Chapter 7

After a few pointers on how to carry himself like a proper gentleman, the two men passed through the main gate without incident. Once out, Snow took the busy road at a trot until his horse needed the rest. Titus kept pace quietly until the travelers on the road began to dwindle.

They had passed homesteads and farms for the past three hours, but now the road had started to wind along gentle cliffs of tall grass and shale overlooking the rocky coast far below. The sea breeze blew hard here, salty and cold. Sharp rocks stood out among the tall grass like rocky islands in a sea of pale gold that was growing dull as the sunlight wane. It was a place for robbers and the pair kept an eye out as the stars began to wake up above.

Only when the road turned inland again, putting an end to the chilly sea wind, did Titus pick up his voice.

“So, what’s in Folfern?” he asked as he looked up to see a waxing moon rising over distant hills covered in dark forest.

“Hopefully a warm bed and a little business,” Snow replied.

“Little towns can pay that hefty fee of yours?” Titus asked with a touch of disbelief in his voice as he brought his horse closer.

“I don’t charge as much out here.”

“Because they can’t afford it?”

“That,” Snow said, “and there’s more business to be had. Life is rough out here and the people are more superstitious.”

“So, they’re more gullible?” Titus’s voice carried an edge of disapproval. Snow scowled at the suggestion that he thought so lowly of village folk.

“They’re more sensitive and in need of reassurance. Superstitions don’t arise out of thin air. There’s a reason behind those fears and, sometimes, those reasons aren’t just fairytales.”

Titus went silent for a little while allowing the clip clop of the horses hooves along the beaten bare path to overtake the conversation. They started to pass a thatched homestead and the light in the window gave Snow hope that someone might still be awake to receive them down in the valley. Perhaps it wasn’t so late after all.

Although, the emptiness of the night around them had started to gnaw at him. Something felt off and the sensation kept him scanning around the road as they made their way into town.

“Name one,” Titus started back up again was a friendly challenge.

“Name what?” Snow looked back.

“One of those reasons that aren’t just fairytales.”

Snow huffed.

“Hauntings for instance.” He replied in a tired voice as his eyes went back to scanning. “One of the old beliefs is that when someone dies a violent or unexpected death, their soul lingers to haunt the surroundings or those closest to them.”

“That really happens?” Titus turned to Snow in disbelief.

“It can. I’ve been asked to resurrect those who have died in such a fashion so they can be given a gentle second death. The community feels more at ease that the soul was given a proper chance to say goodbye and resign itself to its new life beyond the veil.”

“Do you… deal with real ghosts?” Titus asked. Again, Snow was taken aback by Titus’s curious manner. The accusation and disdain had faded. This new question was purely curiosity-driven, and when Snow turned to look at him, he found that open look on Titus’s face again.

Snow was still not used to this odd willingness to believe and even understand the shadows of the world. Especially from one who was neither a child full of fantasy tales nor a scholar who saw an opportunity to study some esoteric subject. Titus, from what he could tell, had grown up in some small village like Folfern, perhaps on a farm or as a smith’s son. Such people often made the mark of the holy shield at his passing - even as they paid him for his service.

“It’s more difficult for me without a body. When the soul doesn’t move on and the body withers beyond my power to recover, then it likes to attach itself to something else. I need to break that attachment and give it a guide,” Snow replied as he looked forward and finally saw the faint dark edge of Folfern sitting in a shallow valley beneath hills of orchards.

“A guide?” Titus asked.

“A guide,” Snow repeated. “Meaning, I bring back another who recently died and ask if they would aid me in saving this detached soul from wandering among the living.”

Silence grew between them a moment as Titus mulled over the explanation. In the meantime, the village drew closer and both men could see the emptiness it offered them. The sun was now far behind the horizon with only a dim, linger light to guide them down the darkening road. The houses they passed were lit, but no one was out on the roads to meet them as they entered the village square.

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Titus thought it odd and twisted in his saddle as he scanned the shuttered buildings with unease.

“It’s not that late, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Snow confirmed grimly. He too was scanning the village and noting that even the tavern was quiet when it should be lit with warm firelight and laughter at this hour.

A nearby door then creaked open on noisy hinges and a man started to walk towards them with a large axe at his side. Snow soon recognized him as one of the elders of the village and the owner of the tannery.

“I suggest you two move on.” He said it with a touch of urgency. The axe still hung low but his grip on it was tight.

“What’s going on?” Snow asked.

“Some creature has set upon this village. It has been preying on those wandering at night. We’ve found two men dead this week. So now, any who don’t wish to suffer a similar fate, stay in their homes after nightfall.”

Snow and Titus looked at each other.

“How did it kill these men?” Titus asked immediately.

“Both had their throats ripped out,” the man said. Snow didn’t have to see the old tanner’s face clearly to know he grimaced and winced at the gruesome memory.

Titus looked to Snow again. There was an urgent question in his eyes that Snow knew immediately.

“No. Not my expertise.”

“But they need help,” Titus pushed.

“What was it you were saying earlier today… about no more trouble?”

“I didn’t go looking for this. We rode right into it.”

“And we’ll ride right out of it,” Snow replied as he started to turn his horse back towards the main road.

“Can you help?” the tanner asked. His question made Snow pause. He looked at the two of them in the dim moonlight that was turning the world silver. Each seemed to plead with him and, while it wasn’t a look he was unaccustomed to, he suddenly found it hard to dismiss. There was also the fact that leaving meant another handful of hours riding in the dark autumn night.

Snow looked to the tanner and asked, “How much will you pay?”.

He could immediately feel Titus’s scowl.

“I,” the tanner paused as he thought, “fifty silver?”

Snow sighed. He knew that was a lot for this little village. The tanner would be collecting it from the brewery and surrounding farmers, everyone who could spare the funds would be pitching in.

“I want the finest rooms in the inn as well,” he said as he dismounted. “I want to head there now. We’re not going to deal with this thing until I get all the details.”

“We?” Titus echoed.

“Yes. This was your bright idea,” Snow scowled. “Now get down.”

✵✵✵

The tanner escorted them to the inn and gave a distinctive knock to the worn oak door. It took a little time before the innkeeper peeked his hooked nose out at the three of them.

“Warin, what the hell are you doing?” the innkeeper asked without fully opening the door.

“The resurrectionist is back in town and this time he has a swordsman with him. I think they can help us. Let them in and give them the best you have, Jorn,” the tanner replied.

The innkeeper looked past Warin and eyed them both for a long, suspicious moment. He then leaned to glance beyond them into the darkness of the night – scanning it for something. Snow remembered Jorn. The old innkeeper was as suspicious as they come and charged him a hefty price for a small room at the far, cold corner of the building.

“Okay,” he said in huffed urgency. “But you’ll have to stable your horses on your own. I won’t send my boy out in the dark.”

Titus was the first to nod and took the reins of his and Snow’s horses.

“I’ll take care of them. Which way?”

The innkeeper pointed around the right side of the building and described the stable before thrusting a lantern into Titus’s hands. Snow watched him leave before stepping inside with the tanner. When Titus returned from the uneventful stable, he found the three men in discussion around a candlelit table inside the deserted innkeeper’s tavern.

“I just couldn’t believe it. We’re so far from the eastern mountains. We never had problems like this before,” Warin was shaking his head as he leaned wearily on the table.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Jorn added. “They’re moving west now. I used to be out there. Remember? I told you. I came from those mountains. And I swear to you. These things… they aren’t staying there anymore. We’re going to see more of this.”

“More of what?” Titus asked as he stepped up and pulled a fourth seat over to the table.

“More monsters,” Snow said. He was sitting back in his chair with arms crossed and his gaze steady on the table in thought.

“Do you have any idea what it is?” Titus asked.

“Does it matter?” the innkeeper’s anger began to rise. “Evil is evil!”

“It matters when it comes to dealing with it,” Titus replied before turning to Snow, “right?” he added as if suddenly unsure about it.

Snow nodded before saying, “we’ll start dealing with this tomorrow. For now, I’m sure my friend here is hungry, and I could do with a comfortable bed.”

Jorn looked less than thrilled to be catering to them at this late hour, but the man still pulled himself up from his chair and headed for the kitchen.

The tanner watched him go before leaning closer to the two of them. “What do you think it is?”

Snow then replied. “Something hungry.”