Treasures of the Broken Garrison: Part 4- A Fantasy Short Story

(After finding and then losing Blair Tripps to mysterious circumstances, Finhaus begins to realize his task of finding his loved ones is harder than he thought. With nowhere else to go, is he doomed to wander the halls forever?)

Finhaus didn’t regard the room for another second; he spun and raced out for the last room he saw Blair enter. He heard the rushing of wind a second ago, and it didn’t take him long to know it wasn’t natural. The fact it came from the same direction he last saw Blair only concerned him further.

She was gone. Just gone. The room was empty.

He called for her, but already knew she wasn’t there to answer. Just as quickly as she lost Queriven, he lost her. The already daunting goals ahead bulged under a heavier weight, and Finhaus wanted to fall to the floor underneath it. He’s going to spend the rest of his life looking and losing the others until he inevitably loses to some trap or vengeful ghost.

An impulsive thought lingered until it decayed into something uglier; defeat. This is what happened to all the others who came inside, The voice lingered, and it’s happening to you now. All the others outside will miss you like they missed the others, and they will remain unaware of what you saw here.

Feeling alone and powerless, Finhaus rubbed a hand over his face and crossed his arms in a tight self-hug, like that would be enough to keep the rage-induced shakiness in his chest from breaking out. The dangers hanging over his head and the others had him feeling weaker and numb with stress.

He didn’t question where he was wandering, or if he should trust the old bench facing the fireplace to hold him up. It creaked and shifted a bit, but surprisingly stayed on its feet. The farmer slumped and stared at the rotting wood and ashes still left here after all this time. He tried to calm his breathing and talk himself up to his mission once again. Maybe Blair is back in that dungeon again? It’s just down the hall. It’ll only take a few minutes to check. He closed his eyes and rested his head in his palms. It tired him to look at the fireplace, or at anything here that reminded him he was inside the dreaded Garrison of the Forest Border Trading Post.

“Thieves will always find their due,” A voice stirred him. Finhaus didn’t react at first. He wasn’t sure if the odd phrase was a signal that sleep was creeping in, or what an outside source that would be otherwise. Besides, it sounded unnatural with a fading echo Finhaus knew this room didn’t support. He didn’t recognize the voice as anyone he knew.

“Did you hear me!?” It bellowed and finally it startled the farmer enough to have him sitting straight. He couldn’t see anyone or anything around him. “Even if you managed to find the hidden treasure within the walls, you and your friends are all doomed! You cannot take gold with you to your grave!”

Finally, Finhaus saw him, but barely. It was a thin outline of a man’s face on top of the mantle, peering through the brick so just his translucent head was visible. Finhaus startled and rose to his feet, not knowing if he had to run or not. “Y-you…” Finhaus breathed, “Are you him? The one from earlier?”

This only made the figure frown tighter, but he still stayed inside the mantle. “You should be ashamed of yourself! Asking such a trivial question when I’m trying to give you idiots an important message.” Then, he moved out from the wall, making Finhaus back up and nearly trip over his own feet. The barely visible man scowled and folded his arms over his puffed chest. “Such treasure like the belongings of the garrison is temporary, unlike the many lives that were taken here so long ago. Admit it! Admit you are the scum that you are for valuing such things over a single life, let alone that of so many!”

“What?” Finhaus breathed, startled again to hear his voice shake so much. “What are you talking about? I’m not here for treasure. I’m here to find my family!”

The spirit wove its arms in outrage and Finhaus finally found his legs to retreat further. The figure’s movements left a line of wind and fog wherever he traveled. “And you are a liar! A liar! You deserve death like all the other seekers!”

Again, Finhaus thought this confrontation would end in attack, but the figure vanished in a puff of fog. Maybe this spirit was a different one than the one would attack him earlier? If they were the same, why did he hold his rage this time? The questions made him wish he had a chance to study their faces better. Careful to watch his surroundings, Finhaus turned and faced the hall leading back to the dungeon.

◊◊◊

But Blair was far from the dungeons. She wasn’t sure where she was, but she walked carefully as she knew she wasn’t on the ground floor. Sure, none of the floors were safe, but she wasn’t confident in the strength of these unmaintained higher levels. She wasn’t sure if it was the paranoia that made her notice every creak under her feet, or if this was a warning that she should return to the main floor as soon as possible.

With every step, she cursed the ghost that whisked her here, if that is what happened. Forced to proceed onward to the unknown, she crept down the halls and listened for any sound. Time ticked onward and she floated down hall after hall. The long… Hour? Two hours? Dragged on and Blair began to pick up the pace due to the quiet lulling her into a sense of safety, at least for right now. After she realized she may not run into Finhaus where she left him, she began to explore rooms a little, and she finally found a staircase down.

Blair still wasn’t sure if this took her back to the ground or not, but it did make her feel that bit safer. The next room she entered seemed to be an old storage room, or at least, that’s what it was being used for last. There wasn’t much valuable lying around, but personal items lingered by the walls and chests. Come to think of it, were these items here before the attack, or could they be left behind by those many explorers who never made it out afterwards?

Her curiosity got the better of her and she browsed among the possessions. Some of them were old and dusty, consisting of worn leather vests and shoes. Human-make no doubt. Elves didn’t use leather, but she couldn’t help but notice bags and belts of plant fiber among it as well. This, she smiled, was what the elves used instead of leather.

Like the leather, most of it looked like it would crumble to pieces in her fingers, but she did reach out to one item; a bit of parchment sitting on a short table against the wall, as if hoping someone would stop to read it. When she lifted it up, her jaw fell open and her breath caught in her chest. The texture was still strong and the ink stained her fingers. This was new! But who would leave this behind and why?

She couldn’t read it as the candles didn’t come to life when she stepped inside this room. She studied the blurs of letters as she carried the scroll to the window, which was the nearest source of light. Now that she could study them, she noted they were in elvish… She should have considered they would be, and her understanding of the language was imperfect. Still, she was confident she could figure out the important parts, at least.

Are you still here? Why do you keep drawing me further only to never show your face? It’s almost like you don’t remember me and you never wanted me here in the first place… There are others, and if you don’t want me dead, they certainly do. They keep telling me my life is over, that my greed is the end of me. My darling, what greed? When was love considered as such? I’m begging you to not leave me to wander in the dark any longer. Please, if there’s anything left of us, even if the memories and emotions are gone, give me a sign. Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?

Inside the message, Blair had to skim over some unfamiliar words, but she tried to linger on what she did understand. This individual seemed to be talking to someone else, but she couldn’t imagine who. She only knew the writer had to be of a recent exploration.

Another detail she focused on was how the writer referred to the desired reader. They weren’t only using a term of endearment, but the one they used indicated a current, romantic love. How terrible of a fate to be separated in a deadly place like this? And how the writer begged for the attention of the reader… The haunting surrounding the garrison brought him only a minor pain in comparison.

Blair understood the urgency to connect in this lonely place. The emotions of the writer she felt herself towards her loved ones. Finhaus, Kielle, Queriven… She would give anything to see their smiles again.

Pulled in her own thoughts, she reread the letter several times, trying her best to understand it further and remember her language studies. At some point, she found herself looking out of the window. Wild tree tops swayed in freedom, and beyond them, she didn’t see the forest, but more stone belonging to the garrison. If it wasn’t abandoned, it might have been a beautiful courtyard. At least she knew now she still wasn’t on ground floor.

She turned her eyes back to the scroll for a short second before looking back on a sliver of movement she saw outside. It came from another window across the yard and to her right… Light danced in that room, and there was someone in it.

Blair watched quietly for a moment as the figure meandered around the room. When the individual wasn’t out of view, she tried to study them closer, but despite the warm light, the rest of the space was still dark.

Their body was solid, unlike most of the other people she met inside the garrison. She edged closer to the glass where fog gathered from her breath, much to her annoyance. She ignored it and focused on the lit room. The individual turned so the light hit them for a second, only a second, but it was enough. Blair’s breath caught in her throat. “Queriven!”

The scroll dropped from her hands and she bounced out of the room without a moment’s hesitation. Once a few feet down the hall, anxiety began. Every second she couldn’t see him was another opportunity something could happen to him. She wasn’t even confident she knew how to reach that room, but she hoped she could reach it if she kept going where she thought it would be.

She was right for her worry. At the same time she didn’t know where to go, she heard a loud crash like shattering glass. In a new bound of urgency, she picked up the pace, calling his name louder. It came from the same direction she was running towards.

Blair barged into the room. The door was already open, but pulled in enough she hit it with her shoulder. It swung wide and bounced off the opposing wall. The man, with his back previously facing her, turned to see her face. She was about to throw herself in his arms, but something stopped her.

Something about him seemed different, and his face twisted in concern before he suddenly… Began to disappear? She couldn’t remain in her state of confusion for long though, as now she knew the source of the loud sound she heard. Directly across from her was the courtyard. Almost the entire wall was a floor to ceiling window, and it was jagged and broken with millions of clear shards littering the floor around it. She approached it, glass crunching under her boots, and she reached out for the wall to steady her as she looked down.

There, she saw him at the bottom. Unkempt foliage had broken his fall, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt. Queriven remained on his back, unmoving. He might have been unconscious, or worse. Fighting past the lump in her throat, Blair yelled, praying to be heard. When that didn’t do anything, she fought the urge to jump down herself and instead ran back inside, trying to find a safer way down to him.

◊◊◊

Every hall, every room, and every turn drained his hope. Has he seen these rugs before? How many libraries could this building have? Finhaus worried he was running in circles, and, considering how long it has been since he’s seen someone else… Well, someone that was living at least… The maddening questions in his mind only grew louder. Where was everyone?! Surely, he would have seen another person by now.

Queriven, Blair, Kielle, her three guards, and anyone else who decided to brave the garrison… Where were they? Even if something happened to them, wouldn’t there be a trace of some sort? Finhaus dropped that line of thought and didn’t linger. The idea made him sick.

Still, he was growing desperate. If he was going to die within these walls, he wanted to find someone to be with him. He began jogging quicker, not caring about the traps. He cried names more often, even when he felt unnatural gazes on his back. He pushed back his shaky limbs with action and threw himself into every room.

He didn’t realize the last one he tried was a closet until he bumped his chest into the built in shelves. Brooms clattered and fell into him and he hurriedly pushed it back. One remained as placed, the other thudded on the floor anyway. Finhaus huffed and took a step out of the supply closet, but stopped as something caught his eye.

The items lining the shelves were old and covered with thick layers of dust that obstructed hints of what they once were. If he had to take a guess, most of the stuff in here was here to help clean, or maybe some of it could have been medicine as well? There were a lot of bottles and linens, so it seemed odd to see a lot of books here as well.

But that wasn’t what made him stay. It was a particular book shelved among the others; a familiar goldish-orange color. He bowed down so he could look at it at the same eye level. His fingers brushed by the spine, wiping the dust free and displaying its true vibrant hue.

Finally, he picked it up. The front displayed no text, but the engraving of a tree inside of a shield. Finhaus studied it for a moment longer and then fumbled around his possessions. For a second, an image played in his mind of the trinket falling free while he rushed away from danger, but thankfully, that worry didn’t have to stay. The small charm tumbled in his hand and he examined it… It was exactly the same shade and engraving as the book. There was no question about it. They were related, but what could it mean?

With the book in one hand and the charm in the other, he held them side by side and looked between them, then, he opened the book. What he saw inside wasn’t a page. It was a groove in the perfect shape and size as the trinket. It wasn’t difficult to know what it was meant for. Finhaus slipped the orange charm inside and closed the book. It shut easily close. No surprise. Now what?

He shrugged and set it back on the shelf. Then, he nearly lost his footing as the ground shifted beneath him. When he stumbled, he was lucky enough to grab on the solid part of the floor that didn’t slide into the wall.

The farmer pulled himself up and crawled away from the hole, his shoulders protesting his own weight. He didn’t consider himself as fit as any soldier, but the farming kept him strong enough. He couldn’t be more thankful for it than right now. Still on his hands and knees, he turned enough to look down.

Stairs trailed below him, making him dizzy. A warm light seeped closer to the last stone stair and pulled the path forward where Finhaus couldn’t see. If he didn’t know better, he would think someone went down this way recently, but he knew that was unlikely. Still, curiosity drew him in. He had to find something...

End of Part 4

 (Part 5 coming next Saturday, May 30, 2026. Thanks for reading!)

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