The Wizard Killer - Season 1

Episode 3

Like an idiot, I stand there in the middle of the dirt road, turning my forearms back and forth, as if my tattoos will suddenly reappear.

My head keeps shaking and my mouth keeps saying no, as my mind contemplates whether or not there's more than a foggy memory at play. Shooting a quick glance at the sky, I'm annoyed that there's nothing but wispy clouds, but I have no idea what I'm looking for.

Turning back to the road ahead, I notice some kind of scratches along the ground that lead to the wreckage. The jagged grooves aren't anything I recognize, nor is the spacing between them. It looks like something moved side to side as it advanced and then stopped ten feet before the levi.

I attempt to follow the grooves but quickly lose them, so I return to the wreckage and try again. I fail a second time. Crouching down, I run my fingers through the grooves, expecting them to tell me something, but there's nothing. Glancing about, I realize I've got no instinct or intuition giving me a hint. It's like I can't track anymore. Chewing on my lip, I stand. "What the yig can this body do?" I ask myself.

Snapping twigs draw my attention to three figures moving slowly in the underbrush on the north side. I shoot a quick glance to the south. It looks like I only have company on one front.

I try pulling the hammer back on the pistol, but it won't move. I turn it over, wondering where the bullets go. The only thing I see is a little switch on the bottom, moving it back and forth doesn't open it up or anything. I think there might be a trick to it, but if there is, it's not coming to me.

I could kick myself for not having checked it out properly as soon as I found it. The yigging thing could just be ornamental, put there to screw with the poor idiot who was ambushed and went for it.

With a steadying breath, I figure I might as well bluff. My new friends shouldn't be any the wiser, at least at first. Along with the short sword, I feel the odds are still in my favor.

I watch and wait as they slowly advance. It dawns on me that the three shambling, shadowy mounds in front of me are too close together, almost like they want me to step forward and focus on them. I quickly glance over my shoulder and see a much bigger one making its way towards me at a steady clip. Swiftly, I move south so that I can see them all at once. The big one immediately slows down.

Inexplicably, I start feeling pressure in my chest. I break into a sweat, my heart starts pounding. My breathing speeds up and I'm feeling jumpy. Is this excitement all it takes to make me fall apart? Nothing's happened yet! I've dealt with much worse than this, haven't I? I start yelling at them, more to distract myself from endless questions than anything else. "Come on, let's get going. I don't have all day."

They gradually get close enough for me to see that they're covered in ratty, brown blankets. Bits of worn boots or clothing peek out as they move. A smaller one trips on a hole in the road, and its covers fall off. Yig, it's a kid. Can't be more than ten, and probably hasn't ever seen a bath. What the yig is this, a family trying to rob me in slow motion?

Immediately, I point my pistol at the little guy and catch a glimpse of the medium-sized one flinching. "Hello mommy," I say with a sneer. They don't react. Something's wrong. The kid just puts his blanket back on, and they keep inching forward. I notice that there's a hole in the blanket near their faces, and its darkly stained below it.

As they close in, I hear them muttering to each other in a bizarre, guttural language of slurping and smacking sounds.

Suddenly, my chest feels like something is swelling in it. Yig, it's hard to breath. I flex my fingers, while trying not to lose my grip on the pistol. My head's bobbing with every sharp intake of breath. "Stop advancing or I'm going to start shooting."

"No," says the big one, with a voice so deep that he sounds like a mountain moving. He straightens up, his huge arms now visible. He is enormous and broad. Yig, he must have been nearly doubled over as he approached. In one hand is a well-worn hand-axe, looking like child's toy. The other hand is a huge clenched fist. In a slurred voice, and dragging out each word, he says, "Give... things."

I take a few steps back. "I'm keeping what I have, thanks. Now get out of here, before I start shooting." I'm gritting my teeth and blinking hard to ignore the pain. I feel like my chest just wants to burst open. Glaring at them as they stare back at me, each waiting for the other to make a move. As the pain sharpens, my head bobs for a second, and the big guy leaps at me.