The High Priestess

Evening - 6th Day of the 6th Month of Year 751

Prologue

It was Laurie's turn to read while Gennifer dusted the shelves in the apothecary. This seemed a never ending task and truth be told it truly served no purpose except to keep one of the sister's hands busy while the other read aloud. Neither the owner of the establishment, the presently missing doctor Rudolph Van Richten, nor any of his infrequent customers or suppliers even took notice if the shelves and jars that contained possibly the greatest single collection of herbs and medicinal varieties in the entire land were free of dust. But the good doctor liked to say that idle hands and idle minds were both playgrounds for evil and should be avoided. Regardless of that statement's veracity, both sisters found that this daily chore was one small way to beat back the gloominess and desperation that had taken hold in the little shop since the mysterious disappearance of its owner a year and more ago.

"Gennifer, I'm not as sure anymore that we should be doing this." Laurie's voice held a note of trepidation. Upon discovering the secret stash of the good doctor's private journals the girl's had decided to read through them and hopeful find the necessary vital clue to the current whereabouts of their friend, mentor, and nearly surrogate father. If such a trace were found they planned then to pass this information on to their well respect uncle, the legendary George Weathermay who had built quite the reputation for not only battling evil, but for saving those in need of rescue.

Now, however, after coming to understand through their mentor's own words of deeply personal grief the events that lead up to the loss of the his young son followed shortly after by the grisly murder of his wife and the emotional torment this caused him, both girls had become conflicted as to the propriety of continuing this task they had set for themselves. Reading something so personal of one they loved as family without his permission seemed a violation of his soul at the very least. But was this sin of invading his privacy balanced out by the potential good of what they hoped to learn?

"Laurie, I understand you concern." Her twin's empathy in everything went beyond just words and was a feeling their own spirits shared. While all twins seemed to share such a bond to one level or another, the girls' emotions was a constant river between the two allowing them to share in delights or lend support regardless of the distance between them. "But what if the clues he needs to survive lie undiscovered in these pages? How much greater would our regrets be if we had the chance to save that sweet old man and failed him?" Gennifer, strictly speaking was always the slightly stronger and more rationale one while Laurie's sympathies weighed to the arts and emotion.

Resigned to the spoken and unspoken logic of her twin's argument, Laurie ran her hands along the cover that seemed initially not as stiff and untouched as the previous two volumes had been. She noted through careful observation that this journal, unlike the prior ones had been disassembled and rebound. Her first concern was someone had purposefully removed a portion that they wanted to keep hidden, perhaps even the very clue the girls were hoping to find. Then Laurie noted a slight difference in the color of the pages at the very front of the book and he very end. This was an oddity worthy of investigation to the amateur scholar.

Carefully she opened the book; her eyes fell upon the first page and the doctor's familiar penmanship with its decisive and determined straight lines, yet elegant and educated swirls, and felt a warm flow of nostalgia and heartache for their teacher. Even with her back turned, Gennifer felt awash in her twin's joyful sorrow across the room which had been signaled by nothing more than a nearly silent sob and a shortened breath. Gifted with love and sympathy from the one person who could will her the strength to go on, the one with whom she shared her moment of creation, Laurie began to read aloud in otherwise silent herbal shop.

706, Early Winter For those of you who one day read this journal you will note that this entry differs somewhat in style from my previous two. The reasons behind this change are that those two dealt with truly singularly personal and self serving issues that were strictly of my own experiences. While this one also is the results of my experiences, it represents the first time that my path crossed with others, living others, of like mind, at least for the moment whose role in these events were as important as my own. Because of the roles they played and their own experiences prior to our meeting it requires me to record some parts of this story to which I did not personally bear witness. Thankfully, the hunt described herein for this creature of darkness allowed me the opportunity to learn these facts firsthand from the involved parties right then and there. One will also note that for some events, such as the tribal massacre, while I did not bear witness, I did see the results first hand so was able to not only confirm what I was told but also prove in some measure that my source for this information was reliable and therefore worthy of inclusion.

Thought these word so far had taken up only half a page in the journal, Laurie found that the paragraph had been marked with a star and a footnote added to the inside margins, presumably at a much later date then when this book was penned.

736, Winter My recent studies while at the Hospice of the Healing Hand in Valachan have brought to light two additional parts to this story of which I was unaware when first penning it. While they were not essential to the story, the insight they provide may allow others who read this text to better understand not only these events, but the world in which we live. It is for that purpose I have added them, at no small cost I admit, to this work in order that it might more completely record these events.

Well, at least that notation explained the added pages, though now Laurie began to feel a sense of renewed curiosity that pushed back into the recesses of her mind the initial reluctance she had felt. She continued to read aloud.

This recounting also represents the first step of my journey, hopefully a long one, where I follow through on my foresworn task to seek out and destroy darkness and its evil minions wherever they exist. While I had made that promise in the ashes of my son's death, and again upon the grave after burying my beloved wife, I had found in moments of wakefulness when not overwhelmed by loss and grief that it is one thing to make such a statement and quite another to begin to walk the actual path.

I must admit that I had begun to have my own second thoughts on this chosen course, especially once I had put my son's killer to rest. But fate or some greater power it seemed chose not to allow me that moment of reflection to weaken my resolve or second guess myself down a different path from my declared course. I can take a moment to ponder now what might have happened if I had not chosen to wait for that caravan or had decided to dine in that tavern that evening. How many more might have died? How many more like me would have had to learn to live with loss? Would another like me have been fashioned by these events to seek out darkness? In truth it really does not matter or chnge things and is more properly an exercise for philosophers and priests who claim divine purpose in all things…but then again, perhaps in the grand scheme of things this association with religion is an appropriate comparison based on the outcome of the story I now record.

I do wonder instead, even marvel if the truth be told, at this inner fire that drives me to put these experiences to paper. In my medical career I was a proper student and scholar but I never had the drive to publish my own observations before. I never sought fame I suppose; just a quiet family life and practice both of which now are forever denied me. So then I must ask myself why then do I feel the need to record this? Perhaps in some distant future I will use them to present my lessons learned in the battles I have fought to others who wish to take up the cause. Or perhaps since each event so far has come only at a deep and personal cost of loss, perhaps these volumes serve as a way for me to put to rest the ghosts of those I have lost and mistakes I have made. Such lessons, though costly in blood to learn, I can only hope may one day save countless lives of others who take heed of my warnings in their own battles with evil. I think those I have lost would take comfort in knowing of the lives beyond my own that their sacrifice will one day serve.

But perhaps my journals are another thing all together. Perhaps the first two were a way of finally facing fully the actions that set me upon this course. Perhaps I needed to write it all down, my right and wrong choices, so that I could finally forgive myself for the loss of my family. While I certainly do not place the actual blood of my child or my wife on my own hands, I must admit I did suffer from the normal frailties and sinister traps of the paternal order. As a father and a husband I had failed to protect my family when they needed protecting. How then can I not see myself as a lesser man?

Maybe these journals serve both purposes.

With volume one and two completed, I find that I can make peace with myself over the loss of my family. Peace, but not freedom from the pain of loss which I know I will likely always feel. While I may not have saved my loved ones, I made the best choices I could with the information I had at the time of the decisions. Can anyone truly expect more of themselves? I certainly would never judge another harshly if this proved true of their actions. So then, it would be merely irrational guilt or egotistical hubris if I withhold offering myself personal forgiveness knowing that I would so readily bestowed it upon another. The source of my drive that came from these events may be a discovery for another day, but the result is much the same. I accept now the path I now walk without laying blame upon my own human failings (of which I have many) or some divine power's sinister plan for me. Looking toward either serves only as a distraction to my business of vanquishing the darkness around us. And as my few adventures to date have shown, distraction in this line of work is often a fate truly worse than death.

The pain I feel is, if nothing else, a proof that I am alive and able to continue the fight. Wars are unfortunately not won without bloodshed. Can I deny that the failure to wage these wars will mean that only other innocents like my family, and like my former self, will be the ones to pay this blood price? Unless someone stands up against these creatures of darkness, we risk becoming little more than domesticated animals and food supplies.

This brings me back to wondering why it is I feel compelled to complete these journals. Perhaps they hold a secret to something in the future to which I myself am unaware. Does this bespeak of a belief in a high purpose or order? Perhaps… Or perhaps they are simply an outlet of a tired and sad old man's mind. Either way I shall endeavor to complete these in the times I am allotted between my wars upon the dark ones. I hope you readers find what wisdom you can within these pages.

Laurie paused in her reading while digesting her mentor's words. As the girl's teacher the doctor had forced the twins to analyze situations rather than jump into them with both feet. While this seemed an anathema to young ladies in their teens, the practice had so far served them well in normal life when compared to the peers. In the realm of monster hunting this law's strict application was often the barest difference between success or death (or worse)!

Now, even though he was missing, words the doctor had written before their births were continuing this very lesson. Laurie began trying to place herself in her mentor's shoes so she might understand what he sought to impart at a deeper, nearly emotional level.

A person may be forced to battle evil for their own survival, but those who chose to do so regularly, like her uncle and her mentor, did so to embody the example of self sacrifice that would inspire those to follow. They were the single spark that might one day burn down the master's house and set his slaves free. And they asked for nothing, and often received even less when compared to their sacrifice.

Both girls had already seen their share, and many might say shares enough for a few others as well, of evil creatures that had done battle with their teacher and their uncle. The twins had even begun carefully to challenge these evils that seemed to be slowly encroaching upon lands that they had once thought safe from such things. Laurie wondered now if her feelings of safety were true, or if they perhaps the results of parents and guardians' attempts to allow the twins a few years to dream peacefully. Other memories of whispered conversations between her uncle and the doctor that seemed to stop abruptly when the girls arrived seemed in retrospect strong circumstantial evidence to the latter.

Were then there truly no safe places for little girls to dream? Was this world truly as dark and sinister as the first two journals seemed to indicate? If that were so, then the need to locate and return the good doctor to his home became more than simply an exercise inspired by love. It was vital to the survival of people everywhere, and especially to the dreams of other little girls, that those noble fighters who took up the cause, continued to do battle. Laurie turned and found her sister's understanding eyes meeting her own, knowing in that look they had shared the same thoughts. With that she turned the page and the true story began.