Blackgrave

While Ronso retrieved her halberd from the smith, the others went to the chapel to see Speaker Argus. He was leading a prayer for a small crowd who sat in the pews with their heads down. Some had a copy of the Parable of Humanity in their laps and read along.

Speaker Argus was on his knees in the center of the sixteen pointed sun that was painted silver on the floor. Beyond him was a raised stone basin full of water and a small altar with sixteen candles of various heights. The tallest and further most left among them burned slowly.

“Sorry to intrude, Speaker,” Lord Gremmelt said as they approached. “But we require a blessing.” The Speaker smiled and stood up from his knees.

“All is well,” he replied. “Continue quietly on your own,” he told the townsfolk. He motioned for them to follow him to the basin of water. “I cannot thank you enough for protecting us. Please, tell me what blessing do you require, and what is it I am to bless?”

Lord Gremmelt pulled out his jar of salt and said, “Providence and Fate. We believe there to be two spirits, one of Chaos and one of Misery. Our aim is to disperse the spirits and burn the bodies before they return.”

“There's more than one?” Speaker Argus was horror struck. “Wh.. What are they?”

“Spirits twisted by witchcraft. They belong to a mother and child,” Lord Gremmelt replied.

“No.” Speaker Argus grew mournful and brought his hand to his mouth. “Tell me,” he said softly. “Is it Vasha?”

Lord Gremmelt only nodded. Speaker Argus covered his eyes with his hands for a moment before drawing in a big breath.

“You were close to Vasha?” Akecheta asked. “I thought everyone here despised the Crow Clan.”

“Prejudice has taken hold in this place,” Speaker Argus replied after regaining his strength.“Though her child would have seen an end to it, of that I am sure.” He pressed his lips together and lowered his gaze.

“Vasha was a kind girl. When I learned she was with child, I did my best to let her know she would be safe at the chapel. I hoped that by this year’s Dropping of Prejudice, the people would take their first step towards unity. But with her death, I am afraid that will be impossible.”

“We will put her to rest,” Lord Gremmelt said. “Witches are to blame for all of this. Don’t hold yourself accountable.”

Speaker Argud nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I will bless your salt for you.”

Speaker Argus placed the jars of salt in the water. While on his knees, he dipped two fingers in the water then ran them down his forehead all the way to the center of his chest. He then drew a circle and connected it at the bottom before sliding his two fingers down and away from the circle twice. Aredesans did this at the beginning of their service or when engaging the Remnants in prayer. The circle represented the sun, and whatever direction they pushed their fingers towards, was an indication of which Remnant they were communing with. Each point of the sixteen pointed sun represented one of the Remnants, and was the primary symbol of the Sunlit Flame. The Sunlit Sun could be found painted on both the walls and the floors of churches, and in the form of necklaces and pendants worn by Speakers and devout members of the church.

Speaker Argus grabbed each jar one at a time, and said two prayers over them. “Oh merciful mother whose thread connects to all, I, this humble servant whose path you have laid, whose thread you have sewn, have this to request. Fate, please guide this salt to protect those who still walk your path. Oh merciful mother Fate, of this I ask.”

“Holy light that shines and protects, I, this humble servant whose path you have illuminated, whose shield has guarded me from dangers, have this to request. Providence, please shine your light on this salt to keep all dangers at bay from those worthy of your protection. Oh holy Providence, of this I ask.”

After blessing the salt, he grabbed an empty jar and filled it with water from the basin. “These should do, and take this as well. Consider it a gift for saving the town and putting Vasha to rest.”

“Thank you, Speaker,” Lord Gremmelt replied. Everyone grabbed their salt, and Gremmelt had Naja take the water. They left the chapel and returned to the dock to prepare their rituals.

Lord Gremmelt, Naja, and Ra’Selas each meticulously drew on their scrolls a pattern of circles and intersecting lines that converged on a larger center circle. With the scrolls prepared, they settled into their canoes. Akecheta was with Lord Gremmelt, Ronso with Naja, and Kangee with Ra'Selas. Achi and Everdeen took flight and bounced from tree to tree overhead.

They pressed out into the water. It was calm and quiet save for the occasional Caw of a crow overhead.

Akecheta, Ronso, and Kangee rowed as the others moved on to the next step of the ritual. They each added a pinch of salt and ground up witchbane, leaving only the Arcane blood and incantation. Naja and Ra’Selas bit into their thumbs while Gremmelt readied a small vial filled with Naja’s blood he prepared earlier.

The fallen tree wasn’t far from town, but the waters of the swamp were thick and muddy, so the canoes moved slowly.

Sunshine pierced the clouds and warmed their backs as they pressed further from the safety of town. With the tree only a few paces away, they began their incantations. They had to say them in complete unison and drop the blood in the center of their scrolls precisely at the same time, or else it would not be strengthened. It was a gamble and Gremmelt knew it. Improving incantations this way was easy for a trained Wizard, but for three Witch Hunters, it would be a challenge, especially without practice.

In unison they spoke in Wyan, an ancient language long forgotten by time. None of the three knew what the words or symbols really meant, but they had committed them to memory.

Esl Spiratous Undarin Xotal

Mr’vus Esl Oahn

Des Unsil Xotal Destratus

Mr’vus Esl Oahn

As they recited their incantations, Akecheta felt a shiver run down his spine and his breath suddenly was cold.

“It's here!” he called out. His gaze darted from left to right, desperately trying to narrow down on where the spirit could be. Another shiver, it was right on top of them. “It's on top of us!” Kangee, Akecheta, and Ronso threw salt all around them to push the spirits away. They could hear the echoes of a baby crying, though they had no idea where. The cries surrounded them and pierced their ear drums. There was no escape from the painful wails. Everyone had a job; no one could cover their ears.

Suddenly, another shiver, much more violent than the last.

“I feel them both! It's now or never!” Akecheta called out. He was terrified. Unlike the others, he was keenly aware just how powerful the spirit truly was. If this thing grabs any of us…. were dead.

He threw his salt up and around him, showering the area with it. The incantations came to a close and each added the blood to the center. Flames bursted from the ends of the scrolls and burned quickly until they reached the center circle. As the fire dissipated, the crying stopped, the shivers ended, and neither Akecheta nor Kangee could sense anything around them. The Witch Hunters all held their breath.

“Is it gone?” Lord Gremmelt looked to Akecheta.

“Yes. I believe so,“Akecheta looked into Kangee’s eyes for affirmation. Akecheta may have had a knack for feeling out spirits, but most Crow Clan did. After Kangee gave him a nod, he added, “for now.”

He closed his eyes. “Everdeen senses nothing either.”

“Good.” Lord Gremmelt yelled for Kangee, “get the bodies in your boat, we’ll burn them at shore.”

Kangee jumped into the water. It was cold, thick, and murky. His feet touched the bottom but the water was up to his chest. Mosquitoes annoyingly buzzed all around as he waded through the sludge to the tree as quickly as he could. Pulling himself closer using a branch, he paused when he saw the bodies hidden away in the log.

Pale and unmoving, they laid peacefully in the hollow and were perfectly preserved. He grabbed the woman’s leg and yanked it out before heaving her up in the boat with Ra'Selas. The two got it in, carefully keeping the baby from ripping out its umbilical cord.

“Quickly!” Lord Gremmelt yelled. “We have to burn them to ash before they return.”

They rowed as fast as the muddy waters would allow, any moment the magic in their carvings could return. Slowed by the additional weight, Kangee and Ra’Selas made it to shore last. Ronso and Naja rushed out to meet them and helped them carry the bodies to dry land.

All at once, the Witch Hunters set their blades aflame and plunged them deep into both woman and child. Their flesh burst into flames as Lord Gremmelt doused them in salt. All stood silent as the bodies burned.

“Other than the smell, that was pretty easy,” Ronso suddenly said. She held her halberd above her head and stretched it backwards. “I was hoping we were going to have to fight them.”

“Be happy we didn’t,” Gremmelt told her. “We were lucky our plan worked. Seldomly do more than four blades go on a hunt. If our numbers had been fewer, we likely would have had to try a different tactic.”

“If the spirit was strong enough to defeat Benard, any four of us likely wouldn’t have fared much better,” Ra’Selas added. He spun his sword and the flames dissipated before he sheathed it. “I still feel uneasy about all of this.”

“As do I,” Gremmelt replied. What did Benard learn? What secret is here that we aren't seeing? Altera…. Vasha… the werewolves… the coven… Blackgrave … How is it all connected?

As the fire settled and the pungent gray smoke died down, townsfolk and Bryarsmen slowly gathered around.

Captain Wellers appeared from the crowd and asked in an uneasy tone, “Is it over?”

“Aye,” Lord Gremmelt replied as he stared at the smoldering pile of ash. “I reckon the spirit will be no more.” His face was dour, and didn’t even glance over at Wellers.

“Great! Vassal Altera will be pleased to hear this.” He called over a Bryarsmen to fetch Altera who appeared shortly after.

“A job well done?” Altera asked.

“The spirit is no more. Our job here is done,” Lord Gremmelt replied.

“Very good, very good indeed.” Altera extended his hand to Lord Gremmelt to shake it.

“We're leaving right away, I’d appreciate it if you could get us some sleds to pull our brother's bodies.” He glanced down at Altera’s hand. “One more thing, I’ll be taking the gold you promised to the Order.”

Lord Gremmelt extended his hand out but did not shake Altera’s. “Right away if you could, we’re leaving town immediately.”

“I see,” Vassal Altera retracted his hand and grabbed a coin pouch at his side.

“Eighty gold was what we agreed on,” he handed the coins to Lord Gremmelt. “And as a show of a good job done, and to express my gratitude for your cooperation,” he pulled out a sword. He unsheathed it to show its glistening blue blade.

“This is a Shatterblade. We make them here for Lord Bryars who turns a profit selling them to Zenidar.”

Lord Gremmelt took the blade in his hands. It was a shortsword and remarkably light. “What's with all the padding in the scabbard?”

“That is to keep it from activating prematurely,” Altera told him. “Due to their nature, they are quite fragile and can activate easily.”

“Just how easily?” Gremmeld asked as he carefully sheathed it.

“Quite,” Altera replied. “You need only an inch or so of movement to activate it.” He brought up his hands in front of him. “Dangerous, yes. But,” he raised his right hand up with his index finger raised high, “extremely useful if you have limited mobility or are pinned down.”

“And why is the blade blue?” Lord Gremmelt asked.

“During the forging process, we infuse Xhroma with a spell. Xhroma takes on a different color depending on what Arcane is stored within it. We take that Xhroma and melt it down with copper to forge weapons that shatter on contact.”

“A sword worth only one swing hardly seems effective,” Lord Gremmelt replied. “How does the Arcane infusion come into play?”

“Shatterblades may break easily, but that is the point. When the sword breaks, all the Arcane energy stored up has to go somewhere. Now, these weapons are still young in their development and have their problems. Sometimes the blast of Arcane goes forward,other times they go backward.”

“Sounds like a big risk,” Lord Gremmelt replied.

“Not as big as you might think,” Altera said. “We have refined them in the last year, and if we keep it up, we might be able to completely mitigate the risk.”

Lord Gremmelt slid the blade into his belt. The Bryarsmen returned with the bodies of their fallen kin secured to sleds and Conero close behind. He stood on his own, and was free of his chains, but was fuming quietly to himself.

“It will serve me well,” Lord Gremmelt replied. “This is where we leave. Farewell, Vassal Altera.”

He motioned for the others to pull the sleds and had Akecheta talk to Conero. The whole way out of town, Conero remained silent. The Bryarsmen escorted them out, and watched as the Witch Hunters slowly disappeared down the road. Once Sossaboro had faded from view, Conero broke his silence.

“Why didn’t you let Vasha have her vengeance?” he asked in Aredesan. The group was somewhat surprised, but Lord Gremmelt gave him an answer.

“Our job is to cleanse these lands of Curses— whether it's Undeath, Shabetsu, or Arcane, it doesn’t matter. A Witch Hunter’s place isn’t in the politics of a town. You believed the spirit to be natural, believed she was only seeking vengeance for her Misery.”

Lord Gremmelt shook his head. “There are greater forces at play here than you understand. She was only being used by a Witch. We freed your daughter from her Curse. You only wished for her to be consumed by it. Just be happy you lived in the end.”

Conero’s face twisted furiously and he screamed, “And what is my life without my Vasha! I wish every Bryarsmen would have drowned, and Altera was with her now! You saved no one here! You only furthered our suffering.” He turned and walked into the woods, Akecheta tried to stop him but he pushed him away and ran.

“Leave him be. It’s not our place,” Lord Gremmelt told him. Sensing Akecheta was distraught by the situation, he reassured him with a hand on his shoulder, saying, “You are no longer a Bryarsmen, Witch Hunters only concern themselves with the hunt. Once the hunt is over, the town, the people, all of it, it no longer matters.”

The sun was setting and a cold wind blew in from the north. Naja manifested a light to shine their way, and they set off down the somber road. Before they reached Eddlesreef, a dark red moon rose overhead. Winter was over, and spring had begun.

The town slumbered when the Witch Hunters arrived. Resolute to press out of Bryars territory, they sought only to stop at the graveyard and collect Benard. But when they reached its iron gates, they saw the shallow grave that contained their fallen brother had been disturbed and was now empty.

Lord Gremmelt sighed and shook his head. “Come,” he said in a low voice. “I know where he will be.”

The Witch Hunters walked through town and crossed Bryars bridge. They left their fallen kin in the clearing outside of the woods and entered in to find the mound where Benard had fallen. A hooded figure bathed in red glow stood in the center of the mound. They formed a circle in the surrounding ankle deep water.

“Our brother Benard is no more, all that remains behind is his Tormented flesh!” Lord Gremmelt called out. Benard heard his voice and turned to face him. His skin was burned red, and sunk into his bones. He carried a hatchet in each hand and steam faintly rose off his body.

“Ronso, give me Benard’s longsword.” Ronso handed the blade over. “It is our duty to put our brother's flesh to rest.” He slid Bernard’s longsword across his palm and sent it up in a blaze, the others did the same with their own weapons.

Benard slid an ax across his arm. Despite no longer any blood in his body, the head of the ax went up in flames just the same.

“Wear him down!” Gremmelt yelled. Ra'Selas and Naja lifted their arms and manifested flames, launching them in quick succession. Benard swung his ax into the first flame and knocked it away. The second hit him in the chest but looked to have no effect.

Akecheta and Kangee rushed in first, each swinging into a different side. Akecheta brought down his mace and knocked the non-flaming ax cleanly from Benard’s hand. Benard slashed at them with his flaming ax, but Akecheta redirected the attack with his shield, leaving Benard’s chest completely exposed.

Ronso took the opening and brought her halberd down at an ark and straight through Benard’s leg. Before he could topple over on his own, Lord Gremmelt rushed him with his shield, crashing into him with all of his weight. Benard fell hard and Gremmelt thrust his blade into his chest. The others pinned his arms and remaining leg with their own blades.

Ra'Selas and Naja joined them and buried their own blades into his flesh. As he violently shrieked and kicked like a wild animal, Naja poured the Sunlit water all over him. The water was like acid on his flesh, and burned through him in an instant. With six flaming weapons bearing down on him over and over, the flesh burned and lost all its power. As it lay there smoldering in a pile of ash, the Witch Hunters stood over it in silence.

“Rest well brother,” Lord Gremmelt finally said in a somber tone.

A cold wind was swept in from the sea and the sun had yet to rise. All of them felt unable to sleep so they pressed on without rest. Benard had been an excellent Witch Hunter, and each of them had their own reasons for respecting him.

Ra’Selas grabbed the hatchet that was cast away in the battle. “Lord Gremmelt,” he said as he brought it over.

Lord Gremmelt turned and took a glance. “No,” he lifted Benard’s longsword, “I think this is all I need.”

Ra’Selas looked down at the hatchet for a moment before sliding into his belt and giving it a pat. “Very well, I shall carry it with me.”

Naja knelt down to the ash as it finally quit burning. Her eyes held back tears and her hands were trembling. “I suppose we’ll never hunt together after all.”

A dismal sense of dread fell over all of them. Some great evil had taken root in the woods and swamps of the southern lands, and they knew as Witch Hunters it was only a matter of time before they would have to face it. Each of them had questions, but one that stood out among the rest. What exactly is going on with Blackgrave, and why can’t it be searched for?