Making their way up the first level, they came upon a series of rows made of large wooden stakes, each with a person impaled them. The tips of the wooden points sticking out of the victim’s mouths. Many of the bodies had long desiccated, and some of the limbs had begun to pull away from the rest of the body.

“By order’s mercy,” Cid said to himself. “What sort of monster lives here?”

“One who sold their soul to damnation, for nothing more than blood-born pleasures.” said Leonidas.

“Where did all these people come from?” Silvius asked, covering his nose and mouth with his hand.

“Probably were found on the road or in random camps around here,” said Benkin.

“But what for?” Maeryn followed.

“Blood sacrifice,” said Leonidas, kneeling down and examining the runes and symbols etched into the stone floor.

“How do you know that?” Silvius asked.

“Seen my fair share of things,” Leonidas replied.

“The hell are they doing here?” Kveldulf asked.

“My guess, it’s a summoning ritual,” Leonidas answered.

“For whom?” Cid asked.

“Now that, good sir, is the question of the hour.”

From the top of the stairs leading towards the upper level, they could hear a series of dark growls and clicks.

“And that just sounds ever so welcoming,” Jeanne said.

“I don’t like that it’s our only way up,” said Cid, “try to keep low, put out your lights, and get ready to defend yourselves when things get heated.”

“I’m seriously wishing we were just dealing with regular dumb bandits,” said Kveldulf.

“And miss out on all this fun?” followed Jeanne.

“If we survive this, I’m going to have a few choice words for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say,” Jeanne said, waving off comment.

“All right,” said Cid, “Let’s not lose focus.” He gripped his blade tightly as he began to slowly moving up the steps. Each one now made in a slow and methodic in execution. Cid began sinking lower with each progressive step the stairs. Until he was crawling along the stair case. The others copying him until they all entered the second level of the keep.

Reaching the top of the steps, they saw tall columns decorated in designs of trees, animals, people made from faded gold gildings. The walls forming the rounded room were of golden marble stone with the last quarter covered in pure black. Kveldulf looked down at the floor and saw transparent glass with bodies of hundreds of people resting underneath. Many of them in their violent death throes. Their arms stretching up in the air before frozen in horrified posture.

The columns resting above appeared to press many of the bodies underneath. Reaching up to hold up the ceiling above them, the pillars formed a large circle around the antechamber of the entire level. There was no one living, the floor was covered in bodies of bandits and peasants alike. The group pressed themselves against the wall, trying to avoid stepping on the bodies. Their feet slipping on the smooth floor covered in blood and over fluids.

“Why would anyone want to be living in these conditions?” Maeryn whispered.

“Ignorance, greed, survival,” said Leonidas, “take your pick.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” Kveldulf said with an narrow gaze and a wrinkled brow.

“I’ve been around long enough to know what people can do in the dark places of this world,” Leonidas replied as he pressed himself against the wall nearby the door.

The group lined themselves on both sides of the door. Kveldulf, Maeryn, Hypatia and Silvius standing on one side, Cid, Jeanne, Leonidas and Benkin on the other. Kveldulf took in a deep breath before he pressed on the door. It moved enough to make a crack without a single creak from its hinges. Kveldulf let out a silent sigh, noticing some sweat beginning to beading he looked up to the ceiling and mouthed ‘thank you’.

With the door now opened they could hear something slithering on the other side. The click and growls growing in volume. They heard a voice, croaking, deep with a long-pronounced hisses at the end of their speech. Kveldulf felt his skin crawl and the hair in the back of his neck stand up on end as he heard the voice speak.

“What’s this to turn away your sight? As if you’re taken by some blight? Perhaps we cannot understand the crimson beauty now at hand? Is to gaze on bloody glory not enough to become holy?” the voice asked with an explosive guttural quality, a woman’s, Kveldulf noticed, though it had a darker, more demonic, sound to it as he listened closer.

Another voice spoke out, timid, subservient, and terrified. “I’m sorry, my lady, but the scent … it is hard for me to get used to, perhaps if I could –”

The monstrous voice grew deeper and menacing, its echo now permeating loudly into the antechamber. “You daring wretch, to give command! As if I’ll see this treason stand! Impudent wretch, useless contraband, for this slight, your death is at hand!”

The second voice cried out. “No! I’m sorry, my lady,” before shrieking screams echoed in both rooms. Kveldulf curled his lips back as he heard the noise. He noticed Cid and Jeanne recoiling back and looking back at him with growing concern. Kveldulf looked back to the others behind him and noted their heads sinking into their shoulders, leaving him with a sense of dread he wished would leave him.

Kveldulf looked at Cid and Jeanne, standing on the other side of the doorway. “I think we made a mistake taking this contract,” he whispered.

“We can’t hear you,” Cid whispered pointing to his ears.

Kveldulf rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Will we be needing another servant for you, Lady Belthory?” asked a new voice. It was a man, calm, collected, undaunted by the horror they witnessed. Silvius, Hypatia, Maeryn and Benkin shot their heads up as they heard the voice.

“That’s the bastard,” Maeryn said to Kveldulf, growling underneath her breath.

Kveldulf lifted one ear up and heard sniffing noises coming from the room, Cid and Jeanne frantically mouthed Kveldulf to shut the chamber doors, making closing gestures with their hands rapidly, reinforcing the message. As he began pulling, the slab violently swung open, throwing Kveldulf off balance, staying upright only with Maeryn and Silvius grabbing him.

In slithered a figure matching the image of the stain glass windows on the keep. Her arms were long past the length of a fully grown man, even as she rose high above the others, her tail was deep inside the throne room. Her hair matted wet with blood and her eyes were dark crimson with black irises. Her skin oozed a clear liquid, while her serpentine body moved with a slow rumble caused in her wake.

She looked to Kveldulf and said, “I thought I smelled the scent of blood. Bound to creatures birthed from mere –”

Maeryn notched two arrows and landed one in each of Belthory’s eyes. Belthory let out a ear splitting shriek as she thrashed about in pain. Slamming into pillars and walls, causing parts of the ceiling to break off and fall down to the floor below. “Into the chamber!” Cid shouted as every one raced into the throne room. Maeryn fired an arrow towards a man in the room, catching him in knee, causing him to fall to the floor.

Inside the throne room was a large pool of blood. Piked heads flanking the throne at the far end of the room and stained tapestries of Belthory and another man standing next to her draping the walls inside.

Once inside, Jeanne unleashed a barrage of fire balls towards Belthory who swung her arms to defend herself. Jeanne barely dodged the swing, covering her head with her hands as debris fell down. Benkin and slashed at her tail, as Silvius launched several crossbolts into her torso. With her tail, she wrapped the tip around a broken piece of stone and flung it towards Silvius. Silvius leaped to the ground, the force of Belthory’s landing loosened a large chunk of a pillar, Benkin having to roll out to avoid the piece from crushing him.

Belthory, snarling with blood coming out of her mouth, sniffed the air before letting out a wrathful screaming. She lunged at Kveldulf with great speed as Maeryn tackled him out of the way. As the serpent queen steadied herself, Kveldulf looked at Sianna, both catching their breath. “Even?” he said to her.

She nodded. “Even.”

Hypatia and Cid rushed Belthory, the swords slashing through scales and flesh. Hypatia sinking her blades, causing Belthory to race around the room, Hypatia gripping her blades as she rode the serpent queen around the room. She moved up the length of the queen’s back, sinking her blades into the queen’s flesh with each move up. The queen rose herself up and swung herself violently, trying to throw Hypatia off.

“I could use some help!” Hypatia shouted.

Each swing getting more frantic, causing Hypatia’s blades to slice down the queen’s back until they began losing their purchase. Moving along the floor, the queen flung Hypatia off her, the song singer hitting the ground hard. As the queen move to slam her tail down, Benkin, with his sword, sliced the tail off the fiend, as Silvius helped move Hypatia out of the way. When Belthory tried making a rush towards the three, Cid fired the blade from his shield gauntlet into the armpit of Belthory, she slammed into a pillar and writhed in pain, before pulling the blade out and throwing it to the side.

As she let out another scream, Leonidas plunged his sword deep into Belthory’s side, trying to pull the blade inside her flesh. With a swipe of her hand, she launched him into a wall before he landed onto the ground with a hard thud. He began coughing tasting blood in his mouth as tried to steady his vision. He saw Belthory smiling at him, her bloody eyes looking back at him.

“Wonderful,” he groaned.

“I can’t but smile for us to meet, your flesh it smells so since and sweet,” Belthory said to him with a sinister smile.

“Oh gods, it’s like the spider-lady, only so much worse!”

Belthory move back slightly. “What?”

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Leonidas grabbed her throat and she began screaming as a green glow came from his hand and his blackened veins and hollowed eyes returned. His wounds began to slowly heal as her flesh began desiccating, before she flung him again into a large pool of blood in the middle of the throne room. As she moved towards him, Maeryn and Silvius loosed several arrows into Belthory’s side.

Jeanne used her telekinesis spell to move one of the tapestries around Belthory’s head and launched a fireball towards it. As the fabric was set flame, Belthory screamed in pain before slamming herself into the blood pool to douse the fire. Cid and Silvius raced over to help Leonidas to his feet, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and moving him out of the pool as Belthory landed in there.

Kveldulf leapt onto Belthory’s shoulder and with a great war cry began striking her mercilessly with the pommel of his great sword. Belthory threw herself back as she writhed in pain, Maeryn sent an arrow straight into the monster’s neck, causing the queen to grip her neck as she tried to breath. Using the moment, Kveldulf plunged his blade deep into her collarbone and into her heart. Immediately she became limp, swerving in the air before falling into the blood pool, splashing everyone.

Everyone looked around slowing allowing themselves to relax. Benkin, Cid and Hypatia slowly making their way to queen’s corpse. “I think …,” Cid said, gripping his side as he was catching his breath, “I think she’s dead.”

“Take the head,” said Silvius insisted. “You always … take the head.”

“I can do that,” said Benkin, who raised his blade and severed Belthory’s head from her body in one strike.

“Oh gods,” said Leonidas, getting up to his feet, looking at all the blood all over his body, “It’s everywhere!”

“Smelling a little ripe, too,” said Maeryn, covering her nose and trying swipe away the stench.

“Well, we all can’t smell like … whatever the hell you enjoy smelling.”

“Not even trying are you?”

“No, and I do not care right now,” said the doctor as Maeryn patted his shoulder, still pinching her nose.

Kveldulf pulled his blade out of Belthory’s corpse, he spotted Jeanne making her over to a part of the throne room. She turned to the others, “Hey, I think I found our bounty!”

The rest moved to where she was, seeing the man Maeryn hit with her arrow laying on the ground a large piece of stone laying on top of his leg. “Wow,” said Benkin, “bad day to be him.”

“Ah,” said Cid, loosening his neck and shoulders, “Master Connar Grant, I presume, or do you prefer Culain?”

“Go fuck yourself, you spineless mog,” said the man, spitting at Cid.

“And a fine how do you do, to you as well,” Cid replied, shaking his head.

The man let out a groan as Jeanne grabbed him by the collar and slugged him across the face. Kveldulf turned to Benkin, “Now it’s a bad day to be him.”

The man turned to spit blood from his mouth. “What was that for?”

“The fuck do you think?” said Jeanne. She grabbed a necklace sitting on his chest, ripped it off and held it towards Maeryn. “This yours?”

Maeryn nodded and Jeanne tossed the jewelry back to her. Maeryn gazed upon the piece with reverence before putting it back on her neck.

“Wait, are we interrogating this man?” Silvius asked.

Cid shrugged. “That’s not a bad start,”

“I mean, we could ask what the giant snake lady was doing in here?” asked Kveldulf.

“Hold that thought,” said Jeanne, striking the man again. “What the hell were you doing with Belthory?”

The man laughed at them, revealing bloodied and broken teeth and as his life’s water began flowing out. “You know nothing. And will die knowing nothing. My death is but a minor inconvenience to something greater than I can speak.”

“Oh gods, another self-righteous riddler,” said Silvius, smacking his forehead.

“Is it surprising for little minds to act big?” Benkin followed.

“And the young woman from the village?” Jeanne demanded, grabbing Connar by the collar.

“Which one?” the man asked, smiling.

Jeanne’s hands shook with rage as she turned to the others. “Get out!”

Cid and Kveldulf began herding the rest of the group out into the antechamber. As the two shut the doors they heard Jeanne roaring before sounds of heavy strikes began shaking the floor. The others turned to the direction of the other room, their eyes widened and bodies becoming rigid as the assault grew in intensity.

Silvius asked, “Something we should know?”

“Not a story for us to tell,” Kveldulf replied as a great blow landed disturbing the dust around them.

Once the strikes began subsiding, until stopped entirely. Kveldulf pushed open doors, seeing Jeanne slumped over as her the rage dissappated. She moved up and down, trying to catch her breath, each breath laced with pain. Kveldulf entered the throne room and coming up to Jeanne saw her skin covered in stone, save for her hands. Stone chunks dotted the floor nearby, and her knuckles were covered in blood.

The man face and chest was now a pulp of flesh, bone and brains.

“Doc! We need you in here,” Kveldulf called out.

Leonidas moved to where they at quickly. Getting down onto his knees and examining her hands. Her skin turned back to normal, her gaze on the battered remains.

“How are her hands?” Kveldulf asked.

“Nothing’s broken,” Doc said to him as he pulled out a white cloth, “but this needs to be cleaned. And I don’t think we should be here any longer than needed.”

“Right,” said Kveldulf, “Cid! What’s the plan?”

“I think we should take the doctor’s advice, and remove ourselves back to the inn.”

Silvius poked his head into the throne room. “Gentlemen, I think I found something you might be interested in.”

Kel and Cid exchanged glances. Kel turned to Leonidas and Jeanne, “Let’s head back with the others.”

***

Kveldulf leaned against the pillar outside of the inn. Looking up at the stars glittering against a black sky as they slowly moved above him. He remembered the last night he was with his parents. The clear summer night out in the fields of Havamal. Light from the full moon illuminating the sea of grass around them. Songs of war and glory were sung by soldiers to kings he did not know. Fighting for a cause he did not understand.

His mother was singing her odes and ballads to warriors of distant memory, her song-blades slashing the air with perfect harmony. His father was playing the lute he had kept since his own childhood. Kveldulf remembered the reverie enjoyed by all as the sounds of hooves and unsheathed steel came crashing into the camp.

People yelling, people screaming, barking out orders. Trying to make order in the midst of chaos. His parents telling him to run into the woods nearby. He remembered the sweat pouring down his face, the fear taking his thoughts as he ran as fast as his legs could take him. He didn’t stop running until he tripped into a ravine and listening alone in the dark woods as he heard the sounds of battle until nothing but the silence remained.

As the sun rose, he moved out from the ravine and back to the camp. The stench of smoke already hitting his nose before he arrived to the edge of the forest. Bodies of those he had seen in the throes of merriment now laid on the ground, their bodies hacked and mangled. Moving with care as he made his way through the camp. Kveldulf remembered his breath leaving him as he found the bodies of his mother and father lying deathly still on the ground, a short distance from the smoldering campfire and with dozens of the enemy dead surrounding them.

He saw his father’s great sword resting next to him, the blade coated in the dark wine of the enemy’s blood. and his mother’s song-blades no where to be found. Unable to hold back the tears, he remembered taking his father’s blade, and leaving the terrible place. As his mind returned to the present, he removed his father’s sheathed blade from his back and firmly held it in his hands.

The last thing he had left of them in the entire world. Everything nothing but memories within his thoughts.

He remembered lines from a poem he heard from his father:

The wise one pauses when pondering thoughts,

Focused on the fleetingness of all things.

Little lingers in the wake of woeful decay,

Ruins of giants stand barren and hidden,

Covered by an ocean of grass and weeds.

Sounds of citizens now long gone forever,

Even the sad-faced man buried in earth.

All is made naught by time immortal,

For all is formed from this dark life.

Kveldulf had not the winters to fathom the deeper meaning of the words when he first heard them. Only when he buried the two he such closeness with, and was left wanting and bereft of all sense of kinship did the truth sink in full. Even know there was a disconnect with others, even Cid and Jeanne, close as they were with him.

He took out his pipe and prepared some tobacco for smoking as he wondered what his parents would think if they saw him now? Would they be proud, would they judge him, he could not say? Would they see him as one carrying on the warrior tradition with pride? Would they see a blood thirsty monster seeking brutal glory and coins bought by death?

He couldn’t say for certain.

If anything, he simply wanted to hear their voices one more time. To tell them that even after all these years, all he had seen and done, they were the greatest treasure he ever had. Their words of guidance became his morals. They love of song became his admiration of the arts. Their zeal for life his want to see the known world and beyond. He wanted to tell them how much they influenced them. Most of all, he wanted to say how much he missed them.

Hearing the clomps of hooves he turned his head to find Jeanne and Cid ride out of the darkness. They dismounted, hitched their horses and walked up to Kveldulf looking worn and haggard. “How did it go?”

“About as well it can go when you tell a parent their child is dead,” said Cid, stopping to take a breath to regain his composure, showing his exhaustion in full. “But they appreciated us bringing her back to them.”

“What are you two going to do now?” Kveldulf asked.

Cid ran his fingers through his fur. “Well I am going to get something to drink, coming Jeanne?”

Jeanne shook her head, saying nothing as she opened and closed her hands, now wrapped in bandages. As Cid entered the inn to join the others, Jeanne sat next to Kveldulf, looking down to the ground.

“I’m not gonna ask how you’re holding up,” Kveldulf said.

“Not great,” Jeanne replied weakly.

“You want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you want, I can give you some privacy.”

She rubbed her knuckles on both her hands, staying silent.

Kveldulf stepped away from the column. “Well, I’ll be inside if you need me.”

As he began walking towards the inn, Jeanne said, “She was their favorite.”

Kel said nothing, turning around to walk back and sat next to her.

“My sister, Sabine. My parents never said it, but I knew she was. And they had every reason to think that. She was bright, she was kind. Always helping around the house or the farm. All the while, I’d escape into the woods, finding bugs and lizards to make friends. Pulling pranks on them or some other passersby. Only caring for whatever amusement I could find in the moment. I can still see the disappointment in their eyes when they’d look at me, scolded me, tried to make me into a daughter they could be proud of.

“And there was my sister, who I thought could do no wrong in their eyes. At first, I was jealous of her, how my parents always praised, idolized her. Then I despised her for being who I didn’t want to be. And …,” Jeanne’s voice began breaking as she continued, “… then I just hated her. For … being a better daughter. I was so hateful to her and … she deserved none of it. And before I knew it, she was gone. Found dead in a ditch, butchered like an animal by a nobleman’s son.

“The bastard thought he could get away with it, too, what with being a noble’s son. Not when I was done with him. I can still remember him screaming, Kel. I was certain someone would hear him at some point. But no one did. And I didn’t stop. Not when I broke his legs. Not when I shattered his arms. Not when I fed him his manhood. By the end, he was begging me for death when I started having my fun, and I enjoyed every minute of it, Kel. But it didn’t take away the pain. Gods it didn’t take any of it away. And out of everything, I just wanted to tell her I was sorry.”

Jeanne, unable to hold back the pain, began sobbing as Kveldulf back his arm on her shoulder. “It’s all right,” he told her, “It’s all right.”