November 1069
On the second day, Malfoy again spent most of his time either at the front or the back of the ship, and this time I was actually bored and curious enough to walk up to him. As I did so, I felt the slow ebb and flow of magic, and stretched out my senses to figure out what Malfoy was doing.
To my slight surprise, it was being useful.
He was cycling in small amounts of magic, enough to keep going for hours at a time, and releasing them from his wand. Which curiously enough looked like it was made of metal, shining like a mix of copper and mercury. He made small, repetitive motions like the rowing of an oar only in miniature, and hummed a low tune under his breath.
It was, I grudgingly admitted, impressive. Flowing water washed away magic, and even floating over water made it difficult to gather energy. Affecting water was another thing. And yet, for all that what Malfoy was doing wasn't terribly impressive power-wise, the fact that he was consistently churning the water around the boat to make it just that bit faster, and was keeping it up, that was worth some recognition. I guess he wasn't just a ponce.
Not that it made me like him or anything. No, he was still an asshole. Just not a useless one.
"Impressive," I said in Latin, leaning on the rail next to Malfoy. He spared a brief glance for me, but didn't stop working. "Is water magic your forte, then?"
He didn't say anything in response.
"Alright, don't go into detail, but if whatever we find ends up being dangerous having some grasp of what we're both capable of could be useful," I said, shrugging. "My specialty's evocation. Fire, kinetic force."
Malfoy paused, and then glanced at me. "A brute, then."
"Bad Faith, I made and maintained an entire thaumaturgical model for a city. Just because my specialty is in blowing stuff up doesn't mean that's all I can do," I said. "And you still haven't answered my question."
Malfoy's eyebrows twitched at my deliberate translation of his name. "Yes. Water magic is my area of expertise."
"Now we're getting somewhere," I said. "So, entropy magic? Shields, blasts, that kind of thing?"
"Yes," he said curtly.
"Well, I'm familiar with that, at least." Granted, the last user of water magic I knew, Ramirez, was a far sight friendlier and more useful, but through him I was fairly familiar with how Malfoy might fight. Also granted, Ramirez had mixed in pistols with his style, something Malfoy couldn't do, but, well, we all have to make do in our own ways.
That was the sum total of our interactions during the boat ride, which all in all ended up only taking three and a half days rather than the more expected four or five. The captain was a bit mystified as to how that happened, but neither I nor Malfoy bothered to explain. We just repacked our bags, saddled our horses, and disembarked at the small port town of Fowey. Considering it was late we – that is, I – spent some time asking around for directions to Trematon Castle, which turned out to be a heavy day's ride to the north-east.
We stayed the night, and then rode off.
Malfoy never mentioned Salazar, and I didn't feel inclined to either. However, unlike Malfoy, I was interested in how Salazar would actually find me. The simple answer was by having Trematon Castle under observation, but how, when? What happened if he didn't spot me? Would I have to summon Hogwig again?
That question bugged me all the way to Trematon Castle right up until we were riding up to it. There, in the branches of a tree by the road to the gate, hidden fairly well but not entirely, was a small green snake. It looked at me as I came into view, its head swiveling to follow me, and I briefly glanced back at it. Then we were past the tree, and approaching the gate.
Unlike Berkhamsted, Trematon Castle was not part of a village. There was a village nearby, down by the shore of the River Tamar, but it was distinctly separate, both by distance and the lack of proper walls. The castle itself was also fairly small, a small circular structure almost like a squat tower built atop a motte. It didn't look terribly cozy.
Getting past the guards took a bit of work and back-and-forth yelling. For all that we claimed to be on business for the king and the earl, we didn't exactly look typical, and there was some discussion amongst the guards, which I Listened in on, before one of them went inside to get Reginald.
I really wanted to call him Jeffrey, but I figured that wouldn't be appreciated and he hadn't done anything to deserve it.
After a few minutes we were let into the cramped courtyard where we dismounted and waited another few minutes. Eventually, the front doors of the keep opened and a man dressed in a brown tunic and heavy fur cloak walked out. He was of slightly above average height, with short blond hair, a small collection of scars on his face, and a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times. Despite that, he didn't look all that ugly.
"Right, who are you?" he asked in French as he walked up.
I cut in before Malfoy could. "I am Harry Dresden, and this," I nodded my head in Malfoy's direction, "is Armaund Malfoy. We're here on business for Earl Robert and King William respectively, to look into the murders and attacks around these parts." As I finished, I held out the writ I'd gotten from Robert. "Are you Lord Reginald de Vautort?"
"I am," he said with a grunt.
"Then this is for you."
"Hmph." He took the writ, checked the seal, and then to my slight surprise, broke it open and started trying to read it, squinting and angling it around to catch the fading light. After one readthrough, a slight pause, and a second readthrough, he grunted, furled it back up, and gave it back to me.
"Alright," he said. "Just the two of you?"
I nodded. "Can we stay for the night? I'd rather not start looking for the attackers at night, that seems a stupid way to die."
"Damn right it is, especially lately," he said.
"Whatever do you mean?" Malfoy cut in.
Reginald turned to look at Malfoy and gave him a once over. "I lost an entire patrol two days ago, men and horses both butchered like animals, then eaten." He looked like he wanted to spit, then decided he was going to anyway. "Bloody wrong is what it was. Barely enough left to bury."
That was a lot more concerning than sporadic attacks on farmsteads. Equally horrible, but there was a difference between creatures that attacked small, isolated groups and those that attacked, butchered, and then ate a small group of armed men. With horses.
"What did you do with the remains?" I asked quickly.
"Loaded them up on carts and brought them back. Plan to bury them tomorrow."
"Can we have a look?" Malfoy asked.
Reginald looked at me, then Malfoy, then the writ in my hands. Then he shrugged. "Why not. This way."
He did not lead us into a crypt. I doubted the castle even had a crypt. What he did do was lead us into a detached storage area set into the rather thick walls of the castle. There was a single guard lounging by the door, who stood up as we approached before opening the door and moving away from it.
I didn't blame him.
The smell hit us a few moments later, and both Malfoy and I gagged, while Reginald's face just shriveled up in disgust and revulsion. He stopped by the door, took off a lit torch that was hanging in a sconce by the door, and passed it to me. "Take your time. Not like they're going anywhere."
I managed a, "thank you," and then grudgingly stepped inside, torch in hand. Malfoy followed me in a few moments later.
Butchered was definitely the right word to describe what had happened to these men. Limbs and bodies had been torn apart, some evidently dragged off, and whatever parts weren't gnawed down to the bone were rotten. The remains were laid out in eight rough groupings, though how the castle guards had matched body part to body part was beyond me.
"Well, we're dealing with something cannibalistic," I said.
"What a remarkable grasp of the obvious," Malfoy said, tentatively approaching a mostly whole arm while scrunching up his nose.
"What were these men armed and armored with?" I called out.
"The usual. Swords, spears, shields. Two milite and six pedite. Mail and leather, respectively."
"That reduces the likelihood of faeries," I said in a quieter tone. "Attacking eight men armed with iron's a hard sell without a hard goad. Even trolls aren't that stupid, usually."
"Whatever they are, they're not just cannibals," Malfoy said, pulling back from the arm he'd been checking out. "There's barely any blood."
"Could have just spilled out," I posited, slowly reaching out with my gloved hand to move the severed arm around. "But there's no discoloration or liver mortis. You think they were exsanguinated before death."
Malfoy looked around at the mostly-bone remains. "Difficult to tell," he said dryly.
"Haha," I said. "Ghouls are a safe bet. They don't care about iron more than anything else. Don't tend to drink or squeeze out blood though."
"Perhaps a revenant, or a draugr?" Malfoy suggested.
"I could see it being a corpse-vampire, but a draugr? In southwest England?"
"The Danes get everywhere," Malfoy said.
"I suppose. Would explain how whatever this was killed a whole patrol, at least." I left the arm alone and moved back to the doorway, leaning out to look at Reginald. "Were there any other bodies, any sign of the attackers?"
"None that could be found," he said.
"Was there a lot of blood? Considering all the dismemberment?" I asked.
He frowned and looked over his shoulder. "I would not know. You would have to ask those who found the remains."
"And they are?"
Reginald turned around and yelled out a number of names, which was followed by some shuffling, opening and closing of doors, and finally a group of men trickled out of the keep and the walls and headed in his direction.
"These men are here to look into the attacks," Reginald said, nodding at me and pointing at Malfoy with his thumb. "While they're here, you're at their disposal."
That was unexpected, and none of the men looked particularly pleased by that news. I also wasn't sure I wanted them either, really. More men had gone up against whatever was killing people out there and hadn't accomplished much.
"When you found the bodies, was there a lot of blood? Or just the body parts?" I asked, looking at the man who seemed to have the nicest cloak out of all of them.
Said man furrowed his brow, then shook his head. "No, there was not much blood."
"Huh." I looked at Reginald. "We're going to stay the night. Then, in the morning, I'd like to see where the attack took place, see if I can find any clues."
Author's Note: It says something about mythology that "savage cannibal" really doesn't narrow down the list of suspects.