Six hours later, the group alighted from the cart and walked with stiff limbs to the well-established camping ground where a small brook bubbled quietly, providing a welcome source of fresh water to the travellers.
The sun was setting behind the distant mountain ranges in the north and the crew worked quickly to set up camp and get the fire started. As the cauldron began to heat up, Exill added a spoonful of lard then gently browned the meat. Next went in the potatoes and vegetables, as well as seasoning and fresh herbs before it was doused in cold water and allowed to boil.
They all sat around the fire, marvelling at the rich scent wafting in front of them. Exill tore the hard crust loaf in half, handing it to Tsarra, her eyes gleaming in anticipation for the meal. The outdoors held a special ambiance, the fresh air contrasting with the pollution and filth that clogged Ark’s streets. There was no way it could not be delicious.
In what felt like an eternity, their stew was finally ready to eat, and Father Jonas held a hand to his heart, invoking a quiet prayer.
“I thank the Spirit of the World for this meal we share in your grace. I gratefully accept the life that was given to prepare this food, to fuel our bodies forward by your eternal Will. Please bless this simple feast before us.”
The group collectively tapped the spot above their hearts and eagerly dug in, savouring the rich flavour of the broth. After the meal, Mattan was responsible for cleaning up, and Exill made a mental note to check the handiwork of the greasy mercenary before they broke camp next morning.
“Gather round, pick ye straws for night watch duty.” Koopra waved a fogged-up hourglass and several blades of grass that had been trimmed to various lengths. Everyone except the Navigator drew a straw, their length denoting the order of their rotation. Exill was on third watch, followed by Tsarra then Envy.
The Witchdoctor unrolled his padded mat, stopping to observe the Priest who ambled around the camp periphery, consecrating the earth with water from a slender vial. Exill approached Father Jonas as he completed the first rites, eager to [Appraise] the vial.
Item Value Blessed Water 12 Denars
“Excuse me Father, how does one create Blessed Water?”
The Priest smiled, motioning Exill to following him to the brook, from which he refilled the vial of water. Clasping the vial tight to his chest, he recited a prayer.
“May the Spirit consecrate this vessel in my presence with its blessing. Let all who are thirsty find comfort from the river of living water that carries your Will.”
Exill carved the prayer into his head, unsure if it was entirely necessary but not willing to take the chance. Holding his hand out towards the vial, he asked.
“May I hold the vial? If it is alright with you I would like to try using my skill that empowers potions with mana, strengthening their effect.”
Father Jonas hesitatingly offered the vial to the Witchdoctor. There was no clear guidance in the Church on tampering with [Blessed Water] and besides, he was curious what the Spirit-blessed wielder of the skill could achieve. Exill accepted the vial and channelled mana into the water.
Item Value Infused Blessed Water ?? Denars
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A dim glow started to emanate from the vial and the Priest quickly tapped his heart twice at this wondrous phenomenon. Uncorking the glass with trembling hands, he took a small sip, a joyful expression spreading across his lined face as the warmth spread within him.
“Simply amazing… it is as if the water has been blessed by a Bishop! You are truly blessed by the Spirit my young friend.”
When the Priest returned to camp alone, Exill crouched down to refill his flask, quickly reciting the prayer committed to memory while clasping it to his chest. However it was no use, and [Appraise] quickly revealed it was a mundane flask of water. After several more attempts, he reluctantly returned to camp, disappointed by the results.
‘Priest is assigned as an active job, and I repeated Father Jonas’s words verbatim… what am I missing?’ He approached the Priest, who had finally put the vial away and was unrolling the bed on a flat piece of ground.
“I’m sorry to disturb you again Father, but I tried to bless my flask of water and I don’t think it worked.”
“Hahaha, if only it were so easy!” The genial man shook his head mirthfully, “Simply intoning the words of prayer won’t work. You need to channel your belief in the Spirit and let it flow through you into the water.”
Father Jonas emphasised this by gathering his hands above the heart, forming a circle with his fingers. He patted Exill on the back, glad that the young lad shared his religious fervour.
‘How are you supposed to channel your belief?’
Mulling over the enigma, he returned to his bedroll to find it flanked on both sides by Envy and Tsarra, the latter of whom was already fast asleep. Exill rolled up his sleeve and lay down, extending the arm in the Vampire’s direction.
Envy sniffed his unwashed forearm, glancing back in disapproval before latching on.
***
“Wake up kid, it’s your watch.”
Exill was rudely awoken by the fetid breath of Mattan who was crouching above him, hourglass in hand. He tried to get up, only to find Envy’s heavy thigh slung across the waist and Tsarra hugging his arm from the other side.
“Tch… lucky bastard.” Mattan shook his greasy head, leaving the hourglass behind and returning to his bedroll. Exill eventually extricated himself and sat by the fire, throwing fresh wood to fuel its warmth, the spear and bow easily within arm’s reach.
‘I guess I should work on her gift.’
Using a stick of charcoal, he traced Tsarra’s name on the frame of the clay tablet. He hadn’t been able to teach her much in the way of theory, instead focusing on practical sessions, and hoped to change all that during their brief stay in Virigo. The crackling fire and scraping of wood was the only sound that could be heard for the next hour.
Breathing in the fresh night air, he looked up at the bright stars overhead, humbled by the vastness of scale and reminded of the world left behind. Sunk in thoughts of what this solar system would look like, he almost missed the dim pillar of light that flashed to their west.
In an instant, he stood alert, spear at the ready. A few tense seconds passed and Exill was about to dismiss the phenomenon when the treetops beyond the clearing swayed as a wave of wind approached from where the light had shone.
The wind spread across the tall grass before quietly washing over him, a seething poison of unease oozing into his bones. Goosebumps rose on his flesh as every fibre of his being screamed of encroaching danger.
He rushed to the sleeping Navigator, shaking him awake.
“Mm… what is it?”
“I saw a pillar of light to the west; I think it’s an Aberration.”
Koopra snapped awake and swept the straggly hair from his eyes. He hurriedly reached for the accumulator, channelling mana into its brass housing. The smaller dial spun around lazily then settled down, failing to point towards a source.
“How far away were it?”
Exill paused as he did some mental calculations. It took under nine seconds for the wind to approach his position, suggesting the source was three kilometres (1.9 miles) away. Koopra visibly relaxed his hunched shoulders when he heard the estimate.
“Stay on lookout and wake me if it gets close. We be close to the road and the Priest is with us, it should avoid consecrated ground.” The Navigator was paranoid to a fault, but out here, against the unknown, standing your ground was safer than fleeing off into the dark.
A lot of lesser Navigators eventually grew afraid of the dark, retiring, or taking on other jobs because they were fearful of sleeping outside the safety of towns and cities. In Koopra’s world view, it was best not to worry if there was nothing you could do about it.
What neither of them knew was that the nightmare fast approaching them was no ordinary abomination.