“Ilyash, what are you doing out here?”
Elder Hammand’s voice woke the young man from his fugue state some time later. Ilyash wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying on the cold ground, but given how cold he felt it had probably been more than a few minutes.
Groaning, the young man slowly got to his feet, noting with satisfaction that he wasn’t immediately overcome with nausea and his headache had at least somewhat subsided. Looking around, he realized with dismay that the caravan had already departed, his friends having left him behind.
No. No. No…
At least the voices hadn’t bothered him since last night…had they?
“Ilyash?”
The Elder’s voice intruded into his panicked mind again, forcing him to focus on the elderly man who looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and sadness.
“I’m sorry Elder Hammand, I drank too much last night.”
Ilyash looked at the pile of vomit on the ground with shame, trying to think if it was worth trying to clean it up before the next snowstorm - or some animal - erased the traces of his disgrace.
“You didn’t join your friends?
It looked like the Elder was aware that Benjamin and Laura had both chosen to leave the village on their adventures after the prior night’s festival. Of course he was; it wasn’t like it was a very large village, barely a thousand people - if that. Ilyash should have known the Elders were aware of everyone that came and went.
“No, I…No.”
“Well, I’m glad you chose to stay, we have too many youngsters going off and getting killed on their adventures. I’m disappointed that Hank and Francine encouraged their daughter to this folly.”
Hammond shook his head sadly.
Ilyash wasn’t sure how to respond to that, though he felt a fresh pang of guilt - and a hint of anger - at the mention of Laura’s parents. How could she leave him like this? How could Benjamin?
Coming out of his reverie, Ilyash decided to try and change the subject to avoid thinking more about the betrayal.
“Elder, what do you know about Old Zofia?”
“Her.” The Elder seemed to shudder at the woman’s name before continuing.
“Treat her with the utmost respect, son; but stay away from her if you can.”
“Why is that, Elder?” Ilyash decided to clarify, though he’d come to much the same conclusion himself after the prior day.
“She’s a bone shaman; nasty business, that, dealing with the vengeful dead.”
“A bone shaman? What is that?”
The Elder seemed to consider the young man for a moment before motioning with his free hand, turning in the direction of the town hall at the other end of the village square.
“Walk with me, my old bones could use a warm fire.”
Ilyash dutifully followed the older man as the other began walking away, his mind racing at the Elder’s words. Bone shaman? Hammand had said vengeful dead, and that name…that seemed to spark some sort of recollection he felt he should have from the prior evening.
Bones…bone...After a moment, his mind brought back a hazy recollection of his own vision during the Ritual of Age, something about a broken bone? He felt there had been more, but he couldn’t remember what he’d seen. Damn him for drinking so much.
The pair walked in silence for a time, though Elder Hammand periodically paused to greet various villagers going about their daily business. Finally reaching the town hall, Ilyash rushed forward to pull the door open for the Elder and waited for the older man to walk inside.
The town hall was much like all of the homes in the village, though the hill it was built into was slightly larger than most. The entirety of the hill seemed to have been hollowed out and reinforced with stone to avoid a collapse, leading to a large entry hall which doubled as a wintertime gathering spot for the community.
Large fires roared in fireplaces set around the space, metal chimneys reaching into the ceiling and breaching the roof of the mound, to provide a much warmer atmosphere than the crisp, early fall chill outside. Elder Hammand led Ilyash further into the building, opening a door on the left side of the hall into the town library which Ilyash knew also doubled as a sometime office for various Elders.
This room was much smaller and cozier than the grand hall they’d just left. A single fireplace burned near the window to provide warmth, glass blocking its mouth as a precaution to prevent stray embers from setting fire to the books lining the walls of the chamber. Countless books filled the room, only some of which Ilyash had ever gotten around to reading despite how near the hall was to his home.
A desk dominated the center of the room, a single, comfortable looking chair was positioned behind the desk, facing the doorway through which they’d entered while a pair of smaller chairs sat opposite it. Various couches and additional chairs were scattered throughout the remainder of the room, sconces and lanterns within convenient reach of each one, ready to provide illumination for would-be readers.
Hammand made his way around the deck, sitting down in the main chair facing the door before motioning for the Ilyash to take a seat across from him.
Feeling as if he was a school-boy again waiting to be tested by a teacher, Ilyash sat down on the edge of one of the chairs. Test-taking had never been his favorite activity…nor had school at all, to be perfectly honest. He’d never felt particularly motivated to learn mathematics, world history, or many of the other subjects he’d been forced to study, having never understood their value. After all, he wasn’t planning on becoming a mathematician or an architect, nor did he see the point in learning about events that happened hundreds of years in the past.
Looking him up and down, Elder Hammand didn’t speak for a moment causing Ilyash to grow more and more nervous by the second.
“Elder Hammand?” He finally asked, unable to tolerate the silence.
“A bone shaman.” The Elder spoke finally, resuming the conversation they’d started in front of Ilyash’s home.
“This is one of those things we don’t teach you in school. Bone shamans are a rather rare profession, in fact I’m only aware of the one practitioner.
“Zofia.” Ilyash interjected, confirming what the old man had said earlier.
“Yes,” The Elder confirmed. “Very little is known about her, truth be told. Most of what we know comes from the few interactions she’s had with Homstad over the years, as well various…myths and legends.
Stolen story; please report.
She’s been around here for as long as I’ve been alive, though she doesn’t come into the village often. She mostly seems to seek us out whenever there’s been a killing in town, she has an uncanny sense for it.”
Having relaxed slightly now that the Elder started speaking, Ilyash listened to the older man with rapt attention.
“How could she have been here for so long? That doesn’t seem possible.”
“I don’t know, but some races are much longer-lived than we are. Although I would have thought she was human and they’re a notoriously fragile bunch.
In any case, she comes to town any time we have a murder or some other sort of unnatural death and starts asking questions. Over the years, we’ve learned to listen to her whenever she comes on one of her investigations.”
“Why is that, Elder?”
Elder Hammand seems to shudder slightly at the question.
“She…if we don’t do something about the murder, she tends to let the dead take matters into their own hands.”
“She…what?” Ilyash asked, confusion clear on his face.
“I don’t know exactly what she does son, but she seems to be able to communicate with those that have gone to an early grave and…she seems to be able to let them claim their own vengeance, if we don’t punish the killers.
This only happened once, mind, when I was just a lad around your own age. Old Zofia came to town one day after a lumberjack had been crushed by one of the trees he’d been chopping.”
The Elder drums his fingers on his desk while staring off into space, his eyes distant.
“The old sheriff, Miller, the current sheriff’s grandfather, had looked into it and decided that it was a mistake that had led to the man’s death.
That afternoon, the old woman came into town, cowled in her black robes and claimed that Harval had been murdered. Not only that, she claimed that he’d been killed by his own daughter. Nasty business.
Everyone just about laughed her out of town, who was this old crone accusing a grieving daughter of such a foul deed. Zofia left, of course, but told us that we’d regret not listening to her.
Once night fell…”
Another shudder runs through the old man’s features, his gaze still lost in the past.
“That night, the lumberjack rose. We’d just finished the burial service and were having some drinks in his memory in that very square.
He came back to life…if you can call it that, an undead monster climbed out of the grave, pulling himself from the dirt one finger at a time.”
“Undead?!” Ilyash was horrified, tales of undead monsters had fueled many of his childhood nightmares.
“Undead,” The old man confirmed. “But this one spoke. He spoke while we screamed and tried to send him back to his grave. Told us how his own daughter had plied him with alcohol and then, when he’d been too drunk to resist, led him into the forest and chopped down a tree to crush his body.”
“But why?”
“A silly, tragic, love story. She’d fallen in love with a young man and her father wouldn’t let them wed, didn’t think she was ready to leave home yet. I guess he was right.”
The Elder’s eyes came back into focus and he fixed Ilyash with a steely gaze.
“What happened to her?” Ilyash asked, his imagination showing him a vision of a rotting corpse eating a young woman as she screamed.
“We killed the lumberjack…again, and then we drove the girl into the wilderness to fend for herself. It was winter…”
Both men remain silent for a moment, the younger processing the words, the older lost in memory.
“You asked because of the broken bone?” Elder Hammand broke the silence, fixing Ilyash with a knowing gaze.
“I met her yesterday,” Ilyash deflected, his mind racing. “I was on our…the hill, the one to the east. She snuck up on me somehow, and said she would see me after the Ritual.”
“And did she?”
Ilyash started shaking his head before his shoulder twinged, the memory of bony fingers on his skin coming back to him.
“Yes. She…she was there, at the ritual. She said I was hers.”
Ilyash tried to shrink back in his chair as he made the admission, his earlier discomfort amplified a hundred fold.
The Elder didn’t seem surprised by the young man’s words, nor shocked that the woman had been at the Ritual without anyone else seeing her. Instead, his gaze turned serious.
“Why did she seek you out, do you think? You are a child of our village and we will protect you, but we shouldn’t take her words lightly - she’s been right too many times.”
“I don’t…”
Ilyash trailed off at the Elder’s gaze.
“I hear them too.” He admitted after a moment.
“You hear the dead?”
“Yes.”
“What do they say?” Hammand inquired, his gaze still serious.
“They…they mostly demand vengeance or murder. I don’t know who they are.”
Ilyash was still reluctant to speak but found himself unable to resist as he was put on the spot.
“When did this start?”
“Just a few months ago; it was scary at first, but now it’s just annoying.”
This admission came easier now that he’d started talking.
“Why didn’t you tell us, child?” The Elder looked at the young man sadly.
“What would I say? I’m crazy and hear voices?” Ilyash asked defensively.
The old man clicked his tongue, holding off further rebukes.
“Are they here now? Can you speak with them? How many are there?”
“There’s about a dozen, and I can’t see them or speak with them - although one seemed to respond to something Laura said yesterday.”
“Do they say who killed them, if they’re demanding vengeance?”
The young man shook his head in response to the question.
“No, they just say ‘Vengeance this’ and ‘Murder that’, the one yesterday said he was killed in Y’gythys though. Wish they’d at least keep their comments to when I’m awake.”
Hammand chuckled at that, though his expression remained serious as he sighed.
“I’m afraid the path the ancestors intend for you is clear, Ilyash.”
“But I was going to go to the academy or…become a Healer here in the village!”
The young man tried to come up with arguments that sounded unconvincing even to himself. If he’d been going to leave, he’d have been with his friends that morning instead of…here.
He could have gone with them, could have joined their adventures. Sure, they hadn’t really invited him along, but deep-down he admitted that he’d fought against their suggestions time and again over the years. He never really wanted to leave home, for all that the grand life of a mage appealed to him in theory.
The Elder just stared at Ilyash for a long time until the young man felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment.
“I will seek her out…” The young man muttered quietly.
“Now, child. I’ve seen to avoid being proactive your whole life and since you’ve been ignoring voices in your head for months, it doesn’t sound like you’ve gotten any better!”
“Yes, Elder Hammand.”
Annoyed, frustrated, embarrassed at being called a child, Ilyash forced himself to stand and, after muttering his thanks to the Elder, started making his way out of the town hall only to freeze as he closed the library door behind him. He realized that he had no idea where the old woman lived, but he really didn’t want to go back in to ask the Elder.
“She lives in the Frozen Wood.” Hammand’s voice came through the door, muffled slightly by the wood but still audible.
More embarrassed at being caught out, Ilyash tip-toed out of the building to give himself plausible deniability that he’d not been hovering in front of the door to begin with. Evidently the Elder didn’t have the highest opinion of him, no need to reinforce that.
—
Once Hammand heard the quiet footsteps of the young man receding into the distance, his attempts at sneaking inadequate to the old man’s practiced senses, the Elder let out a deep breath.
“Bone shaman,” he said to himself. “Maybe for the best, though the boy won’t like it. Nor will his parents.”
Opening a drawer built into the desk in front of him, the Elder pulled out a bottle and a glass. Slowly, he unstoppered the bottle and poured himself a generous serving of amber liquid.
“Blasted ritual, always causes more trouble than it’s worth.”