Defeating the Cure

By William J. Seymour

One Job.

An easy assignment.

Find the source of the pollution darkening the waters and take care of it. No questions asked. A simple adventure into a dark forest. What could go wrong?

For three adventurers it's a quick payday. Get in. Clean it up. Get out.

Until they find the island. Reaching its shores will be hard enough. Leaving will take everything they have if they are willing to pay the price.

 

Defeating the Cure. A Wayward Companions short story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Furnace Publications
• Release date: Sep 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215693414

Book preview

1

The water boiled, plopped, and sizzled like the lake had come alive. A stench of sulfur and rot hung over the surface, an unsightly mist that clung to the skin creating a horrible rash that itched to all seven layers of Hell.

Well, I’m guessing we found the spot, Windiberry said.

She scratched at the spot right below her elbow, her thin cotton tunic not long enough to reach her leather gloves leaving the skin exposed to turn red and blotchy.

Trees moaned as they swayed in the wind. A dark forest surrounded this small oasis, the only way in or out was to venture back the way they had come.

How you know? Stench asked.

The almost seven-foot-tall orc looked up at the cloudless sky, its bright orange eyes squinting in the sun. Windiberry looked back over the rippling tide to the tiny isle that sat isolated at the very center of the putrid lake.

From this distance, it was little more than a pile of rubble laid strewn across the open earth, isolated and alone as it sat beyond the sandy shores.

It has to be correct. The Cleric Enzoy described an empty island across a dark lake within the forest. How many can there be?

Stench shrugged her massive shoulders, the movement simple enough to pull her green skin taut along her neck where the tendons were thicker than a human’s fingers.

I don’t really see why we need to do this, Ritley added.

The young man picked up a stick, hardly longer than his hand, and tossed it across the surface of the lake. Hardly more than a teenager, he looked younger than the ten years she had even on him.

Windiberry turned, her hands on her hips and the feeling of being a mother far too familiar.

We’ve gone over this a dozen times, Ritley. Everyone saved what they could to bring us here, and they have paid us good money to find out what is polluting the waters of their land.

Paid first, Stench added as she picked at something beneath her nail with the tip of a dagger.

The big orc found herself a seat on a hollow tree trunk that had fallen across the beach, its empty limbs stretched and laid bare across the sandy shore. White foamed waves almost reached the aged wood, its frayed bark just out of reach.

Ritley spared her a glance, his own figure little more than half the mammoth’s height. Dressed in a light cotton shirt and trousers, he looked as if he should be in a school somewhere, not at the edge of a lake looking for the source of corruption, but there was that motherly feeling again. This thought was hard to fight, but she couldn’t deny the boy’s skill with magic. Without it, maybe even she would try to convince him that school was where he should be.

Let us at least take a look. It could be nothing. A bad rainfall washing away some decay from deep in the forest. Nothing that would bother people of our skill.

Skill, Stench said with a scoff.

She flicked whatever it was she found beneath her nail out toward the water before turning the blade to something behind the tusk that stuck out over the right side of her lip.

I’m already bored of this, Ritley complained. "Can’t we tell