There was, in fact, food. The carriage carried them through the outer gates of Zevir Keep, depositing her in the courtyard before trundling Yashik’s still unconscious form off somewhere on the other side of the Manor. Walking up to the doors, she shuddered slightly as they opened noiselessly on their own. The smell from inside quickly overcame her hesitation and she strode into the entryway, barely noticing her surroundings as her eyes fixated into the spacious dining hall, large double-doors opened invitingly. A fire crackled merrily, and candles illuminated the large formal table, covered in food.
Cooked and uncooked, hot and cold, liquid and solid, enough food to keep a small family fed for a week sat in front of her, and she wasted no time availing herself of it. Afterall, the Baron had been very clear that his hospitality was extended to her, and if the food was cursed or poisoned or something else sinister, she had decided that she would follow Gost’s training in this manner. She could almost hear his voice in her mind, “One of the many lessons you learn while adventuring or marching with an army, is that you never pass up an opportunity to eat, sleep, or void yourself. You never know when you’ll get another chance, and dying hungry, tired, and with soiled pants makes the experience even more unpleasant.”
As she ate, she began to observe her surroundings. Someone cleary took care of the manor, as it was clean and neat, metal polished and ashes swept from the hearth. The food had been prepared by someone, but there was no living thing present that she could detect. She tried reaching out to the plants that she had seen growing all over the castle grounds, but found herself unable to. Possibly it was her own exhaustion, but she suspected that there was another power at play here.
A candlestick caught her eye, sitting between a bowl of fruit and a loaf of round bread. The stick held 3 candles and appeared to be made of silver, and had been shaped into a bizarre pattern that almost resembled a human face. As Krosa looked closer, she could identify that it was indeed a face, of a mustachioed man with deep-set eyes. Her chewing slowed, her tired mind fascinated by the details. She almost choked as the silver face slowly winked at her.
***
Yashik woke suddenly, and violently. Giant hands lashed out, reaching to grasp at invisible throats. He struggled against the restraints on him, only calming as he heard the stern voice in his head. “Calm down, you’re home. You’re alright, you’re going to be alright, just hold still!”
Relaxing into the now familiar sensation of the vines that held him in place, Yashik felt a snarl twist his face as his movements tugged at his wounds. Taking an assessment, he felt the deep tears and punctures that covered his body, probing them with thick fingers. “Stop picking, you’ll mess up the ointment” The Voice commanded. He sighed, and folded his hands on his chest. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he spoke out loud to the voice in his head. “The girl, did she make it? “
“Krosa? Oh yeah, she’s fine. Made sure she got some dinner and had Kerti take her to her room. She’s currently pretty out of it but she’s tough. Once she gets some sleep and a bit of that calming curse magic, she should be good. She’s definitely picked up some skill since the last time I saw her, I’m getting a sense of some serious potential as a green mage. Could be…”
“If you were about to talk to me about hope, don’t bother. We both know what kind of fight we’re in, and what the ultimate end to this story is. Last night was close, tonight was closer, and it’s only getting worse. The curse is winning, and all we can do is delay the inevitable.” Yashik’s voice rumbled with irritation. “Potential she may have, but she put a cap on that potential when she stumbled into the curse. Her future is now as set as ours.”
“I haven’t given up yet and as long as I’m around you’re not allowed to either, so let's get you back on your feet, get you a snack from the kitchen, and get back to work.”
Sighing wearily and deciding not to argue, the Baron pulled himself to his feet, blood seeping from still-healing wounds. He winced as he experimentally rotated the shoulder that had been shredded by the mountain ape. It moved roughly, making sharp popping sounds as the still-damage tendons shifted around over partially knitted bones. He felt the joint dislocate, then pop back into place again, and resolved to not move that arm for a while yet.
Reaching out with his uninjured arm, he grasped the oversized axe that leaned against the wooden slab that he had been resting on. Holding the axe up, he met the eyes of the familiar face that appeared between the blades. “Alright, have it your way Skyrik. First snacks, then we’ll overthrow the forces of evil with the power of friendship.”
The shining silver metal shifted slightly into a grin. “I mean, hitting things really hard hasn’t worked for us so far, might as well try friendship. And unless she’s changed a lot since we were young, Krosa is a good friend to have. Did I ever tell you about that time I was supposed to finish a box of nails for a customer while Master Zalinz was out of town? I’d stuffed myself to bursting from a pie that Mrs Piroz had left unguarded, and ended up falling asleep behind the forge. Woke up in a panic, forge cold, not a single nail made. Krosa came by to see if I wanted to go look for interesting rocks by the stream, but when she saw the sorry state I was in, ended up helping me with my work instead. We got all the nails done, and she was the one who ended up in trouble for almost missing dinner and making her father worry.”
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Yashik slid the axe into a loop on his belt, and Skyrik’s voice in his head grew somber at the mention of Krosa’s father.
“I suppose we’ll have to tell her, sooner rather than later. About Polenach, I mean. I'm not looking forward to that.”
The Baron sighed as he stumped his way painfully out of the celler where he had been recuperating, and onto the main floor of the manor. Walking gingerly through the main hall, he was careful to avoid touching any of the many portraits and decorations there as he passed. In his youth, he had damaged many of the items in the castle just by touching them and not knowing his own strength. One the single occasion where he had been deliberately destructive, the one time he had let the rage and hopelessness of his situation fully express itself, an entire room had been destroyed.
Thinking of that room reminded him of his father, now long dead. The older Baron Zevir had been prone to fits of destructive rage even before the curse took hold, but had generally kept his rampages within careful limits out of what Yashik believed was genuine fear of the Baroness. Zevir had been a strong warrior, ruthless in battle and at home, with friend and foe alike.
The Baroness on the other hand, had exemplified the nature of green and growing things. Beautiful,vibrant, full of life and energy, but also with the same kind of cold calculating pragmatism of a poisonous flower. Deadly, if not treated with respect. Nurturing, but knowing that some of the best fertilizer comes from death. She was a powerful wielder of magic, and the relationship between her and her husband was a family arrangement, with little love lost between the two.
Tasuna Kampa, the Baroness Zevir, allowed her husband’s adventuring and warring, allowed him to take their vassals and retainers to war, allowed certain liberties in the home, but it was she who ruled the keep. She commanded the home guard, kept the peace, and sat in judgment. When the curse struck, it was her efforts that kept it from fulfilling its dark intent in full. She had pitted the magic of growing things against the dark corruption of all life that the Baron had brought home from his latest war.
She had restricted it, chained it to the castle grounds, and limited what it could do. Without her, every living thing in the forest would have become like the twisted fiends that ran in packs through the mountains. Instead, the trees and plants maintained as they had always been, and the humans had been changed into generally benign objects, incapable of leaving the keep. Unfortunately for Yashik, he shared blood with the original target of the dark magic, and she had been unable to do more for him than help him maintain his freedom of will and independence of mind .
Thoughts of his mother carried him into the great kitchen where once cheerful holiday feasts were prepared. A great pot of stew hung over the fire, a remnant of when any traveler or hungry visitor could get a warm meal by coming to the castle. After ladeling an enormous portion into a large mixing bowl, he proceeded out the back door of the kitchen and into his mother’s garden. He passed through the towering vegetable plants, twisting vines, rampant herbs, and scented fruits, on the way to the well that sat at the center of the large inner courtyard that had been the heart of his mother’s domain.
Sitting on a boulder, he slurped in stew and basked in the peaceful hum of insects and other small creatures that permeated the garden. He felt his soul calm as he meditated on the gently swaying leaves and stalks. Finally, he spoke, directing his voice and gaze to the imposing stand of vegetation that grew around the well. Thick, thorny vines curled around the ancient stone well that many speculated had been there since before the castle was built. Flowers bloomed haphazardly along its length, and tendrils extended in all directions, feeding into the bristling thorny covering that grew all over the walls and outer ditch of the castle.
“Good evening mother. I hope you are well, and I apologize for my extended absence. You know how it is, lots to do, monsters to kill, curses to..curse at.” He felt silent judgment coming from the axe at his side. He sighed. “I need your help. The curse is growing stronger, and I am not. It’s like the dark magic is adapting, changing to work within or around the restrictions you placed on it. The rate of change also seems to be accelerating, the range the creatures roam expanding. In other words, I have reached the limits of what I can do to control the horde. Simply slaughtering them is no longer enough. Every one we fell is replaced with five more, and soon ten more, until it grows too strong.”
A silent tear ran down the mottled skin of his face as he spoke, hands clenching and unclenching. The pit of constantly simmering rage that sat at his core threatened to burst forth in frustration, but he calmed it, breathing in the sweet scent that came from the flowers around the well.
“If we cannot hold it here, it will finally fulfill its original purpose, breaking free and spreading, consuming the village, consuming the whole province until it gains enough attention that those with the power to stop it finally take notice and act. And then, any that still live will be purged, our friends, our retainers, left to rot for eternity as the cursed objects they have become. Tell me, mother. Baroness, tell me. What do I do? How do I succeed at destroying what even you were only able to restrain?”
This was not the first time he had asked this question. He had spent hours of his life in the garden, speaking, silent, weeping as he begged for a solution or an answer. But he had always gotten the same response, and it was no different this time. At the edge of his perception, which was greater than almost any man or beast when it came to sights and sounds and smells of the real world, but could not penetrate into the magical realm, he sensed…something. The same hint of a whisper, brushing at the edges of his mind, speaking words he could not make out. He detected a sense of love, and comfort, and sadness, but nothing more. Never more.
He allowed his head to droop, and slid down to the ground. Resting his back against the boulder that he had been seated on, he closed his eyes, and slept.