Blackgrave

Orthos and Ra'Selas stared the Witch down, sweat pouring from their brows.

“Give her no time to think!” Ra'Selas charged, flaming brand in hand. He screamed, slashing his blade through her neck. The sword passed through her like she was mist, but Ra'Selas’s onslaught continued.

Slashing and spinning, stabbing and kicking, he refused her even a moment to speak. Orthos let loose an arrow fixed for her heart, but as with his last shot, it dropped low and missed the mark.

"What's wrong, boys? Doubt you can hit me?" The Witch let out a hellish cackle that was cut short by a sudden bolt to the shoulder. She shrieked a banshee’s wail as she tore the bolt from her arm.

"I didn't see you there, sweetie!" the Witch said, a sinister smile stretching across her dark lips.

"Consider us both surprised!" Beef called out as he loaded another bolt.

"Overwhelm her!" Ra'Selas called as he lifted his blade once more. He slashed into her again. Stepping forward with every stroke, he refused to let her escape. She jumped back, passing every root or rock like a shadow. In between every step, an arrow or bolt would pass through her, giving Ra’selas safety from a counter. Just as his breath was starting to fail him, he spotted Haldor and Djargo closing in from behind.

“Die, foul Witch!” Ra’Selas screamed and slashed with all his vigor. A haughty laugh crept from her lips as she stood her ground. She brought up her staff and it collided with Ra’Selas’s blade, sending fire and Arcane energy flying all around. The two locked eyes and he eased off his guard. Pulling the Witch close, he grabbed her arm just as Djargo sank his fangs into her leg.

The Witch shrieked in pain and tried to pull away, but it was too late. Djargo wrenched back and swept her from her feet. She fell hard, maniacally laughing as she hit the dirt. Her shrill voice filled their ears as a thick black smoke poured out from under her.

Ra’Selas quickly glanced around, debating on if he should flee. He stared down at the Witch—resolute to press on—drew up his flaming blade, and slashed into the darkness.

Orthos stared on in horror. He knocked an arrow and held his aim steady on the darkness. “The moment she steps out, she's dead,” he whispered.

"What's happening?" Beef pointed his crossbow towards the pure fetid darkness that consumed the Witch, Ra'Selas, Haldor, and Djargo. Pull yourself together, Beef. It’s just werewolves and a Witch, things will be fine. Naja and the others are doing…okay. And these guys seem to have it…

He glanced at Orthos, noticing his pale face, uncertain eyes, and uneasy breathing. He had only run away from the werewolves after he heard Orthos' pull cannon. Shit! I can’t do anything here, I can’t even see the Witch.

“Uhhh, you got this.” Beef slapped Orthos’ shoulder before sprinting back towards the others. I can’t fuck this up. I have to at least hit something! Beef stumbled back to the heart of the ruins, desperately looking to find a target. As he passed through the trees and stone columns, he spotted the battle was still underway. Before he could raise his crossbow and take a shot, a bloody figure stood in his way. It was Carbrey.

Carbrey staggered and swayed as he tried to stand. Blood still falling free from his stump arm, it was a miracle he had any strength at all. In between the crook of his arm he held his dwarven pull cannon at the ready. A loud bang and flash roared, and the werewolves howled in pain.

Ceasing the opportunity, Beef closed in, circling Carbrey as he approached. He found his mark and fired a bolt that struck one in the chest and brought it to its knees. It looked up at Naja, mercy in its gaze. Blood fell from its chest, its side had been chewed through by cannon fire, and it could no longer stand to fight. It whimpered, begging for clemency from the executioner that stood before it. Without a second thought, she swiftly sliced through its massive neck with a stroke of her shortsword.

Everett poked the second one back with his pike, but was unable to pin him down. The beast jumped back, snarling and shifting its gaze from person to person. In a flash, he darted towards Carbrey.

Half drunk with blood loss, Carbrey dropped his cannon and fumbled around his belt, fingering his silver dagger. On all fours, the beast moved like lightning. It jumped into the air a few paces away and lunged for his neck. With a breath, a quick shift of his weight, and a thrust, Carbrey plunged his dagger into the creature's throat, killing it as it fell on top of him.

While the others dealt with the werewolves, Ra'Selas was trapped in pitch black darkness that swirled all around him and kept him from finding his way out. Anytime he made a decision to move a certain way, giant impassible yellow eyes stood in front of him.

Within the darkness, the laugh of the Witch was all around. His blade, the only beacon of hope he had, still had flame coming off it, but it did nothing to stave off darkness that encircled him. It could be seen in front of his face and in his hands, but it did not shine.

“Show yourself, Witch!” Ra’selas demanded as he waded through the darkness. “I know what you did to my mother! What you caused in Brayersville! Come and face me, you fiend!”

Outside of the darkness, Orthos remained locked and ready to let loose his arrow the moment the Witch showed herself. The wait was unbearable. Loud howls and cannon fire rang out from the ruins. The plan had gone to shit, and if he tried to help the others now, it would mean the Witch could escape.

A figure emerged from the darkness and took off into the woods. Orthos followed the movements, realizing it was the Witch trying to escape. He let his arrow loose. It flew into the Witch but only brushed up on her side before flying off and striking a tree.

Orthos knocked another arrow but stopped short of the pull when he saw it was young Haldor standing there now. He held up his hands and on his side where the arrow grazed the Witch, Haldor was bleeding. Orthos snapped back at the darkness as it slowly faded away.

Djargo broke through the shroud, passing by him into the woods. He took aim and sighted in on the Witch who still remained where the darkness had originally been formed. It flew directly into her leg and a loud shout rang out. It was Ra’Selas. The illusion of the Witch disappeared and in her place Ra’Selas clenched an arrow stuck in his thigh. Orthos turned around to see if he could see the Witch, but she was gone.

“Where is she!” Ra’Selas yelled as he limped around, his blue eyes smoldering with hate.

"Easy," Orthos told him, "You won’t be able to chase her with that still in your leg."

Ra’Selas ground his teeth and shifted his gaze from tree to tree. “Gods be damned,” Ra’Selas said as he thrust his fist into a tree. “Blasted Witch was right beneath my sword, and still she evaded me.” He glanced up at Orthos. “Let's check on the others. They may still need our help.”

“First we need to remove that arrow,” Orthos said. He grabbed his dagger from his belt, but Ra’Selas gave him no chance.

“We don’t have time!” Ra’Selas pushed past him and limped towards the ruins.

When they arrived at the ruins the fighting was over. Akecheta was stripped and wrapped up in bloody bandages and Naja was searing Carbrey's arm close with her sword. Her head was wrapped in a bandage that covered her left eye and was soaking through with blood.

"Will he make it?" Torskaal asked. He stood over Naja the entire time she worked, softly singing the Rhyme of the Jorgman in hopes it would help Carbrey pull through.

"He lost a lot of blood, and he probably shouldn't have gotten back up," she replied with her remaining eye focused on her blade.

"Where were you?" Cha'Rak said to Orthos and RaSalas. "I thought you were right behind me."

"Everyone be on guard!" Ra'Selas shouted as he limped into the ruins. "There is a Witch in these woods." He looked around. "Nobody stray too far."

"A Witch was here?" Naja asked.

"Yes. She was watching us while masquerading as an elk. I only saw her because of the glow in her eyes," Orthos answered.

“She ran away, though she could return at any moment,” Ra'Selas added. He paced around uneasily.

"We need to get Carbrey to the Keep,” Naja said as she stood and packed up her supplies. “I've done everything I can. Once we're back, perhaps the doctor can do something, but he might not even make the journey."

While everyone who was injured drank a potion of witchbane, Haldor constructed a makeshift sled. Carbrey was gently loaded on, and all three werewolf heads were thrown into a sack. Orthos carefully removed the arrow from Ra’Selas’ leg and wrapped it up tight. Akecheta was bruised up and bloody, but could stand and walk with support of another.

While the carry was being constructed, Naja and Ra’Selas crept the stone staircase that led into the ruins. The ruins were caved in and impossible to navigate. Rubble was everywhere, and because it was so dark, even with a torch they could only see so far. Whatever was in these ruins, they would not be able to find out.

“She may have used this as some kind of base,” Ra'Selas suggested as he looked around. He held the torch up and tried to peer through a little gap in the debris.

“See anything?” Naja asked as she walked down the stairs. Ra'Selas held the torch up high.

“Nothing,” he replied. “But something tells me this is where the Witch was hiding in the first place.”

Naja looked around at the rubble and along the walls before asking, “What makes you say that?”

“We don’t know why Oliver and his men suddenly decided to do all of this, and now that they're dead, we never will.” Ra'Selas brought knuckles to his mouth and thought hard. “She had to be involved somehow,” he told her. “Why else would she be here, and why else would they suddenly decide to attack Waldenhauf?”

“I think you’re right,” Naja replied. “This whole time I felt like something was looming over us, as if the entire town of Waldenhauf was completely engulfed by a shadow.”

“But how could she have gotten past Benwall?” Ra'Selas shook his head. “We can’t let her escape, not while she is this close.”

“You can hardly walk, let alone give chase. It is best if we report this to the Lords. Neither one of our groups were prepared for a Witch.” A glum expression fell on her face. “Besides, have you learned nothing from Benard?”

Ra’Selas clenched his fists. “Fine,” he replied with a sour face. “We leave this to the Lords.”

Naja and Ra’Selas took a final uneasy glance at the ruins before returning to the others, and silently making their way back to town.

They arrived at Waldenhauf when the sun was high and the air was warm. Woodcutters were busy chopping trees, women picked wild berries and worked on tanning racks, and children laughed and ran circles around town. The Witch Hunters were a stark contrast to the bright jovial people of town.

The fighting combined with the walk to and from had taken several hours—everyone was covered in sweat and blood, and so tired they would have fallen asleep if they were given a chair to sit on.

When they broke from the woods, Elder Cashtar and Juniper were there with several townsfolk and militia. Elder Cashtar glanced at Naja's bloody face and Carbrey, who lay on a shoddy wooden carry.

"The werewolves…They're dead?" Cashtar asked, an eager look in his eyes.

“Yes, but you may have a much bigger problem on your hands,” Naja told him. “Out in those woods some of my companions encountered a Witch. We don’t know where she is or what her motives were for attacking us, but she is out there.” Naja glanced at all the trees behind her. “I suggest you keep a vigilant watch for the next few nights.”

Elder Cashtar was mortified. “A Witch!” he shouted, confusion brewing in his eyes. “And you are leaving us?”

Naja stood in silence for several moments hoping that he would have realized that she was missing an eye, Carbrey was missing an arm, and the others were for the most part, in no condition to fight.

“We’ll let the others know when we get back to the keep, but the four of us are done here,” Naja said. “We’ll be taking the pay for the werewolves.” She held out her hand to the man with her palm up.

“Yeah!” Beef added. “Should be doubled if you add in the Ashenmancer.”

“Yes, well I only requested the werewolf be taken care of. As for the Ashenmancer, that was just a happy accident.” Cashtar opened his coin purse and emptied 80 gold coins into a small sack. “Here, this is what was promised to The Order.”

“If that is everything, we’ll be on our way.”

As they left the crowd, Benwall the Brave appeared to say his farewell. He was distraught at the shape the Witch Hunters were in. “My word,” he said as he saw Carbrey.

“I know you said you couldn’t heal the threads of Fate, but is there anything you could do for Carbrey?” asked Naja.

He gloomily shook his head and offered him only a blessing of Providence for the journey back to Witchbane Keep. Carbey was in and out of consciousness, though he did thank Benwall for his consideration.

“We appreciate everything you’ve done,” Naja told Benwall after he recited his blessing.

“Please, I am just glad to have helped and to see everyone come back alive.” He took a final glance around at everyone who returned before asking Naja. “Where is Lunara?” He had a puzzled look on his face.

“Lunara?” Naja replied. “Who’s Lunara?”

“She’s the elven woman here in town. She owns that shop over there. Surely you ran into her. She left shortly after you did, and she knows these woods better than anyone.” Benwall looked around at all the Witch Hunters searching for some kind of confirmation.

“We did run into one woman,” Orthos said. “Though I don’t know if it was Lunara or not. What I do know is that it was a Witch.”

“A Witch…you can’t be suggesting that Lunara is…impossible,” Benwall replied. “I would have felt her presence the moment she stepped into town.”

“I know it may be hard for you to accept,” Ra'Selas said. “But I saw her with my own eyes. It was a Witch of Doubt, yellow eyes and everything. If you couldn’t sense her, it is only because there is some terrible Doubt that has weighed heavy on your mind, so heavy that she could conceal herself within it.” Benwall froze in his place for a second before bringing his hand to his forehead.

“I see.” He was somber. “There are always those you can’t save,” he said quietly. “I thank you for all that you have done. Haldor is free of the curse, and now he and Juniper can work towards unity.”

A faint smile broke on the edge of his lips. “I’ll be sure to ward off any Doubt that may spread in the town, though I trust you will be sending someone to investigate the Witch.”

“Someone will come. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but soon,” Naja told him. “We must be on our way.”

“Must you go so late in the day? Come now, you're all exhausted. You could stay here in the church. Your eye will heal better if you give it some rest before taking on your journey,” Benwall told her but Naja shook her head.

“Thank you, but we must return to Witchbane Keep.” She hid the pain in her voice. She had come so far and she would not break beneath the pressure or exhaustion. “And as for the eye, I’d rather it heals slowly. Let it serve as a painful reminder to what happened here today.”

“Very well,” Benwall softly replied. “Safe travels, my friends.” Benwall left them and headed off to speak to Elder Cashtar and Captain Hellek.

“Well, my brothers,” Torskaal told Orthos and Carbrey, “it was mighty fine fighting alongside some proper Jorgman again.”

“And you too,” Orthos said.

“Aye, maybe next time you can be the one to lose an arm!” Carbrey smiled at Torskaal and laughed but it seemed to cause him pain.

“You just be glad you still have a beautiful voice,” Torskaal said as he gently placed his hand on Carbrey’s shoulder. “Plenty of sea shanties in your future, that I can tell.”

He let out a triumphant laugh, patted his belly, and said, “I think it's time for a pint.” He gave Orthos a nod, and was off, leaving the Witch Hunters with only Haldor remaining.

“Thank you again,” Haldor said to Naja. “If not for you, I would probably already be dead.” He smiled and turned towards Juniper who still was arguing with her father.

“No thanks is necessary,” Naja replied. “Just remember this gift and use it well. Few are so lucky.”

“I will not forget the kindness you showed me today,” he looked around to the four of them, “any of you.” He gave them a slight bow and left to stand by Juniper's side.

After everyone said their farewells and they gathered their sleds full of Wyvern hide, all eight Witch Hunters headed off on the road back towards Witchbane Keep.

They arrived in the early morning. The wind blew cold and the red moon shone brightly from behind a clouded sky. Once they reached the safety of the keep, they all went their separate ways. Orthos, Akecheta, Cha’Rak, and Carbrey all went to the doctor, Ra’Selas headed straight for the Commander, and Naja sought out Lord Gremmelt.

He was in his private quarters at a desk looking over a journal. He raised his eyes from his work and immediately stood. She dropped the bloody sack of werewolf heads at her feet as their eyes met.

“Naja,” he said softly as he examined her bloody face. “Did everyone make it back?” He drew in close to her. She nodded and folded in on his chest. “Good,” he said as he squeezed her in his arms. “I’m glad you made it back.”

Naja sobbed as Lord Gremmelt held her tight. It was her first real hunt alone, a hunt that was supposed to be simple. Little did Naja or Gremmelt know, nothing was going to be simple ever again.