Author's note

No time to fix up the chapter, if there's horrible spelling mistakes... You can point them out. If not, too bad.

Word count

This chapter: 2501

Total: 36021

NaNoWriMo target for the 22nd: 36667

--------------------------------------------------

Rosedriah blinked several times, staring at Aitken and Molly, who were staring back at her from above.

“What happened? The paladin, did we get him? Is Cepath okay?”

At that moment, Cepath entered the door together with Flasor.

“I am fine.” Cepath said. “But Zyrath and the paladin both died.”

Aitken quietly handed over Rosedriahs sword.

“My sword… Why did you?” She narrowed her eyes, as if she was a policeman staring at a suspected criminal.

“Well, I couldn’t just let this creepy witch with jagged teeth eat you, could I?” Aitken answered.

Rosedriah kept staring at Aitken suspiciously.

“Ah, right... He said that he couldn’t just let the creepy witch with jagged teeth eat you.” Cepath translated.

“Serafine. She’s here?”

Molly nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“Would you rather it was Glinda Hart?”

Molly had shivers run down her spine. “Brr. Glinda’s not trying to kill us… But I’d still prefer Serafine… I’ve got some problems handling her personality.”

“Don’t we all?” Rosedriah said.

“Who’s Glinda Hart?” Aitken asked.

“Glinda Hart is the leader of the cult.” Cepath answered in the human tongue.

“You’ll meet her soon enough, the black sabbath isn’t a long time away by now. Considering you participated in bringing down a paladin, you’d probably be invited.” Molly said.

“So.. I have to ask, this black sabbath… Is it really what they said in the town it is?”

Cepath pondered for a moment. “I am curious about this black sabbath as well” he said, before translating what Aitken had said.

“I don’t know, what did they say it would be?” Rosedriah asked.

Aitken took a deep breath. “The witch’s sabbath is a great meeting of witches, all the great six plus a lot of other witches would be present. It’s said to start at midnight and last till dawn. The procedure would starting with a procession. After which, a great banquet takes place.”

Rosedriah nodded. “Seems about right so far.”

Aitken continued. “The banquet would serve a lot of beautiful dishes, including human bones stew, children and babies not yet put under the protection of the light by the church, human fat dishes and more. Plenty of alcohol and hallucinogens would go along with this, as side dishes, of course.”

Rosedriah’s one eyebrow shot up, and the other went down in a frown. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t decide on what.

Aitken continued. “Then a black mass would occur at an altar area, where several human and animal sacrifices would be made to summon the demon god… Oh, and some witches would offer up their body for demon possession... After which, the witches would give the demon god their clothes and kiss his…Well, his behind… It would all culminate in a large orgy, including demons in both male and female forms, satyrs and of course the witches themselves.”

Rosedriah went pale. “That’s what you think we do?”

“That’s what I heard.” Aitken said.

Molly grinned slightly. “If it was up to Glinda, that wouldn’t be far from the truth.”

Rosedriah sighed. “Look, while the order of the things are somewhat right, we don’t actually eat humans… Well, most of us don’t anyway…” She hesitated for a moment as her gaze grew distant. “Ahem. We don’t engage behind-kissing and orgies and such things either.”

“So… I was pretty much spot on?” Aitken asked with a worried look.

“Yep!” Molly answered a bit too cheerfully.

“I’m creeped out and intrigued at the same time” Aitken said.

“It does sound like quite the party.” Flasor said.

“Ah, I still need my weapons… How can I get them back from having stabbed that witch?”

“She removes them and drops them on the floor, We’ll pick them up on the way out.” Molly said after Cepath translated once more.

Molly cleared her throat. “We’re heading to black sabbath. Tonight. This time it’s at full moon.”

“Full moon? It was full moon ten days ago, it’ll be almost twenty days till then.” Cepath said.

“We’ve got a long journey in front of us” Molly answered with a shrug, sending a gaze in Rosedriah’s direction. Rosedriah made a slight nod and looked at the wall.

Aitken lifted an eyebrow at this, but didn’t take further action.

“Let’s pack up. Come along, Rosedriah.” Molly said.

Flasor took a step in the same direction, prompting Molly to put up a palm in response. “This is not the time for either of you to come along. Wait here.”

Aitken, Flasor and Cepath looked at each other and shrugged.

“What’s that about?” Aitken asked.

“We’ll see” Flasor said with a shrug.

The rest of the time went quietly. Quite a bit of time passed by, and finally the two witches arrived, both armed to the teeth with Aitken’s weapons. Yet, they both wore a plate armour making them appear like a pair of muscular male-knights.

“These yours too?” Molly’s voice echoed from within the armour, as she showed the two rusty sickles in her hands.

“Yes.”

“Oh, and put these on.” Molly said cheerfully as she handed each of the three demons a large chain with handcuffs on.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Aitken and Cepath said at the same time.

“Look, if we get caught we’re dead and the black sabbath is dead. This is standard procedure - hide under their noses and you won’t be caught.”

“Of course we won’t be caught, we’d already be caught.” Aitken protested.

“I know what you’re thinking - but you won’t be endangered… I mean, except the occasional rock.” Molly said.

“I just hope you know what you are doing.” Cepath said, as he put on a pair of shackles.

Flasor shrugged and followed the lead.

“No. No way.” Aitken said. “I’m not putting on shackles and pretending to be a prisoner.”

Cepath spoke in the human tongue. “You don’t want to, Aitken? What if it was for Rosedriah?”

Rosedriah froze in place, staring at Cepath.

Aitken put his hand on Cepath’s shoulders and stared him directly into the eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to do, but I’ll tell you this. No matter how hard you try, what you say or how you act… There will.. Read my lips on this one.. NEVER... be anything more between her and I, ever. It’s impossible. She’s nothing more than a powerful asset to me. She’s a great help in taking down the church of light and she’s nothing more, nothing less than that.”

Rosedriah leaned a bit forward. “What did he say?”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Cepath took a deep breath, and looked at Rosedriah like a hurt puppy. “He said that you are nothing but a tool to take down the church, and this will never change.”

Four sharp breaths echoed from within Rosedriah’s suit of armour. She quietly walked over and grabbed the chain that Cepath and Flasor were shackled to.

She pulled the chain hard enough Cepath and Flasor staggered, and the loose shackles behind them rattled over the stone floor. “We’re leaving.”

Aitken took a step forward, and Rosedriah pulled her shiny silver blade, and pointed it directly at Aitken with one hand. “You are not coming along. If I as much as see you, I will not hesitate to send you back to damnation from where you came, demon.”

Aitken froze to the ground, as she walked out of the door together with Molly, dragging the chained Flasor and Cepath along.

Flasor looked back at Aitken for a moment, before getting dragged along.

For a while after they left, Aitken simply stood still, his legs frozen to the ground. He couldn’t move, no matter how hard he tried - as if he had gazed deep into the eyes of a gorgon.

Outside, the childish figure with pitch black eyes and sharp teeth walked by. The witch took a look at him, and then continued up the catacomb.

Aitken woke up. He had to go to the black mass, it was his only chance to take down the church of light.

Aitken quietly followed the witch from afar, hoping his black armour would help him stay concealed.

They left the catacomb with no incident, and the witch didn’t seem to have spotted him yet.

He stayed remarkably far in the distance along the way - after all, he had no wish to become the dinner of a mad witch.

Night fell, and the darkness of an almost new moon arrived. Shadows turned to darkness, and the visibility fell considerably. Aitken went a lot closer to the witch, in order to keep following her.

Serafine finally stopped and leaned against a tree.

Sleep, huh?

Aitken crawled into a tree, sitting on a branch. He opened his backpack. “Pota-...”

Aitken took a deep sigh, and sat all alone with his thoughts. He felt something akin to a claw around his heart, digging its twisted fangs into it. He lost the desperation he had had, and the burning anger disappeared as well, turning into a numb feeling - a numb feeling of hate, despite not being able to pinpoint exactly what it was directed at.

The witch had still not moved and Aitken slowly dozed off, with this numbness inside of him.

Aitken was awoken by a firm grip around his neck, fingernails digging their way into his skin. The black eyes of Serafine stared deeply into his soul.

“The stray followed death itself.” she said with her twisted voice. “And death took the stray.”

A twisted grin showed on her face.

Aitken’s arm shot like a rocket, and latched onto her forehead in response. “Back off, or by damnation, I’ll crush your skull with my dying breath.”

Slight surprised showed on her face. “Your eyes…”

Her eyes lowered to a frown. “Death?”

Serafine’s grasp loosened around his throat. “Useful… Kill Glinda hart… You will help me.”

“I would rather crush your skull than give you any measure of help.” Aitken answered coldly.

“You would like to go to the mess, yes? Then you will help.”

Aitken hesitated for a moment. “So I just need to help you kill this Glinda Hart?”

She nodded.

“Okay, I’ll tag along.”

“Excellent.”

It took two days to reach the destination, and on the night of new moon, at the darkest part around midnight, Serafine waved Aitken over. They walked in a ceremonious manner in a hooded robe, each carrying a pentagram. Soon they joined another flock, consisting of dozen witches and a few demons. Several heavily armed acolytes checked up on each and every single witch, demon and acolyte. On occasion, one would get skewered for reasons unknown to Aitken.

Two heavily armed acolytes stared Aitken and Serafine down. In response, Serafine clasped her fingers around the throat of one, and simply ripped it out while lowering her hood. The blood flooded her hand and ran down to the ground. For each heartbeat the blood would squirt and the remaining acolyte was stunned.

“I am Serafine. Never question me again.” She said coldly, as she continued the ceremonial walk.

She munched on a piece of the throat while they walked. Finally, they reached a hastily erected stone-circle with a crude altar in the middle. All around it was wooden tables and chairs. Witches, demons and acolytes sat around this altar by the hundreds.

Serafine walked straight towards a table several times the size of the remaining tables. At the very end of the table, a purple haired lady sat. Her eyes were crimson red, and there was something about her, Aitken couldn’t quite pinpoint - as if the air contained a sweet smell, but so faint it could scarcely be smelled.

“That’s Glinda! Kill her!” Serafine said as both her arms turned pitch black and she leapt at Glinda like an infuriated demon.

Glinda grabbed Serafine by the throat mid-air, and in response, Serafine sent a black arm towards her.

With a quick swing of the arm, Serafine had lost both arms.

Her surprisingly deep, yet feminine voice spoke to Serafine. “If you wished to attack me, you shouldn’t have sent a mere puppet.”

“Kill him, demon!” Serafine howled at Aitken.

Glinda’s gaze shifted to Aitken. The piercing red eyes felt like they dug into the very core of Aitkens soul. It felt like she could see everything, perhaps even before Aitken himself could. Despite Aitken’s numb feelings, he felt fear latch onto his heart. A deep fear, as if he couldn’t even breathe, or risk his soul getting ripped out of his body and sent to an inescapable eternity in the deepest and darkest corners of limbo.

Glinda put a palm to Serafines face, and a the back cracked open from sheer force, blasting out a jet-stream of bloody mush.

Glinda dropped the lifeless corpse, and fixed her gaze on Aitken. “Sit.”

She motioned at the chair to her right. “I know about you.”

Aitken sat down on the chair, in complete silence, looking back at her.

“You were among those who took down a paladin - you were instrumental in saving not one, but two of the strongest witches of our time… Yet you have no real power yourself. Quite frankly, you are weak, even for an imp. You make do with what you have, and in turn, match stronger opponents. But you are way out of your league. Is this correct?”

Aitken hesitated before saying a word in Impish. “Yes.”

Glinda looked at him for a moment. “Write.” Her words echoed, and Aitken’s world shook - as if her commands had shifted the course of the very earth.

Pictures of characters he had long forgotten returned to Aitken. His expression must have shown the most genuine measure of surprise imaginable, but he had no time as an Acolyte arrived with a bucket, a flat piece of stone and a chunk of chalk.

Aitken hesitated, and then wrote the characters for “Yes”, showing them to Glinda.

“Now for the important matter. Why have you come here, and why did you agree to aid Serafine in assassinating me?”

Aitken wrote down some characters. “I had to enter the black sabbath. I need allies in taking down the church of light.”

Glinda looked at the slab of stone. “You are a naive idiot. You will find no allies here, you aren’t worthy of being an equal to the cult of darkness all on your own. Either you perform the tasks we’ve set for you, or you die.”

Aitken swallowed his spit.

“I am willing to bet you’ll perform the tasks we give you… Particularly since you can’t tell the church about us. Now begone, assassin. Considering your actions, don’t expect to survive the first task.”

An Acolyte grabbed Aitken by the throat and dragged him through the dirt. Aitken squirmed a bit, but quickly received a boot in the backside of the skull. He was tossed aside adjacent to a smaller table. “Don’t even think about leaving, she will know. Nobody leaves the black sabbath before it is over.” The Acolyte said before he himself walked away.

--------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading!