They arrived in Whiteford with the lifeless bodies of the burrow snakes draped across the necks of their horses. It was a small farming village nestled into the bend of a river, a shallow ford of crystal clear water connecting to the road on the other side. The road cut through thick woodland, leading farther south.

Fishermen lined the shore, casting out their nets, while women washed laundry and pots nearby. The houses were of wood frame and thatched rooftops. It didn’t take long for one of them to spot them approaching, and soon a gathering formed along the roadside to greet them.

It was a huntsman that spoke. “Can we help you, travellers?”

The man looked to be about thirty. He had a bow sheathed in a quiver at his right hip, and a short sidesword on his left. Hump realised he’d been standing guard.

“I am Robert Blackthorne, Knight of Kelisia, and these are my companions. We’ve come from the Adventurers’ Guild on request of Whiteford,” Bud said. “Is this the right place?

“That it is, lord.” The man smiled, nodding his head in a small bow. “My name is Glen Forester, and a humble welcome to our village.”

Around him, the other villagers were murmuring, their eyes wide with reverence as they looked at Bud. Hump wanted to scowl. Just because the knight had his fancy new armour, he was getting even more attention than usual. Then he realised they were looking at him too. Kids pointed at his staff, whispering excitedly to each other, and Hump sat a little taller—or at least, as tall as he could.

Bud answered their questions briefly, before Glen suggested the move inside to discuss the matter privately. There, Glen told them of the attacks.

Two of the village people had died already—the first caught off guard while out with the other foresters, the second part of a group that went out to hunt for the beast. Since then, they hadn’t dared to step foot into the woods, and with the winter’s bite growing colder, it wouldn’t be long until they ran out of firewood. Traders had been attacked along the road, usually they were travelling alone, the beast preferring easier prey. On the darkest nights, the village folk spoke of growls in the night, the creature prowling through their streets. They were afraid of shadows, finding gold eyes peering out from them, and deep, rumbling snarls.

“It sounds like a shadow cat,” Hump said.

Dylan nodded. “That’s what I thought too. Do you have any wounded?”

“Yes, my father actually,” Glen said. “He was part of the hunting group and the beast pounced on him. We ran it off before it could do him any real harm, but he got a nasty scratch along his back. It was the strangest thing, like his shadow had folded up from the ground and locked him in place. Couldn’t move him for a good few minutes.”

“Definitely a shadow cat,” Hump said. “Is he alright? We can tend to his wound if you’re concerned.”

Glen shook his head. “It’s been a week now and he’s up and about. Please… just get this monster out of our forest.”

“We’ll do everything we can,” Bud said.

They gathered what information they could. From the sounds of it, the creature lurked fairly close to the village, likely patrolling the area of forest beyond the ford. They organised a place for their horses to stay, and then figured out a plan away from the nervous ears of the other villagers.

“Are they strong?” Celaine asked.

“Reasonably,” Hump said. “Nothing we can’t handle though. The problem is that they’re fast and can use Shadow Step. It’ll be difficult to pin it down and kill it in the forest.”

“Do you think you can track it?” Bud asked.

Celaine shrugged. “If I get lucky. It’s been a few days since the last attack though, so chances are slim. If it’s as nimble as it sounds, I expect it would hear us coming too, even if I were alone.”

“I think our best bet is probably to lure it out,” Dylan said. “We’ll likely only have one chance at this. If it escapes, we won’t find it, and then these good people will be looking over their shoulders until it inevitably returns.”

Their eyes slowly all turned to Hump.

“What?” he growled, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Why don’t you make Bud the bait? He’s less likely to get eaten.”

“Well, Bud’s too big, he’s less likely to get attacked,” Celaine said.

“And Celaine and I are the most likely to remain hidden when it approaches,” Dylan said.

“Can I just say how much I hate this plan?” Hump said.

“You’ll be fine,” Dylan said. “Shadow cats are fast, but they aren’t that strong. You could probably handle it yourself anyway.”

“If I notice it before it eats me.”

“That’s why Dylan and I will be there,” Celaine said. “We’ve got your back.”

“Here,” Bud said, taking out a bag of jerky and handing it to him. “You’ll need this.”

Hump glared at his friend, snatching the bag out of his hand. “I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to make me smell like food.”

Bud nodded, doing his best impression of a wise wizard. “Delicious food. The perfect monster bait.”

“If it eats me, I swear I’m going to come back as a lich and haunt all of you.”

***

Dylan had given him his hatchet. It went against every instinct Hump had to actually use it. He took a deep breath, accepting his cursed fate, and struck at a tree. Once, twice, three times before he stopped and looked around. His heart raced. Gods, he hated this… he couldn’t see any of his companions out in the woods—not even Bud—and he certainly couldn’t see the damned shadow cat.

He struck the tree again, hammering at it until his arm hurt. It was only a few inches thick, and after a few minutes it came crashing down to the forest floor with a great, echoing crunch. If the creature hadn’t heard him yet, it would have now. He took a seat on the fallen tree and stared out at the forest, holding his staff close. The sun was starting to go down. It was late afternoon already, and winter days were short in Alveron. Slowly, the shadows grew. He'd positioned himself in a clearing, trying to stay as far away from any shadows as he could. He hoped it would give him the moment he needed to cast Shield.

He took a bite of the jerky and it tasted like wood pulp. He was too nervous.

A repeating deep, hoarse grunt rumbled from the trees and Hump whirled on it. He dropped his hatchet and gripped his staff in both hands. He didn’t need to fake his fear. While theoretically he could probably defeat it alone, far too many adventurers had died to things that had slipped past their defences.

He knew what it was doing, and he knew how to react. Shadow cats liked to attack from the back. Typically, they growled to draw their target’s attention or to send them running, then leapt out of a shadow at their back. Counterintuitively, Hump stepped backward and closer to the shadows of the trees behind him.

He sensed rather than heard the attack. Essence surged at his rear like a gust of wind.

“Shield,” Hump barked, the spell already on his lips. The shadowy creature struck his shield, snarling as it tried to claw its way through. When it realised it couldn’t, it darted around him, faster than he could blink. A blur of shadow trying to get at his back before his spell could fully form.

An arrow caught it through the hindleg, imbued with Predator’s Intent, and it let loose a pained howl. It turned to run, aiming straight for a nearby shadow.

“Light,” Hump shouted, shining upon the creature and the surrounding area in blindingly bright Wizard Light. It snarled and screeched, scrambling in the dirt at the sudden flare. It scraped at the ground, trying to run for freedom. From Hump alone it might have escaped, but Dylan appeared behind it to block its path, vines rising around him to form a makeshift fence, driving it back toward where Bud and Celaine waited.

It tried to skirt around, dashing into the gap back toward the river. Hump pointed his staff, letting loose a blast of essence at the ground before it. It exploded into shards of dirt and stone with an earth trembling boom. The creature scrambled back, baring its teeth in a howling snarl as Dylan stepped closer. It staggered on its wounded leg, its blood near invisible against slick black fur. Bud rushed in as loudly as he could, shouting and waving his blade in the air, frostfire blazing upon it and his Heart of Frostfire aura expanding around him.

And then a silver bolt pierced straight through its skull. It dropped dead. Hump let his Light spell fade, and they gathered around its limp body. It was a patch of shadows in the dim light beneath the trees, almost invisible. It’s gold eyes stared out.

“Good work everyone,” Dylan said. “That was well executed.”

Bud came closer, inspecting the beast. “It really was. Good shot, Celaine.”

“That first one missed,” she said. “I was aiming for its heart.”

Bud grinned. “More fun this way anyway. Not often I get to charge in like that.”

“More fun for you maybe!” Hump said. “Gods above, when it started growling at me from the trees my heart almost stopped.”

They laughed, and Dylan knelt down beside the beast. He took out a thick book on monsters he’d been going through as they travelled and found the section on shadow cats.

“Anything valuable?” Hump asked.

Dylan nodded, still reading. “Its hide makes fine armour. Perhaps something for myself or Celaine if we can find a craftsman that can work it.

“There’s probably a tanner in Whiteford we can leave it with until we start heading back this way,” Bud said.

“Other than that, its eyes are a popular choice in dark vision artefacts and potions, and its fangs are prized amongst collectors.”

Hump took a stick and slowly used it to open the creature’s mouth, half expecting it to pounce up at him. Four incisors as big as his thumb inside. “I was the bait, someone else can get them out.”

Suddenly, Hump felt a familiar shake on his belt. He grinned, looking down at his faintly glowing book and unbuckling it from his belt. The pages folded open in his hand and he watched as ink spiralled across the page, gleaming with fresh essence. He’d spent hours every day practicing, and finally it had paid off.

Spellbook

Explode Earth

Evocation | Battle Magic | Tier 2 | Range: Short

Description: With a burst of essence, cause an explosion of earth at the target location.

Notes

Sethril - A favourite of mine, useful for catching unexpected opponents off-guard, especially non-magic users. Applied with some creativity, it’s well suited for battlefield control, capable of forming areas of dust clouds or impassable terrain.

Hump stared at the page for a long few seconds, not evening breathing. He heard the old man in his ears as he read his note. He knew even the snobby, know-it-all tone he would say it in.

“Are you alright, Hump?” Bud asked.

Hump rubbed his welling eyes with his sleeve and looked up. “Yeah,” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I’m fine. Got a new spell. My master left a note on it and it just caught me by surprise. All good.”

Celaine stepped closer and had a look. “Looks like a useful spell.”

Hump nodded. “It’s what I was after. Tier 2 actually, so a bit better than I expected.”

Dylan clapped him on the shoulder.

They returned to Whiteford with the creature over Bud’s shoulder, saving the butchery for once they were clear of the forest. They gathered around to welcome them back, a cheer amongst them that had been missing when they’d first arrived. There would be a feast that night, and they’d been offered free lodging from half the village for their aid. First, they saw to getting their kills to the butcher. The heartstones from the burrow snakes and shadow cat combined would make for a few silver coins, not even counting for the raw materials. As far as the meat was concerned, they decided to leave it to the village people, trading it for some fresh supplies for the rest of their journey.

They woke early the next day a little worse for wear after a night of drinking, but they had no choice but to leave early. Days were short, and they had their next quest to get to.

“Lovely town,” Dylan said as they rode, looking as fine as ever. “I’m looking forward to passing through on our return.”

Hump glared at the druid’s back as his own head pounded, cursing the healing power that came with being a Chosen of Krioc. He settled back into Prancer’s saddle, basking in the morning sun. His new robes and cloak kept him warm despite the frosty morning.