Riders of the Ashen Hope

Carson was snoring.

Nettie looked at the Rider, eyebrow raised. Of course Carson had picked up snoring. If there was anything else that he could do to be annoyingly loud, he’d be doing that.

She kicked him in the shoe. Carson snorted back phleghm, and rolled over, cuddling the rock that had served as his pillow. She poked him with her bow, this time in the temple.

“Not now, Harsk,” he mumbled. “I’ve got five more minutes of shut eye.”

“I’m not Harsk,” she said. “And it’s time to get up.”

“Wrong,” Carson said. “It’s time to sleep uncomfortably.” He pulled at the rock protectively.

Nettie grabbed him by the pants, and dragged Carson off the rock.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” she said. “Time for us to be people for a change.”

Carson opened his eyes, and looked up. He frowned, and rubbed his face.

“Do we have coffee?” he asked.

“We will when you make it,” Nettie muttered.

Carson nodded. “You’re Nettie, all right. No one else can wound me to the core so with your sharp tongue and sharper wit. Except maybe your daughter.”

He rolled himself up to a sitting position, and smiled. “It’s good to see you, girl.”

Nettie sighed. Carson was only a few years older than she was. A couple of Riders in their middling adulthood, still trying to find out who they were. And yet to the entire Ride, she was always going to be Harsk’s protected one. The girl who was saved.

Carson saw the look on her face, and reddened. “Um, can I buy you breakfast?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Nettie said. She was just about broke anyways, so she couldn’t exactly say no.

“There’s supposed to be a town about half a day’s ride up ahead,” Carson said. “Name of Sweet Plains. Ever been?”

“Don’t think so,” Nettie said. “This has always been a bit too close to centaur country for Harsk’s leaning.”

Carson saddled the horse, and nodded. Centaurs had claimed much of the territory west of the Black Hills for their own range. Humans and others could come and go, as long as they didn’t disturb the herd movements or overstay their welcome.

He got up on the horse, and paused. Harsk never seemed to like spending too much time with centaurs. Or other races, for that matter. Was there something to that?

“What are you thinking?” Nettie rode up on her own horse.

Carson gave a low whistle at the black Arabian stallion. “Damn, Nettie. Where did you find him?”

“Al-Hattal?” Nettie asked. She smiled. “His owner took a liking to me, and gave him as a parting gift.”

Carson looked the horse up and down. The muscles rippled under the hide, and the mane was a lustrous white. Not too lean, or chunky. The stallion could probably run for three days, and then outrace a quarter-horse up and down Main Street.

Al-Hattal stared back. Peering right into his soul. And smart, too. This wasn’t just a horse. Al-Hattal was the pride of a horse line.

“Are you coming, or are you going to keep looking at my horse?” nettie asked.

Carson laughed, turned his own horse, and the two trotted off towards Sweet Plains.

Didn’t make sense. A horse that fine wouldn’t be given just willy-nilly. He was something special. A gift like that…

“Nettie?” Carson asked. “Did you have anything happen to you while you were gone?”

Nettie thought about it. “I ran into my daughter a while back.”

“That wasn’t what I…you saw Kait?” Carson asked. “Geez, Nettie. What happened to you?”

Nettie laughed, and filled Carson in as they rode towards Sweet Plains. How she had come to be a bodyguard and maid to ____. Kait and Jude coming onto the farm, and how the three of them had left with Clari-Ann to strike out towards a Lost City.

Carson, for his part, kept quiet, listening to a good story. It was good to actually hear someone else talk for a while.

The horses plodded along. They had found a well-worn travel road, heading northeast. They passed through fields of wheat, tinted golden amber as they sun rose. Good farmland, though the wheat itself lay untended.

“How about you, Carson?” Nettie asked. “Got any stories?”

Carson shrugged. “I’ve just been riding up towards Last Peace, same as you.”

Nettie laughed. “Without accumulating one story? Come on, man. You’ve got to have one story of your journey so far.”

Carson thought about it. “You know, I helped settle a dispute with some elves and the local sheriff.”

“Oh, yeah?” Nettie asked. “And how did that go?”

“Quick. Only had to convince one person to relax.”

“Ah, Carson,” Nettie said. “You’re always so talkative except when it’s about yourself.”

Carson nodded, and kept moving.

“Kait is terrorizing the southwest, and with a kid in tow? Unbelievable.”

“I know,” Nettie asked. “But the kid seems like a good fit. Kait always does her best work when she’s thinking about other people.”

“Takes after her mother,” Carson said.

They kept moving.

Nettie coughed. “And have you, um, heard about…”

“Him?” Carson asked. “Or Harsk?”

“Him,” Nettie said. “We’ll see Harsk at Last Peace.”

Carson frowned. “You’re worried we won’t see him?”

“I’m worried we won’t see anyone else,” Nettie said. “For many of the men, Carzic gave them their first time off the leash in years. They might be going stir-crazy, and love it.”

“Not him,” Carson said. “He wouldn’t do anything to upset Harsk. Ever.”

Nettie nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“And besides, he’s got to come back!” Carson said. “He’s got you to look forward to.”

Nettie snorted. “Not a big incentive for him.”

Carson stared. “But I thought…”

“The two of us?” Nettie sighed, and kept riding. “I don’t know. I wanted to. And we enjoyed each other’s company, sharing a bed on a cold night. But he never seemed to remember who I was the next morning.”

She laughed. “And he’s never even told me his name.”

“I’m sorry. I just expected…” Carson trailed off, blushing. “It seemed like you two were in love.”

“We were,” Nettie said. “Just not with each other. And for a while, we just wanted someone to spend time with.”

Carson wanted to continue, but a look from Nettie silenced him. They ate hardtack, continuing the ride quietly. Just as Harsk would have wanted.

Around lunchtime, the outline of the town came into view. A small circle of buildings, clustered around two streets. The road stretched out before them.

“What do you think?” Nettie asked. “Are we Riders, or just passing through?”

Carson smiled. “What the heck. Let’s go ahead and do our good deed of the week. Might find some work, and maybe even a meal.”

The two wandered into town. Nettie fell into her stance behind Carson, unslinging the bow. The natural state for both of them, Carson talked while Nettie watched. All they needed was Harsk’s gruff face, and the other one’s anger, and they would be back to normal.

“Hello!” Carson called out. “Couple of travelers here!”

It was odd that they had to call out. Usually there was someone out and about. Late in the day, they should be all just coming in from work. Instead, the place looked deserted.

Carson looked back at Nettie. She nodded, and nocked an arrow to her bow. He loosened the sword in his scabbard, and kept moving.

“We’re just a couple of weary, defenseless, scrumptious humans here,” Carson called out. “With fat horses, and dumb brains.”

Al-Hattal snorted. Fat! Nettie laid a hand on his mane, smiling. Carson had a way of drawing out foes.

“Yes, sir. We need to spend all our coin from trading out West,” Carson said. He dismounted from his horse, and started up a wooden sidewalk past the shops. “But where, oh where, are we going to find someone who is willing to take all this coin off of our hands?”

Nettie dismounted. “Al-Hattal, keep an eye out,” she said. The stallion nodded, and nudged Carson’s horse along.

“Tell me,” Nettie asked Carson. “Do you ever trick someone with that obvious banter?”

“First, answer me this,” Carson said. “Have you ever met a horse you couldn’t talk to?”

“It’s a rare talent,” Nettie acknowledged. She walked down the center of the street. She kept an eye out for any movement from either side. “It’s called listening, and then responding. Most men seem incapable of it.”

“Most people,” Carson corrected. “And almost all Riders.”

“Rel, Rael,” Nettie said. “Carson…”

“Your boyfriend, your daughter…”

They glanced at each other.

“Harsk,” they said.

Carson sighed, and looked up. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be getting good and drunk at the saloon!” He shouted. “Nice and defenseless, addled with your finest wine. And I don’t think I’m paying!”

Nettie laughed as he ran towards the saloon. Carson and his tricks. He was trying to get any sort of a reaction. This obnoxious or gullible would have had anyone sticking around shouting back, or trying to attack. That much had usually worked.

But whoever had been in town, must have been long gone.

Carson barged in to the saloon, cursing. They had come all this way, the least that this town could do is actually show up.

The smell hit his nostrils, and he gagged. Sickly sweet, iron. Blood, and other human waste.

His eyes watered, blinding him.

“Nettie!” He cried out, and choked. He rubbed his eyes clear, and looked up.

“No,” he whispered. “No!”

The townsfolk hung from the rafters of the saloon. Entrails coiled around necks, and feet, holding their naked bodies in place. Dozens of men, women and children, their faces sliced into diseased grins, their teeth pulled out, scattered on the floor.

Carson felt his vision blur. There were, there were bodies in positions. On the stairs, in the fireplace. Flies buzzed over the bodies strewn over the bar. His mind swam, and he wavered. No, he had to keep focus. He had to.

The Rider’s knees buckled. He cried out, screaming. Sword clattered away as he screamed.

Nettie ran in front of him, and pulled him close. Carson beat his hands against the floor, drawing blood. No, no, no! why did it happen?

“I’m here, Carson,” Nettie shouted. “I’m here!”

“Damn it!” Carson shouted. He turned and ran back down the street, fists clenched. He didn’t stop until the air felt clean, and real, and natural.

He collapsed, face down in the middle of the road. He cried, wailing at the injustice of it.

Demons. Demons had been there. They had murdered all of them. An entire town, torn apart. And then they decided to have fun.

After a long while Nettie walked up behind him, and sat down on the sidewalk. She kept her distance as he tried to make sense of it all.

Carson didn’t come to for a long while. He never could make the pain just stop. It wasn’t until dusk when he finally could speak.

“How many?” Carson asked.

“Looks to be about four dozen,” Nettie said. “Most likely the entire town.”

“Demons, right?” Carson asked. “It felt like demons.”

“There was a low smell of sulfur. And it makes sense.”

“Makes sense,” Carson spat. “Nothing about it makes sense. A bunch of people massacred, and then displayed like a torture fest. It, it…”

Nettie laid a hand on him. “It’s all right.”

Carson raised his hands, and let out a low moan.

“Why does it still get to me?” Carson asked. “I’ve been with Harsk for almost twenty years. Why can’t I just get over it?”

“Because you’re not as bent out of shape as the rest of us,” Nettie said. She looked back at the saloon, wistful.

She had seen the mangled corpses. She had walked through and seen the obscene positioning. The slightly smoked charring on legs and other body parts in the fireplace. She had even looked upstairs, in case anyone had been mad enough to stay put.

And she hadn’t blinked. It hurt her, to be sure, but in the back of her mind. That small part that told her she had to be offended. That she had to hate those who had done this. That this was a tragedy.

But it hadn’t affected her like Carson. She couldn’t feel the weight of what had been done to the people of Sweet Plains. Not the torture, not anything else. She had locked that part of her soul away a long time ago, and wasn’t sure if she could ever let it out again.

She envied Carson. She envied his weakness.

Nettie handed him her water bag. He sat up, and took a long swig. She tended the horses while he put himself together.

“An entire town,” Nettie said. “The demons took out an entire town.”

“They’re getting bolder,” Carson said. “I’ve seen other places that have faced demons. A lot more than usual. And I’m finding a lot of places have just disappeared. Like they don’t even exist.”

“How many people?” Nettie asked. “How many are we losing?”

Carson shrugged. “We need to find Harsk. We need to get organized. Because something is going on, and I don’t think it’s ending quickly.”

He stood up, and looked back to the saloon. There was more work to be done. Bodies that could have been corrupted by demons. A place that had definitely been taken over by evil. In time, it could become a hotbed of pestilence, famine, war. and much worse. Unless it was cleansed with fire.

Nettie laid a hand on his shoulder. “I can take care of…”

“No!” He said a little too quickly, a little too loud. They both looked at his words.

He tried again. “No. I’m fine. The shock’s worn off. And it’s kind of a big place.”

Nettie smiled. “That’s why I doused the whole place in moonshine.”

Carson furrowed his brow. “Do you think we might be able to save a…”

Nettie shot him a look. Did he really want to find out if the liquor was tainted too?

Carson sighed, and walked with her to the edge of the saloon. Nettie soaked a bit of cloth, tied it to an arrow, and lit.

Carson bowed his head. “To Baldur. To Hephaestus, and Tiamat. Brighid and Quetzalcoatl. May your flames cleanse this place. Burn away the evils that plague our world. And bring us to peace.”

Nettie loosed the arrow, aiming into the fireplace. It caught on the alcohol and logs that Nettie had arranged, spilling out onto the floor. The body parts in the logs charred and blackened, an acrid smell mixing with the smoke.

After a minute, the flames trailed out of the fireplace, setting the establishment ablaze. Nettie and Carson watched the fires reach the bodies. They had to know if the demons had done anything to corrupt the bodies. If they still had more work to do.

But they didn’t. Nothing moved, or changed, or screamed vengeance. An unopened scotch bottle broke on the floor, causing another blast of heat.

Carson bowed his head. “In the gods’ names, let there be peace.”

“Let there be peace,” Nettie agreed.

“Well, Rider work is done.” Carson walked down towards the general store. “Might as well salvage what can be taken.”

Nettie smiled, and followed him down. “You know, Harsk would probably have something to say about looting.”

“Something?” Carson said. He opened the door to the store, and hunched over. He glared at Nettie, holding a hat in his hands. “‘Carson! Carson! We do our jobs. We don’t take from those less fortunate than ourselves, even if they’re already dead.”

Nettie laughed, and waved her hands. “Come on, you have to be better! He’s more gruff, imposing.”

She nodded, eyes squinting into the distance. “Stealing’s bad. Don’t do it. Or else…you answer to me,” she rasped.

Carson shivered. “No. don’t do that. That, that was too on the nose.”

He looked through the shelves. Grabbed some produce, canned goods, a log of salami, and set them on the counter.

“Seriously,” Nettie asked. “Should we be doing this?”

Carson looked around. “Nettie, who exactly are we supposed to pay?”

Nettie nodded. There were no survivors. And if there were, they’d have fled long ago, with the goods they now held. She took a couple of cream sodas.

Nettie looked around the cash box for money. And almost stepped in a long bloodstain.

She leapt back, arm reaching for the bow. “Carson!”

He was in front of her in seconds, sword out. “What? What?”

Nothing. It was nothing. The blood was completely dry. There wasn’t a body, or any part of one.

Nettie knelt down by the blood. The shopkeeper’s, most likely. Snatched up and brought to the saloon. Where they could take their time.

“This is wrong,” she said.

Harsk would never have let them do this. Stealing from the dead. That’s what he would have called it. Everyone who cared was long gone, but that didn’t matter. It was wrong to take the goods.

He would have let it all rot on principle.

“Nettie,” Carson said. “It’s months’ worth of food. It’s going to go bad if it doesn’t get eaten. And no one’s going to lay a claim on it, because it isn’t anybody’s.”

“But Harsk…”

“Harsk would have found a way to keep his principles, and keep everyone fed,” Carson said. “Because we would have insisted on that.”

“It doesn’t seem wrong to you,” Nettie asked. “To take it?”

Carson shrugged. “I figure that life is for the living. Memory, pain, hunger, misery, and trying to allay all of that, is for the living. We are here to remember those who aren’t. we live with the pain, and we deal with the pain.”

His fists clenched at that.

Nettie nodded. “Ok. But we tell someone about this.”

Carson laughed, and grabbed a sack, filling it high. “Tell someone? I’m setting up a retirement house here. All made up and no one to bother me? Might as well become mayor.”

It was then that Al-Hattal let out a soft whinny of warning. Hoofbeats pounded through the road.

Carson and Nettie dropped the materials. They grabbed their blades, and edged to opposite sides of the door.

Carson’s mount screamed, and tried to run. There was a curse, and a horse slammed into the ground. Al-Hattal reared up, bellowing a challenge.

“Seize him!” someone shouted. “But don’t harm that hide!”

Nettie clenched, and looked towards the door.

“They’re just trying to rile you up, Nettie,” Carson said softly.

“And it’s working,” she snarled.

An arrow passed through the door, sticking into the counter. Three more quickly followed.

Nettie gestured to the arrows. “Piercing,” she whispered. “Back away.”

The Riders dropped to their knees, staying a few inches away from the wall. Nettie had used the smaller, tighter arrows herself. The walls in the store were too thin to effectively block the shots.

“Any idea what we’re dealing with?” Carson asked.

“No idea,” Nettie said. “You go find out.”

Carson sighed. He tried to sneak a peek, and tucked his head as another arrow flew past his ear.

“I think they know we’re here,” Carson said.

“We set the saloon on fire,” Nettie said. “You thought we wouldn’t get found out?”

A large stone flew through the window, showering Carson with glass.

“Hey!” He shouted. “That’s just cheating!”

“Come out!” A voice shouted back. “Come out and be known!”

Nettie and Carson shared a glance. Fae. It had to be one of the magical races. No one human would speak like that.

“Kind of comfortable in here,” Carson said. “Not exactly keen on getting a new piercing.”

“You are surrounded,” The voice said. “We will take the store by force if you do not exit.”

“Do we have your word you won’t just attack when we walk out?” Carson asked.

Silence. Carson gave a half-hearted glance to Nettie, looking for something.

“You go first,” Nettie said. “You’re the Rider’s Voice.”

Right now Carson would prefer being the Rider’s Exit Strategy. Or better yet, the Rider’s pair of immortal wings, flying away to safety.

He walked out, hands up, still holding onto his blade. And saw centaurs.

He squinted, and cursed. There must have been a whole herd in town. Humanoid torsos and heads on top of equine bodies, centaurs roamed the northwest plains as their own territory. This herd had every race and hair color. The only thing they had in common was the angry expression turned towards the Riders.

And bows. Bows with arrows, all pointed at Carson.

He looked to his right. Al-Hattal was currently being restrained by three centaurs, and still putting up a fight. His own horse was sitting, docile and munching on a carrot. Lovable traitor.

Carson nodded, and put on his best face. “Is it possible for me to speak to the leader?” he asked.

A man stepped forward, and Carson felt his knees wobble at the sight of him. Burnished brown hair that fell past broad shoulders. A chest big enough to mount a chair on. And a horse’ body that rippled with muscle.

He stared at Carson with golden eyes, filled with contempt. Carson felt intimidated and awed by him.

“I am Takoda. Speak your name, and your business.”

“Right,” Carson said. He gave his best smile. “My name is Carson, and I’m a Rider with Harsk. I was just passing through…”

“Who is the other one?” Takoda asked.

“What one?”

“The woman hiding in the store.”

Carson winced. “She’s not hiding, exactly. More waiting.”

“Send her out.”

“I don’t generally send Riders out. We have a tendency to get cranky when others…”

“Send her out, or I will kill you both here and now.”

Carson put his hand to his face. “No killing, please.”

“You do not get to…”

An arrow clipped Takoda’s face, slicing a lock of hair as it shot past him to thunk into the building across the street.

“Wasn’t talking to you.”

Takoda’s eyes blazed. “Seize!”

“Wait!” Carson shouted. “We are not here to fight anyone.” He threw his blade down, and ran in front of Takoda. “Please, just let us talk for half a second before we start killing each other.”

Takoda reared up on his hind legs, shouting a war cry. Carson placed his hands together, and closed his eyes.

The centaur’s hooves slammed to the ground, inches away from Carson’s feet.

Carson looked up, sweat on his face. Takoda glared down.

“You did not fight back.”

“I’m trying to have a conversation,” Carson said. “We just don’t want to die.”

Takoda pointed at the burning saloon. “There are dead bodies in there.”

Carson nodded. “I can explain. Can I please do so without having an arrow or twenty-eight pointed at my back?”

He smiled. “Then my comrade will come out.”

Takoda’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t take kindly to demands.”

“Not a demand. I would never presume to demand,” Carson said. “A nice request.”

Takoda looked at the rest of the herd. They stirred, but didn’t seem angry with the request. Finally, after a long moment, Takoda nodded, and the bows were lowered.

“Nettie, we’re clear!” Carson shouted.

Nettie walked out, her bow slung across her back, arrows in a quiver by her side. Still available, but she’d never be able to strike before the centaurs did. A show of force, and a show of weakness. A Carson special.

Takoda stepped back, and looked at the two humans. “Riders? Harsk’s team?”

Carson nodded, smiling. “My name’s Carson, and this is Nettie. We’re just passing through.”

Takoda didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned, and looked at the saloon, just as the roof caved in.

“Right. That.” Carson held out his hands. “Well, we kind of got demons.”

“Demons?”

“Demons,” Carson confirmed. “We came in and saw a massacre in the saloon. The entire town, wiped out.”

“And the building was on fire?”

Carson tutted, and scuffed his shoe in the dirt. “No. that was kind of us.”

The centaurs stirred.

“But there were other circumstances,” He said. “We were worried about the dead bodies in there rising.”

Silence. The herd rustled.

“And we were just trying to be, you know, good neighbors.”

Carson wondered if there was anything else he could say to make it worse. Arson, desecration of corpses. Was there a way to insult their lineage and their gods at the same time? From the looks on their faces, it was truly a lost cause.

Nettie frowned, and looked at Takoda. “You saw the smoke from the saloon?”

“Indeed.”

Nettie thought about it. They set the fire, maybe twenty minutes earlier. “Were you in the area?”

“We were.”

They had to have been. And the herd was able to see the blaze, mobilize a war party, and strike with such coordination that neither of the Riders could do anything about their movements.

The herd was either extremely lucky, or they had expected something dangerous. But what?

Carson kept smiling, making sure his hands weren’t clenched. Nettie’s questions helped him get clued in that something was wrong. None of the Riders liked coincidences, and the idea of the herd just being present rankled him, too.

“So, did any of you know the Sweet Plains residents?” he asked.

“Humans?” Takoda sneered. “We would not despoil ourselves with their filth.”

Uh-huh. That was one more piece of it. “And yet, you were here. Hoping to trade?”

He looked at the rest of the centaurs. “I see your lovely goods of…arrows. Hoping to fetch a good price?”

“Carson…” Nettie warned.

He held up a hand. “Did you know what happened here?”

They didn’t respond.

Carson flinched as if struck. He turned to the burning wreck, and held up his hands. “Did you see? The obscenities? The degradation? Living, thinking, soulful beings, reduced to cheap pornographic things for infernal amusement.”

He shivered. “You were this close to see the smoke. You must have heard the cries, the wails. Heard an entire town, begging for release. To have a death that had some sort of meaning.”

The Rider pointed at Takoda. “And you did nothing.”

Takoda looked at him. “They were only humans. Why bother?”

Carson lashed out, striking the herd leader in the jaw. Takoda staggered, and fell, dazed.

The centaurs moved forward, bows drawn. They shouted, screaming. Nettie raised her hands up, cursing.

Carson fell to his knees, groaning. There was a loud crunch as bones in his hand broke. He cradled his broken left hand in his arm.

Takoda slowly got to his feet. He spat out a glob of blood, and glared down at Carson.

“Is that the best you’ve got?”

“Nope,” Carson said. “I’m not out to kill someone just for being a prick.”

“You are surrounded.”

“I’m a Rider,” Carson said. “And I promise that if any of you come close, you’re the first to die.”

He was always going to die. Once the herd found him and Nettie, it was only a matter of time. They didn’t want anyone reporting what had happened. No one human, anyways.

He glanced at Nettie, and sighed. Harsk was going to be mad at him. Keep Nettie safe. They were always supposed to keep Nettie safe. Not because she needed it, but because Harsk needed to know it.

He failed, Harsk. Truly sorry, but he’d try and make sure he was dead before they laid a hand on her.

“Throw them in the fire afterwards,” Takoda said. “Leave no trace.”

The centaurs drew back their bows.

“Dibs on the ones on the right,” Nettie said.

“No fair,” Carson said. “I’m right-handed right now.”

“Tough.”

“Kill them.”

The street exploded into a blaze of white light. The centaurs screamed, reeling backwards. The Riders dove for the ground.

A great wind rushed over them, screaming through the town. Centaurs rushed back and forth, yelling and slashing at anything. But the light blinded everyone. They could not see where they were attacking. Several centaurs already lay dead, slain by their own comrades.

Nettie and Carson cowered on the ground, powerless. Carson couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear. All he could perceive was something happening around him. If he opened his eyes, he’d be blinded.

In minutes, the sound started to recede. Carson could hear hoofbeats pounding away.

“Their days are numbered!” Takoda shouted as he ran off. “Humanity is not rising again. They will face a reckoning!”

A flash of lightning tore up the ground around Takoda. He stumbled and fell, screaming. Two others helped him limp away from Sweet Plains.

And then there was silence.

“Nettie?”

“Yeah, Carson?”

“Did we win?”

“Winning implies we did anything.”

“Well, we didn’t lose. I’m calling this a draw.”

“What was that?” Nettie asked.

“A compulsion,” Carson said. “A strong spell of suggestion. I couldn’t even think about doing anything other than obeying.”

Nettie shivered. She hated magic.

“We’ve got problems, then,” Nettie said. “A lot of them.”

Carson nodded. “Demons are taking out human villages. It’s not making sense, but they’re organized. Systematic in their killing. A structured genocide.”

He sighed. “And the Fae are standing by and watching. Hoping we’re culled quickly.”

Nettie kept riding. Carson waited for her to say anything, but the woman remained pensive.

“What?”

“We were had.”

“I know.”

“They had us, Carson. Had us. We should be dead.”

“Not entirely sure we aren’t,” Carson said. “White light, moving around in it and all that.”

Nettie shot him a glare.

“All right, I’ll stop.”

“Takoda seemed to know what that light was. And he seemed angry at it.”

“Right.”

“Something powerful enough to scare off the centaurs, and all it wanted to do was that?”

Carson nodded. “For now, the light’s on our side. We’ll take it as long as we can.”

“There’s too much we don’t know,” Nettie said. “Why are demons targeting humans? Why are the Fae standing by? And what does this mean for us moving forward?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.” Carson’s horse pounded across the plains. “But I do know where we can find answers.”

Nettie nodded.

“Harsk. You better be there when we show up.”

If you want to read more of our short stories, poetry, see behind-the-scenes work, or support everything that Arcane Inkdustries is doing, click the link and sign up to be a Patreon supporter now.

Thank you for reading. I hope that this sparked a piece of magic for you this week.

Until next time.

Blessings,

Jack Holder

Listen with the writer! Check out our playlist now.

Arcane Inkdustries Writing P... Main Title - (From "The Page... PREVIEW   ​