CHAPTER 3.5 GOREY SHADOWS
“Do not make peace with Evil; destroy it. Destroy it before it takes everything and everyone. When the Hellkyn and their thralls come with honeyed words and silken overtures, greet them with Fire and Iron! Only through strength of mind and strength of body can we find peace. Never forget and never forgive those who’d compromise with the Darkness.” Collected Speeches of The Accuser. (Dated the Fourteenth of Stormthaw, 492 Fourth Epoch.)
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It had been two days and two nights since the encounter with the bandits. Cole and Natalie continued their trek west, following the tesselating bricks of the Imperial road. The weather had changed from near-constant snowfall to bleak sunlight filtered through high clouds. Neither traveler was much pleased by the shift. Natalie found the sun reflecting off the snow blinding and irritating. While Cole felt exposed without the shroud of winter to obscure their passage. This contributed to the low mood shared between them.
Shedding living blood and wrestling a frenzied Natalie had brought up far too many ugly memories for Cole. Putting cracks in the mental wall he put up around his past. The ugly life and deaths of the Homunculus Knight were not things Cole liked to think about. Natalie, for her part, was distant, jittery, and guilt-ridden. Her lessons had started in earnest with Isabelle, and they had been less than pleasant so far. Cole knew something had changed but didn’t know exactly what. He’d tried and failed to breach the subject thrice so far. Each time earning a cool non-answer from the distracted Natalie.
The distance between the two was growing with each step down the road. With neither knowing how to fix it. Something about that scared Cole more than every nightmare he’d faced. Staring off into the middle-distance, he wrestled with his feelings. Natalie’s presence and affection had warmed part of his heart so cold he hadn’t even realized it still existed. For a few precious moments, he hadn’t felt alone anymore. Now that flame was fading, and Cole had no bloody idea how to stop it. That threat, the idea of being alone again, terrified Cole.
Grappling this problem internally, Cole kept trying to breach the subject again, but no configuration of words sounded right. Leaving him grasping for a solution to a problem he didn’t truly understand. All while Natalie buried herself under a mountain of secrets and mired in self-loathing. Unable to reconcile her involvement with Isabelle and her commitment to Cole.
So they traveled like this, stuck in the silent hell of the distant and disturbed. The monotony of step after step is broken by a few simple words and little else. Until the wind shifted and Natalie caught a strange scent. “Smoke, I smell smoke and lots of it,” she murmured.
Cole turned to say something to her, but a sudden cold yank on his chest stopped him. It felt like an icy hand had gripped his heart and pulled it down the road. Putting a hand to his chest, Cole cursed. “Something’s happening. I doubt it's anything good.”
Nodding in unspoken agreement, the duo started down the road with new haste. Between Natalie’s nose and Cole’s god-touch, finding their target wasn’t difficult. A column of thin gray smoke billowed up over the horizon, and with it came the smell of fire and death. A worrying marker of where they needed to go. It took them another hour to reach their destination. Cutting off the road through snowy fields towards the smoldering remains of a destroyed farm.
A blackened skeleton of charred timber marked where a barn once stood. While a smoking farmhouse stood nearby. Its thatch roof long burned away, and its last wooden innards still smoldering in the late afternoon sunlight. The cold-blunted smell of dead flesh flavored the smokey air, an unmistakable scent of burned and spoiled meat. Cole stepped over to a snow-covered lump and brushed away the powder dusting. The dead body of a hound lay before him. The lean creature’s fur was matted with frozen blood, and its glassy eyes stared up blankly. Cole shut the beast's eyes and looked back to where Natalie stood nearby.
Natalie had moved over to the barn and looked at its burned husk. While the style was different, the basic layout of the farm was similar to the few she’d visited near Glockmire. A similarity that brought a pang of homesickness to her already beleaguered soul. In the ash and soot-stained timber that might have once been a barn door was a blackened skeleton. Or at least part of one. There was no sign of its limbs, and its ribs were split open. Cole approached her, looking at the skeleton.
“What happened here?” asked Natalie, glancing around the ruined homestead and pushing back memories of Glockmire and Lungu.
Cole leaned down and looked at the ground near the stable. Patches of disturbed snow and ash-smeared gravel started to tell a worrying picture. A number of large creatures had left the barn before it burned, their tracks obscured but still faintly detectable in the snow. Looking to the barn, Cole picked up a rock and stepped into the ruined structure. Flicking his wrist, Cole threw the stone up towards the hay loft and the main post supporting the barn’s roof. With a crunch and a clatter, the stone fell back, followed by a puff of ash and a dirty hunk of metal.
Picking up the piece of iron, Cole held it up to Natalie. It was a horseshoe, and a large one at that. “Farmers often put old ones up high as a luck charm. The larger the shoe, the more luck it can catch. This one belonged to a War Horse judging by the size.”
Leaving the barn, Cole looked back at the faint tracks and dropped the old horseshoe into the snow. He couldn’t be certain since multiple days had passed in bad conditions, but Cole guessed the shoe’s former owner had made some of these tracks. “A good horse is valuable, especially for those on the run.”
Getting what Cole implied, Natalie looked at the burned farm with new disgust. “You think those bandits did this?”
Cole shrugged, “it's a reasonable guess. Do you smell anything familiar?”
Natalie shook her head in the negative. “No, just death and smoke. Lots of death and smoke.”
Narrowing his eyes, Cole quickly walked back to the dead dog and looked around the farm for similar lumps. Finding none, he moved over to the still-smoking farmhouse. It was a large building for the area. Easily twice the size of what Natalie remembered from near Glockmire. Cole quickly ducked his head inside the building and looked around. Leaving with an annoyed cough as the smoke found his lungs, Cole started moving towards the farm's other side. Head bobbing back and forth like a bloodhound on the trail.
Confused, interested, and a little bit worried, Natalie followed after the skulking Paladin. She found him on the other side of the building, staring out at the white field before them. Even to Natalie’s untrained eyes, what he found was obvious. A ragged trail cut through the snow as if a small crowd had cut across the field, all moving in the same direction. Cole had his hand on his amulet and let out an unusual oath. “Fixed Stars.”
Unsheathing his axe, Cole looked back at Natalie, a worried expression on his face. “This was a large Farmstead. Probably home to a successful family, a retired soldier by the looks of things, and a dozen or more field hands. I’ve found evidence of violence but only one body. I doubt those bandits took the time to consecrate their victims. Probably stealing any valuables, including the horses, and torching the rest to cover their tracks. Maybe thinking that was enough.”
Gesturing out at the field and the tracks, he continued. “It clearly wasn’t. There are probably close to twenty Ghouls moving as a herd. That might be enough to overwhelm another farmstead. From then it will just get worse and worse. I need to clean-cut this before the rot spreads.”
Clicking her teeth together in worry, Natalie asked. “Twenty ghouls? That shouldn’t be that bad to deal with, right?”
Cole’s momentary silence was all the answer she needed, but he elaborated anyway. “If they were normal ghouls, not at all. But I don’t think these are. They reanimated too quickly, and the tracks are strange. Moving too quickly and too much in concrete. I think these are Grinners.”
Seeing her confusion, Cole waved a hand towards the tracks. “Grinning Ghouls. Faster, smarter, and deadlier. They can quickly overrun entire villages if not dealt with quickly.”
Natalie had heard of Grinners and even seen some during the Plague and Breach but hadn’t known the correct term for them. Which, in retrospect, should have been obvious. Considering the undead’s signature rictus smile. Of course, the people of Glockmire hadn’t bothered with clear labels, just calling them ‘The fast ones,’ Which was enough to describe the nightmarishly quick Undead who swarmed over people like starving wolves.
Turning his axe into a pole-axe, Cole asked Natalie. “How are you on blood? We are going to move fast and probably jump right into a fight.”
“I’ve got a good amount. Let's go.” was her answer. She still had the glut of blood taken from the two bandits at her disposal.
They dashed off into the field after the herd of Grinning Ghouls. Following Cole’s example, Natalie unsheathed her shortsword. While Isabelle had promised to train her in its use, their two lessons had focused on other skills, and Natalie had no faith in using the weapon. But she considered swinging it like a bladed club a better option than using her hands and mouth to fight rotting Ghouls. She also pulled out the squirrel's skull. Natalie was more confident in using that to fight but somehow doubted it would prove particularly useful.
Dashing through the snowy plains, Cole and Natalie were both reminded of their unpleasant forced march after leaving Glockmire. Neither tried to dwell on that comparison as they pushed forward. After nearly two hours of following the trail, more structures came into sight. A windmill and a few surrounding hovels cut up the monotony of white fields. Even in the calm weather, the windmill's great sails turned. A slow creaking waltz of groaning stone and worn wood.
Weapons raised, Cole and Natalie exchanged glances and approached the miniscule settlement. No sound other than the mill greeted them. But the smell of fresh death more than compensated. Black patches of half-frozen blood slicked the ground, and the acrid stink of torn innards colored the air. Slowly, with his weapon at the ready, Cole swept between hovels. Checking for signs of life, death, or undeath.
No bodies, just more signs of violence and little else. As Cole crept closer to the windmill, a wet bubbling growl caught his ears. Sitting in the mill's doorway was a ragged-looking sheepdog. The creature had noticed him and was building up to a loud bark. Cole paused and looked at the Dog. Nasty-looking bites covered its flank, and fresh blood dribbled out onto the wooden floor the Dog lay on. Black gore covered the hound's muzzle, and its eyes were fevered. Stepping closer to the Windmill, Cole watched the Dog carefully. Its presence concerned and befuddled him. The Ghouls had obviously attacked, but somehow this lone dog had survived. That did not make much sense.
Pole-Axe leveled, Cole, stepped closer, provoking a series of snarling barks from the Dog. The Canine tried to stand up but only managed to drag itself forward a bit. Trembling limbs unable to support its wounded bulk. Natalie hung back slightly, glancing around the Millstead, expecting an ambush. Skull in one hand, sword in the other, Natalie felt like she was being watched.
Cole reached the entrance of the windmill, keeping the Dog at weapons-length but close enough to see inside the Mill. Blood, both red and black, covered the Mill floor. While the crude wood and stone machinery of the Mill trundled on, uncaring of the carnage decorating its home. The Dog’s barks became more frantic, yipping pained snarls.
A flicker of motion caught Natalies attention, and she looked up to the Windmills top. Something hung from a window in the Windmills cap. A rotting corpse leaning out of the Mill and just about ready to fall. Eyes widening in surprise, Natalie yelled, “COLE!”
The Paladin spun to her just as the corpse plummeted. It fell the twenty-meter drop and smashed into Cole with a sickening crunch. The impact knocked Cole right off his feet, and the two bodies became entangled in a thrashing pile of limbs and cloth. Cole’s Pole-Axe went skittering away, knocked from his grip. The Corpse’s mouth spread open in a rigor mortis smile as it snapped at the stunned Paladin’s flesh. Cole got his arms between him and the revealed Ghoul and tried to push it away. But he lacked leverage and strength. The Grinning Ghouls' ambush had knocked the wind from him and left Cole struggling to breathe. Blood-stained teeth lunged for his throat, and it took all of Cole’s effort to shove the thrashing Grinner back.
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Natalie charged forward, her sword at the ready. She faltered as no clear avenue of attack showed itself. The thrashing pair were stuck in a close ugly grapple. She couldn’t just stick her blade into the mess and hope for the best. Even if Cole could survive, or well, revive from such an accident, they didn’t have the time to waste on his resurrection. So she did the only thing she could.
Natalie hurled the Squirrel skull at the Ghoul. As it flew through the air, she spat out the crude incantation she’d made with Isabelle’s help. “Biter, Biter! BITER! I call yee!”
A small sigil Natalie had carved upon the skull’s forehead flared red, and gray smoke poured from the skull. In less than a second, the smoke congealed into a shape. An ethereal squirrel with bones made of red light. Partially translucent, the Squirrel-thing’s flesh and bones faded in and out of existence. Its skull the only thing composed of true matter.
Natalie’s aim was true and her Undead Familiar latched onto the Ghoul's back. With a mental command, she got the Squirrel to scamper up to the Ghoul's face and start biting and tearing at its eyes and mouth. The surprised Ghoul reached to its face, trying to remove the distraction. Giving Cole the moment he needed to roll away. Scrambling to his feet, Cole grabbed his Pole-Axe and turned back to his foe. The Squirrel had shredded the Ghoul's face, its rodent dexterity put to good work.
Barely pausing to process the bizarre sight, Cole charged the Grinner and swung his Pole-Axe in a wide sweep. Dwarven steel and Homunculus strength lopped the Grinner's head off. The headless corpse collapsed, and its head tumbled to the ground next to it. Scratching his thumb, Cole pulled out his spark-stone and launched a gout of fire at both body and head. The Squirrel Familiar just barely leaping away from the flames. Scuttling back to its mistress on phantasmal limbs.
Cole sucked in deep breaths and looked at the Squirrel and then up at a very guilty-looking Natalie. Narrowing his eyes, he spoke softly, barely loud enough to be heard over the creaking windmill. “That… is a Bone-Bound Familiar. A potent bit of Necromancy. Would you please explain how and why it exists, Natalie?”
His tone was perfectly calm and unfailingly polite, but Natalie stopped breathing at his words. The steel-hard and winter-cold undercurrent to his words startled her out of the habit. Cole was asking her not as a friend or lover but as a Paladin.
Looking away from Cole’s hard eyes and down at the familiar she’d so creatively named Biter. Natalie told the truth, or at least part of it. “I’ve been having dreams recently. Dreams of other Vampires, dead Vampires. They’ve been teaching me things. How to use my powers effectively.”
Cole didn’t respond. Leaving a cold silence between them. Wincing, Natalie tried to muster up the courage to tell the full truth. To say who exactly had been teaching her. But that idea scared her even more than anything. She’d lied to protect Cole; that's what she told herself. But at that moment, she was forced to admit the truth. Natalie was afraid to be alone. She was afraid if Cole was given the option to pick between his original lover or her replacement, she’d lose the one bit of stability and happiness left.
Sucking in useless lungfuls of air, Natalie wrestled with her emotions and words. This had grown into a massive mess because of her own foolishness, and she couldn’t even confess properly. “I was scared of how you’d react. I know it's stupid, but I didn’t want to lose you. I…I don’t want to be alone in all of this.”
Cole became very still at her words. His own fears were bitterly reflected in Natalie’s words. Shrinking and sheathing his axe, Cole walked toward Natalie. Gently he held out a hand and took hers into his own. “Look at me, Natalie,” he murmured, pulling her eyes from the ground.
Lip trembling, the closest she could come to crying without feeding, Natalie looked at Cole. She expected anger but not the saddened disappointment she saw there. Which was somehow worse. Squeezing her hand gently, Cole let out a pained sigh.
“I know you are suffering. You’ve lost much and fear losing more. But please, PLEASE trust me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to abandon you. So no more lies, no more secrets. Alright?”
That broke Natalie, she wept, but no tears came. A dry parody of grief. Cole let go of her hand and embraced Natalie. His arms wrapped around her frame and nestled her close. Gently in his rumbling voice, he murmured. “No more secrets.”
Enjoying the warmth of his embrace, Natalie swallowed back her sobs and licked her lips. He was right. No more secrets. It was time to tell him about Isabelle. “Cole, I-”
A loud snarling bark startled both of them. Breaking the embrace, they whirled back to Windmill. The dog had dragged itself out of Mill’s doorway and sat next to the smoldering Ghoul Corpse. Its blood-flecked muzzle spat a few more bubbling barks at the pair. Cole looked at the Dog, circled around it, and went towards the Windmill. The Dog followed him with its head but refused to move from its new place. Cole stepped into the Windmill and looked around.
The trapdoor leading to the structure's second floor was shut, its ladder pulled up. Taking advantage of his great height, Cole reached up and pressed his hands onto the trap door. It barely budged. Something very, very heavy had been put on top of it. Leaving the structure, he returned to the dead Ghoul, placing it between him and the growling Dog. Getting closer to the body, Cole looked at its arms and legs. The clothes were torn, and ugly bites were visible on the Corpses’ forearms.
Nodding to himself, Cole retrieved the ghoul’s severed head and placed it next to the body's neck. Looking at the snarling dog, Cole noted its bloody paws and numerous bites before speaking. “Your master was a good one, wasn’t he?”
Setting down his pack, Cole pulled out some pyre-wine. Natalie stepped up behind him and asked. “What did you find?”
Letting a drop fall on both body and head. Cole watched as the smoldering body quickly caught flame. The Dog didn’t shy away from the flames, just watching them for a moment before letting out a mournful howl. Watching the pitiable display, Cole answered Natalie.
“I can’t know for certain, but I think this poor fellow survived the initial attack by hiding in the Windmill's upper levels with his dog. But he’d been bit, badly too, by the looks of it. With no medicine or magic, he was doomed. The Grinners left, and he knew once he turned, his Dog was also doomed. So he left the poor thing downstairs and locked himself up high to protect it from himself.”
The dog in question stared at his master's burning body with glazed eyes. “A pointless tragedy, all of this. I doubt the dog will live to see dusk.” Cole remarked. “But the Grinners must not be far. We might be able to catch them before the next attack.”
Looking around the Millstead, Natalie asked. “How many Grinners will there be?”
Cole grimaced and looked to the tracks leaving the settlement. “Thirty or forty easily. This will not be easy.”
Tentatively, Natalie looked at the dying dog and back to Cole. “Could… Could I maybe help?”
Cole glanced back at her and saw the nervous tension on her face. “What did you have in mind? You are stronger than a Grinner and aren’t at risk from their bites. That should be enough to help destroy the herd.”
Natalie stepped toward the Dog and chose her words carefully. “My Squirrel would be helpful; you’ve seen that. But another familiar might be more useful.” glancing down at the sickly creature, she remarked. “It seems cruel to leave him to die here, and like you said, this is a waste. What if I could help even the odds and help this creature avenge its master?”
Natalie was surprised by her own boldness. The words seemed to flow out of her faster than she could think of them. Something about creating another familiar felt right. It scratched some itch she never knew existed. A Vampire's urge to grow an army surfacing with the opportunity.
In that iron-calm voice Cole used when acting as a Paladin, he rebuked her. “I cannot let you enslave this creature's soul Natalie. Even if it is a simple animal, it deserves to rest.”
Natalie vigorously shook her head in contrition. “No, no, nothing like that. I would just use its remains and its Hollow.”
Surprised, Cole asked. “Hollow?”
Natalie quickly explained. “Imagine a person is a jug of water. The flesh is the jug, and the soul is the water. When you die, the soul is dumped out, but a little bit of moisture clings to the jug. That's a Hollow. Trace elements of a soul I can use to make a more effective familiar.”
Letting out a slow breath, Cole answered. “I see. You wouldn’t actually be using the Dog’s soul, correct?”
Nodding quickly, Natalie stepped closer to the rapidly weakening dog. “Yes, and I can get the Hollow easily enough. This poor thing is already dying. I’ll just be easing its passage.”
Speaking so softly, Natalie could only hear it because of her enhanced senses; Cole agreed. “Do it if you must.”
Looking at the stoney-faced Paladin, Natalie nodded weakly. Kneeling down next to the dying animal, Natalie made a shushing noise as she lowered her face to it. Before the Dog could react, Natalie sank her fangs into its throat. She injected her full complement of venom into the animal, hoping to remove its pain. Then she drank, killing the dog and consuming a tiny scrap of its Soul.
Feeling the little bit of stolen life enter her, Natalie unsheathed her shortsword and her carving knife. With a single clean motion, she cut the Dog’s head off and set it in front of her. Wincing slightly, she forced herself to not apologize to the corpse. Setting her weapon down, she held up her artisan's tool. Jabbing her finger with its tip, she covered its point with Vampire blood and got to work.
Whispering strange words of a dead language, Natalie carved a symbol into the Dog’s forehead. For this type of ritual work, Isabelle had told her to make up her own unique sigil. It hadn’t been hard for Natalie. She simply reused her artist's mark. A pair of looping ram's horns outlining a Cat’s eyes. Now with an added loop at the center representing a drop of blood. As she carved, Natalie kept thinking how this was just like her normal art. She wasn’t carving through flesh but through green bark. Her knife wasn’t etching bone but a tree’s solid heart. The lie helped, just a smidge.
Hands coated in dried blood, Natalie finished. Holding up the skull, she whispered. “At a Mill, you were found. After a Mill, you shall be named. Grist is your name. At my call, you shall answer.”
Natalie’s ritual sigil glowed bright red, and Natalie felt the consumed Hollow flow from her along a magical bridge into the severed head. The great pool of blood in Natalie’s soul shrunk as her power fed the ritual and created her second familiar. As the sigil became more intense, Bloody flames started to leak from it. Grimacing, Natalie had to resist the urge to drop the head. The flames spread out, consuming the Dog’s flesh and leaving polished bone behind. Gingerly, Natalie set the cleaned skull down and called upon her new familiar.
“Grist, Grist! GRIST! I call upon yee.”
Red light and gray smoke bled from the skull, and soon the phantom shape of a Sheep Dog stood in front of her. The undead creation looked at its corpse and that of its former master. Then looked up at Natalie. It cocked its head to the right and then licked her fingers with a tongue made of icy fog. Getting back to her feet, Natalie looked at Cole.
His expression was completely neutral, and Natalie could almost see the mental barriers coming up inside him. Wincing, she looked back down at Grist and said. “Let's go.”
Cole nodded, and the Bone-Bound Familiar trotted off in the direction of the Grinner's trail. Natalie turned to follow it, but Cole set a strong hand on her shoulder. Wobbling under the phantom weight, his hand added to her back. Natalie went perfectly still.
In a sad murmur, Cole said. “When the Ghouls are dealt with, we will need to talk.”
Without turning to look at him, Natalie nodded in agreement and went after her Familiar. For a second, Cole watched them both and looked back at the bodies of Dog and Man. “I’m sorry. Sleep well and awake in a better life.”
Following Natalie, Cole set his jaw. She wasn’t telling him everything. He knew that now. A Bone-Bound Familiar is a complicated piece of magic created by an Atredian Vampire long since dead. Isabelle’s sire. While her Sire had certainly taught others that unique piece of Necromancy, the number was small. And it was possible Glockmire might have learned it. Or maybe the ritual wasn’t created but rediscovered, having roots back to the Alukah’s era. Believable, if flimsy explanation that crumbled under the next bit of evidence. The term ‘Hollow.’
Cole had never told Natalie about Isabelle’s research. How she explored the mechanics of souls in ways no other scholar had. It had been Isabelle who coined the term Hollow and learned how to use the spiritual residue to bolster spells. Potent magical secrets that had died with her. No one had inherited Isabelle’s knowledge, not even Cole. He only understood the most basic principles, not the actual ritual work involved. But Natalie had cast them expertly like she’d learned them directly from Isabelle herself.
Reaching back to his pack and the familiar lump of Isabelle’s skull, Cole knew the truth. Isabelle had contacted Natalie and was teaching her magic. Natalie had hoped to hide this from him, but Isabelle was clever. She’d taught Natalie something that gave the secret away. A message in a bottle only Cole would recognize.
He should have been angry. At the betrayal and lies from Natalie. And those emotions were there but hidden. Buried under another far more powerful and shameful reaction. Cole was afraid. Isabelle was strong enough to reach out and teach Natalie, but hadn’t made contact with him. Why send a subtle message instead of just speaking to him like she had in the past. Something about this whole situation stunk, and it worried him. Forcing him to consider a possibility he’d never let himself dwell upon.
Isabelle’s soul, or at least part of it, had clung to her skull. Trapped for twelve years after a particularly horrible death. Persisting by feeding on Cole in some process he didn’t fully understand. But while she survived, had her sanity? Had the good he’d helped foster in her? Or was there nothing left but the Monster both Cole and Isabelle feared she could become?
Shutting his eyes for a second and unsheathing his axe, Cole focused on its comforting weight. Those questions could wait. He had a duty to fulfill. The Grinners needed to be stopped. Then he could worry about the two monsters he loved.