A fist thundered down, then another and then a third, that one holding an enormous cleaver whistling by way too close for comfort. Valentina trusted her armour as any knight should, but against this hunk of metal about as heavy as her self, her armour wouldn't be able to do much at all.

Still, as strong as that stitched-together monstrosity was, it lacked any semblance of skill. Valentina ducked and sidestepped its strikes with practised grace, but she saw no path through that maelstrom of fists that would let her strike at the creature's lopsided head. The hulking beast, stitched together from oxen into the vague form of a man, did not grant her any room. Her only hope was to stay at the edge of its reach and hope those undead muscles could still tire out, and that they would do so before she did.

Already her legs grew heavier, her breathing more laboured, despite the divine strength her armour granted her. No, she would have to finish this and do it soon. Another fist came down like a comet from the heavens, sidestepped just a fraction of a heartbeat before impact, followed immediately by a swipe of one o those enormous blades that would have split her sideways if she had not already learned to expect the pattern and jumped right after the fist came down. Perhaps, if she was just quick enough, she could be able to land atop it and run over the arm to land a strike on that meaty head? 

There that fist came again, and again it would be followed by a swipe. Valentina made ready, taking a sharp breath and sending a prayer to all Saints that might listen, but a sudden flash and thunder behind her tore her out of her preperations. A strak of flame whized just past her head, blinding her for an instant and almost distracting her to the point that she missed the dodge, but in the last moment she managed to leap aside. The fireball that had whized past her struck the hulking figure in the head, burning a hole clean through it. The colossus spun with the impact, tumbling to the ground, but that cleaver had already been on its way to Valentina and now it wavered unpredictably. With a desperate leap, she managed to roll over it instead of getting bisected by the crude metal mass, tumbling to the ground after. The Hulk groaned, swaying, before finally falling like a meaty tree, falling down right where Valentina lay. Another roll saw her barely escape being buried under the mountain of stitched flesh.

Coughing, she propped herself upright, looking into the passage from whence the fiery projectile had come. Out of it stepped Julian, behind him the dozen soldiers they had been lent by the duke, following him like lost ducklings after a confused fawn.

He looked about worriedly, one hand fumblin with the edge of his ridiculously embroidered academy coat. "Is it dead?" he asked, before hurriedly correcting himself, "I mean, really dead this time."

Valentina propped herself upright fully, sheathing her sword before sighing deeply. "It is, well done. You almost managed to take two lives with one strike. A masterful technique."

Julian glanced around again, confused and worried. "I don't see a second undead?" He asked after.

"I wasn't referring to one," Valentina explained, straining her patience. "I was talking about myself. I had the situation in hand until you came along and decided to throw a wrench into things. It almost got me in its death flailing, and then what? If I had died there, would you have been able to find the heart of this cult on your own? I doubt so. Perhaps you could have managed to find your way out again and contact my order, but sending another knight would have taken weeks in which these necromancers could have rebuilt their forces and prepare for another attack. What do you think would have happened to the nearby town in the meantime? Now that they know they've been found out anyways that many fresh bodies would have been resources rife for the tapping. They would have no longer been satisfied with mere kidnappings, it would have been a slaughter. But never mind all that, the hulk is dead now and you get the glory."

Julian stood frozen, his eyes wide in shock at the possible consequences of his actions laid bare before him. "I had not considered that you could be hurt. I was simply worried, you had been gone for so long."

"Yes, I had. But also I had not given the signal we agreed on." Valentina replied. "I know it might be hard for you to conceive, but I am your superior for the remainder of your service time in the order, which means that when I tell you to wait until I give the signal, then you better wait until I have given my signal."

"Yes, sir," Julian replied, eyes downcast like a scolded dog. "My apologies."

"Accepted," Valentina replied, satisfied with the regret he showed. She didn't want to humiliate the young man any longer. Their loaned sword arms were already fighting to contain their mirth, it wasn't every day you got to see a high and mighty wizard be dressed down like that, even one who's just finished his apprenticeship.

"Come now," Valentina barked at the assembled group, "Onward in good order. I can feel we are getting close to the heart of this evil."

And so it was. The large double door the colossus had been guarding led into a foreboding corridor, lined with crude gargoyles holding dim, flickering torches. At the end she saw a large hall, a mockery of a Chappel hewn in black stone, into which the corridor spewed them out.

At the end, atop a daise, stood a lopsided altar, behind which a single robed figure stood. The cult's idol, however, was nowhere in sight even though the room was practically bathed in the miasmic energies of such a figure, not that anyone but Valentina could feel this.

"Welcome, brave knight," the figure behind the altar said, voice drenched in mockery. "So you have finally come yourself. Ran out of bodies to pave your way with?"

Valentinas grip tightened around the heft of her blade, knuckles popping audibly. "Are you the new master of this cult? I have come to slay you and shatter your idol."

The robed figure hacked out an ugly, strained laugh. "Master [evil name] has already fled and taken the idol. They are beyond your reach now."

"Lies, and bad ones at that. Master [evil name] died at Hohenfels. I slew him with this very blade and now you shall follow."

The robed figure cackled again. "Foolish knight, he has overcome death, and now I shall follow!"

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

In a black flash, he drew a jagged blade, so dark it hung like a dark wound within the very air. The cultist began a strange chant in a fould tongue, and the blade resonated, warping the world around it.

"Julian?"

The wizard startled, fumbling with his words for a moment before settling on a "yes?"

"Fireball, now."

“No, that’s not- I can’t!"

"Of course," Valentina sighed. Then she darted forward, leaping over rows of benches toward the blasphemous altar. If she had started earlier, she might even have reached the cultist before he stabbed the unnatural blade down, piercing his own heart. Bones broke and flesh tore as the blade ate him hungrily, drawing him into its nothingness until his mad cackling finally ceased.

A bladeless handle clattered to the ground, and for a moment all was confused silence. Then Valentina declared "We are done here," and led them out.

EIN SELTSAMER SCHATTEN

A cold outer wind rustles through the trees, jingling the silver bells on her horse's harness and ruffling through her short, grey bob. She closed her eyes as the horse trotted onward, enjoying the light bite of the chill on her nose and cheeks. The sting was like a cold shower, revitalizing her travel-tired spirits.

The calm silence was broken by a violent sneeze behind her. Julian, unused to the cold weather of this dusky hinterland, had been struggling with a flue for a few days now. He had his pointy hat pulled so deep over his ears that only his reddened nose poked out between the broad brim and the cocoon of blankets he had wrapped himself in.

"Tell me again, why must we travel to this frigid little hovel?" He wheezed inbetween two more sneezes.

"You know our mission very well, Julian," Valentina sighed. "After our last raid of the cult, we traced the energies of its idol into this region, and the reports of the Camp priest have some worrying similarities to the activities of the cult."

"So that means that we don't even know if the cult is actually in that Camp, right?" Julian croaked out. "So why do we waste so much time traveling there?"

"Precisely so that we can know. I know you just started your service within the order, but you will be surprised how much of our work consists of following leads that don't actually lead anywhere. But still we must follow, for that one in ten times when there actualy is something sinister going on."

Julian fell into discontent silence after that, much to valentinas content. She closed her eyes and held up her nose to catch the wind, listening to the rustling leaves and the tinkling bells. The latter worked splendidly, likely because they rode with two sets of then, which she hadn't required for a while. Regardless, there hadn't been any issues with the fae since they left the last town. No annoying fairies collecting hair for their nests or brash Goblins plundering their rations at night.

They trotted on like that for a while, until bird calls disturbed Valentina. Out here they were to be expected, but that was the thing. There hadn't been any for a while. She might not even have noticed, if not for the sudden cacophony. A whole host of ravens had appeared over their heads, cawing and circling as if heralding the end of days.

“Strange,” Valentina muttered.

“They are just birds,” Julian replied sullenly. “It's what they do.”

“No, there's too many of them,” Valentina replied, concerned gaze cast upwards. “they only gather like that for food.”

“So some farmer spilled their grain, what tragedy!”

Elswhere, some other day, thag might have been explanation enugh. But not here and now. Danger, valentina's blood whispered. “Fool, there are no farms out here, the woods grow too fast. Fields get swallowed before you can harvest anything. These birds were drawn by slaughter.”

That finally made the young wizard look up, with an expression as if he expected them to dive down and claw his eyes out.

However, the birds remained where they were and the expression was replaced by one of puzzlement.

“Oh, now that is curious indeed.”

“What, did you see something?”

“No, not quite,” Julian replied, straining his neck to get a better look. “Their spirits, I can only detect them faintly at this distance, but they are… wrong. Tainted. It is as if they were watching us.”

And with that, the host exploded outward like funerary fireworks. Eerie silence blanketed the woods some more, only the wind rattling through golden leaves. 

After some moments, the wizard spoke up again. “Did you know that a group of crows is called a murder?”

Valentina's laughter explodes as abruptly as the host, echoing off of the trees. “As if that just now wasn't ominous enough already! My friend, I think this might be the one case in ten that isn'tfalse alarm.”

“Do you think the priest is alright?”

“Oh, so you were listening after all. Well, it's not looking promising I'd say. Make ready for a fight once we reach the Camp. We shouldn't be far.”

“What? But if they took over the whole Camp… you expect the two of us to win against such a horde?”

“No, but I expect us to be able to fight our way out and come back with reinforcements, like we did at the mansion.”

Indeed, soon the woods opened up on a large, man made clearing, fresh stumps littering the ground like an ugly rash. Already fresh growths could be seen pushing in from the edge. Groups of woodcutters chopped and sawed away at them, maintaining a solid front in this slow battle.

In the middle of the clearing, the low palisade walls of the Camp rose, and above them chapel’s beacon, burning with the great Pyre’s golden flame. 

Better than even their silver bells, it's light would keep away Fae and other outer spirits. A comforting sight after such long travel through this dim hinterland. Valentina took a deep breath as she felt the golden radiance wash was over her, enjoying clean air free of the miasmic outer winds.

“Ho, traveler,” a sole guard shouted from up on a watchtower. “What is your business out in these woods?”

“I am Priestess Mara, I have come to speak with Priest Bertram about these dim lands and their living conditions. I seek understanding of the miasmic winds that are so strong this far away from the great Pyre. This is Acolyte Gerald, my assistant.”

While she talked, Valentina pulled the churche’s insignia out of the priestly robe she’d borrowed, holding it up to the guard as proof for her lie.

“We are honoured by your presence, Priestess,” the guard replied, “you may enter, but be warned! Priest Bertram is sick with nettle fever. Much of our livestock has been infected and had to be slaughtered, but he has kept the sickness from us at least. The efforts have cost him, though. He sealed himself away in the chapel and told us not to disturb him while he worked to heal himself.”

“Thank you for the warning. Perhaps we can help him in this.”

They rode into the camp, past sawmills and lumber piles and pale workers performing their duties mechanically.

Behind the palisade, they were greeted by a strange normality. Large quarters for the workers, built from solid timber, painted with patterns of ochre and chalk. Between and around them were dotted workshops and stores where washers, cooks and other attendants made a living off of the woodworker's salaries. None of them paid any mind to the pair as they rode past toward the chapel at the camp's centre.

"Peculiar," Julian murmured next to Valentina, his voice drowned out to all others by the chiming bells. "One should think travellers like ourselves should attract more attention. After all, there seems little else to do and talk about out here."

"It might be the miasma," Valentina answered. "I have heard it can turn people sluggish and dull."

"Yes, we studied it at the academy, but the flame should be enough to protect them from the worst of it."

And then they stood before it, the round, towering building crowned by the pyre's golden flames. A large double door, painted with murals of various saints in the same ochre and white, barred them the way inside. Valentina slid off her horse and knocked deftly. "Priest Bertram, it is I, priestess Mara. My apprentice and I have come to talk to you about the miasma. We heard you were ill, perhaps we could aid your healing?"

It took a while before a strained voice answered from inside.

"Better leave, there's still sickness in this town. My healing was not sufficient to cleanse it all. It spreads still, silently, among the people. I haven't told them yet, they would leave and spread it further. It is a vile thing, worse than anything I have ever seen. Leave now before it is too late."

"Thank you for the warning, Priest," Valentina replied, unphased by the words. "We will heed it."