Valentin shoveled every morsel into his face as quickly as he could. He knew that Maeve was waiting for him, but he would not be able to adventure on an empty stomach. His rational mind told him that Maeve would understand if they had to stop and eat along the way. His irrational mind, however, warned that he would be silently judged if he requested a meal after receiving such a grave request for help.
That same debate raged on over the topic of how to deal with Ferron. If he didn’t tell the warrior where he intended to go for the rest of the day, then it was possible that he would be quite upset with the boy. Perhaps if he requested some help, he would provide it willingly. Yet, he could not rule out the possibility that his request would be denied. Furthermore, it was just as possible that Ferron would forbid Valentin to accompany Maeve, driving him into a direr dilemma than the one he already floundered in.
“Your meal isn’t going anywhere. You can slow down,” Ferron said calmly.
Valentin wiped the dripping juices from his meal off his lips with his thumb. He pushed his empty bowl to the side and patted his filled stomach.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
Ferron shook his head and returned to his work. He and Julianna were poring over numerous scrolls laid out on the ground in between them. Various maps on the region depicted the area in differing ways and accuracies. Preliminary reports from agents had their wax seals broken and their secretive contents exposed for the inhabitants of the camp to view freely.
Ferron brought Julianna’s attention to one of the maps. “What do we know about this Gladaghol Castle?”
Julianna scrunched her face in thought. Her hands moved softly over the other maps, observing the similarities. “It appears that only the older copies of maps depict this location. It seems to be about fifty miles northwest of our current camp.”
While Julianna and Ferron discussed their findings, Valentin moved towards his cot and began digging through his belongings. After his larger than normal growth, his former armor would not fit even with the most adept armorer making alterations to it. For the time being, he was offered a hodgepodge of different pieces meant to provide him with full coverage.
The clanging of his mail hauberk alerted Ferron back towards the activities of his ward. Valentin could feel the eyes on him before the man even spoke.
“What are you doing?” Ferron asked innocuously.
“My sword practice did not go well,” Valentin admitted. “I thought that, perhaps, wearing armor would better simulate the feeling.”
“Is that so?” Ferron commented. His eyes provided no information for Valentin to use.
“It is so,” Valentin reiterated hastily. He donned the mail suit over his shirt and squirmed into a surcoat with some unfamiliar clan’s heraldry on it.
“I plan to take Vescal out for a ride as well. I don’t want him to get overly restless,” Valentin added.
He passed his arms through the vambraces. He grunted while he tightened the straps to secure the piece to his forearms. He adjusted the armor until it felt less restrictive. Heat from the added layers already made him uncomfortably warm. The boy pulled on his clothing in the hopes that some cool air would kiss his skin.
“Don’t go far and be back by dusk,” Ferron ordered.
“Yes sir,” Valentin replied.
He quietly exhaled in relief. In the boy’s eyes, that was as good as permission. If he happened to meet Maeve on his ride and then came across some bodies that needed burning, that would be perfectly innocent. Even Ferron couldn't scold him for assisting someone in need.
Once he tightened his greaves to his shins and fitted his helmet over his leather coif, he popped back to his feet. He had to keep himself from sprinting out of the tent. Instead, he walked with the dignified gait that Ferron had been trying to instill him. He pulled his shoulders back and tilted his face upwards slightly. The posture felt strange but he knew it would always feel that way unless he practiced.
“Have a nice ride,” Julianna said as she bade the boy farewell.
Valentin offered a short bow and stepped out of the tent. After only a few steps, he broke out into a full run. His stomach, rushed by the boy’s haste, formed a knot of abdominal pain in protest of its unfair treatment.
He half jogged, half limped to where the horses were hitched. He spotted Maeve immediately. The druid tapped her foot impatiently. Her eyes were narrowed in frustration when she regarded her tardy partner.
“Sorry for making you wait, Maeve,” Valentin apologized, panting with his hands plastered to his thighs. “It took a while to get my armor and speak to Ferron.”
Maeve mounted Vescal quickly before looking down with an accusatory gaze on Valentin from atop the beast. “Your breath smells like garlic and lamb.”
“W-well you know,” Valentin stuttered as he joined her atop the large horse. “It’s never a good idea to do anything on an empty stomach.”
“Sure,” Maeve replied.
Valentin could not interpret Maeve’s words as anything but judgmental. Surely she could not desire a half-starved escort on her mission. He shrugged, not willing to justify himself further. He reached around the druid and took hold of Vescal’s reins. The horse began to meander away from the camp.
“We’re heading that way,” Maeve announced, pointing her arm to the northwest.
The horse moved slowly over the open terrain. The sloping topography of the region offered slightly more variety than the flat areas of Orso. It was only around an hour until Maeve’s navigation brought them to a narrow path that followed a glen. The stream that the glen housed offered more variety of vegetation and underbrush before winding into a grove lined by thick trees.
Valentin looked around the new terrain with great curiosity and great trepidation. While taking the sword was enough to fool Ferron from inquiring further, his dreadful practice caused him concern. If they encountered something dangerous, he wondered if he could handle it with a sword.
“Remind me, how exactly did you learn about this location?”
Maeve turned her head slightly to answer the question. “The spirits spoke to me since yesterday evening. Even now I’m just following the direction of their calls.”
“What are they saying?”
“Echoes of their final moments,” Maeve replied in a grave tone. “It’s mostly groaning and begging for their lives. It’s only been growing louder since we entered the grove. We must be getting closer to their resting place.”
Maeve reached into her pouch and rustled around with her hand. She revealed a wooden charm threaded with twine. She handed the boon to Valentin. The small wooden tablet was covered in various runes. The divots caused by the knife were filled with red wax.
“I almost forgot to give this. It should ward off any eager spirits looking to warp our souls.”
Valentin gratefully draped the charm around his neck. A pungent scent of incense filled his nose. Other than the odor, he felt no different. Either that meant it was doing a proper job or it was entirely ineffective. For his own peace of mind, he chose to believe in Maeve’s skills as a two stripe druid.
“Have you always had the ability to hear the dead?” Valentin inquired.
“Yes,” Maeve responded curtly.
A long pause ensued after Maeve’s answer. Valentin was patiently awaiting further elaboration from the druid. The boy gave up on asking follow up questions. It was clear that the verbally elusive Maeve had yet to trust Valentin enough to speak of her past.
“How are the children?” Valentin pried, hoping that he could somehow get on better terms with Maeve.
“They are well cared for and in each other’s company,” Maeve said plainly.
“Well that’s goo-”
“Quiet,” Maeve interrupted. “We’re here.”
A wooden shack could be seen around a hundred paces away from where the pair were currently riding. The building appeared to be long forgotten by man. The foundation was rotted and caused the building to tilt to the right. Countless gaps were seen in the shoddily assembled walls of the shack.
Valentin dismounted before helping Maeve down from the horse. He gripped the reins and hitched Vescal loosely to a nearby tree branch. He followed Maeve towards the shack and unsheathed his sword, allowing it to rest on his right shoulder.
Maeve gave her companion a concerned side eye. “Do you detect danger?”
“No,” Valentin answered in an attempt to ease Maeve’s tension. “I was taught that when faced with a potential ambush, it is better to have your weapon drawn. It is better to be apprehensive than complacent or something to that effect.”
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Maeve redirected her eyes forwards and led Valentin closer to the shack. They took slow, deliberate steps to avoid making unnecessary noises and attract attention. The extra weight of the armor that burdened the boy made it difficult to step without emitting a gentle clang of metal on metal.
They stopped a few steps short of the shack. Valentin glanced over to Maeve who was making a perplexed face. Her eyes darted around in search of the unspoken targets.
“What’s the matter?” Valentin spoke at a near whisper.
“They aren’t in the shed,” Maeve explained. She tapped the toe of her boot against the shaded dirt. “They can’t be buried, can they?”
Valentin shuddered at the implication. There are few worse fates for a corpse than to be sealed in the ground. To allow the body to rot and corrupt the roots of the vegetation was a severe spiritual crime that would force the perpetrator to be cleansed in fire. He had never seen such a punishment before, but he had heard stories of those that claimed to have watched such a spectacle. The descriptions always made him ill.
He spotted it first. Maeve was distracted, lamenting at the idea of digging up corpses and looking for tilled dirt to signify a burial site. Four stakes, each pinning a rope to the ground, were ten paces apart. The stakes were not driven flat as the rope and the hard, unthawed ground proved to be too difficult to overcome.
Valentin’s eyes followed the upward path of the rope until his gaze rested directly above him. He turned pale at the sight of eight feet dangling to and fro.
“Maeve,” Valentin hissed.
Her attention immediately turned to Valentin. Her eyes, directed by Valentin’s point upwards, widened at the sight.
“How terrible,” she whispered.
Valentin moved towards the stakes, sheathed his sword, and knelt down next to one. “I think I can ease them down. Is that what you want?”
Maeve nodded in confirmation and moved from underneath the hanging bodies to allow Valentin to begin. She crouched close to the ground, sifting through the underbrush on the hunt for kindling suitable for a pyre.
Valentin grasped onto the rope with one hand and dislodged the stake from the hard soil with the other. The body was heavier than Valentin, and the sudden drop yanked Valentin’s arm. A shot of pain made the boy wince but he held his tongue to stop from yelping. Once he had secured the rope with his other arm, he lowered the body over the course of several abrupt descents.
He winced sympathetically every time the rope seized the body and it jerked violently. He could not help but think that he was recreating the corpse’s last moments over and over again. Maeve’s disconcerted face after the tortured soul finally came to rest exacerbated Valentin’s worries.
The second body went smoother. This time he secured the rope with both of his feet before removing the stake. An emaciated woman’s body descended to the ground. The two corpses released an awful stench and Valentin had to cover his mouth to catch his breath.
The third body was not different from the first and second. Now that he had found a rhythm, it made the task easier on his body.
Much to his relief, when he gripped the rope for the final body, he did not meet much resistance. He lowered the corpse without any difficulty whatsoever. However, his relief was short-lived when grimy, bruise covered diminutive legs sprouted from the branches. Dried blood caked the legs and plastered the inner thigh to the ankles.
The rest of a tiny corpse of a child fell into view. Their jaw hung slack and their tongue lolled from their mouth. Valentin’s hands reflexively went slack at the grisly sight. Before he could recover his grasp on the rope, the body tumbled all the way to the ground. He managed to shield his eyes before the impact. A soft thud and a gut churning squelching sound entered his ears before silence returned.
Valentin’s large meal rebelled against him and desperately attempted to escape from Valentin’s stomach. He covered his mouth and dropped to his knees as though standing sapped too much energy from his attempts to suppress his retching. Saliva leaked from the corner of his mouth and the taste of bile and garlic ticked the base of his throat and threatened the consequences of failing to maintain composure.
“By the Mother,” Maeve spoke to herself before noticing the boy barely keeping it together. “Valentin, touch the charm. It should help.”
Valentin gripped his charm and breathed heavy, rattling breaths. After a moment, he managed to regain his senses. A wave of exhaustion washed over him and he wanted nothing more than to depart this place immediately.
The druid encroached on the vicinity of the bodies. She knelt down and grimaced at the sight up close. Valentin saw her mouth something to the nearest body but Valentin could not make out the words she spoke to the one that was no longer.
“Help me pile up the bodies,” Maeve requested.
Valentin winced and pulled back before he reluctantly joined the druid’s side. Fortunately, not enough time had passed for the bodies to putrefy, yet the distinct odor of feces assaulted Valentin’s nose. Now that he looked directly at him, he subconsciously averted his eyes from the ghastly apparitions. Their broken necks were discolored and elongated from the prolonged hanging. Signs of their failed struggle were more apparent. One of the corpses had a broken jaw while another had a mangled arm.
Maeve grabbed a corpse by the ankle and shot an expectant look towards Valentin. He slid arms underneath the body and into the armpits. He stood up and the bloated flesh pressed against him and draped over his arms. A puff of air exited the mouth to create a rancid odor that made his knees quiver.
The movements felt like they took an eternity. Each new grotesque reaction from the corpses added more agonizing seconds to the chore.
Once they assembled the haphazard corpse pile, Maeve carried over an armful of twigs and branches. Dropping it next to the pile, she rummaged through her pouch to reveal a sizable bottle. She uncorked the bottle and poured some of the perfumed contents atop the bundle before shoving handfuls of twigs and larger branches between the gaps of the bodies.
Valentin watched the actions skeptically. To him, there was not nearly enough wood to thoroughly destroy the bodies. He had seen a few ceremonial burnings and an entire tree was chopped down to be used as fuel to maintain the required heat to turn a person to ash.
“Will this be good enough?” Valentin asked when it appeared that Maeve had finished her task.
“It will be,” Maeve answered, rising to her feet. “I don’t plan to use conventional fire anyways.”
Valentin offered a quizzical look to the druid. She steepled her fingers at an uncomfortable angle with her palms far apart. She shut her eyes and pointed her face skywards.
“Oh Great Spirit, you who is all that was and will be. We humble creations return to you that which you have provided freely. Please give peace in the after to these unfortunate, nameless souls who were denied it now.”
Maeve slammed her hands together, making a thunderous clap. She placed her left hand to cover her eyes and her right hand atop her heart.
“Oh Mother, you who braved the worst fate of all. Your beloved children send mistreated siblings to your empty hearth. May your formless embrace reach out from the void and touch those who suffer from your absence.”
Another clap echoed from the druid as she recited the Verse of the Departing. Valentin narrowed his eyes and looked all around them in the case that anything uninvited was encroaching on the environs of the shack. Nothing stirred under his gaze, yet it did not quell the feeling of unease within him. He could not help but wonder who did this to these people and why they left the corpses exposed to the elements.
When he glanced back at Maeve, he saw that she had wrapped a cloth over her eyes. Her arms were wrapped around her midsection in a self-embrace. She turned to face Ortus’s descent before dropping to one knee.
A recitation that was unfamiliar to Valentin left Maeve’s lips. “Oh Ortus, you who banish the darkness and provide your light to all without preference or prejudice, I beseech you to allow this small act of favoritism. I call upon your children and your followers from the noble and honorable Atenahara to the lowly spirits that have yet to form. I call upon any and all that can hear my request.”
A disquieting wind passed through the trees, leaving stillness in its wake. Low indecipherable sounds crackled inside Valentin’s ears from all directions. He grasped his hilt and spun around in a circle in a futile attempt to find the source.
Maeve ceased her embrace, now stretching her arms out as wide as she could. “Please assist me in honoring my fallen brethren. I offer to you their flesh and blood and bones bathed in lilac and rosemary. All I ask is that you allow their spirits to escape to the higher planes. Are there any among you that will accede to my request?”
Valentin took another look around him to, once again, find nothing. There was no reaction atop the meager pile. From his perspective, the ritual had failed, the offering was not enough to entice the fickle spirits. Yet Maeve continued to maintain her pose without as much as a small movement or sound.
Another couple minutes passed and Maeve still stood resolutely. Her face was twisted in discomfort and confusion. Valentin reached out to her to see if she was ailing. Before he could, a subtle noise caught his attention.
Through the stillness, Valentin believed that he heard the sound of rhythmic thudding that came in the direction of the shack. He took several timid steps towards the shack, looking in every direction before taking the next step.
He poked his head around to see the source of the noise. A metal chain was nailed to the wall. Tethered to the bottom of the chain was a sizable engraved talisman. It was a ring of iron with thin metal spokes that connected to a tiny ring in the center. Embedded into the smaller ring was a red gemstone that pulsated with dim light. Even though there was no breeze, the talisman swung away from the wall before thudding back into the shack.
Valentin did not recognize the talisman or understand the purpose of the object. Its value was much too high to be owned by the people that lived in the shack. Who placed it here and why? Would they be coming back for it?
It moved again and he took a cautious step away from the supernatural force. Reaching for his chest, he gripped at the charm to ward away the unknown energy.
Remove it!
Valentin’s body seized up at the unexpected voice. He whipped his head around, but could not locate the source of the voice. The talisman swung even further away from the wall and strained against the nail. It went limp again after it failed to free itself.
“Maeve,” Valentin called out with a voice full of uncertainty to the druid. “There’s something nailed to the wall here. What should I do with it?”
Maeve’s head turned slowly to face Valentin. She spoke at a volume that should have been unable to reach the shack. Disembodied words entered his ears.
“Remove it.”
Valentin stared nervously at Maeve. It was her voice, yet it was not her voice. A facsimile greeted him. He felt strangely compelled by the words. He did have to remove the talisman. It was the correct thing to do.
He reached out and gripped the talisman in his hand. It hummed and vibrated against his glove, tickling his skin. Heat emanating from the ring seeped through his gloves and licked his fingers. He pulled on the nail with his other hand. The nail was dislodged surprisingly easily under the force applied. He noticed that the head of the nail had a rune carved into it as well. Believing it to be potentially important, the boy pocketed the nail.
Still, nothing happened as a result of the talisman’s removal. The pile of desecrated bodies sat sadly and Maeve held her arms outstretched. Valentin departed the shack and returned to her side. Her face contorted into a scowl under the effort of maintaining her pose. Her arms shook under the strain. Her nostrils flared.
Valentin fiddled with the gemstone in the middle of the talisman. He could not understand how nothing would come from following the order. What was the purpose of the voice otherwise?
He managed to force the gemstone from the socket with his thumb after applying a favor-imbued force to it. The stone dropped to the ground where it properly shattered into several pieces.
An acrid smell entered Valentin’s nose and a flash of heat swept past him from behind. A few seconds passed in complete silence before the bodies erupted into flames. A pillar of fire plumed into the air, sparking some of the lower branches of the trees and lighting the roof of the shack ablaze.
Maeve’s arms dropped to her sides and she collapsed to her knees from the extended efforts. She exhaled shuddering breaths and tears of relief trickled from beneath the cloth wrapped around her eyes.
“Finally, I was answered,” Maeve said in a voice that was as triumphant as it was exhausted. She pulled the cloth from her eyes and watched what she had accomplished.