftly turned his horse, desperately searching for any trace of his platoon. All he could see, however, was the dense fog growing thicker by the second.
"Rodney! Darnell!" Ned called out, but received no response. Panic welled up in his chest as he swung Havashal, the champion’s blade, in a wide arc, poised to defend against any threat. He urged Juniper forward, coaxing the horse to quicken its pace.
A wall of stone loomed in front of them, appearing abruptly out of the thick fog. Ned instinctively pulled back on Juniper's reins, bringing the horse to a sudden stop before they could collide with the obstacle. A closer look revealed it to be a cottage, demolished and smoldering.
Ned had reached the city, but it was chillingly evident that something dreadful had occurred. He navigated past houses and down a cobblestone street. As they ventured further into town, the fog dissipated, unveiling a horrifying scene. Buildings were scorched and crumbling, with bodies strewn across the streets. Ned covered his mouth and nose, the stench of death suddenly overwhelming.
Ned had heard the rumors of scavs with a giant as their leader, but he never thought they could be responsible for something so horrific as this massacre. Rage bubbled up inside him at the sight of it. His mind reeled as he continued through the ruined city, still no sign of Darnell, Rodney or the rest of his men.
As he neared the city center, a chilling sight stopped him in his tracks — eight bodies lay in the courtyard, each with a rune carved into its forehead. Ned was no mage, but he even recognized the runes — one for every magical affinity. The heads of the bodies faced the center of the circle, each body connected to a ring of blood running from rune to rune. Though his instinct was to retreat, he compelled himself to move forward. His mind buzzed with questions as he examined the scene. Who could have done this? And why here? Could it be linked to Caius' death?
Ned dismounted from Juniper, gripping Havashal tightly. An ominous energy radiated from the heart of the circle, suggesting a powerful dark force. He felt a sharp urge to search for his comrades, but the enigmatic glow held him in its thrall. Determined to uncover more, he stepped in closer.
A flash of light burst from the center of the mark blinding him. Ned stumbled back, rubbing his eyes. As his vision cleared, he saw a dark shape approaching rapidly. Before he could react, a large, cold hand seized him by the throat, lifting him up off the ground. He choked and sputtered at the creature’s grip. What was this? It was no Scav. No–this was something else entirely. He clenched his grip around Havashal, slashing—
And missing.
He could hear Juniper whinnying, the clip-clopping of his hooves as the horse fled. Ned struggled to break free from the snarling beast pinning him down. He struck the creature's head with the golden hilt of Havashal, but it only seemed to enrage it further. Acting on instinct and training, Ned dropped Havashal, drew a short dagger, and drove it deep into the creature’s armpit. With a guttural roar, the beast dropped Ned to the ground and rolled away, giving Ned a chance to retrieve Havashal and scramble to his feet.
As he did so, two more pale white-skinned creatures emerged from the mark. These beings, often subjects of campfire tales, were unmistakable. Their pallid white skin and the row of short black and red horns adorning their heads revealed their identity. These were Ragelings, monsters he believed lost to legend.
Without hesitation, Ned raised Havashal and charged at the approaching brutes, his years of training instinctively taking over. The closest Rageling roared in fury, lunging at Ned with its claws gleaming menacingly in the dim light. Ned rolled aside just in time, narrowly dodging the beast’s attack. He swung Havashal with all his might, targeting the creature’s exposed flank. The blade sliced through the air and struck true, but the Rageling’s thick hide blunted the blow. The creature stumbled but quickly recovered, retaliating with a vicious swipe that caught Ned off guard.
Ned felt the sting as another of the Rageling's claws raked across his arm, and he staggered back, gritting his teeth against the pain. His mind raced as he tried to formulate a plan, the creatures were surrounding him. With a determined shout, he charged the nearest creature, hoping to land a decisive blow. But the Rageling was ready for him. It sidestepped his attack and delivered a powerful strike to his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Gasping for breath, Ned struggled to rise, but the same brute was already upon him, pinning him down with its weight. Desperately, Ned punched the Rageling repeatedly to no avail. The creature's violet eyes glowed with malevolent intent as it raised its fist for the final strike. Just as the claws began to descend, a thunderous roar echoed through the courtyard.
A massive figure barreled into the Rageling, knocking it off Ned with a forceful blow. Dazed, Ned glanced up to see a giant man with broad shoulders and a wild expression, standing protectively over him. The giant's presence towered over the creatures, and much to Ned's astonishment, the three Ragelings quickly retreated from the giant, their eyes averted. They let out one last deafening roar before finally vanishing into the fog.
Ned nodded, still catching his breath. "Whew, thanks for the save, friend. When I saw Inari’s light, I thought it was the end for me."
The giant remained silent, moving instead to the center of the courtyard where the Ragelings had emerged. His massive shoulders sagged, and the scrape of his footsteps echoed loudly in the stillness.
"Wait!" Ned shouted after the giant. "Where are you going? I don’t even know your name."
The giant turned to face him.
"Ivel," he said, his expression blank. Ned recognized that look instantly; this was a man suffering from a battle stupor. It was a familiar sight—everyone faced it after their first encounter with combat, and if fate was on their side, it didn't claim their life.
Ivel sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face, his sobs echoing through the deserted courtyard. Ned then noticed Ivel's tattered attire—ripped and torn, but most disturbingly, covered in dried blood.
"I killed them, I killed them!" Ivel chanted softly, his massive frame quaking with grief and remorse.
Ned took a step back from the giant, his eyes scanning for his blade, Havashal. Yes, the giant had saved his life, but it was clear Ivel knew more than he was revealing, and his presence here might not be as innocent as it seemed. Spotting Havashal lying on the ground a few yards away, Ned quickly retrieved it. Here was a man who had just saved his life, and yet his savior could very well be the instigator of these tragic events.
"It's going to be alright," Ned said, trying to offer some comfort.
Ivel shook his head.
"I should have done something," Ivel muttered through his tears. "I should have protected them."
"You did do something," Ned reassured him. "You saved my life, but right now I need you to focus on telling me what happened here."
“So many dead,” Ivel said, “It’s all my fault.”
Ned frowned. Ivel knew something, that much was clear, but finding out what he knew was going to be more of a challenge than he had anticipated.
"Ivel, my name is Ned," he said. "I'm the Champion of Quilendell, and I came here to help. Just breathe, and tell me what you remember."
"Darkness," Ivel said. "Death. Destruction... It was all gone when I returned. He promised it would be alright."
Ned gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to get anything out of Ivel now. Too much trauma, it seemed, and at least it appeared the giant was a threat to no one.
"Okay," Ned said, trying to keep his voice gentle and calm. "That's enough. Let's get you somewhere safe."
Ivel kept muttering, "I killed them," repeatedly as Ned struggled to lift the giant to his feet. The clatter of hooves echoed through the courtyard, catching Ned’s attention with a flicker at the edge of his vision. Turning, he saw his platoon galloping into the courtyard, led by Darnell and Rodney, with Juniper guiding them. The horse nickered as it approached Ned, its eyes shimmering with concern.
“Darnell, Rodney!” Ned exclaimed. "Good job, Juniper, there isn't a finer steed in the kingdom." Ned gently stroked the horse's muzzle, and Juniper whinnied with delight.
Both lieutenants dismounted their steeds cautiously, hands resting on their swords, eyes warily fixed on Ivel.
“Are you alright?” Rodney asked, his voice laced with concern.
“I’m fine,” Ned said. “Just glad y’all found me.”
“You had us worried, kronp,” Darnell said. “Glad to see you alive.”
“Thanks, brother,” Ned said.
“No problem, kronp,” Darnell said. “I mean, can we really afford to lose any more champions, not this year at least. If you died, they’d probably ask Rodney to be the Champion.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Rodney said.
“Nothing,” Darnell said. “So long as you’re okay with a man with style but no substance.”
Rodney slugged him hard in the shoulder.
“Esh! For Inari’s sake, kronp,” Darnell shouted. “Was that really necessary?”
Rodney shrugged. “Punishment fits the crime.” His eyes shifted to Ivel who was still very blood-stained and muttering to himself. "So, what’s wrong with him?"
"Battle sickness," Ned said.
“Eh, kronp, what’s that over there?” Darnell asked.
Ned’s eyes followed Darnell’s finger to the ring of dead bodies behind them and the blood-stained Ivel.
“Did he do that?” Rodney asked.
“To be honest, I don’t know,” Ned said, "But the giant clearly knows what happened here, we need to get him back to Quilendell."
"And how do you expect to do that?" Darnell said.
Ned cast an irate glance in his direction.
"What?" Darnell said. "Are we looking at the same man? We can't just throw him over a horse and take him back with us."
"We will find a way," Ned said firmly. "We don't know what happened here, or who did this, but I'm certain that Ivel is the key to unraveling the mystery."
"I think it's pretty clear who did this?" Darnell said, pointing to the giant. "That Ripper over there. Covered in blood."
"He has a name," Ned said. "Ivel saved my life from the Ragelings that spawned from that devil’s pool, so I'm inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt."
“Ragelings?” Rodney said, his mouth wide with shock.
“Look, I’ll explain more later,” Ned said. “The fog is clearing up. Let’s get moving.”
"If you say so, but be careful, kronp," Darnell warned. "Guilt has a way of encouraging our better halves. That man is most likely a murderer."
"Ivel the Ripper," Rodney said. "Kinda catchy that?"
"Stop it," Ned said. "This is serious. We need to find out what happened here, and if Ivel had anything to do with it."
Darnell sighed, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "Fine, but we should chain him up, just to be safe, and maybe try to clean him up a little."
Ned didn't love the idea of chaining Ivel up, but he knew Darnell was right. They couldn't risk Ivel escaping or causing harm to anyone else.
"Men spread out," Ned said. "Find me something."
Ned waited as his men combed the area, his eyes scrutinizing Ivel from head to toe. Could one man truly cause such devastation? Ivel sat with his face buried in his hands. Could he really be behind the countless deaths and destruction? The rumors all pointed to it, yet it felt implausible. Slowly, Ned stood up and paced back and forth. Ivel’s fate rested in his hands now. He could only hope that justice would prevail in the end.
"We found some rope," Rodney announced. “It should be strong enough to hold the Ripper, er... I mean Ivel.”
That will do,” Ned said. “Bind his hands.”
The men pulled on Ivel’s ropes, and Ivel didn’t resist. He stood up and went to where he was beckoned.
“We ride to Quilendell,” Ned said. “Hitch Ivel to Juniper, and let's get out of here.”
By this point, the men’s hesitation had faded and they obeyed Ned’s instructions swiftly. Ned gripped Havashal, the champion’s blade weighed heavily on his hands, the burden of its past still threatening to pull him under. He yearned to fling it away and banish his pain. Instead he embraced it, tucking the blade into its sheath at his belt.
“Are you really sure about this?” Darnell said.
“Something is going on in Elyora,” Ned said, mounting his horse. “And I intend to find out what. Now let's go. It’s at least a three-day ride back to the capital, but with Ivel in tow, it’s going to take much longer. I’d like to be back before the Otter Festival begins. I don't want the King or the Princess to be cross with me.”
Ned’s lieutenants nodded, mounting their horses. Ivel appeared defeated, almost resigned to his fate, and Ned couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. Though he was unaware of Ivel's ultimate fate, he knew that Ivel was crucial to uncovering the mysteries of Elyora and perhaps the truth about what happened to Caius. With Ivel in tow, the platoon set off for Quilendell, venturing into an uncertain future.
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