IABD 57: An Idea for a Trap

Snow crunched in the courtyard, jolting Matthias from the Realm in Dream.

Moving silently, he sprang from his bedroll, peering through the window—behind him the room was unnaturally bright, reflecting the moonstruck snow outside.

Grey ghouls were prowling across the snowy ground.

By now, he had grown accustomed to their nighttime prowling, but tonight there more than usual. For a moment, he considered waking his sleeping siblings, but quickly dismissed the idea, since waking them would serve no real purpose as Polla’s wards were strong, and the ghouls showed no signs of approaching them.

He watched them move through the courtyard, roaming from place to place as they wanted.

On nights like this, they would emerge from the abbey and quietly lurk in the courtyard, never testing the wards. Their movements were often peculiar to Matthias, defying any reason that he could discern; sometimes they would wander aimlessly—seemingly immune to winter’s bite—like ghosts of the living beings they once were.

Other times they would stalk through the courtyard like predators patrolling their territory.

And at other times…they would kill.

It seemed that this was a killing night.

In the distance—far from Windstone—screeches echoed back to the abbey. Most ghouls moving through the courtyard stopped, turning in unison, quickly rushing from the courtyard—kicking up clouds of white as they charged toward the Windwood.

In moments they were gone.

Minutes passed…and the beasts returned, carrying their grisly spoils. It seemed the pack had laid their hands on a bear and slaughtered it. Now they brought the prize back home—in many pieces—carrying it to their lair. 

As Matthias watched, monsters pulled quivering hunks from the carcass, then spread around the courtyard, feasting as they moved about. Though the bulk of the corpse was taken to the abbey, some was consumed right there and then, eagerly devoured by ghouls gorging on their dripping meal.

He watched as some entered unoccupied hermit houses; even though the dilapidated buildings remained abandoned during the day, many of the undead used them at night, secure that the dangerous interlopers were fast asleep.

His jaw tightened.

“They don’t fear us enough. Not yet,” he whispered to the dark. “I’m going to fix that one day.”

Deep inside, his soul contracted, sending Divine Breath coursing through his body. It burned in his life channels like hot blood in his veins.

###

Matthias’ life energy burned as he raised his sword above his head.

His hardened will gripped his soul.

His calloused hands gripped the hilt of his blade.

His mind gripped the goal he’d set.

With a sudden exhalation, he brought the blade down. His soul contracted, sending a wave of power rushing through the life channels between his body and spirit. Every fiber of his being sparked with power and the blade strike felt powerful enough to cleave a boulder in two.

His blade cut the air with the force of gusting winds, quivering as he halted its slash just above the snow.

He raised the sword again, letting his soul expand, he struck, at the same time, he pumped his spirit. Another rush of power surged through him, feeling much as it would when he concentrated his energies using the Way of Stone.

“Very good,” Mistress Polla complimented him. She floated a little to the side. “Do you find contracting your soul still difficult?”

“Hardly.” Matthias sheathed his blade. “It’s much easier than it used to be.”

Several days and nights had passed since he’d watched the ghouls’ grisly feast, and on this cloudy day, he was outdoors, focusing on swinging his sword while pumping his soul. Even after spending so many nights practising the harp, he hadn’t expected what he was doing now to be quite as easy.

Musical training, at one time, had been unfamiliar to him, while training with tools of bloodletting was something he’d done for the better part of his life. He was enjoying making music as much as he enjoyed stone carving, he liked using his hands…but those hands were also made for battle.

Matthias knew that fact as certainly as he knew his own name.

“Right now, my soul contracts automatically…only sometimes, and definitely only when I’m at rest.” His boots crunched on the packed snow in the courtyard as he approached the mage. In the distance, he watched his siblings and mother running through the snowdrifts, just beginning their day, training. White flakes flew through the air with every step they took.

He turned back to Polla, wrapping his tigerskin cloak tighter around his shoulders. “But the number of times it pumps on its own are increasing, and it’s getting easier for me to contract my soul while I’m doing other things; if I can do it while I’m playing music, I can do it while I’m swinging a blade. Soon I might be able to take on a real fight while circulating…I don’t know, maybe in a week? Maybe two?”

Matthias glanced up at the abbey. “Do you think I’ll be ready to fight those ghouls soon? I feel ready.”

He expected her to put up an argument, to insist he wasn’t ready.

Instead, her owlish eyes turned to the hulking ruin of a building dominating the courtyard. “You could be, I think.”

His heart surged. “Really?”

“Your mother and I were discussing your progress: we both think you will soon be ready to challenge them… However, she believes it would be foolhardy for you to face them in their lair from the start, and I agree with that. Those fiends have lived in that abbey for centuries; no doubt they know hiding places and ambush points that we could only dream of anticipating.”

“That’s true. When we first came here, some of those ghouls dropped from the rafters in our hermit house and attacked from above. They do not seem the type to set traps, but the ghoul knights show signs of a greater intellect; perhaps they’ve even been spending the winter turning the abbey into a death trap for us.”

Polla’s silver eyebrows rose. “Hrm, you surprise me. I thought you could have been foolhardy and begun arguing with me, insisting that you could handle hunting them through their lair right away. Some young folks in your position would be feeling their newfound power…and make reckless decisions in haste. Congratulations to you.”

“No, I spent way too many years being humbled to think like that.” Matthias shook his head. “I know what it’s like to be weak; I want to prove myself; I’m no coward but I’d rather face them on my own terms before I face them on theirs.”

“Wise…do you have any thoughts on how you might do this?”

Matthias’ eyes fell on the ruined hermit houses; the ones the ghouls had taken their bloody meals to a few nights earlier.

“I think I do, but I’ll need your help, and maybe mother’s…but I have worked out a plan. Those ghouls have learned to fear you and mother, but after this? They’ll begin to learn they should fear me too.”

###

“What if we laid a trap for the ghouls?” Matthias pointed at a ruined hermit house; his boots crunched the snow, approaching it. “Just like the trap we used on the beast tiger.”

Behind him Polla and Beggahasta followed, the mage and warrior exchanging glances. In the distance, Bregindoure and Dagma were going through their weapons drills.

“I don’t quite follow,” Mistress Polla admitted.

“We used a tiger trap to catch a demonic-beast tiger shortly before you arrived in Barrowgate.” Beggahasta nodded to Matthias’ tigerskin cloak. “The very one that ‘donated’ its hide for my son’s cloak.”

“Oh no, that much I understood; what I don’t follow is how this ruin is to function as a tiger trap.” Polla floated over the remains of the house’s outer wall, examining the derelict house.

The building’s northern wall had been torn open, a ragged hole revealing the very trebuchet stone that had broken through it. Hundreds of years of exposure to the elements had collapsed part of the roof, while the house’s interior was now a filthy ghoul den.

The stench was almost palpable.

Polla wrinkled her nose, continuing. “Or what the purpose of turning it into a tiger trap would be. Care to explain, Matthias?”

He laid a large, calloused hand on the ruins of the outer wall, brushing away some of the snow covering it. “I’ve seen the ghouls come here at night, when they believe we’re sleeping; they fear us during the day but feel safe after dark. Most will avoid our homes because of the wards, but they assume full run of the courtyard at night. It seems they feel safe if they avoid our homes; so, I think we can use their sense of safety to trap them.”

“I’m listening.” Beggahasta nodded along.

“Tiger traps usually have a single entrance, and when the tiger goes through it, the entrance closes, capturing the beast.” Matthias raised both hands, then slammed them together, emphasizing his point. “Mistress Polla, Altaizar created a ward for his tower that wouldn’t harm me or the rest of my family.”

“I actually was instrumental in conceiving of that ward,” Polla said, a pointed note to her tone.

“Even better!” the young greatfolk raised a hand, indicating he meant no offense. “I was going to say that the wards around our houses work in the same way, right, then ask you if it’s possible to make a ward that has a small ‘hole’ in it? A place where ghouls can slip through—just a few at a time, like a chokepoint—which could be closed when we wanted to close it? Like a—”

“—tiger trap: I am beginning to follow,” Polla mused, eyeing the ruined houses near them. “It can be done, but it will be a tricky bit of work.”

“Will it be too hard to do?”

The mage snorted, looking insulted. “For me? Of course not. The issue is this: the more complicated a command that one gives using the Gift is, the harder it is to get whatever you’re commanding to listen, the more energy the command requires, the faster the magic fades. The wards I set up around our two houses are complex enough, but—with my experience—I can maintain them with no issue, and I only need to re-establish their magic every few months or so. What you are asking for is an additional layer of complication.”

Polla pointed to her hermit house. “For our wards, I needed to command the stone to pierce any undead that tries to cross the outer walls. Then I needed to command the air to whip into a great wind that captures any creature—excluding myself, Ellian, or any member of your little family—and burns them to ash. The air does not want to form unnatural winds or ignite of its own accord, and the stones do not wish to shape themselves into spears. Neither the air nor the stones want to trouble themselves with distinguishing us from a ravening pack of ghouls, then avoid destroying us by accident. It’s all a lot of bother for them, so they resist. If I had given them a simpler command, such as burn and pierce anything that tries to cross the walls—meaning they would not have to try and tell us apart from the ghouls—it would have been easier. Instead of the magic only lasting for three months before I would need to re-establish the command, it would have lasted years.”

Matthias’ eyebrows rose. “It makes that much of a difference?”

“It does: what you’re asking for would…” She paused in thought. “It would require me to command the wind and stones to destroy any ghoul that tries to pass the outer walls while leaving a gap where they could slip through unharmed. So…would you want this gap to close by way of my command?”

Matthias shook his head. “For what I’m thinking, I’d need to be able to open and close the trap.”

The mage frowned. “Even more complications. I would have to link the gap in the ward to an object that could be held in one’s hand, moved, or pressed, allowing the trap to be opened or closed with it; think of it like linking a portcullis to a winching mechanism. Perhaps I could use a stone from the ruins of the hermit house’s walls; the ward would activate when ghouls cross that ruined wall, so a stone from the same wall acting as ‘the switch’ would make the most sense. The stone and wall were linked at one time, so linking them again using the Gift, would make things easier. I could arrange it so that any of us putting pressure on the stone would open and close the gap. Unfortunately, creating the command would be so complex that the magic would only last for a matter of weeks before I would have to re-establish it.”

Beggahasta looked at Polla, one eyebrow raised. “You could do that and make it all last for weeks? I can’t even imagine doing half the things you are talking about.”

“A mage’s training involves finding ways to make complex actions with the Gift easier or even possible,” Polla said. “But yes: that’s why it would be complex, Matthias. Is that suitable for whatever this plan of yours is?”

“Yes!” Matthias clapped his hands together.

“Alright, enough beating the bushes: what is this plan, Matt?” Beggahasta’s tone hovered between being intrigued and worried.

“Alright, well: I want to face the ghouls on my own terms before I go into the abbey, but the problem I’m having is they will not come out during the daytime because you and Mistress Polla are out here training us. They know they can’t stop you two—”

“Hold on, don’t make such an assumption so quickly,” Polla warned.

Matthias paused. “Why not? We’ve been here for months now, and they no longer challenge us in the daytime.”

“That’s because they know they likely won’t have to,” Polla said. “The undead—barring some major physical damage—never tire, never expire from a lack of thirst, and do not truly have to eat. A ghoul is driven by hunger as that is in its nature, but it will not die from a lack of food: it is already dead, after all. More importantly, the undead never age.”

“I see where you’re going.” Beggahasta jumped in. “…do you know why elven sieges are some of the most horrific travesties of war, Matt?”

Matthias shook his head. “No, why?”

“Because the Artenesian elves hardly need food, sleep or drink.” Beggahasta’s eyes took on a haunted look. “Many sieges of castles and cities end with the besieging army retreating. A castle or a city’s food stores would far outweigh what an army could carry with them, so a besieging force will struggle to replenish their supplies.”

“But they can still replenish what they need,” Matthias pointed out. “While a castle or city can’t if they’re under siege. Even if the besieging army has to forage in the wilderness, it has ways of feeding its soldiers in the countryside.”

Beggahasta shook her head. “Do you have any idea how much food is needed to feed hundreds of warriors each day? Berries, rabbits, tubers and birds will not suffice for long.”

“Well, what about an army’s supply lines?” Matthias asked. “They could just keep feeding themselves with provisions from their homeland or headquarters or something like that.”

“That works well in theory, but less so in practise.” Beggahasta’s jaw tensed, as though she were enduring unpleasant memories. “A siege is fought during an outright war, Matt, not in isolation. And in a war, what would be one of an army’s primary targets?”

“…supply lines, of course,” he reasoned. “Oh…oh, I see! So, while an army is besieging a castle, their enemies from all across whatever realm they’re invading, will be doing their best to destroy their supply lines, or attack them from behind.”

“Exactly, and that’s not all: sometimes supply wagons are beset by heavy rains, turning roads into mud pits, or by monster attacks that destroy supply caravans. Supply ships and barges sink, or can be blown off course, or attacked by monsters. Then here in the northlands and even the midlands, many sieges are brought to an end by winter. Sieges often fail for a number of reasons…but elves hardly need food, water, rest or even air, and as they also do not age; they can wait out mortals for decades without issue. It’s a horrifying prospect: an elven siege could last a century or more and they would not care. Now, take these ghouls: they will never die either, unless by violence, and they know that we are mortal. They fear Polla and me, they also do not wish to be destroyed; so why risk themselves against us when they know we will eventually have to leave their territory?”

“That makes sense.” Matthias snapped his fingers. “They don’t have to risk a confrontation against powerful opponents if they know those opponents will be gone eventually. And wait…even if we did want to wipe them out, we couldn’t go too far into the depths of Windstone because of the miasma.”

“Precisely.” Polla nodded in approval. “If we seek to destroy them, they could simply retreat into the bowels of their dens beneath the earth, and we could not follow. So why would they repeatedly risk themselves against powerful opponents they know they can wait out, even if it takes years. Though…that is not to say that they cannot face us. Who knows what lies deep beneath the earth; don’t assume just because they have not outright challenged us during the daylight, that they cannot.”

“Yes, such assumptions have been the death of many a warrior,” Beggahasta agreed.

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. My point still stands though: they don’t want to risk a fight with either of you, but if they think they’re safe…they would enter the ruins of this hermit house. And that’s where I’ll be waiting. The ward will keep most of them out, while the gap will let as many in as I allow to come in. I can close it, cutting them off before they can overwhelm me. That means I’ll be facing them on my terms and learning how to destroy them and—by the time we go into the abbey—I’ll be better prepared for them.”

Beggahasta pursed her lips in thought. “I would like to wait in the ruin with you, at least for the first few nights you try this, in case things go wrong.”

“Makes sense, but after doing it that way for a while, I’d like to do it on my own. I won’t always have you there to help me,” he said.

“I approve,” Polla agreed. “I can set up the ward for you: now, when would you want to start this plan?”

“Give me two weeks. I bet you that—in two weeks' time—I should be able to fight while contracting my soul. That’s when I’ll be ready.”

“Then it’s a plan.” Beggahasta clapped her son on the shoulder. “Are you sure you are ready to try this?”

“I am. Or at least, I think I am.”

“We can never be entirely sure if we’re ready for struggles of life and death, but if you think you are then—for what it’s worth—I agree with you. I think you are ready, too,” Beggahasta said.

###

For two weeks Matthias practised his weapon drills both in the waking world and in The Realm in Dream while contracting his soul. Day and night the exercise grew easier, his circulation was falling into a natural rhythm, whether with smooth or violent combat motions. 

His soul was contracting on its own—not only while he was at rest but—during his martial training or with other movements. He felt good, he felt comfortable, knowing he’d soon be ready for whatever the next step toward solidifying his foundation was going to be.

At the end of a fortnight, he’d succeeded; he was able to perform his drills in the Dream Realm while automatically contracting his soul, allowing his mind to focus on an opponent.

Polla was more than happy to hear this.

“Alright, then,” she said. “You kept your promise. I am going to Dagger Rock to pick something up. Then, tonight? Tonight, we shall set up this trap of yours. Tonight, you will face the ghouls.”

###

Author's Note

So here I dug a little bit into Gift mechanics and uh...I didn't plan to nerd about sieges and how they would change in a fantasy world like this but here we are lmao.

Nah, but seriously sieges by the undead, immortals or golems would be HORRIFYING.

Cya Friday!