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Tur Briste
161 - Death Vigil

161 - Death Vigil

Hic! Did ye know that beer was an accident? A twist of fate in which a farmer discovered it during bread making. Aye, if’n that man was ‘ere, I’d toast his selflessness! Hic! To accidents, may they bring ye good fortune!

~Goibniu, The God of the Forge and Brew

Otto pushed open the door to the only tavern in town, which was part of the Riverside Inn. The three-story building was part of the pier and made of large blocks of fitted stone. It looked low-key, but Crow could see that its construction was surprisingly sound.

The tavern itself was clean and well-lit but lacking in décor. Crow liked the plain setting and even the roughhewn tables and chairs. It had an ageless feeling as if it’d be around long after everyone in the room was dead and gone.

Otto sat at a table near a window that overlooked the river. The tables were long and meant to seat dozens of people, so sitting was communal. Crow joined him, and the barkeep brought over two flagons of warm ale. Otto down half his in one gulp, but Crow only took a sip. He never drank like this before because he constantly trained.

Neither of them talked, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was just how the two were, but Otto was different than when they were younger. Not only was he bigger, but his intelligence had increased a lot. Crow could see it in the big guy’s eyes. Even if it stifled his speech even further, there was a calm there that hadn’t been there previously.

“Food,” Otto called out, and the barkeep nodded. He pointed at the man, and Crow looked over. “Tankard. Name.”

“The barkeep’s name is Tankard?” Crow looked back at his brother and smiled. Otto grinned back and nodded. Not long later, a willow-haired waitress placed two plates on the table. She rested her hand on Otto’s shoulder and her body slightly pressed against him. Crow didn’t say anything but stared at his brother.

“Mine,” Otto said point-blank and wrapped an arm around her waist possessively. Crow finally lost it and burst out laughing.

“Whose yours? You big oaf, take your hands off me.” The waitress punched Otto, but there was no heat to it. She giggled and kissed the big guy on the cheek. Their relationship didn’t seem simple, but it was more friendly than deep.

Either way, Crow gave Otto a thumbs up while the big guy smiled cheekily. He was already aware of what Otto went through, so seeing the big guy doing well, Crow felt a sense of satisfaction. He worried about the big bastard.

While they were talking, several other guys about their age came in and sat down near them. Otto knew all of them, and the banter was fun. They included Crow in their joking, and before long, he felt the buzz of the alcohol.

“You two are brothers?” Marie, the waitress, asked.

“We are. I used to hate this big guy,” Crow joked. “So annoying, used to follow me around, learn martial skills faster than me—”

“Crybaby,” Otto chuckled, and the girl laughed along with him. The other guys their age at the table laughed at the two’s antics. All in and all, it was a rare moment of peace for Crow. It’d been a long time since he felt unburdened.

“Crow, I heard the pass collapsed. Did you come from the north?

“Naw, I came down the river on my trusty boat,” Crow laughed, but because he was a bit tipsy, he didn’t realize everyone went silent. “That damned bayou was filled with ghosts and a big white snake.”

“Crow! You came from the Cursed Grove?” The red-haired boy named Ralph asked. Crow liked him because he was the wildest of the bunch and told outrageous stories.

“I did.”

“Really? Did you see the infamous legendary White Snake?”

“Show you,” Otto said, stood up, and started to pull down his pants. The group burst out laughing, and even Crow couldn’t stop laughing.

After they settled down, they asked the question again.

“I killed it,” Crow stated, and everyone went silent. Even the other patrons were paying attention now.

“Hah! Brother best,” Otto laughed, not doubting Crow for a second.

“You shouldn’t boast so loudly, boy,” Tankard said, and Crow frowned at the displeased look on the man’s face.

“I don’t boast about stuff like that,” Crow replied to the silent tavern. “I was even on some island I called Ghost Isle, but don’t go there. The Wendigo is way above my level.”

Crow tried to joke a little to lighten the mood, but his comment caused the silence to become deafening. There were even a few sharp intakes of breath.

“If that is true, how did you escape?” Tankard sneered, not believing the story for a minute, even if Crow knew details most townspeople didn’t know.

“I killed Jude, the Wendigo’s owner,” Crow explained but didn’t want to talk about his technique, so fibbed slightly. “The Wendigo that was originally guarding the dock was gone after that bastard died, so I got in my boat and fled the island.”

“What you said is true?” This time, a white-haired woman came forward. Crow couldn’t take his eyes off the snow-white hair, which looked softer than a cloud. Her face was smooth as a young girl, but Crow noticed her eyes were that of an elder. This woman was not ordinary, and he was sure she was older than by at least a century. It was a feeling he got from her.

“By limb and root, everything I’ve said is true. I’ll warn you, not only is the Wendigo on that island, but the malevolent spirits roam freely now. A candle was the core of a formation keeping the ghosts there, and after I destroyed it, they were freed. Those ghosts were the ones that killed Jude. Once they took their revenge, they crossed over, and now nothing on the island prevents those spirits from roaming. They seem to be afraid of the water, though.”

“Can… do you… proof?” The woman slowly asked while trying to control her emotions. Crow thought about it and knew he couldn’t take out the skin. It was too large and wouldn’t fit in a standard Shield’s spatial storage. Even tipsy, he couldn’t afford to make mistakes like that. Eventually, he removed one of the snake’s fangs which were almost as tall as Crow. Everyone could feel the temperature drop the moment he brought it out. The fang itself was a treasure, but he felt these people were honest and wouldn’t trouble him over it.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“It was a Snowmoon Serpent,” Crow told them, not sure if they knew what it was or not.

“You really did it…” The woman dropped to her knees and tried to kowtow to Crow, who stopped her. Helping her back to her feet, he could feel her shaking, and when she looked up, crystal-like tears were rolling down her smooth face.

“Stop, please. I am not deserving of your bow. It wanted to kill me, so I killed it first,” Crow tried to explain.

“She is trying to thank you because that snake killed her sons. You’ve avenged them for her and undid a knot in her heart. She’s tried for many years to kill that thing,” Tankard said, his sour face was no longer present.

“You should know that thing was Jude’s contracted beast.”

“Tankard, all their expenses while in town are on me. Amy, if you are here, any supplies they need for their journey, charge me.” The woman spoke softly, but everyone listened to her, and no one dared contradict her. “Crow was it? Buy the entire store if you want, don’t be humble or shy. Even if you want my life, I’ll give it to you.”

“Kid, you might not know what you’ve done, but you did our town a huge service. As you aptly named it, Ghost Isle is a forbidden zone that we’ve been forced to avoid because of that snake. We used to get our supplies by traveling upriver, and it only took a few days to reach the next town, but since the snake arrived, we’ve had to go around the Cursed Grove, which takes nearly two months.”

“Your brother is really capable,” Marie whispered to Otto.

“Thank you, Crow. You kids enjoy yourself,” the woman said as she turned to leave. Her posture gave away the grief in her heart. Crow frowned while staring at her departing back. Noise picked up after she left. Everyone began discussing what Crow did and telling stories about the serpent that terrorized their town.

He did not know the Snowmoon Serpent had such a sordid history. Some still bore the wounds of their encounters. During the cold periods, when the northern winds brought snow, the serpent would even come down the river to eat livestock and attack people that were unlucky enough to be nearby.

Crow had wondered why a small town like this used cobbled stone instead of wood for the walls. Even though the serpent could go over the wall, it left it vulnerable, so it rarely attempted to do so.

Despite all that, Crow whispered something to Otto, who just nodded, and then left the tavern. He chased after the white-haired woman and arrived at the local cemetery.

“My boys were not much older than you,” she said after a time. Crow didn’t reply because there wasn’t much he could say. “The oldest one was like you, quiet and respectful. He wasn’t the fighter the younger one was and honestly preferred reading a book under the apple tree in our garden. He learned to fight because he knew that this world wasn’t kind to the weak.”

“I sympathize with that more than you know,” Crow said softly. “The first man I killed still haunts me. I thought he was a friend, but in the end, he chose benefits over my life.”

The woman watched Crow silently as the boy spoke. Once he was done, she became curious. “Are you haunted by ghosts, or do they acknowledge you?”

“Is there a difference?” Crow kept his voice low because he felt a cemetery was not a place to be loud or disrespectful.

“Haunting means they wish to do you harm.”

“Then I guess they acknowledge me. After freeing them on the island, they all surrounded me and bowed before moving on.”

“It seems that the spiritual path is chosen for you. I’m like you. It is why my hair is this color. I’ve never told the villagers here, but I was once an elder of Naofa.”

Crow chuckled and then laughed, unable to stop himself. It might have been bordering on hysterical, but it was like the heavens were mocking him.

“Are you ridiculing me?” The woman frowned.

“Sorry. A few years ago, I was cursed with Soul Burn…” Crow explained his story. “So I tried to find the Naofa within the Basement, but to no avail. And after all the troubles and trials I’ve been through, I finally find one of its members.”

“That’s a true story? Who was cruel enough to cast Soul Burn on a Shieldless boy?”

“Blood Ember Sect.”

“Ah. It seems you’ve recovered?”

“No, the curse is there still, but a series of fortunate events helped. Its power is now part of my strength.”

“Hah. Fate is fickle,” the woman sighed.

“I wouldn’t know. It’s abandoned me.”

This time, the woman couldn’t help but stare at Crow with her jaw practically on the ground. She finally understood how tumultuous this kid’s life was. It even explained how he landed in the Cursed Grove. It was hard to believe anyone could be that unlucky, but now she didn’t doubt it. Her Shield flared brightly in the darkness, and in her hand was a silvery token but was too clear to be real silver. Crow wasn’t sure what the material was but knew it was rare.

Crow hesitated to take the token, mainly because Naofa was an austere sect that should not be underestimated. Based on what Mugna told him, the sect might be older than the Druid Order. However, few things existed as long as the Draoidh, the original order. In the end, he took the object and felt a warm surge of energy from within.

“When you reach the fifty-fourth floor, put some of your mana into that, and you’ll locate the Naofa. They’ll honor the token, but it’s best if you don’t know my name. Using your Mana Sense, if fate—err, you know what I mean—allows it, you’ll discover our foundational cultivation method. There are also a few techniques hidden inside. You can be considered my in-name disciple. It isn’t enough to repay my debt to you.”

“Why are you giving me this? I mean, beyond the obvious.”

“If you know my sect’s name, then you know we specialize in holy techniques and mana. You have a strong Spirit. If I’m not mistaken, you have no cultivation method for Spirit, correct?” Crow nodded, and she smiled in return. “If you continue to cultivate just your Mind and Body, you’ll become unbalanced. Isn’t that what your Awen teaches you?”

“You know I’m a Druid?”

“It’s your eyes. Those golden flecks of light give you away. Your outfit is unique, too. Now I have a question for you. Why did you follow me?”

“I… think I wanted to offer solace. No one should have to grieve alone.”

Tears rolled down the woman’s face, but Crow wasn’t sure what to say to comfort her, so he stood silently beside her with the moon overhead. The light provided by the bright orb was enough to light up the tombstones before them.

“The villagers know of my power and fear me. They struggle to treat me like a person and raise me up to be something I’m not,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t even save my own children.”

Crow felt his eyes watering, hearing her heart-rending sobs. His breathing was erratic as he tried to control his emotions but seeing a mother grieving for her children had a powerful impact on him. Subconsciously, he fingered the scars on his palm.

The woman had no intention of leaving as the moon kept moving across the sky. Crow knew she was officially laying her loved ones to rest and that she was performing a traditional Death Vigil. Something his people didn’t practice, but he’d read that many of the older sects and clans still practiced it. Usually, it was performed the night the body was prepared and laid to rest. However, since she didn’t have their corpses, all she had were these tombstones. Now that the beast that killed her children was dead, she let go.

As the sun started to rise, Crow decided to ask a question that had been bothering him.

“If you are strong, why weren’t you able to kill the Snowmoon Serpent?”

She looked over, her face looked haggard, but her tears had tried long ago.

“When are beasts at their weakest?”

“Ah,” Crow said. “You think it laid an egg?” It made sense. A beast egg absorbed its mother’s energy and talent when it was born, so it was at its weakest for a few days following such an event. It honestly was probably the only explanation that made sense.

“I do. Otherwise, even ten thousand of you would have been able to kill that thing. It almost killed me twice, but I’ve fought it at least twenty times over the last two years. I wasn’t strong enough. It seems karma brought you to me. Thank you for all that you’ve done.”

Crow nodded and turned and left. When he reached the gate to exit the cemetery, he heard her last words that she probably hadn’t meant for him to hear.

“I will repay this kindness.”

Outwardly, he acted like he didn’t hear her. Inwardly, he told himself that there were some debts a person should never collect on.