“We must make notes,” Alice suddenly whispered, drawing attention to herself. “If we’re going to forget everything, we ought to write it all down... Write it with ink or charcoal on your hand if you have to, just write it down somewhere.”
“Great idea!” Mary exclaimed. “Ash, make us some coal.”
Yawning, Ash touched a nearby stool with his staff and turned it into coal in a matter of seconds. Having waited for the chunks to cool down, everyone reached for a piece and started writing notes on their hands. Ash followed their example, hiding his hand so that no one could see what he was writing.
“No!” someone yelled, voice full of horror and despair.
The Stumps jerked in surprise, and the trio just huddled closer together. If Ash could feel, he’d be feeling pity for them now, knowing that they’d never again have the courage or will to set off on another adventure.
Getting up, the group approached the door and peered into the hallway. Lari immediately covered Alice’s eyes and pushed her back into the room. He didn’t want to leave the girl alone or let her see things she was not yet ready for.
Two corpses were lying on the floor. The only thing that could be said about them was that they were that of a male and a female. Their clothes were torn, guts spilled, and faces mauled beyond recognition. A crowd had begun to gather around; some summoned the guards while the others called for the duke.
Tul, displaying the Stump’s coat of arms, approached the crime scene. Crouching down, he examined the bodies carefully. His sharp, experienced eyes didn’t miss the brown hairs that were scattered here and there in the pool of blood, nor the gashes left by claws, nor the shape of the wounds themselves. Without a hint of disgust on his face, he leaned closer to the corpses, wishing to take an even better look.
“What do you think, Tul?” Mary asked, squatting down next to him. “A wolf?”
“No.” The archer shook his head. “The wounds are too deep and too long. Wolves don’t have such claws. They gnaw at the throat or sinews... These aren’t corpses someone had fed on; this is minced meat.”
“A wolverine then?” Blackbeard suggested.
“I don’t think so. A bear, I’d say. But do you know how rare they are in these parts of the country?”
“How big was this beast?”
“Huge,” Tul muttered, running his fingers along the broken ribs of one of the victims. “See how the wound goes from the bottom up? A bear usually puts its weight on the victim, presses it down, and attacks. The wounds would look different if it was a bear... This beast intended to kill quickly.”
The clanking of armor and duke’s shouts could be heard from the stairs. Ash hurried to ask some questions of his own before they were interrupted.
“Mary, do corpses always come in pairs?”
“According to the notes that those three had written... Yes. Always in pairs.”
“Oh? They have their own notes?” Ash asked thoughtfully and then smiled carelessly. “I’ll go take a look.”
Walking into the room, he patted Alice, who was still shaking from fear, on the head. Lari had done his best to calm the little girl. She was accustomed to going through dark caves and forests and fighting with monsters. She was afraid of no beast, but people, dead or alive, made her heart tremble with terror.
Ash sat down and hit the floor with his staff. Scrolls, books, and pieces of parchment from all over the room immediately flew to him. Having gathered them all on his lap, he started reading. He needed but a few more pieces in order to solve this riddle and figure out how to get rid of the curse.
More precisely, who he needed to kill in order to return everything to normal.
To say that he was happy about the fact that they’d have to kill someone would be a lie. However, if they didn’t break the curse and get to the Fiery Mountains, the princess would die from the fever. What was more important? The life of a child or that of a werewolf? He was no God to judge, but Ash was given an order and he had decided to fulfill it.
Back in the hallway, the duke and the duchess were having a heated argument and trying to calm the people down. The guards carried away the corpses, while the marquis tried to shield his beloved from the horrible sight. Mary was trying to convince them that she and her group would find and take care of the culprit and urged everyone to get somewhere safe and keep a low profile. The crowd shouted, arguing and discussing what to do, unaware that they had been reliving this for almost a month now and that they’d forget everything by evening and return to their endless feast.
The moment the clock hit midnight and the feast began once again, the castle would take a step back in time, putting these canaries back into their gilded cage.
Chapter 21
T hat evening
“Cursed castle or not... This is good grub,” Blackbeard grumbled through a mouth full of porridge, baked potatoes with bay leaves, and juicy mutton with pickled mushrooms. He chased it all down with a goblet full of semi-sweet, red wine.
“Aye!” Lari nodded, enthusiastically chewing a duck in honey sauce, stuffed with apples.
Tul wasn’t lagging behind the two, stuffing his face with pork and beef at an incredible speed. Not bothering himself with following the etiquette, he held a stake by the bone, spraying fat and juices around. Alice and Mary did their best to behave, cutting their food into manageable pieces, but it was obvious that they would’ve plunged their teeth into the meat had they been given a chance.
Music was playing, guests were laughing and dancing...
“Ash, wanna try a chicken leg in cheese sauce?” Blackbeard asked, shoving a plate of meat and vegetables under the mage’s nose. Feeling that it wasn’t becoming any lighter, he tore his gaze off his plate. Looking at the empty chair next to him, he noticed that something was written on his forearm in charcoal. As soon as he read the note, the tray fell out of his hands and his eyes became the size of plates.
Swallowing hard, he was about to say something when he was interrupted by a loud shout that overpowered the hubbub of the hall.
“A toast!”
Ash, leaping onto one of the tables, was getting ready to hold a speech. The duchess gave him a glare but allowed him to speak nonetheless. She was certain that the guests would protest if she were to shoo him away.
“Tonight,” Ash began, walking with his arms outstretched, casually stepping over dishes and heads laid upon the table. “We’ve gathered here to honor this lovely couple! I’ve no doubt that everyone knows about the courage of the Marquis of Soya!”
The crowd cheered and clapped, some even mentioned stories about hunts and balls, at which the marquis demonstrated his other “skills.” The young man blushed and looked anxiously at his wife, but she pretended not to hear these remarks.
“There’s no one, and I mean no one, as beautiful as the baroness... Pardon, the Marquise D’Lamani! No, wait, wait... The Marchioness of Soya!”
The crowd roared and clapped louder, while Ash observed as the duchess’s face grew gloomier with every word.
“I have visited many countries,” he continued, addressing the crowd. “On the hills of Amarian I found a fairy imprisoned in a tower! Lost in the Crystal Forest, I danced with the elven princess! On the Amadeus Mountains, I shared a bottle of wine with the Lamia of the Air. And let me tell you, none of those fine ladies can compare to any of you! Oh, gentlemen, you don’t know how lucky you are to be sitting next to these wingless angels...”
The men burst out laughing; some even wiped tears from the corners of their eyes as they held onto their bellies, which, full of laughter and fine food, threatened to burst through their vests and shirts.
“To beauty!” Ash exclaimed, raising his bottle, and turned back to the newlyweds. “Ah, but I’ve blabbed too much! Let’s drink!”
The guests rose from their seats and, saluting the happy couple, emptied their goblets and mugs. The music and dance resumed.
Ash looked at one of the dimly lit corners and saw the culprit grimace at the
moment the time flew backward again.
Some time later
The Stumps had gathered in the guest quarters on the fourth floor. This was the same place where they had gathered before, but no one remembered that. The trio, having explained to them what was going on in the castle and given them the scroll, was sitting huddled in the corner.
“How did we get into this mess?” Lari asked.
Everyone turned to Ash, who was sitting in a chair and twirling a leather strap between his fingers. Noticing that they were looking at him, he just grinned as if asking: “How are doing, folks?”
“It’s no use.” Mary sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m beginning to think that it’d be easier if only the five of us went.”
“Now is not the time to get separated,” Blackbeard grunted. “We need to think of a way out of this... situation.”
“It’s simple!” Lari shouted and then lowered his voice, feeling Alice tremble next to him. “We kill the duchess. She’s a shape-shifting bear.”
“You sure about that?” Mary asked, narrowing her eyes. “Are you ready to have her blood on your hands and life on your conscience?”
Lari was about to say something but stopped. Not every mercenary was capable of killing. For scum like Vane, Reika, and Ash there was no difference between a man and a beast — everything and everyone was fair game. But for respectable Ternites, taking a life was something that wasn’t to be taken lightly unless it was in self-defense.
Apparently, all members of the Stumps simultaneously came to the same idea as they all shouted the same thing in unison.
“Duck hunting!”
Ash choked.
“Friends,” he said, “there’s a duck in the kitchen, no need to go hunting.”
“You really are dumb,” Mary said. “We need an alive one. For bait.”
“Ah...” Ash nodded after a moment of thought. “Good idea.”
“So, we’ll pull straws. Whoever gets the shortest one is the duck.”
“All right!” the Stumps confirmed.
“Guys...”
“What now, Ash?!” Mary barked.
“Woah, woah...” The mage raised his hands and hid behind the back of the chair. “You’re scary when you’re mad...”
“Come here...”
Ash peeked from behind his shelter and took his staff.
“Listen... There are only two armed people in this room.”
The group exchanged glances. Ash had a point, only he and Alice had weapons while everyone else had empty scabbards. Hunting down a beast like this one without weapons would be suicidal.
“No,” Blackbeard protested.
Ash just smiled and pointed at himself.
“Alone?!” they shouted.
Ash pouted, pretending to be offended. Did they really think that he couldn’t handle one overgrown dog on his own?
“Listen, Alice is wonderful, but healers aren’t good fighters. Us mages, however...”
“Mages, yes... But no one knows what you’re up to...”
“Let me guess... Gonna steal some rum?” Lari sneered.
Ash just smiled, scratching his head.
“Predictable.”
“Oh, no!” the mage wailed, clutching at his chest. “I’ve become predictable.”
Snickering to himself, Ash picked up his staff and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?” Mary asked.
“To destroy evil and save the princess!”
“Ash...”
***
Slamming the door behind him, Ash touched the lock with his staff. Fiery petals emerged from the wood, securing the door firmly. Enchantments weren’t his specialty (nor were they of any other mage to be honest) but there was no one in the castle capable of breaking a seal made by a Master.
To get that title, a Ternite had to do a number of things. For example, get a nickname, kill several monsters, master five different magical forms, and perform a feat worthy of the respect of the other Masters. Well, shock the world more like it. Ash had managed to single-handedly defeat a dragon, but that was a whole other story.
The castle was shrouded in silence. The deathly, deafening kind that could be found only in crypts, long forgotten by the living. Ash shifted his staff as he walked, stepping carefully over the stonework, trying to make no sounds.
Shadows danced on the walls, cast by moonlight seeping through the elaborate stained-glass windows. The silvery light of the full moon would darken the moment it’d pass through the clouds or the glass, making everything look gloomier and eerier than it actually was.
Ash swallowed. At times like these, he missed not knowing what fear was. When things were much simpler and when hearing battle chants didn’t make the left side of his chest ache. But all must come to an end, and so when Ash learned how to feel joy and sadness, he forgot how to be fearless. Terror settled in his heart and never left.
A floorboard creaked. Ash turned around, fire dancing on the tip of his staff, but there was no one behind him, only shadows making faces on the ancient tapestries.
There was a bright flash outside — a storm had begun. Heavy drops fell on the windowsill. Thunder rang out somewhere in the distance. In the pale moonlight, it sometimes seemed to him that the empty armors were turning their heads after him. Tables became animals in waiting, ready to pounce at him, and banners tentacles of some creature just waiting to snatch him into the depths of the castle.
Ash kept walking. The stained glass quivered from the loud thunder. Wind played with tapestries and curtains. His feet felt cold and there were clouds of steam coming out of his mouth. The cold had to be magical as they were in the middle of the summer season. Sweat trickled down his forehead. He felt like his heart would burst out of his chest.
A howl came from the darkness, making him crouch and grip his staff tighter. Minutes passed, but nothing emerged from the hallways or from around the corner. It was just the wind whistling through the cracks, wailing like a disturbed soul.
Sometimes, he’d swear that he’d hear the rattling of chains or even growls, but he kept convincing himself that it was nothing more than the storm raging outside coupled with his wild imagination.
But then came a laugh.
“First Form: Incarnation!”
A fireball lit up the darkened corridor and Ash let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t a laugh, but the wind playing with the visor of a helmet. Forcing a smile, he continued forward. Nearing a staircase, he swallowed hard.
His intuition was telling him to go lower, but the wide and spacious halls were the perfect hiding space for a giant monster. Ash had fought many a beast in his life, from dragons to the undead, but there was something about shifters that just made his skin crawl.
Watching his step, Ash descended the stairs, observing the paintings on the walls that seemed to be whispering to one another. As if alive, they laughed at the foolishness of the man who had decided to measure his strength against that of a devil’s spawn. They didn’t know that they were laughing at a great mage, but Ash did. And he’d never forget it.
Once downstairs, he looked out into the hall.
It was empty save for the wind and the darkness that continued their macabre dance of whispers and shadows. Leaning on his staff, Ash walked toward the locked doors. When only a couple of steps separated him from his goal, a flash of lightning filled the room.
“Come,” uttered a female voice.
Ash gripped the handle. Turning it with a creak, he longed for the days when he didn’t know what fear was.
Chapter 22
1st of Eral, 318 A.D., Kingdom of Arabist
T he general raised his hand clutched in a fist. The soldiers froze, waiting for orders. Each of them had what Racker called “druid’s gear”: armor made of wood and ropes, pitchforks instead of spears, axes instead of swords, and wide planks for shields.
In general, the Seventh Legion looked more like an angry mob than a military unit. This, however, didn’t bother the general, who
contributed to the Legion’s “look.” He was the one who told them to wrap leather straps around their chests on which they’d hang the tongues of their enemies to show how many they had killed so that he could award them for their efforts. He had no idea what he’d reward them with yet, but he knew that this would be good for the morale.
“At last,” Racker whispered. “I was beginning to think that we would settle down and become farmers.”
“I’m sure that the villagers would be put off by the sight of your bare ass, but an army needs weapons and armor... No matter the quality,” Ash said.
Up ahead, situated at the foot of a hill, was a village of about five hundred inhabitants. Out of them, about two hundred were probably capable of combat. Against three and a half thousand scoundrels, they were but a pebble in an ocean. But Ash didn’t care for the villagers, he had no use of them. What he did care about, however, were goods that could be found in a village: food, ammunition, water, and all else that his legion lacked.
“We’ll take it.”
“How?”
“Overpower them.” Ash shrugged. “Tear down the gates and kill the guards. Leave the rest to the mob.”
“We’ll lose a hundred men at least, maybe more.”
“Doesn’t matter. We have no use of weaklings. Arabist will deprive us of a thousand for sure.”
“As you say.”
The two looked at each other and then shouted in unison. “Advance!”
“Advance!” the Legion shouted back and rushed toward the hill.
Watching them go, Ash and Racker summoned the flame of the first form and brought down the simple gate, letting the mob of shouting, bloodthirsty men enter the village.
The two mages raised their staffs high into the air, sending one fireball after another at the wooden houses, fields, and guards who had the misfortune of standing in their way. Ash didn’t really care if they summoned the reinforcements or not, the Seventh Legion could trample the imperial troops in a matter of moments, a squad of peasants was nothing but an inconvenience to them. However, he didn’t want to waste too much time here.
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