by B B Reed
“He can handle himself. I need you to focus on the exorcism. Dorian and I will keep the fiend busy and try to coax it out of her body. Once in the open, you need to trap it long enough for the soul stone to absorb it.” Lady Ravenwood instructed, using her cane to beat down dry branches and keep up their brisk pace.
“What if we can’t get it to come out?” Inka ducked low to avoid branches.
Jeanne paused in her advance and turned to Inka, “Then you snare her, as a last resort only, understood? She is truly lost if we cannot separate it from her being. Killing her will be the only other way to remove it from our world.”
The scholar grew pale and answered with a simple, grim nod to Lady Jeanne. She hugged her materials tightly to her chest, “Y-Yes… I understand.”
Lady Ravenwood continued down the worn stones of the path, their trek to the Resting Grounds nearing its end. The hollow was dead silent, the cries of crows and birds utterly absent from the boughs overhead. A growl rumbled from the trees, giving Inka a start. Jeanne held her cane out in front of her companion, “Relax.”
Rustling from the brush, a great gray wolf padded out to block the path into the graveyard. The beast’s shoulders seemed to reach up just under Jeanne’s chest. Its striking eyes never left the noble, ears forward and focused on her. She smirked, “Glad to see that fiend didn’t give you trouble, Dorian. Did she make it to the grounds?”
The great wolf turned its head to glance down the path and took a few steps before looking back to the pair as if urging them to follow. Lady Ravenwood trailed behind him down the stone path, the beast’s footsteps padding over the cobbles. A dim, cold light broke through the trees as they neared their goal. The silence of the hollow gave way to the rasping wail of wind once they crossed into the clearing of tombstones. Lady Jeanne and Inka raised their eyes to the haunting source of dead, pale light. In the center of the burial ground, a column of wisps swirled, moans of troubled spirits carrying on the wind. At the torrent’s base, the willowy figure of the witch was suspended in the air as a conduit for the souls pulled from the graves, drawing them into her body. Lady Ravenwood watched with morbid curiosity, her eyes darting over the clearing in search of something, “Damn birds. Why haven’t the Raven Lords stopped this?”
Inka pointed to the monolithic tombstone overshadowing the grounds, “The headstone, it’s glowing. They might be protecting themselves instead of fighting.”
The cracks in the monument’s sheer stone face shimmered with ethereal light, and a great murder of crows sat perched atop the headstone’s crest. Jeanne marched down the path into the graveyard, calling back to Inka, “Remember what I told you. We have to stop this!”
Dorian padded up along Jeanne’s side, ears flattening down and a low growl rumbling in his chest. The noblewoman shouted, “Halena! If you can hear me, fight this monster with us! Make your last stand and end this nightmare!”
The body of Halena Maris twitched at Lady Ravenwood’s commands and lowered to the ground, feet settling gently on the stones. Her hands grasped at her temples and she hunched over, shaking her head, “Engh… No, I can’t… I’m not strong enough… I’m a monster…”
“No, you are not, now fight it!” Jeanne barked, standing her ground a few paces away.
The witch twisted around, “I can’t… because she’s… gone.”
Her pale face lifted from her hands, looking up at Jeanne with empty black eyes, “To destroy me is to destroy her. We are one and the same. There is no saving your precious witch!”
“I know you’re lying, demon! Leave her body or face the judgement of the Raven Lords!” Lady Ravenwood demanded again in defiance.
“You’re too late… I shall feast on your souls as well.” Halena croaked, holding her hands out towards the ground. The maddening storm above them halts for an instant, and the pale wisps of the dead shot down into the graves like cannon bursts, causing the ground to grumble with life. Dry earth cracked around Jeanne and Dorian, her lupine defender crouching low on his haunches as bony claws broke from their tombs. The desiccated corpses of the fallen failures of Jeanne’s knights rose from the ground, shambling after them. Halena turned away to resume her dark communion, “Sate your vengeance and bring me their bodies when you’ve finished.”
Jeanne lunged in pursuit, but the dirty claws of a reanimated skeleton dug into her coat to pull her down. She wheeled around, cracking her cane into its skull and shoved the undead soldier away.
“Dorian, stop her!” Lady Ravenwood shouted, swinging her sturdy cane into the femur of another attacker. Others quickly surrounded her, overpowering the veteran knight. Despite his lady’s orders, the great wolf pounced into the mob, knocking the bones down into a scattered mess and whipped around to rise on his haunches to push another undead minion to its back.
With the focus drawn away from her, Inka crouched behind a tall tombstone to flip through the pages of Halena’s grimoire. Her eyes scanned over the spell incantations and geometries, hastily decoding the crude and unfamiliar arts while her friends fought. She hissed and swore over herself, “Come on…”
Jeanne found an opening in the mob of undead soldiers and called out to the demon again, “Resist it, Halena!” She stopped to parry the bite of a rusty sword, kicking her attacker away with her boot, then tried again, “You’ve fought this thing longer than any of us know! Force it out! This isn’t you!”
Her words were ignored. A sharp yowl echoed behind her as Dorian struggled against the horde, swords biting into his gray fur.
The rolling grumble of thunder followed, Halena’s hands lifting with open palms at the monolithic headstone. Souls coalesced between her fingers into a fizzling ball burning with black fire and was loosed against the glowing stone. Crows and ravens swooped down from the tomb’s crest in masse, sacrificing themselves to meet the projectile and exploding in a flurry of black, smoking feathers.
“Damn it…” Jeanne growled, “What kind of monster were you hiding?”
Her grip tightened around her cane, allowing herself to dig deep into her mind to take hold of her burning emotions. The failed knights surrounded her, inching closer in their relentless advance, ignoring the vibrations in the air around the lone noblewoman. A bold lunge was made for her, one of the skeletons thrusting its sword to plunge deep into Jeanne’s back. Magickal power enveloped her image and it vanished in the blink of an eye. The dusty knights gave pause, searching the field for their target, and the bold undead knight exploded into a cloud of dust. Jeanne’s cane slammed down with tremendous force, the rest of her being appearing out of thin air.
Her cane glowed with violet runes running down its length and she stood upright, looking around to her hollow footmen, beckoning another to try their luck. Hoarse, animalistic groans of frustration came out of the creatures, the whole of the gathered group rushing the noble to take her down. She blinked from sight again, shifting at incredible speeds to avoid frenzied swings and dishing back her own cracking blows. Sweat dripped from her face, her breathing labored the longer the noblewoman kept up her counter-assault. A glimmering swipe of her cane sent a heavily plated knight flying into a group, giving her a moment’s respite. She made her way closer to Halena’s floating body with each blink, only a short distance to go, but the unending march of the undead still stood between them.
“You’ve forced my hand, demon. I’ll have to burn my runes for you, consider it a compliment.” Jeanne panted, gripping her cane tightly. With her willpower fueling the symbols etched into the metal of her weapon, they blazed with brilliant violet light. She raised the handle overhead, the air pulling with the vacuum of power around her. Jeanne stabbed the cane’s tip into the dirt and a great wave of power exploded outwards. The wall of light, a powerful old magick unleashed, seared away the barricade of undead until there was nothing but ashes left. All the power drained from the runes etched into the metal until little else remained than melted smudges along the shaft. The magick did its trick, burning a path to her quarry.
Inka jerked her head up from her book to the sound of clattering bones skulking towards her. The dirt-caked sword of a risen knight snapped down to strike her, meeting a stout wall of ice. It gave Inka just enough time to scrabble away from her huddle. She ran as fast as she could manage in her robes to the next headstone, her foot slipping on the loose dirt of an exhumed grave and tumbling. The journal and grimoire spilled onto the ground and she rolled over to quickly meet her shambling attacker with another frozen torrent of water binding its legs to the ground. She gathered up the grimoire and journal, seeing the repeated words of the last page splayed open on the ground. The realization dawned on Inka and she shouted to Jeanne, “Marchosias… That’s its name! Marchosias!”
Lady Ravenwood looked up at the sound of Inka’s voice, watching Halena’s body twitch and turn in response to the word. She sprinted down the charred path burned by her runic magick after the witch.
Inka bellowed, rising from behind the headstone, “Begone, Marchosias! Remove yourself from this woman’s body at once! Hear me, Marchosias, for my voice will break your shackles!”
A vicious snarl came from her, “Never! This flesh is mine! I’ll unravel you like so much yarn!” Her hands spread out from her sides, drawing the pale light of the souls into her palms for another empowered attack.
“Obey my command, Marchosias, and be purged!” Inka shouted again with defiance.
Jeanne pressed on, thumb clicking the switch on her cane. She swung the segmented whip with a flick of her wrist once in range, the length coiling around her friend. Lady Ravenwood yanked, and the coils seized Halena, sending her crashing to the ground. She was upon her in an instant, planting her knee on the woman’s chest as she struggled, “You will obey, monster! Release her!”
With the witch apprehended, the storm of wisps dissipated and faded away. Inka used the narrow tip of the soul stone to draw a pentacle in the dirt, following the diagram in the grimoire exactly while Lady Jeanne wrestled against the possessed witch. She positioned herself between two smaller circles connected by the greater pentacle and rested the soul stone in its center. The scholar settled on her knees with the silver knife ready. Dorian’s growls echoed in the clearing as he continued to keep the undead horde at bay while Jeanne worked, charging into the reanimated knights to slow them down.
“Begone, Marchosias! Begone, Marchosias! Her loving heart is not your prisoner!” Inka howled, her voice going hoarse. Something wracked through Halena’s muscles and her back arched. The witch gasped for breath and an ear-shattering shriek was forced from her chest.
Lady Jeanne recoiled back, an unseen force snapping the binding tether of her whip. Halena’s body floated over the ground, the malignant color of her eyes fading. An inky mist rose up from the marks about her eyes, coalescing overhead. She fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath, lucid once more. Her eyes found Jeanne and scrambled after her, “Lady Jeanne, I’m so sorry! I’m… I…”
There was no response, the veteran knight’s face pale and eyes locked on the cloud above them. Halena turned, observing an enormous shadowy form take shape into a long, fur-covered serpent coiling itself around them. The great pale face of a man stared down at the pair, its eye sockets empty with the same cruel abyss that had filled the witch’s and a rack of curling antlers crowning its head. The demon’s visage resembled a nameless fear that gripped Halena’s heart, something more terrifying than she ever conceived. Its lips did not move, yet the dark traveler’s rasping voice vibrated in their skulls, “Your victory will be an empty one, frail flesh.”
The silver blade flashed across Inka’s open palm, letting a healthy flow of blood. Her hands pressed down onto the pentagram’s lines, gripping tightly onto desires of protection, and the inscribed lines blazed to life with magickal light. The soul stone lifted off the ground and shattered perfectly along its prismatic edges, opening into a ring. A shimmering void came to life inside the ring of shards, swirling and pulling on the great eldritch serpent’s fibers. The demon’s pale face craned around, though expressionless, growled as it was pulled towards the singularity created by the soul stone, “I refuse to be trapped again! We are one… We are one!”
Marchosias lunged out, lips parting, and a tangle of slick black tendrils poured from its mouth to seize Halena’s arms, pulling her with it towards the portal. Jeanne wrapped her arm tightly around the witch, digging her heels into the dirt as they were pulled closer to the void, “You bastard! Gah!”
“You will die for your hubris and join me in this prison!” The black serpent gurgled, their combined struggle only slowing the pull of the stone on its form. Halena cried in fearful pain, the slick tentacles burning into her cloth sleeves and flesh. Inka clenched her eyes shut, forcing every fiber of her being to maintain the portal with her willpower, unable to bear watching her friends be slowly dragged into the void. The pair lost their footing and were pulled upright towards the prison, the demon’s grotesque fur-covered mass bracing itself against the edge of the portal. They were jerked back, Halena’s hands just inches away from the threshold. Dorian’s teeth sunk deeply into Jeanne’s harness, anchoring them against the current. Lady Ravenwood’s boot heels planted into the dirt, the three resisting Marchosias’ tugging.
“Know my existence in this purgatory!” It rasped with desperation, coiling itself in resistance to the snaring spell. The demon craned its head, yanking on Halena’s arms, making the trio slip closer towards it. Her hands passed into the swirling void, smoke rising from her flesh as it came into contact with the energies, blackening and flaking off. The witch screamed in agony and pulled away from the sensation, feet slipping in the loose dirt.
“I’m not a monster! No!” Halena plead as the burns climbed up her bound arms.
Marchosias reared back against the straining pull, inky drool running down its lip as it vied for the witch’s body. Inka shuddered with weakness and peeked up at the portal, seeing the demon reared so far back and its tendrils taut. She swept her hands across the ritual circle, breaking the circuit of power, and watched the shards of the soul stone waver in the air. The singularity flickered and destabilized, its edges pulling shut around the demon. Try as it might, its form buckled against the shrinking gap, and the portal finally collapsed with a flash of bright light. A spray of ichor burst out as it cut into the mass of tentacles holding onto Halena’s arms, the shining soul stone collapsing together into its original shape and falling lifelessly to the ground. The trio fell backwards into a pile, still and quiet. There was no movement, no sound, for fear that their fight had not yet been won.
Inka dared to lift her head and survey the moonlit grounds, no clattering bones or souls to be seen. She leaned forward to inspect the stone, smoke rising from its surface and prisms shimmering with a toxic green hue. The scholar sat up and rushed over to the others, “Halena! Jeanne!”
Neither of them moved, Halena wrapped in Jeanne’s arm and cradled against her body. Dorian’s muzzle nudged against the noble’s shoulder to wake her, letting out a concerned whine. Inka kneeled next to them both, lifting the witch’s head and brushing her cheek. Her fingers rested over her neck, detecting a pulse throbbing under the surface of her skin, “Wake up, please...”
“Engh…” Jeanne groaned, pulling her arm from Halena’s waist and sat herself up. She glanced over to the scorched plot of earth where the portal had stood, “We lived?”
Halena’s eyes fluttered open, gazing up into Inka’s sapphire irises, “Do you… forgive me?
“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m just glad to have you back.” Inka smiled, letting out a breath of relief.
“As am I.” Lady Ravenwood coughed, pulling herself from under the witch. She hiked a knee up and winced as she righted herself. A large paw bat into her hip, nearly knocking her over, with Dorian sitting on the ground and looking expectantly up to the noble with attentive ears. Jeanne snorted, rubbing the top of the wolf’s head, “I hadn’t forgotten about you.”
Halena g
roaned, the shock of the ordeal wearing off, and she pulled her ichor-covered arms up, “It still burns…”
She sat up with Inka’s help, the scholar using what little she had of her energy to perform one last bout of magick, “Let me clean your wounds.”
Her hands came together and she focused on her task, fingers fanning out as a small globe of water manifested between them. Halena sat on her knees, holding her arms out as Inka let a gentle spray wash over her limbs. She began at the middle of the upper arm, clearing the sludge away to reveal the cleaned pale skin underneath the tatters of disintegrated cloth. It was not long before no more pale skin was revealed from under the ichor, only more black flesh the rest of the way down the witch’s arms. Inka’s face paled, obsidian claws uncovered from the slime. Halena’s heart raced with panic as the warped flesh was cleaned, voice rising in hysterics, “What happened? What happened to me!?”
She looked to Inka for answers, but all she could muster was, “I… I don’t know…” The scholar covered her mouth.
Halena curled her spindly fingers, tears welling up in her eyes, “Jeanne, what did it do to me?!”
The noble stepped over to examine the blackened flesh, a frown hanging on her lips. Her dark eyes glanced over to the soul stone lying in the dirt, limping over to its resting place, “There are slivers of the Veil encased in these soul stones. Our mortal bodies aren’t meant to dwell there.”
She stooped down with a grunt to pick up the gem, looking back to Inka and Halena, “That demon is not allowed on our plane of existence either. Coming into contact with it directly warped your flesh.”
“Can it be fixed? How can I continue with my hands—my arms like this!?” Halena plead to Lady Ravenwood, looking down at her twisted hands.
“I’m sorry, I wish I knew… But I can ensure you’ll be protected from witch hunters until we can cure it. You’re still a Knight of Ravenwood, after all.” Jeanne offered in grim consolation, tucking the stone in her belt and providing her gloved hand to help the witch to her feet, “We should quit this place while we’re still alive.”