1
After a time, the villagers would eventually come to agree that the two must have been about as confused as the rest of them had been.
They appeared out of nowhere, in a flash of light in the middle of the village square, right next to a market stall. Many had missed it, as they had chosen that precise moment to blink, but in the next instant, they were there. Just standing there, looking around, confused.
That was when the screaming started. It ended only a moment later, when half of the people in the market turned to stone.
Most of those who had managed not to look at them ran as fast as they could towards any sort of shelter. Others hid in whatever spot they could find at a moment's notice.
"They started talking," one of them would later report. The man, he called her an idiot, and then told her to put on her mask. He said that she was making trouble for him again, in many harsh words.
"But then she got angry. She told him she was sick of wearing it. That she wanted to feel the sun on her face. I was so scared. I thought for sure I was going to die when they came over to me. What happened instead, though, was… strange. I turned to stone the moment I looked her in the eyes, I know, and after that, I was trapped in my own body, unable to move even my eyes. But I still heard everything."
After a time, the villagers started growing nervous. They began peeking out of their hiding spots, trying to find out where the two were, and how best to avoid them. They ran around, shouting for help and informing other villagers of the danger. One of them ran to the nearby army encampment to get help.
During that time, either oblivious or indifferent to the terror they inspired, the two made their way to the local tavern.
The old barkeep hadn't been warned of their appearance, and even if he had been, he wouldn't have believed a word of it. But upon seeing them, he found himself dropping his mug and taking a step back into the wooden counter, tipping over the jars of lukewarm beer behind him.
Instantly, the patrons of the bar went stiff.
The first of the two appeared normal enough, he had the human visage of a young man, though one could tell from a glance that he was no stranger to violence.
The woman, however, was another matter. Concealing her face then was a rusty golden mask that depicted a fanged, shouting woman's face, with black crystals covering her eyes and jeweled snakes peering over her forehead and hair. Only she had no real hair. In its place were real, live snakes, unlike those sculpted onto the mask, that hissed at everyone in the tavern, revealing fangs that dripped with poison.
And it was not only her hair that was inhuman. Far more noticeable than that, in retrospect, was her lower body, from the stomach down, where in the place of legs the girl had nothing but a long, green and black diamond patterned snake's tail.
She was a lamia, a monster thought to have been brought to extinction decades ago.
While everyone stared at her golden mask, paralyzed in fear, she and her companion simply looked around, puzzled, and made their way towards the barkeep. As soon as their backs were turned, the patrons ran off out of the tavern.
The apparently human man, shrugging, walked over and sat on one of the stools opposite the barkeep, while the half-snake slithering beside him did the same. She wriggled around uncomfortably on the small stool and wrapped her tail in loops around it.
"I hate drinking from under the veil," she complained with a strange accent. "It's impossible to do it without spilling. Hey, barkeep – what's up with everyone? The smell of fear is everywhere. Even you – you'll need a change of trousers."
The man looked towards the trembling barkeep. "He's not the only one, I imagine. Seriously, have you lost your mind? We're not in Aeliah anymore. Server, please get us some drinks, would you? I'm being plagued by a long parade of disappointments today; I'll need some assistance if I am to cope."
The lamia seemed to make a face at her companion, though it was hidden by her mask.
"Server, are you there?" she then asked, the snakes on her head coiling, ready to strike, while she waved a delicate hand in front of the barkeep's face. With stiff movements, he quickly turned around to create distance between them and shoved towards each of them a mug of ale that had not spilled.
"I don't understand why they're so scared of us," the lamia spoke to the young man. "Last time we were in Evaria, people were aware of mythics."
"Evidently, things have changed," the man said, downing his mug and handing it back to the barkeep for more. "I hope we really are in Evaria, at least. If that damned witch brought us to the wrong end of the world…"
"They probably think we're monsters," the lamia murmured.
"People will do that if you turn them to stone. Do you want to keep going, by the way? You could probably beat your score at Westmire if we continue like this. You're off to a great start. Hey! Don't hit me. Oh, you, relax, barkeep, I'm only joking. We're not looking to kill anyone right now. Except Lenah."
"Are we really back to that?" the lamia asked.
"Yes. Why do I need to keep telling you this? The fastest way to break a curse—"
"Is to kill the one who cast it, yeah, yeah. You're still not going to kill your friend."
"Friend? You clearly haven't been paying attention. What kind of friend would force such nonsense on me?"
"One with a sense of humor," the lamia laughed.
The barkeep, still shaking and frightened to breathe, handed him the refilled mug of ale without a word. The man, grimacing, tried to meet his gaze, but he avoided it.
"Where are we?" the man asked.
A moment passed in deathly silence.
"I'd rather not ask everything twice," he continued.
"The… the Garland, sir. In Coldbarrow, the kingdom of Evaria."
"The Garland being the name of the tavern, I take it. Thank the divines, we're in Evaria. Is Coldbarrow the right place?"
The lamia turned to him, stroking the vipers writhing on her head. "I think so. At the very least, we are in the north."
"Idiot, that's obvious. We were supposed to go north. But is this the right village? Any more brilliant insights?"
"Well… no."
The man snorted. "You're entirely unhelpful. Urgh. At this rate, we'll have to ask these damned humans our questions, once they're capable of answering us. Make them breathe again soon, will you?"
"I'll need some ravenwood for that."
"Yeah, yeah. And I'll have to be the one to get it. No way. It's your turn this time."
A small army of soldiers suddenly bounded into the tavern, then, their steel boots loudly thudding on the wooden floor. The man who'd run off from the market to get them had been quick. They wore steel plate armor and drew their swords in unison the moment they entered. The lamia gasped in surprise from behind her golden mask at the sight of them.
One more man, the soldiers' commander, walked into the tavern from behind the others.
"Remove your weapons and come quietly!" he shouted at the two with an authoritative voice.
Hearing that, the young man at the bar quietly chuckled.
"You're coming with us!" the knight yelled again. "And if I smell even a whiff of magic, I'll have my men cut you down like dogs!"
At that, the lamia leaned over to the man. "Like dogs, Emony," she said, apparently holding back a chuckle.
"Shut up," the man said.
One of the footmen roughly kicked aside a stool that was in the way between him and them. "Are you two deaf? Do as you're told!"
A moment of peace hung on a razer's edge.
"We have more men coming," said the commander from behind the other soldiers. "They'll be here in minutes."
The man and snake glanced at each other, shrugged, and downed their drinks. The lamia really did spill a lot of the ale. Upon seeing that, the man instantly jumped away from her so as not to get wet before quickly composing himself again.
"We don't have any weapons," he said, turning to the soldiers. "And you won't be needing yours. We'd be glad to come with you."
After a moment, the commander nodded and tapped one of the men in front of him on the shoulder. One by one, they stepped out of the tavern until they surrounded the door from the outside. The two strangers followed.
2
Yperian
Fear and paranoia filled the tent almost as quickly as the snakes on the lamia's head. That was just one of the things that bothered Yperian, the knight commander of the locally stationed field army and militia.
He was staring up at the golden mask beneath the writhing vipers, feeling himself growing nervous at the sight of them, when he noticed his men standing around in the background, clutching their sword handles in shaky readiness. He judged that he couldn't have them cut short the fragile peace.
"Leave us," he sordidly ordered them and looked away from the snakes. "All of you. Do your duties, I'm sure your captains have something for you."
He turned towards the two newcomers.
"Man, lamia, come closer and sit down. I hear you've been brought to me from the Garland. Would you like another drink?"
The pair walked and slithered towards him, barely making a sound as they did so.
"Please," the man answered, "We weren't finished yet at the tavern when your men came to get us."
Yperian filled up two silver chalices and placed them on the wooden desk in front of them before getting one himself and sitting down across from them.
"I apologize for that. You must understand that they were shocked after seeing human beings turn into statues. They must have thought the men of the lake were attacking us again, thus the haste. I'm glad they were wrong. But anyway – I am Yperian, knight commander of this field legion. Talk to me. Who are you, why did you come here and why shouldn't I have you executed?"
With one hand, he raised the silver chalice towards his lips, and put his other hand on the hilt of his sheathed dagger. The man before him was eyeing him like a piece of meat. He wondered what kind of monster the latter was, to be found accompanying a being as obviously cursed as this lamia.
"Thirteen men and women lost their lives today," he continued. "And it's clear you were the cause. You have the Eyes, don't you, snake? That must be why this happened."
"You know of my curse?" she asked.
"I'm somewhat well-versed in the old legends. Of course, it's entirely something else to bear witness to them – but as it turns out, I'm also aware that the effects of a curse may be reversed if its source is killed. "Kill the caster, break the curse," and all that. It's possible to save the villagers."
"Not that way," the man interrupted. "The Eyes are no lesser knot of black magic. If you kill her, those villagers remain pretty rocks until the end of time. Anyway, my name is Emony, and this is Tiphaine. You know what she is. I'm human."
The lamia, Tiphaine, turned her jeweled gaze curiously towards the man, but said nothing. It was obvious that his description didn't match up – and he was probably also lying about the lamia's legendary curse. Unfortunately, Yperian couldn't challenge him about it.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said.
The man continued: "We were teleported here by an unreliable, idiotic witch named Lenah. She forgot to mention we would be appearing right in the middle of a village, thus the unfortunate accident. We were told by the barkeep in the tavern that we are in the kingdom of Evaria, though."
"We're northeast of the capital, Terrena. You say a witch brought you here? Where from? For what purpose?"
The man took a few careful sips of his wine. Yperian was sure he was trying to see if the drink was poisoned. It wasn't. He also noticed the man did not let the silver touch his skin, covering it with his sleeve. A peculiar action, one that got him thinking.
"We've come from Aeliah. It's an island a few days sail from the continent, if you believe it exists. We're here to break a curse, we were told there may be an expert on them somewhere nearby – if we are in the right place, that is."
"I've never heard of Aeliah."
"But you have heard of curses, clearly. Have you perhaps recently noted anything strange about the water?"
"Actually, yes, now that you mention it. Something has been defiling this place of late. Unnatural powers are stirring in the lake."
Yperian noticed the man's pupils expand for a moment, betraying surprise. He downed his chalice quickly.
"Haha. You know, that's the first promising news I've heard all day. Tell me about it."
"I really don't see how anyone could describe the situation as "promising". Rotting corpses are walking out of the lake about two miles from here and attacking people. My field legion was dispatched from Terrena to help the militia protect the locals. This started about two months ago. Could it be the reason you've decided to come here?"
"Perhaps," the man said, provoking another look from the snake.
"So, you mean to help us break the curse that defiles the lake?" he asked. "Is that what I am to believe?"
"We have indeed come to break a curse. Do the dead have some sort of ruler? A mermaid, perhaps?"
Yperian scratched his chin. "Hm… Interesting you mention rulers and mermaids. I've received reports of both. The locals mentioned an old legend about this place being home to mermaids. Something about the village not ending on the shore. They say that before the arrival of the men of the lake, they could hear singing every night that seemed to come from the water. Apparently, a mermaid was to blame. Since then, they seem to have ceased, though, and all of the militiamen have been telling me of some "king" terrorizing the place instead, which would be a strange coincidence, except that the last king of Evaria, the late Aulduyen, really did die here."
The snake sitting beside the man whispered something to him. Upon hearing that, his lips stretched into a tight smile.
"Then we may be in the right place. I believe we can help each other."
"Is that so? You seem to be hiding quite a lot. Though honestly, despite your uncommon, mythic nature, I wouldn't be opposed to cooperation, if we could all benefit from it. But, of course, that can only begin with trust."
The man exchanged glances with the snake.
"Trust and cooperation are beautiful things. In the name of building them, we'll correct the mistake my companion made. We'll unpetrify the villagers."
"You can do that?"
"Of course," the lamia said. Yperian hid the sudden rise of nervousness from his face upon glancing again at her coiling hair of serpents. "I just need some—"
"Trade secrets," the man interrupted. "But we will do it. There is more than one way to break a curse."
Yperian leaned back in his chair, considering what to say next. He knew far too little about mythics and the dark arts. What if there was a catch? But the curse of the Eyes the lamia possessed was a legend. Only one unfortunate snake in the whole world possessed it at any given time. Who knew if his small force could defeat her in battle? And what the consequences of killing her would really be?
"If you are successful, you will have my gratitude," he said, opting to gain some more time to plan any potential course of action. "Along with that of many others. What about the witch that brought you here? Should we prepare for any more unexpected arrivals?"
"I couldn't tell you," the man said. "This witch is unpredictable. At any rate, we need to go on an errand. Gather the statues in one place, if you please. We'll make them breathe again soon."