The Willowsbrook Chronicles - Chapter 11: Secrets of the Sorceress!
Hello, everyone, welcome to another chapter of The Willowsbrook Chronicles.
Last chapter, Gunther and his friends attempted to flee the Inn. Only to find the mysterious dark force controlling it had sealed them in.
Then the large man began to hear the voice of a woman calling him. Quigsley identified the voice as belonging to the spirit of Lady Brianna Gabrielle. A powerful sorceress who known as a notorious heartbreaker.
The stories told she incurred the wrath of the dreaded Necromancer Gadros.
Then they learned Duke Brekkin had not told them all the details. Now trapped inside the inn, and facing more danger before, they must escape even bigger mess. How will they succeed? Find out as the Willowsbrook Chronicles continues.
It took several minutes for Gunther to recover from his bout of panic.
When they'd left the capital of the Brekkin Duchy, he had hoped that the adventures were over. Instead, they were in a dire situation brought on by a Duke who had not been completely honest with them. And while The Duke was remorseful about it, that didn’t change the fact that they were in quite the predicament.
The question was, how were they going to get out of this? Whatever power controlled the Cursed lands had trapped them here, and the big man didn’t want to chance the fog. That in turn, brought him to one dangerous choice.
He got up from his chair. “Naomi, Quigsley,” the trio's leader began in a tone that spoke of an attempt at grim determination. “There’s only one thing for it, much as I hate the idea, we have to respond to Lady Gabrielle’s summons.”
Please help me, the female voice called sounding as if she were clinging to hope.
“What?!” Naomi and Quigsley squawked, horrified.
“Gunther are you out of your mind?” The barmaid snapped.
“That horrible woman broke a lot of men’s hearts. Why not leave the wench to the fate she deserves?” The spell caster stated.
“Because, I’m a man who believes everybody deserves a second chance!” The big man answered.
Please help me, the voice cried sounding more desperate.
The Innkeeper looked around. “I hear you Lady Gabrielle and I want to help. But we need you to come to us first. Appear before us, and let's talk about this."
The temperature dropped several degrees in the room. A figure of a woman looking exactly as she had in the Illusionist’s book, save for the blue glow, appeared.
Barmaid and wizard yelped and leapt away. They looked at their friend like they were seeing him for the first time.
The sorceress looked around and curtsied to the large man. “Thank you, Goodman, for hearing my plea. Who are you strangers, who have taken over this inn on my former property?"
Clamping down on the visceral burst of desire, the big cook collected his thoughts. “My name is Gunther Willowsbrook. I and my friends here used to live in Ansolar, a city at the Eastern end of the Brekkin Duchy.”
Open fear was in the eyes of the human woman, while the wizard showed that mixed with a surprising amount of anger.
The ghost woman looked at each of them. “Neither of you need fear me,” She assured before her face furrowed. “But you, Illusionist, come forward… There’s something familiar about you.”
He shook his head as he stared at her with more hatred than had ever shown from the usually timid caster. Naomi elbowed him. “Quigsley,” the living woman snapped. “What’s the matter with you?”
As if of their own volition, the words spewed from his mouth. “If you must know, this bitch broke me Great Granda’s heart!”
“Your Great Grandfather’s heart?” The spectral sorceress inquired.
“'He was an Enchanter who created a bloody magical mirror for you! Remember Gaelan Starshatter you condescending cheating backstabber? Do you know the kind of pain you inflicted?”
The Innkeeper saw the supposedly arrogant sorceress' face twist into a look that was a mixture of emotional agony and remorse. “Gaelan," she whispered.
The woman let out an inhuman wail that caused the people in the room to cover their ears. It was several moments before the shrieking ceased. “You remorseful, or sorry you got caught, spell flinging tramp?” The human wizard spat.
“That’s enough,” the Innkeeper snapped feeling his temper surge.
“No Gunther, it’s not!” the Illusionist retorted, before pointing an accusatory finger at the cursed spirit.
“Thanks to you, my Great Granda’ got left with a broken heart as you screwed him over for the money you owed him too. HIs Enchanting business recovered, but only when he met me Great Grandma!”
“Quigsley,” Gunther yelled.
The undead woman put up a hand. “No Gunther Willowsbrook, he's right.”
That took both men by surprised. “Aye?” they let out.
“You have every reason to hate me Quigsley Starshatter, what I did to poor Gaelan was horrible. Since Gadros killed me, and his undead curse came to pass, I have had plenty of time to think on things.
"It shames me to say, I did break many hearts. I only take some solace in that your Great Grandfather recovered from his heartbreak.” She stated before returning her attention to the big man.
The three actually got a surprise when the woman smirked. “There is more to you than even you realize Goodman Willowsbrook. While I am only a spirit now, my spell casting abilities and senses have not diminished, praise be to the Gods.
"I can see the strands of fate that are interwoven with you, and your friends. You are, among other things, the best one capable of defeating the power behind the Cursed Lands.”
The big man felt his panic rush back with a new fury. “Oh dear,” The Illusionist commented as he grimaced.
“So,” the Innkeeper asked having a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What you’re saying is that, I’m some kind of chosen hero of destiny?”
She confirmed this with a nod. “Tis the truth I swear. You stand the best chance of defeating the power of the Necromancer behind the Cursed Lands.”
The barmaid raised a hand to the sorceress. The ghost’s face furrowed in puzzlement as the living woman began to count down on her fingers.
“Bloody hell,” The Illusionist added as his right hand slapped his face.
A few seconds of awkward silence passed. “No,” The gentle giant roared at the top of his lungs. “Oh, dear Gods please no, no, no, nooooo!”
The spectral female looked surprised. “You, are not excited about this?” she inquired.
“Excited?!” The Innkeeper bellowed. “Are you jesting with me?
"I read up on those types from the books I had at the orphanage. They ended up getting cut to pieces, or crippled by some massive injury. I don’t want to be a hero of destiny!”
He turned and started to run for the door, only to get tripped up by an invisible force, and fall face first to the floor. Holding back the pain he felt, he tried to get up, and found that he couldn’t. “A slicker spell,” Quigsley explained. “Good for tripping up opponents.”
“Gunther,” his long-time female friend stated in a annoyed tone. “What’s the matter with you, what happened to your courage?”
The big man finally got to his feet. “That was before I found out I’ve had some damn mark of destiny placed on me. As I've said, I’ve read up on those type of heroes, it never ends well for them.”
The large man turned to head for the door, and found the woman in front of him. Her yellow empty eyes began to glow with mystic energy, and somehow, he felt himself drawn to them.
It felt as if someone was gently going through his memories. And then the innkeeper fell on to his rear as the spectral entity completed the reading of his mind.
To his surprise, he saw the spirit of the woman begin to cry. “By the Gods, I have been a selfish fool! I’ve thought only of my own suffering. Yet so many others in this world, including yourself, have suffered much deeper.”
“What gives you the right to use your magic to go through my memories?” The big man growled shaking and feeling violated.
“Because,” she shrieked causing the three of them to leap away in fear. The ghost took a moment to calm down. “Because, I wanted to understand, why you’re so reluctant.”
The Innkeeper shook in rage. The years of pain and suffering from the orphanage coming back.
"How does it feel," he stated, "to live in a world where you get treated like gutter trash by noble and merchant alike? How does it feel, to know that you never knew your parents because they saw you as nothing more than a nuisance?”
“Your childhood and mine are not so different Goodman Willowsbrook," the ghost replied. "I don’t know why I do this, but I offer to share mine with you.”
His anger vanished at this offer, before he looked at his Illusionist friend. “Can she do that?”
The spell caster nodded in confirmation. “Oh aye. Mind sharing spells ain’t nothin’ new, been a fixture of the school of Mind Magic for years.”
Gunther turned to the woman, and took several breaths to calm down. “All right Lady Gabrielle, I accept your offer, show me your memories.”
To his surprise he saw the ghost flinch, and actually shiver. “Be warned, what you are about to see isn’t pleasant,”
He braced himself, and looked into the empty yellow eyes again as they began to glow. In a matter of moments, the memories poured into his mind.
“Oh, Dear Gods!” The big man called in horror as a new understanding dawned on him. When completed he fell again.
His two friends were immediately at his side, helping him stay steady, his face covered in cold sweat. “Are you all right?” The Illusionist asked.
“I see,” The large man managed to get out. “Forgive me milady, I had no idea.”
“You mind sharing with the rest of us?” The spellcaster inquired in mild annoyance.
“The reason that Lady Gabrielle became such a heartbreaker," Gunther explained. "Was because she didn’t know how to love to begin with.”
"Aye," Quigsley and Naomi let out, faces wrinkling in bafflement.
The leader of the trio took a breath to collect his thoughts.
“Her mother, Lady Serena Gabrielle, and stepfather were abusive and neglectful of her. She never knew her real father, she only knew that she was born for social standing. The marriage with her stepfather was also a form of good social standing among the nobility.”
Gunther saw, to his surprise, an angry look come over Naomi, before she schooled herself to calm. “That’s horrible,” she stated feeling for the ghost.
“See why I can’t stand nobles all that much?” The spell caster growled in annoyance.
Gunther nodded his agreement. “Indeed, my friend,”
He then turned to the sorceress. “My lady, I apologize for my show of temper earlier, I now understand what you’ve been through. It seems we both have experienced pain in our childhoods where there should've been joy.”
The spirit nodded. “There is nothing to forgive Goodman Willowsbrook. In fact, your words ring of truth. But let us return to the matter at hand.
"Understand that many have come before you. Great Warriors, Clerics, Bards, Wizards, even Rogues. All thought they could defeat the Cursed Lands. Your mark of destiny is particularly strong which was why you were able to call me here.”
The ghost woman surprised them by actually getting to her knees. “Please Goodman Gunther Willowsbrook, Illusionist Quigsley Starshatter, and Good woman Naomi Kline. I wish to end this nightmare of undeath one way or another. please, help me.”
“Is this some kind of jest?” The Illusionist growled, skepticism dripping in every word.
“Quigsley,” the brunette woman ventured. “My own intuition tells me she's serious,” then she winced. “I can't believe I said that.”
The Illusionist glared at the spirit. “I don’t trust this one for anything. After what she did to my great Grandda’ I say leave her to this fate, and let’s find our own way out of h‘ere.”
The leader of the three came to a decision. “This isn’t a trick,” he stated in a serious tone.
“So, you say,” the spell caster spat. “As far as I’m concerned, this witch got what she deserved!"
“How can you be so callous?” The barmaid chided the wizard.
“It’s easy when she pulled a fast one on your family.” He responded.
“And where does it end?” The big man asked.
“Aye?” The grey robed man ventured.
“You heard me, where does it end? Yes, what she did to your Great Grandfather was horrendous. But my gut is telling me she’s genuine in that she wants our help.”
“Not you too,” he groaned. “Come off it, she deserves nothing from us.”
“Mallastra’s texts state that hatred in the end can only destroy Quigsley. This grudge your family has held has gone on long enough. Don’t you think it’s time to let go?
"Your Great Grandfather did find your Great Grandmother.”
The Illusionist nodded. “Aye lass, he did. Though letting go of this grudge ain’t something I can do overnight.”
The cook put a hand on his friend’s right shoulder. “Use that brilliant mind of yours, don’t let this hate consume you.”
“No one should ever be under this kind of horrible undead curse for any amount of time. No matter who they are, or what they did. It is a fate worse than death.” The living woman added.
The illusionist looked on the ghost woman, and saw her staring back, her eyes brimming with tears. “Please, Quigsley Starshatter, Great Grandson of Gaelen Starshatter. I beg you help me end this. I recognize the reprehensible act that I committed against your ancestor. What must I do to make up for it?”
To this, the spellcaster winced. “Damn it all, I hate it when people make sense like this,” he snapped before throwing up his hands in resignation.
“All right, all right, fine, I’ll let this grudge die and help you out. Though how we’re gonna’ get out of this mess I don’t know.”
The spectral woman explained. “According to the terms of the Cursed Lands Master, the curse will remain until his defeat.”
“How can we stop them if we don’t even know who they are? You said this person has beaten every adventurer type that challenged them.” The wizard complained.
The large man sat down and went over everything since they’d arrived here. Then a thought occurred to him. “Hey Quigsley, didn’t you make mention of the Necromancer Gadros The Black-hearted?”
The Illusionist nodded. “Aye, Gadros the Death King he was also called. Nasty piece of work he was.” The spell caster added.
The big man noticed the smile flash across the ghost’s face. “That’s who’s commanding the power of the Cursed Lands isn’t it?” was Gunther’s assessment.
The undead woman let out a surprise gasp as her eyes glowed blue for a second, then returned to an empty yellow. “Yes, it is! And by guessing that one of that bastard's chains has shattered!" she declared, relieved and gratified.
“Hang on, hang on! Are you telling me that one of the most powerful and evil Necromancers of all time is the source of the curse?” Quigsley inquired.
The big man confirmed this with a nod. “But, in order for that to be the case, he'd have to still be alive." The spell caster surmised. And then his face paled. “Oh, bloody hell,” he groaned, his look showing he knew something.
“Care to let me in on what you know Quigsley?” Naomi asked sounding impatient
“In order for Gadros the Death King to still be alive means this. The Cursed Lands would have to be capable of draining the life force of anyone in or near it.”
“And since we’re near it," The Innkeeper observed, his own face darkening.
The barmaid’s face paled as she came to the same conclusion. “Mallastra and the Gods help us, it’s draining our life force as well."
“What can we do, I don’t wanna' be a zombie or undead.” The Illusionist whined.
“Now everyone calm down!” Gunther roared before he turned to the ghost. “Lady Gabrielle,” he began.
The woman raised a hand. “I… Don’t have much of a title anymore, so please, call me Brianna.”
The cook felt himself flush, then clamped down on his emotions. “Okay, so brute force, magic, even stealth aren’t going to work.”
“What are you getting at?” The barmaid ventured.
It was a desperate idea, but now was as good a time for unorthodox tactics.
“I’ve been running away since Faith Lane, and I’m tired of it. This is our Inn, and by the Gods it’s time we fought for it. So, we’re going to challenge Gadros the Death King!”
What, me reveal the plan this soon? Oh, no. if you want to see what the plan is, and how it unfurls, you’ll have to come back next time. Get ready for the showdown with Gedros the Death King. Creator of the blight that is the Cursed Lands.
Will the plan be enough to save them, or are they doomed to a horrible fate?
You'll have to find out next time.
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Previous: The Willowsbrook Chronicles – Chapter 10: Call of the lady
Next: The Willowsbrook Chronicles – Chapter 12: Dethroning the Death King