It was a cool Autumn day in Western Frejar. The sun hung high in the sky, its hazy light filtered through the canopy of clouds, and much of the ground was dotted with the remnants of the first snows. The birds that could handle the cold weather, or at least those that hadn’t left yet, sang softly and flew hither and thither. A small covered wagon made its way lazily down the road, pulled by two horses. The driver’s eyes scanned the road ahead casually, as though he had taken this path many times before. Inside the carriage, huddled together around a pile of blankets in the center, sat five people.
The first was a tall man clad in armor made of interlocking and hanging metal scales. His hair was white but his face young enough to counter the implication of that. Possibly it was some kind of hereditary trait, or perhaps he was simply cursed with early greying. In his hands he held a large sword, still sheathed, the pommel stylized to look like the head of a snow leopard. He eyed the sword in his hands as though inspecting it; though, perhaps, he did not wish to stare at his strange companions.
Next to him sat a young woman, her head wrapped in a colorful bandana of blues, greens, and purples to tame the wild, curly strands of brown hair that spilled out from underneath it. Her clothes were similarly vibrant, and various cloth and jewelled adornments hung from her. In her hands she held a large, worn book, which she was gently leafing through.
Across from her sat another man with neatly combed, slicked back straight brown hair that stretched almost to his shoulders. He wore a red travel cloak, clearly of fine make, that obscured much of his clothing. His head was bowed, a few strands of his brown hair hanging down towards the bottom of the wagon, and his eyes were closed as though in a deep sleep, or as deep a sleep as he could manage while riding in this rickety wagon.
Beside the sleeping man sat a woman, her mahogany skin starkly contrasted the brilliant golden hue of her hair, woven into a single, long braid that hung over one shoulder. Wrapped around her shoulders was a brilliant white cloak with gold embroidery around the edges, lustrous enough to blind you in the right light, and in her hands was a lute carved of pale brown wood, the strings of which she was gently plucking as she hummed to herself.
Finally, at the back of the carriage was a boy, teenage in appearance, with a hood hung over his head and wisps of black hair peeking from underneath. Unlike the others, he wasn’t facing towards the center of the carriage, but towards the back. With one hand opening the back cloth of the wagon, he peered out into the lands around them as they made their way down the road.
The last several hours of their trip had been held in silence ever since they passed the border into Frejar from the country of Lograd to the south. In a way the silence was necessary since their passing across the border wasn’t, in a strict sense, legal. Thus the covered wagon. But with the border behind them, there was less need for stealth. The tense quiet was interrupted when the wagon hit a bump in the road, jolting the group and rousing the sleeping man from his rest. He looked around, confused.
“Are we there?” he said, half lidded eyes looking around the wagon.
The driver’s low, accented voice came from the front. “Apologies, just a bump in the road.”
The silver-haired man looked up from his blade to the other. “Not yet,” he said curtly. “Though I can’t imagine it’s much farther.”
He nodded and turned his eyes from the silver-haired man to the young one at the back of the wagon. “Hey kid, how does it look out there?”
“Cold,” was all the young man said; he didn’t turn to look at who was speaking to him, he kept his eyes outward.
The man furrowed his brow. “I see.” Turning his eyes to the others in the wagon, he put on a friendly smile. “So, how came you all to this place? Got business in Frejar? I’m Tizan by the way.”
For a moment no one answered the question, but then the silver-haired man turned his head up. “I’m Atriax, and I’m from here.”
At this, the curly-haired woman turned her head up from her book and glanced at Atriax. “I’m also from here. Been on a long trip.” She turned her eyes back to her book. “Name’s Levia.”
“Ah! Returning home, then.” Tizan turned his head to the woman at his side, still gently plucking the strings of her instrument. “What about you? Are you a minstrel of some kind? Traveling for work?”
Without stopping her playing, she looked over at him with a slight smile. “Something like that. I’m Esme. I came here because I have business in Bolfell.”
Tizan’s eyes widened slightly. “Truly? I also have business there. What a coincidence. I’ve heard it’s a lovely city.”
“Yes, very interesting; and I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been there before,” she said absently as she continued to play.
Looking around the wagon, Tizan’s eyes landed on the last person in this wagon. “What about you, young man? You look a little young to be traveling alone. Where are you from?”
“Around,” was all he said, again not turning to look and keeping his eyes outward.
“I see,” Tizan said, a bit confused, but pressing on nonetheless. “And what is your name?”
“Reign,” the boy said, again with the same apathetic timbre as before.
“Bit of a strange name,” Tizan said after a moment’s hesitation. This comment garnered no response from the boy and so he relented, sitting back in his seat and letting out a small sigh. He tilted his head back, as if to try to fall back asleep, but was interrupted when the wagon driver’s voice was once again heard.
“Shit!” the driver said in a hushed tone. “Soldiers on the road ahead. It looks like a checkpoint. Quick! Get under the blankets.”
What happened next was prepared for. The five grabbed the blankets placed in the center of the wagon, there for this purpose, and threw them over themselves, ducking down and making the wagon appear as if it was merely filled with cloth. After another few minutes, the carriage came to a stop, and the sound of armored footsteps could be heard outside.
“What is your business in Frejar?” said a voice, muffled and metallic as if coming from inside of a helmet.
“Transporting some goods. Cloths, blankets, and the like. Winter is coming, after all,” the wagon driver said confidently, a lie he was accustomed to telling.
“Indeed? Well we’ll have to have a look before you can continue.”
“Searches aren’t standard, are they? I’ve never been searched before,” said the driver with a hint of unease.
“True, but things have changed lately. Roads aren’t safe, and with that fugitive the Inquisition is hunting for, we have to be wary of travelers. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Ah, I see. Well...as long as it doesn’t delay me too much.”
“Take a look inside the wagon.” A second set of footprints was heard after he spoke, footfalls that made their way down the side of the wagon, just behind where Tizan and Esme were huddled under the blankets. They kept going, round the back, until they slowly came to a stop at the opening of the wagon. Under the blankets, the five heard the sound of the back cover opening being pulled open, and a soldier looking in.
Everyone froze, even holding their breath to stay as silent and still as possible under the pieces of cloth around them. Suddenly, however, the sound of one of the pages of Levia’s still open book brushing against the cloth. Atriax snapped his head to her and she looked back at him, wincing slightly as her eyes darted from him to the light above the cloths, the light of day. A shadow could be seen above them, the shadow of a hand that reached for their coverings. Atriax’s hand gripped his sword’s hilt tightly, as though to pull it from the sheath at a moment’s notice. Closer the hand crept, taking hold of the top covering of cloth. But, before the soldier could pull it aside and reveal what was hiding beneath, he was interrupted by the sound of the driver’s voice up in front.
“Listen, gentlemen, I’m in quite a hurry. So how about I give you this and I just get on my way?” The clinking sound of a coin purse was heard, then silence for a few moments. All the while the soldier’s hand still held the cloth coverings, unmoving.
After a few painful moments of silence, the voice of the first soldier was heard. “Let them through.” The second soldier let go of the cloth and stepped back, closing the back cover of the wagon as he did so. Everyone in the wagon breathed a sigh of relief, and Atriax finally let go of the hilt of his sword, glaring over at Levia who responded with a slightly guilty expression. The two pairs of metallic footsteps moved off the road and, after a minute, the wagon was moving again.
A while later, once the soldiers were far behind, the driver’s voice was heard again, his tone relieved, if a bit annoyed. “Alright, you can come out now. Once we get to Turnov, you owe me for the bribe.”
-----
The carriage finally pulled to a stop a few hours later, the sun drifting low over the horizon as the soft sounds of a small village were heard. The group saw it as they filed out of the wagon. The wall. A white, stone barrier that stretched around the village. It was clearly in disrepair, sections of it crumbling into lone bricks. Just off the road was the wall’s gate, separating the white stone and giving a view of the village within. Dirt roads were lined with houses, many of them run down and falling apart from long years of disrepair. A few people walked the streets, going about their evening duties.
“Welcome to the Turnov,” the carriage driver said after giving the travelers the opportunity to get a look around. “Bolfell is a week west. Alnwick, the capital, is two weeks east.”
“Thank you very much,” Atriax said after a moment, handing the driver enough gold to compensate for the previous faux pax with the guards.
“Any advice about the area?” Tizan said after the driver started getting ready to set off again.
“Well, winter’s coming, so better get some warm clothes. You could also get a map as well if you’re not from Frejar. There’s a bookshop in town that sells them. As for Turnov, I do have a bit of advice. Leave. Town’s cursed.”
All five turned their heads, some in surprise, some in interest, and Levia spoke up after a moment. “Cursed? What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean? Cursed. Bad things happen here. Lots of bad omens. People don’t stick around for long, usually. You shouldn’t either.” Before they could ask any more, the driver urged the horses onward and the wagon began to make its way down the road, away from Turnov.
The five were left looking at each other in confusion until Atriax spoke up.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I need a drink. I’ll be heading to the tavern. Might also check into this curse, sounds intriguing. It’s been interesting traveling with you, if I don’t see you again.” With that, he turned and walked through the gates into town, leaving the other four behind him.
“It is getting late, I could do with a rest before continuing,” Tizan said as he rushed to catch up. It wasn’t long after, that the others followed as well.
As they made their way into town, the group saw that there were many abandoned houses, their windows boarded and roofs riddled with holes. The roads were gray and muddy, and the people that milled around eyed the party with a kind of cautious suspicion. After a few minutes, they came to the front of a large building, inside of which the hum of conversation and camaraderie beckoned. A sign swung above the door, painted with the image of a black horse: The Black Mare Inn.
Atriax wasted no time before stepping through the doors, although not everyone followed him inside. Reign stayed outside for a moment, looking around, either out of curiosity or out of caution. Levia was nowhere to be seen, she had split off from the group several minutes ago without any of them noticing.
The Black Mare was as busy as one could expect by the level of liveliness the rest of the town held. There were a few people sitting about, talking, having an evening drink, and eating dinner under the soft, flickering light of the various candles spread around. The lighting was dim, to be sure, but well enough that Atriax was able to find a table where he, Tizan, and Esme could sit down with room to spare. A waitress soon passed the table, asking the trio if they’d like something to drink.
After taking their orders, Atriax leaned over to her. “So I heard this town is cursed? What do you know about that?”
It was as if she had seen a ghost. The waitress’s eyes went wide, her face seemed to drain of color, and she hurried away, giving some excuse about needing to get to other patrons. Atriax seemed to deflate, but his curiosity didn’t dim in the slightest.
“Why are you so interested in this so-called curse?” Esme said after a long, somewhat uncomfortable, pause.
“Just sounds interesting, that’s all,” he replied casually. “Plus, well, if the town really is cursed, might be some money in investigating it.”
“Are you the type that does that, then? Investigate curses? Are you a ghost hunter?” Tizan said with a laugh, leaning back in his chair.
Regarding him with an aloof grin, Atriax replied, “Something like that, I suppose.” After his question, it seemed to Atriax that the others in the bar had heard him, and had begun to eye the trio with even more suspicion. It was a reaction that only seemed to feed his curiosity.
-----
After splitting off from the group, Levia made her way down one of the side streets in Turnov, looking around curiously. As she went, she was met with more suspicious stares. It put no hamper on her exploring mood, but did cause her to continue with caution, eyeing the villagers back with the same suspicion they measured her with. Perhaps there was something to this rumor of a curse. Eventually, she came to what she was heading towards all along; the bookshop that the carriage driver had mentioned when they arrived. It seemed to be run out of an old, abandoned church. It wasn’t a particularly large church, barely more than a chapel, but it dwarfed the houses nearby. Up high, in a central tower that stretched up from the main door, was a stained glass window with the symbol of a rose emblazoned on it, an image Levia recognized as the symbol of the Archangel of Life, Hael. Then, directly below that window and above the door, was a simple sign that read: Perun’s Books. Levia stepped inside.
Her footsteps echoed against the stone floor of the chapel, though not as much as you might expect in a typical church, as the building that once housed pews and a pulpit now housed many rows of bookshelves that covered the ground, catching any echoes and silencing them. The noise that caught her attention, however, was the sound of a small bell that went off as she opened the door, a bell that signaled a wizened old man to appear behind a stack of books.
“Oh!” he said with a start. “A customer, and a new one at that! Welcome!” He scurried closer, his long white beard stretching almost to his belt, and his messy, equally white hair smothered underneath a simple cap. “My name is Milos Perun, welcome to my shop!” he said with a surprised, but hospitable, smile, a smile that Levia returned in kind.
“Hi there. I was looking for a map of the area. I’m a traveler,” she said, eyeing the shelves curiously as she talked.
“Of course! I have maps I can sell. Don’t get many travelers, but my maps are good, though they may be a little dusty,” he said with a snort as he disappeared behind a shelf. He reappeared carrying a scroll, a bit tattered and dusty, but seemingly in one piece. “That’ll be 3 gold pieces,” he said as he handed it over.
She opened it up and inspected it. It was indeed a map of Frejar, containing the whole country, including bits of Lograd to the south and Thanuras to the east. Closing the scroll again, she reached into her coinpurse and produced the money, handing it to the old man. “Mind if I take a look around for a little bit? I’d be interested in seeing what else you have.”
“Certainly, miss! Take all the time you need! I’ll be around if you have any questions.” With that, he scurried off to go back to rifling through his bookshelves.
-----
Atriax, Esme, and Tizan were halfway through their drinks when Reign reappeared, sauntering into the tavern and sitting down at the table with the rest of them. Before he sat down he seemed to eye the people around with suspicion, one hand holding something in his coat.
“There you are. I was wondering if you’d vanished into thin air,” Tizan said with a smile, setting down his mug.
“I was around,” Reign replied, still looking around cautiously here and there, as if he were expecting someone to lunge for them at any moment. “I don’t know why you were worried about me, though. It’s not as if we were traveling together back there out of desire. Not to cause offense, but I don’t know any of you.”
“True, but when you’re traveling on the road, it’s good to travel in groups, no? Safer that way.”
“Perhaps.”
It was at this moment that Levia returned, stepping through the doors of the tavern, the bag on her side looking slightly heavier. She stepped towards the group, taking in the small, quiet tavern before sitting down with them.
“Sorry for the disappearance,” she said. “I headed down to the book shop the driver mentioned. Picked up a map. You never know when it could come in handy.”
“I thought you said you were from here,” Esme said curiously, furrowing her brow.
“Not this part,” Levia replied simply, opening up the scroll and inspecting it, getting to know the landmarks. As the driver said, Bolfell was a short trip west. Her eyes fixed on the location of that city and she smiled.
“Atriax here has been asking about that supposed curse,” Esme said, pointing to the silver-haired man with one thumb and chuckling softly. He answered her only with a glare.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“The curse? I’ve been wondering about that as well.” Levia said, putting away the map and leaning on the table. “Everyone in town seems troubled. Understandable if they’re under some kind of curse.”
“You know about curses?” Atriax said incredulously, one eyebrow cocked.
“A little. Did you learn anything?”
“No. No one seems to want to talk about it. Maybe we should ask the mayor.”
“Sounds good,” Levia replied curtly. She stood up from the table and casually strode to where the barkeep was tending the counter, wiping at it with a damp rag. He glanced up as she approached. He was a large, slightly heavy-set man, with a bushy brown beard and a bald head.
“Excuse me, sir, but do you know where the mayor of Turnov can be found?” Levia said when she reached the bar.
“You’re looking at him,” the man said, looking down and continuing to clean and tend his workstation.
“Oh,” she said, taken aback a bit. “Well, um, I was just wondering about this rumor of a curse. I just arrived today. Do you know anything about it?” At that moment she experienced what Atriax had earlier when he’d asked. A couple patrons at the bar next to her looked at her with surprise and a little fear, before they looked away. Not the barkeep, though. He kept cleaning, and slowly raised his head to look into Levia’s eyes.
“Are you with them?” he said softly, his eyes moving just over Levia’s shoulder to the table where the other four travelers sat, some still focusing on their drinks, some looking over at where Levia had gone off to.
Looking over her shoulder to see where the innkeep was gesturing to, Levia turned back to him and gave him a small nod. “I suppose so.”
At this, the innkeep slowly shook his head. “No idea what the rumors are about, just old wives tales.” At the same time, he slowly slid a piece of paper to Levia, who took it and stealthily slipped it into her coat, albeit with a slightly confused look on her face, before nodding at him, turning, and walking back to the table.
Once back with the others, she sat down, and Esme was the first to speak up. “Did he say anything? What did you talk about?”
Levia simply opened up the note the innkeep had given her and read it aloud, though only loud enough for those at the table to hear. “My daughter takes over the bar in an hour. Meet me at my house. I live just behind the tavern.”
“Sounds like a lead,” Atriax said, finishing his drink and setting the empty mug down on the table before clearing his throat with a sigh. “That’s what I’ll be doing, then. If any of you want to come with, feel free, but let me do the talking.”
Levia spoke up. “I am experienced with this kind of thing as well. No need to do it all yourself.”
“Are you? Very well, I’ll accept your help,” Atriax replied with a nod.
“I’m happy to come along. This sounds interesting,” Tizan said after listening for a moment.
“Yeah, me too. I’m in!” Esme added, sounding quite excited at the prospect.
Atriax let out a small sigh. “Alright, alright. I’ll work with Levia, but anyone else who comes won’t get in our way. Okay?” There didn’t seem to be any disagreement from Esme and Tizan. Reign, on the other hand, seemed like he was barely listening to the conversation. “What about you, kid?” Atriax said, looking at him. “Are you going to come?”
Finally looking over at the rest of them, Reign simply shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, why not? Not like I had other plans. And yeah, yeah, I know,” He said, putting a hand up. “Stay out of your way. I got it.”
“Good,” Atriax said, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Then we wait.”
-----
An hour later, the five left the tavern and walked around to the large house that sat behind it. Atriax led the group, standing in front of the door with Levia beside him, and rapped on it with his fist. After a moment, the door opened, and the large, bearded man that Levia had spoken to earlier stood in front of the group. He looked at Levia first, then at Atriax.
“Apologies for the cloak and dagger. Talking about the...well...the curse gets people on edge in a bad way. Come inside.” He opened the door wide and stepped to the side.
With a polite nod, Atriax stepped inside, followed by Levia and the other three. Reign lagged behind, seeming a bit more cautious than the others as he stepped through the threshold. The innkeep led the group into a larger room with a dining table in the middle and several chairs surrounding it. One by one, the members of the group sat down. Reign opting instead to lean against a wall near the doorway. The barkeep was the last to sit down, at the head of the table, leaning back in the chair and sighing, his hands rubbing over the top of his bald head.
“I’m Jovan Krosko, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Atriax. That’s Levia, Esme, Tizan, and over there by the door is Reign. We’re new in town,” Atriax said, pointing to each person in turn as he introduced them.
“I figured that,” the mayor said, taking his hands off of his head and sitting up straight. His eyes focused on Atriax and they narrowed. “You’re a hunter, aren’t you?”
Tizan and Esme’s eyes turned in confusion at Atriax, but he just let out a small chuckle and nodded his head. “Is it that obvious?” he asked.
“I just know what one looks like. There are a few that live in this area. Out of an old fort west of here.”
“I know of them,” Atriax said with a slight nod.
“Hunter? What does that mean? Like a ranger?” Tizan said, interrupting.
Atriax furrowed his brows at Tizan. “Not exactly. The kinds of things I do go a bit beyond wandering forests and chasing away kobolds and wild animals. Though I suppose it’s not far off.”
“He’s a monster hunter,” Levia said in answer, eyes looking at Atriax curiously.
“That I am. Well, of a sort,” Atriax said to Levia, before turning his eyes back to the mayor. “Now why don’t you tell me about this curse. Why don’t people talk about it? What’s it about?”
The mayor paused before answering, collecting himself with a deep breath. “...We call her the burned lady. It’s a spirit that haunts the outskirts of the village. Folk don’t like talking about it, because, well, we may be responsible for its existence.” The mayor seemed visibly uncomfortable speaking.
Levia tried to calm him down with a soft gesture and gentle tone. “Well, why don’t you just start from the beginning?”
Taking a deep breath, Jovan continued, staring down at his hands as he spoke. “A few years ago we had a cunning woman in the village, living in a hut just outside the walls, on the edge of the forest. Meredith was her name. She was a treasure; a talented herbalist and healer, and it wasn’t long before she was loved by all, you know? A small town like this, we need people like Meredith.
“Well, eventually it came out that she was an arcanist, an unlicensed arcanist. I don’t know who told them, but the Inquisition got wind of it, and the next thing I knew a man rode into town, iron clad in that red and gold armor and a travel-worn brown cloak. I had never met an inquisitor in person, but what stuck with me was how he felt. From the first time I spoke to him I thought ‘this man doesn’t feel alive.’ He spoke only as much as he needed to, only paying attention to me, who he was speaking to, and once he knew where she lived, he went to her house.
“Meredith must’ve known he was coming, because she barricaded herself in the house, locking and barring the doors and windows. The inquisitor didn’t try to break in. He didn’t even try to speak to her. He just grabbed a torch...” Jovan paused, lip trembling, as he composed himself. “He set the house ablaze. First she begged, then she gave such horrible screams, and then she cursed at him, at all of us. Finally there was nothing but the sound of crackling flames and her hut crumbling down.” Jovan put his face in his hand and seemed to compose himself yet again, taking a deep breath, his voice audibly trembling as he continued. “The inquisitor didn’t say another word. The flames were still burning as he rode off into the night. The dreams started a few months later.”
“Dreams?” Atriax said, finding himself leaning forward in anticipation. The others were in a similar state. “What kind of dreams?”
Jovan’s eyes finally left his hands and he looked up at the hunter. “Nightmares. Images of the town in flames, the forest in flames, and the shadow of a woman within the flames, eyes burning brighter than any of the fires around her. The burned lady.”
“Is it just dreams? Or has anything else happened?” Levia asked, leaning back in her chair.
“The dreams were the start. They weren’t every night, and not everyone got them. But they’ve been happening more and more frequently as the years have gone by. After the dreams came the houses. You might’ve noticed that there are a great many empty houses in Turnov, relics of a time when this was a bustling trade town. Curse didn’t do that, though, it’s been happening for a long time. Anyway, every once in a while, one of those empty houses burns down in the night. Maybe it’s the burned lady giving us a warning. Many folk lock their doors tight when they go to sleep, hoping she doesn’t get in and burn them alive too.”
“Has the spirit been sighted?” Atriax asked.
“It has. But only at night, and only at or near Meredith’s hut, or, well, the burned remains of it,” Jovan replied.
“Has anyone disturbed the site? Anyone take anything from it, or walk around inside at all?” Levia asked next.
“Not that I know of. Folk are too afeared to go near it.”
“Okay, then that’s where we’ll go,” Atriax said, standing up from the table. “We’ll scout out the hut, investigate it, and maybe we’ll run into your ‘burned lady’ while we’re there.” As he stood up, the others began to follow suit.
“Be careful if you face her. Another man came through to hunt the burned lady. He said he killed her too, but by the next night she was back.”
Atriax turned to look at Jovan. “Was he a hunter?”
“No, I don’t think so. But he did destroy her, I knew that. I went to her hut after he left. It was quiet. But, the next night, the spirit returned. I don’t know if it can be killed.”
“Well, clearly this mercenary didn’t do a good enough job. Don’t worry, We’ll take care of this problem, you have my word.” With that, he turned on his heels and walked out, and the others followed him into the darkening evening.
-----
At the northern edge of town, beyond the crumbling white wall, was the forest of Loudek. The group, with Atriax at the fore, stepped through the gateway and came to face the forest. They soon came into view of what was left of the hut the mayor spoke of. As the group approached, Reign seemed to hang back, as did Levia.
The burned remains of the hut sat in a circle. Some parts of the wall were still standing, charred black from the flames, but the roof, door, and windows had all long since crumbled. Like the charcoal left at the bottom of a cold fire pit, the hut was not much more than a shadow of what it once was. If they hadn’t already been told it was a house, its original purpose would have been almost indecipherable. It was clear that, when it had burned, the townsfolk didn’t try to put the fire out, and instead let it burn until the fire stopped naturally.
Atriax stepped through what remained of the hut’s front door while Esme and Tizan stood at the doorway and looked in. The first thing Atriax noticed was the warmth. The hut was noticeably warmer on the inside than the outside was, despite the utter lack of walls and a roof. Esme and Tizan, at the doorway, also noticed the temperature variance.
“Definitely something strange here,” Atriax murmured to himself, inspecting the ruin.
The inside of the ruined circle was a mess of crumbled stone, wood, and various other burned objects so charred that it was almost impossible to tell what they once were. As he stood there, Atriax took note of the ash. It covered everything like a blanket of black snow, and he had left footprints in it when he entered. He began to rummage inside, looking for something, some clue, to latch onto that could help.
Levia and Reign walked around the outside of the hut. Levia seemed to, out of fear, avoid getting too close to the burned remains, whereas Reign’s distance seemed apathy more than anything. Eventually, though, he too was curious enough to step closer, finding himself on the opposite side of the ruin as Atriax, Tizan, and Esme. Reign looked over a crumbling bit of wall at the hunter’s investigation.
“I doubt you’ll find anything. What are you looking for anyway?”
“I’m not sure. If this spot really is cursed, there might be something I can do to lift it if I just-” Atriax was interrupted when, as he was moving some shards of wood aside, he spotted something in the rubble beneath them. Smooth, rounded shapes covered in the same ash. Brittle to the touch, but firm to hold. Bones. “Perfect,” He said softly, almost a whisper, as if he were afraid the force of his breath would disturb them. Soon the others who were watching saw what he had found. Esme’s expression turned to sadness as she looked down at the charred remains.
When she heard that something had been found, Levia began to move closer, but stopped, as if she was working up the courage. After a moment she began walking again, and forced herself to keep moving until she could look over the ruined wall at what was found.
“We need to salt and burn those,” she said with a twinge in her voice. The sight of the burned hut and the charred bones seemed to be affecting her.
“Surely the woman has already been thoroughly burned. What’s one more burning going to do?” Tizan said incredulously.
“The salt is important. It wards off harmful spirits and can banish them.” Atriax said quietly as he reached for the bones. Gently he began to collect them, handing them to Levia over the wall one by one. She then took the bones and placed them in a pile in the grass. With a hollow look in her eyes, she continued the work until every bone that Atriax could find was gathered and placed in a pile outside.
The sun had dipped fully below the horizon, and the dark of night had crept firmly in by the time Atriax left the ruined hut and began to spread salt on the bones from a vial in his pack. He poured and shook the salt until it lightly covered the bones. Tizan then handed him a torch, which he looked at curiously, not remembering seeing Tizan pull out a tinderbox of any kind, but he ignored that thought and brought out a small vial of oil to douse the bones in.
“Um, that doesn’t look good,” Esme said as she looked back into the burned hut.
The others turned and saw what she was seeing. The black dust and ash in the hut had begun to raise up from its resting place, darkening the air as it thickened in the center of the hut. Slowly it pooled and coalesced into a black cloud that hung in the air, unmoving.
“Quick! Burn them!” Levia shouted as Atriax moved to toss the torch into the bones.
However at that same moment, the black cloud blinked out of sight and reappeared in front of Atriax, knocking him on his back. The cloud shifted and changed, two tendril-like arms spread from the sides. The rest of it formed into the shape of a person without legs, floating free in the air.
Atriax looked up at the form. “Shit.”
The wraith lunged for Atriax, but in the same moment, Tizan jumped into action, reaching for his cloak and pulling it aside to grab something on his belt. He pulled out a whip that uncoiled down to his feet. The handle was white, as if made from bone, and the whip itself was of black leather. Raising it up, he flung the whip forward towards the wraith. It cracked with a thunderous sound and lightning seemed to arc from its tip. The wraith shrieked and backed away.
Esme rushed to the prostrated man and yanked him to his feet, pulling her own weapon, a long, thin rapier, from its sheath. She swung for the wraith, trying to get it to back away. Reign reached into his coat and pulled out a flintlock pistol, which he trained on the wraith and fired with a loud bang. The bullet flew towards the wraith, but it seemed to pass right through it. He looked at the gun for a moment in confusion before moving to reload it.
Once he was on his feet, Atriax reached over his shoulder for his sword, drawing it out of its sheath. Even in the dark of night, the blade of his sword seemed to glimmer unlike any normal metal. He gripped it with both hands, winding the sword back, and he brought it forward in a horizontal slash against the wraith. The shimmering metal cut deep into the form, slicing it with such force that it seemed, for a moment, to split the shape in half. The wraith seized in anger and pain, and prepared to lash out again.
Before it could, Levia’s voice rang out, chanting in some sort of unknown tongue, her voice seeming to echo unnaturally off of the nearby walls and trees. She extended her hand and the palm burned bright with white light, and out of it, a beam of radiant energy extended from it, striking the wraith with force enough that it once again seized in pain and turned her with murderous intent.
“Now!” She shouted towards the others as the wraith moved towards her.
Taking her cue, Atriax grabbed the torch he had dropped earlier and tossed it at the bones, lighting them ablaze. The wraith stopped short of attacking Levia, turning around and seeing the small bonfire that had begun atop the bones. It let out a horrible wail that seemed to shake the ground, and caused a few of the company to cover their ears. Then, as the bones burned, so too did the wraith. The dull, black cloud that made up the wraith’s form was instantly replaced with a cloud of bright, raging flames, a veritable ball of fire. Levia’s eyes went wide, and she stepped back.
“Was that supposed to happen?” Tizan said, looking upon the burning form between them.
Rather than try to attack the wraith again, Levia froze. Esme, seeing her reaction, rushed to her, and as the wraith raised a burning hand to bring it against the girl, Esme tackled her to the ground, getting her out of the way. The burning appendage was mere inches away from searing Levia’s face, close enough that she could still feel the heat as she lay on the ground.
Not wanting to give the wraith another opportunity, Atriax rushed forward, yelling to get the wraith’s attention, and brought a hand to the blade of his sword. He winced, teeth gritted, as he ran the palm of his hand against the blade, cutting deep into the skin and drawing blood. His blood clung to and spread across the glimmering metal. The sword then became engulfed in a cloud of cold mist, and when Atriax brought it against the wraith, it could feel that cold. Its fire dimmed slightly, and it turned and lashed at Atriax, managing to get a hand on his shoulder. The man groaned in pain, pulling himself out of the wraith’s grip. He clutched at the black burn on his shoulder with a free hand as Reign loaded a second bullet. Once again, the bullet passed right through an unfazed wraith. Reign tossed the gun and reached into his jacket and pull out a long, curved knife instead.
“Come on! Get up!” Esme said as she tried unsuccessfully to pull Levia to her feet. Looking away from her for a moment, Esme saw that the wraith was closing in on Atriax and Tizan, the former clutching his shoulder in pain, and the latter getting ready to make another blow with his whip. “We need to help them. Do you hear me? Help them.” That seemed to reach Levia. She broke her gaze on the wraith, met Esme’s eyes, and took her hand, allowing herself to be helped to her feet.
Tizan tried to take the heat off of Atriax by landing a blow with his whip again. This time, as the whip straightened out and cracked at the wraith, a gout of acid shot from the tip, seemingly conjured out of nowhere. The droplets of caustic liquid sizzled in the wraith’s flames, still seeming to hurt it.
Levia, once on her feet, looked at the wound that Atriax was sporting. “Atriax! Here!” With a wave of her hand, she conjured a pod of water that hung in the air. It glowed unnaturally and floated over to the silver-haired man. He looked at it suspiciously, almost backing away a bit, but he didn’t stop it when it floated up to his mouth. Instead he opened his mouth and allowed the cool, glowing water to pour down his throat. As soon as he swallowed it he felt revitalized, and, looking at his shoulder, he could see that the once black, burned spot had returned to normal, healthy flesh. He didn’t have time to marvel at it, though, as the wraith was coming back at him. Renewed of health and spirit, he raised his cold blade, and brought it down hard on the wraith.
“I banish you!” he shouted, cutting deep into the shifting shape, dealing such a blow that it sundered the wraith to its foundation.
The shape sputtered, shifted, seized, and then faded into nothing, its flames gone out, the heat dissipated. Nothing was left in the air but the vague memory of warmth. It was quiet, aside from the small fire on the ground, which had just now reduced the bones to dust and ash. Atriax collapsed against one of the mostly crumbled walls of the hut, catching his breath with a long sigh. Levia stepped towards the fire, looking down at the ashes. Esme walked up to her and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder reassuringly, comfortingly, and smiled.
“Is it over?” Tizan sighed, also feeling a bit winded from the fight.
“Yes.” Atriax took a deep breath. “We destroyed the remains, and we banished the spirit. I believe it is over. Although I think I’ll stay here until tomorrow night, just to be sure.”
“I’ll stay too. Just to be safe.” Levia said quietly, still shaking off her earlier fear.
“What about you three? Will you be staying with us?” Atriax asked Esme, Tizan, and Reign.
“I’m in no great hurry to reach Bolfell. Besides, I could use a rest,” Tizan said with a laugh.
Esme nodded in agreement. “Why not? I’m in no hurry either, plus this group seems like it’ll be fun to travel with. I’ll stick around.”
“I have nowhere to be,” Reign said. “Besides, the mayor will probably give us free drinks.” He smirked slightly as he turned around and saw someone approaching them. “Speaking of which...”
Jovan, out of breath, rushed up to the group, appearing to falter as he got close to the hut. “Is it...over?”
“The burned lady is gone, but we’ll be staying until tomorrow night just to be sure,” Levia answered, looking over at the mayor.
“Wonderful!” He seemed to brighten up considerably, smiling wide from ear to ear. “Well, I’ll be happy to offer all of you rooms free of charge while you stay here. Not to mention food too.”
“That’s very generous of you. We accept,” Esme said with a smile, looking back at the others before following the mayor towards the inn. The other members of this unexpected company, exhausted, followed them back into town for a well-needed rest.
-----
The next day passed without much disturbance, the company being subject to the well-wishes and praise of many townsfolk for their work in destroying the wraith. It was reported that not a single person had nightmares that night, and they were all eager to give thanks. While most of the company was happy, or at least willing, to accept their congratulations, Reign seemed to intentionally avoid most of the adoring villagers, keeping to himself, enjoying the spoils of free food ad drink in the tavern where nobody bothered him much.
That night, Atriax and Levia sat in front of the hut for hours waiting for the wraith to reappear, but she never did. It was a quiet night, and when the hut was inspected, the strange warmth it radiated the previous night had completely disappeared in favor of the cold chill of nighttime.
Back at the tavern, Jovan managed to catch the company all together, and he presented them with five small pouches that clinked when set down. “This isn’t a wealthy town, so we don’t have much, but I gathered what I could.”
“It is more than enough,” Levia said with a smile as she took one of the pouches. “At least this nightmare is over.”
“Because of you. All of you,” Jovan said. “And we won’t ever forget it. If any of you are ever in town again, you won’t pay for rooms or food at The Black Mare. I promise you that.” The innkeep left the five to themselves, walking back to tend to his bar, and the company took one last rest in Turnov, ready to depart the next morning.