William, the Houndmaster, and Fergus, the Hound, were out on their nightly patrol of the Hamlet's narrow streetways, some yards away from the bright and spacious square. Few heroes ever had business here in the commoners' quarters. Most ignored them, content to let them go about their own business in their own separate, cursed lives. William and Fergus however, though retired from gendarme duty, volunteered whatever night they could to make rounds. If the tavern and abbey could be restored, then so too, William felt, can the presence of law and order.
Some of his fellow mercenaries commended him; others thought it a waste of leisure time. On most nights nothing at all happened; on one night, William apprehended a pair of bandits that had snuck into town. He had caught the brutes just as they escaped through the window of a shady hut near the weald's edge, trying to make off with a small girl they had silenced with a rag and ropes. That one night justified hundreds of others when nothing happened, and the villagers had found special respect for Williams and Fergus ever since. Though they answered to the heir, William was who they brought questions to. In a time of personal crisis, he was their lawman.
For tonight, nothing seemed to be happening, just as William preferred. He hummed softly, a melody whose words he had forgotten, but the tune calmed his mind nonetheless. Fergus walked in front of him at a matched pace. along the only bricked path in the residential block of town. Her mind stayed at attention while William's took time at ease. Her ears would perk at every rolled bottle and fallen footstep. Sound, however, is not always the most interesting thing.
A scent in the middle of the road caught Fergus's attention. She inspected the spot with her nose, and when she did not stop sniffing, William stopped humming.
"What is it girl? Got something interesting?"
William looked down at the spot Fergus inspected. The glow from the full moon made it just lit enough to distinguish a darken brown stain of moisture among the laid stones. Williams bent over closer, and could see that whatever liquid had caused the mark had trickled through the space between the bricks. Though the source was out of reach, Fergus had already locked on the scent. She tugged William's leash, leading him up the main path.
Three houses up, near an alley's opening, they had found another spot. It stained the corner of a building, about two feet in height, leaving a pool of blackness against the wall; a mirror of the full moon. It was the size of Fergus's head, and had been shrinking in size by a thick crack on the pavement, siphoning the dark liquid down towards the alley.
Fergus turned towards the corridor, sniffing curiously into the air. Then, she growled; a low rumbling contained all in the throat. William listened, and soon there was the sound of a tumble.
Fergus barked, and William spoke after. "Hello? Is everything okay over there?"
"Yes, yes!" came a voice, friendly, shaking. "Perfectly fine! Please go, I promise I'm all—" The speaker, whoever it was, was cut short due to vomiting. Must be one of the Hamlet's more wretched folk, William thought. Another poor soul having another misfortune. He proceeded into the alley without fear, but Fergus growled, and soon barked in quick succession.
"Hush now Fergus," William commanded. Behind a set of empty barrels, they found the person hiding, hunched on their hands and knees over fresh spill up. There were other masses on the floor, but it was too far to distinguish any of it. "Are you drunk sir?"
It was a moment before the voice was able to respond.
"No. No I'm not drunk."
"You must be sick then. Come, let me bring you to some help. We have a doctor, and she can see people at night."
The person insisted that they felt much better now, but William helped them to their feet anyway and held their shoulders as they walked into the open light on main street. Fergus continued to bark, and William could not bid her to stop until the moon uncovered them.
"Quiet Fergus!" William yelled, and finally she ceased. "Apologies sir, she gets frightened easily by—" Williams at last could see the misfortunate poor soul he was helping. "Doctor Paracelsus! My goodness!"
Paracelsus batted William's arms away from her shoulder, and leaned on the soiled wall instead. "Yes, hello William," Paracelsus said, in as deadpan a tone as her weak, gasping voice would manage. She was wearing her medical uniform, the long doctor's robes and hooded mask. Her expression was lost behind black glass eyes and protruding beak. Her hands fumbled at her neck for some moments. She had secured the mask on just in time. "Thank you, for your help, but I'm all better now."
"Are you sick Paracelsus? I heard as though you might have fallen over."
"Oh, yes, well I did have a bit of a trip. These pathways are disgusting. A complete hazard to public safety." Paracelsus's speech was quick, with gulps of air taken after each sentence.
"But you were also vomiting were you not?" Williams gestured to the tiny puddle near her feet. "Have you come down with something?"
Paracelsus staggered to reply at first. She only shook her head. Then, "Yes. You are right. I think I have come down with something."
"No offense doctor, but I would think you of all people would know the importance of bed rest in situations like these. What in the devil are you doing out here like this?"
"I was … checking, on one of the villagers. Sick child. Hence my uniform, not the plainclothes."
"Yes, I see," Williams nodded. His eyes fell back on what remained of the pool. It was almost gone now. That black vile, disappearing beneath the ground.
"So, Will," Paracelsus said suddenly, breaking the silence. "How have you felt recently? I've noticed it has been some time since you've left for an expedition. Is it getting to you, going into that place?"
"Hmm?" Henry was surprised by the shift in subject, especially to small talk about … that place. "Oh no. I'd say me and Fergus got us a fair more runs in us. I'm hopeful we'll see this campaign to its end." He paused to scratch his head. "Though, I suppose last time I…"
William's mind was brought back to that day. It had been exactly a month ago, where the same full moon above them now lit the waves as his team paddled the dinghy to the cove's gate.
Before that night, Williams had not yet experienced these so named "afflictions" said to occasionally strike the mind of the Hamlet's protectors when faced against the town's encroaching forces of evil. If such afflictions did exist, William thought, he owed his immunity to Fergus. They were true partners. Whatever many strangers he may fight alongside, he and his dog were an aged team, and within that held reassurance no other hero had access to. That night though, the cove had overpowered him.
There is a presence felt in there; a presence similarly felt, so say some, in every acre of the estate, but only within that sea choked tomb was the pressure so palpable that William could now know it. He could hear it, carried in through the ocean's breeze. Within the cove, the wind whispered words of unknowable origin. The deeper in they went, the louder the voice grew. And in some undefinable way, the words began to make sense.
The final straw came during a battle with seafolk—three armed ones and one of the smaller pink variety. There was not yet reason for panic. The battles had gone well, with only minor injuries to speak of. Barristan held the line, parting rusted spears with his shield. Dismas had already shot one dead center through the eye, and should something go wrong Julina was there to attend. And yet, William could not suppress a sinking feeling that built in his chest, the grinding of his teeth between orders. Everything was about to go wrong; the whispering wind told him so. Then, the pink one aimed his gaze into his twitching eyes.
The next moment, William turned into a ball of pure rage. He cursed his team for leading him to a death he was sure would strike him there and now. Fergus was the only one free to attend his shouting, but William continued to rave despite her paws on his chest. As the fiends' line broke further, Julia was free to comfort him, only to have her concern returned with an open palm slap across the face. Julia bleed from the mouth. The blow had come at such a shock, she lost her grip on her mace and tomb, and they fell to the ground. Still shouting, screaming words of hate that he had no control over, William's retreated conscience recognized the look that had come to Julia. The worried eyes of betrayal, the leaking red at the teeth. The girl…
Later Barristan restrained William from further attack, while Dismas gutted the remaining fishman, his flint spilling contents of its belly. The quest was abandoned shortly after, and when his mind calmed on the row back, he begged them all to keep silent of his fresh sin.
"…I lost myself," said Williams. He let the confession linger in the air. "It's been good, staying away from that place, for a time."
"Not for me," Paracelsus added plainly. "I've felt nothing but unwell since I've returned last."
"You've been vomiting like this for a while?"
"No," Paracelsus answered, with no further explanation. "You'll think I'm mad, but … I actually look forward to heading in again. Perhaps on the next one."
"Already!? Did you not go on one recently? To the—"
"The courtyard, yes."
"Indeed. And let's not forget, I've just found you sick on the street. Paracelsus, you could kill yourself going to that place with less than your best."
Paracelsus thought for a moment. "I think I will be okay by tomorrow. We shall see."
William shook his head. He almost protested further, but decided to let it rest. "Fair enough," he said. "For now, worry about tonight. Are you well enough to make it to the barracks, and get a good night's sleep?"
"A good night's sleep," Paracelsus repeated the phrase, as though she desired it more than anything else in the world. She nodded. "Yes, I know the way. " Paracelsus's grip left the support of the wall, and she took off down the street. "Do not trouble yourself with me William. Go on, attend to your patrol." She waved William goodbye with the back of her hand. Williams watched her until she made the corner, and Fergus continued to growl until she was gone.
The peace and quiet was maintained through the rest of William's rounds, so he returned to the Hamlet's square to eat dinner at the tavern before resuming patrol for another hour or so. First however, William walked Fergus to the desecrated monument base at the square's center. It had become her favorite spot to relieve herself, and with the statue long destroyed and replaced by a growing sapling, nobody seemed to mind. Even from there William could hear the sounds of laughter and lute music leaking from the tavern, no doubt Sarmenti's doing. Across the way and up the cobble steps, a gong was being sounded marking ten at the abbey's entrance, a substitute from the collapsed bell tower.
While Fergus pawed the ground, Williams reached in the front breast pocket of his vest, where he keeps the hard biscuits.
"There you go girl. Quick treat before a good meal."
Dinner would not come yet. They had lingered long enough to catch the notice of a distressed woman who had been pacing the square for some minutes in search of someone. William recognized her as the wife of Heinrich, the fishmonger of the Hamlet. He made it his business to sell the few breeds of wholesome marine life left on their coast. As his trade demanded, he took to the sea daily, often at day. However, Heinrich's wife explained, poor yields the last three days had forced Heinrich on an evening trip, with only an oil lantern and full moon to brighten the darkness. As of yet, Heinrich has not returned home.
"I told the stupid bastard I did!" Heinrich's wife, whose name William learned was Mathilde, continued as they arrived at her house. It was one of the better off residence buildings he's seen. Two glass windows out front, facing the main road, allowed enough light that candles were not needed to see in the living room. They had three sets of mismatched chairs and a stool, along with an unbalanced table.
"It's too dangerous in those waters at night!" Mathilde continued, whispering screams. "Only a bloody madman would try it. But, with the fish stand empty of stock for days, my Heinrich grew desperate. We all had. Decided a night's fishing be worth it, if only to catch enough for us and the little ones to eat tomorrow."
"And your husband Heinrich," William said, adopting her low voice level. "He promised he would be back by when?"
"Nine o' clock. And he had his pocket watch too. Always does. He'd know the time sure as us."
William nodded, and remembered the ten rings of the abbey's gong.
"He must be still out there," said Mathilde. "He lost track of time, or… Oh, mercy." Mathilde hid her face as she wept. Fergus, without command, laid her chin on the woman's knee. Mathilde, when the tears subsided, laid a hand of thanks on the kind dog's head.
"Don't give in to morbid thoughts Mathilde," said William. "Be hopeful. Is it possible your husband has returned from shore, even to the Hamlet, but not yet home?"
"Yes," Mathilde nodded slowly, breathing a little easier at the suggestion. "Yes, it's possible. A very shrewd man he is. Doesn't tell me everything. Running some late night errands at the tavern, I'd imagine." She laughed with a knowing suggestion.
"Perhaps," William confirmed, ignoring the awkwardness. "Rest assured, Fergus and I can find anyone. Do you have clothing of his we can use? Something he wears often."
"Indeed. Upstairs, in our bedroom, his—"
"His scarf," finished a voice at the top of the stairs. A boy hobbled down. He was thin, with bald patches in his brown hair. He presented William the long string of cloth. It was dark red and was unraveling at one end. "He'd worn it yesterday. He always wears it on cold days."
Mathilde looked away to the emptiness out the window, wearing a hard face, saying nothing more. She clearly had wished to spare her children the worry, at least until morning. Regardless, William thanked the boy, and brought the scarf to Fergus's nose. She ran her snout along its full length.
"You'll find my pa?" asked the boy.
As if to answer, Fergus barked, and wagged her tail with confidence.
"Aye young man," William promised. "You've got my word, we'll find him."
With that, William exited the grief stricken home, and Fergus led him down the shadowed path, following a trail that needed no light.
Can't believe I'm writing fanfiction again, at my age. Well, what can you do? Had this idea in my head for a while, and the writing makes for good stress relief, so why not?
Let me know what you think of this.