Treasures of the Broken Garrison: Part 2- A Fantasy Short Story

(Last we saw of Finhaus, he finally decided to brave the forbidden garrison to save his friends. With darkness surrounding him upon stepping inside, he enchanted a loose brick to glow for some light. Now, he investigates the ruins in hopes of finding Queriven, Blair, Kielle, and her three knights, Elora, Awhn, and Therin.)

Finhaus moved the enchanted brick over the dark corners of the room. There was an old door to his right, and his hand hovered over the grimy handle until he decided to push forward through the arch taking him down a short hallway. 

Try as he might, his boots clunked harder on the stone than he liked. Why did the sound worry him so much? Was he being watched? Thankfully, the hall wasn’t long, and soon opened into a much wider chamber. This was the heart of the main wing. Every wall had at least one door, and there were more on the second level above the stairs. Those were inaccessible now. The stairs couldn’t take the heavy weight of time and crumbled away. Did the garrison always look so lonely, or was it once full of life with laughter and stories through the halls? At least for this main chamber, there wasn’t a lot of furniture. They must have kept the place open for the crowds and whatever transport of goods coming through for safe keeping.

The paintings under various amounts of wear and decay stood as reminders of who was once stood at the front of protecting the trade. Finhaus noticed elf and human features among the collection and couldn’t help but be drawn toward them. Outside of Blair, Finhaus has never seen a human before. His parents weren’t involved in the trades and he was a young child when they called off the pact. The idea of humans and elves being in one place fascinated him. It brought an image of Queriven to his mind. He was also young when the pact broke off, but he remembered when it happened. The infamous battle that caused the split between the peoples also took the lives of his birth parents… Refocusing on his mission, Finhaus tried to imagine what door his adopted brother would take at this point. With no way of knowing, he moved for the single door in the center under the unreachable second floor platform. 

Before he could reach it however, a loud creaking behind him make him look back, startled. A door he swore was closed before was now wide open and leaking a soft golden glow. He tilted his head and took a few steps toward it. “Is… Is anyone there?” He asked softly at first before asking again a little louder. For another reason than the obvious, he hoped Blair, Queriven, or even Kielle would answer. Unfortunately, no one did. That worried Finhaus even more than it should. 

He took a step around and gripped the open door with a passing thought that maybe he mistook the sound of it opening as a woman’s cry, but despite its age, the door was solid and made a sound too deep to be the one he heard. Convinced the cry he heard was legit, he lifted his head to look down the hallway,

And barely caught sight of a woman’s flowing garments slipping into a room at the far end. 

“Blair!” He called and began to trot after her. A few heavy paces in, and he almost didn’t process the plate that sank under his weight. With no time to think, he threw himself forward. At the same time he landed hard on his ribs, he heard light whistles racing by his head. After the longest second of his life, the sound stopped and he opened his eyes. Small arrows littered the floor around him, but other than where he hit the cold stone floor where he landed, he was unhurt.

His heart thudded against the floor and he looked up. The flames in the sconces crackled against the air, unaffected by the trap that almost took his life. Once he built up the courage to move again, Finhaus tucked in his knees and pushed himself from the stone. 

An echoing whisper of melody, wrapped in tears grazed the hall. It was then when Finhaus knew for certain that the sound came from a person, but not one he knew, and one he doubted was still living. Still, he found himself scuffling to the room where it came from, glancing at each room he passed by and watching his shaking steps for more traps. 

Nothing about these rooms seemed remarkable in any way. He passed by mostly studies and bedrooms, or at least, those were his best guesses based on the old furniture he saw inside. The last room, the one where the quiet voice sang, was obvious of what it used to be. Old, rotting books lay forgotten on the floor, but many of the shelves still stood tall.

A cold draft brushed by as he entered the room and he blinked by the stinging tears the burn of dust brought on. There were no lit sconces in the library, but enough light came in behind him that he didn’t need it. More than that, light found its way in from the torches and moonlight outside. It glittered on broken glass and caught on what he thought was a torn curtain, until the fabric continued to whip by to the side past several tall bookcases. 

Slow step after slow step. He didn’t know what his goal was, but he wanted to see who it was, and if she would still be there after he rounded the nearest shelf. Her sheets and hair billowed in an absent wind, and her soft cries between her hums carried a strange echo.

If it weren’t for a painting on the wall before her, she might have seen Finhaus stop a few feet away from her. The farmer’s head grew light and cold as his blood retreated and he raised a hand toward her. He tried to say something, anything to get her attention, but it came out broken and barely at a breath. Still, it worked and she spun a ghastly gaze on him before disbanding in the air with a wail. He called at her to wait, but she was already gone.

What was still here though was the painting she stared at. Before he could settle on the image, he couldn’t help but notice the dust free finger-like streaks in the corner, like for whatever reason, the painting meant something to the spirit that was here.

Her fingers pressed green grass painted with delicate brushstrokes, and as Finhaus looked up to take in the full scene, he quickly recognized it as none other than the trading post. The only difference was how alive the painting made it seem. Walls, wagons, and stables were in complete, usable shape, and colorful figures relaxed by tables and tents, enjoying meals and bartering goods between each other. Even though the people were small and not much more than streaks of paint, the artist clearly wanted to show the extraordinary mix of humans and elves in one space. Figures with pointed ears wore natural tones and accessories made of plant fibers. Several of them stood in the trees holding bows loosely in their hands. The humans were represented in brighter colors harder to find in nature and groomed finer to display their quirks for tidiness. 

Even though the people were depicted so differently, the artist did it to display passion and respect for both sides. Finhaus couldn’t help but be drawn to it as well. Never in his life did he ever think of the trading post without the horror that it was known for in its current time. It seemed surreal to see it from this artist’s view, who, of course, saw it as nothing more than people sharing their differences and resources.

Something shattered in the other room, shaking Finhaus back to reality. He looked over his shoulder, but everything stayed the same. As he moved back through the shelves, he stopped and looked out the broken window. A whistling breeze picked up and shook the trees of the wilderness. More than anything, he wished to be out there with his loved ones, far from the curse of the garrison. He shook the desire away. With no current leads to follow, he should investigate every sound and movement, supernatural or not.

He left the library behind and stopped in the hallway. It was just as he left it; arrows littering the floor and fire dancing in their sconces. Slowly gliding, Finhaus browsed at every door he passed. Whatever he heard, it was somewhere out here, but now he couldn’t tell where. 

Finally, he stopped at the first sight of broken glass. A vase of some sort fell over, but was it the one he heard? It didn’t seem to be important, but Finhaus slid into the bedroom and crouched beside the pieces. Human-made glass… Not as shiny as the glowing starlight the elves used, but beautiful regardless. He grasped the edges of the vase and lifted it up. The disguise of dust revealed a vibrant blue beneath and shards hiding within the hollow body jingled and fell among the rubble. 

Right out of the corner of his eye, the side table near the bare bed frame scooted forward. Finhaus shot up and froze. He may have not been looking at it directly, but he knew there was no reason for such a thing to have happened. He could feel his legs begin to shake again and his breath coming quicker. It wasn’t until a rush of an unnatural wind blow did he find himself moving again. The voice it tried to cover sounded like a vengeful cry. Finhaus’ legs backpedaled him out of the room. His breath came in shorter gasps and he kept going until he stumbled backwards. The farmer cried out. It was another trap!

But then he realized he had done nothing but tumble over a worn couch in the next room… Now he was laying on his back, his feet in the air over the couch and his heart pounding in his chest. He stayed there and looked about the room upside down as he was, feeling thankful to be away from whatever scared him in the other room. The dark stones over his head loomed around him. The old rug by his face stank a terrible musty scent. He turned his head to the side and freed his legs from the old furniture, but paused. Something small lied underneath the seats. 

His legs thudded on the floor and he half-crawled, half-reached for the object. A tiny charm… He flipped it around in his hands. It looked like a tiny shield with the texture of a tree on it. Light bounced and glittered off its faceted edges, glittering deep yellow and orange. Some sort of human collected gem… Lord Foradue would know what this is, as the old elf collected all sorts of gems and metals from the days of the trade, but Finhaus didn’t know for certain what material this was. He hid it in a pocket and got back on his feet.

Now interested in the odd bit of treasure he discovered, he took the chance to look around the room for anything else of interest. This was, so far, the most decorated room he’s been in, though nearly every piece of furniture was turned in some way, like a fight of some kind broke out. Then, he remembered the table in the other room and shivered. Maybe lingering here wasn’t so good of an idea after all. 

He sucked in a sudden breath and exited the room. He even closed the door behind him. Praying he imagined the angry stares at his back, he rushed back to the main wing, but the very real ghost studying his every move wasn’t willing to remain ignored.

So when Finhaus closed the last door leading into the dangerous hallway, the rage grew into an audible growl. Finhaus turned to get away quickly, but he didn’t move fast enough. The door flew open, hinges splintering, and the farmer fell sideways onto the floor. Everything happened so fast and the angry figure attacking him wasn’t in full form, but he saw his attacker’s face for only a second before he rolled out of the way to avoid the spirit colliding with him. Those eyes glared with the intent to kill! Finhaus scrambled to his feet before even knowing he could. 

The wind roared behind his back and objects shattered and crashed into walls around him. Finhaus resisted the urge to look back and bolted for the largest door under the unsteady upper floor. He wished it would be that simple to leave the angry spirit behind, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. In these tight cursed walls, he was stuck. Why would the garrison trap him inside when this terrible spirit only wanted him dead?

Again, the door blew open behind him and he knew the angered spirit was still close behind him. Unfortunately, rushing down the hall prevented the farmer from checking for any traps, so when he felt the floor give way, there was nothing else he could do but take the fall.

End of Part 2

 (You'll have to sit on this cliffhanger until next Saturday! Part 3 coming May 16, 2026. Thanks for reading!)

(No AI was used in any stage of writing this story.)