It was fortunate indeed they'd managed to meet up with Lieutenant Kalesh and Senior Lieutenant Koshiro again. Convincing one of the victim's families to let them use their loved one as bait had been difficult enough even with a friendly face known for giving accurate advice on hand – if it hadn't worked, they'd probably have had to resort to kidnapping.
So long as the hunter survived, it would have been something they could brush over, but if something had gone wrong – much of the work he'd put into rehabilitating the Order's reputation would have been severely undercut. Not exactly the sort of behavior expected of the Head of the Order in question.
But that bridge had never needed to be crossed, so the point was moot. Instead, after careful explanations to the family, the headman and the local priest-acolyte pair they'd been granted full consent to take the comatose Oskar Conners into the hills with them. Not only that, but they'd actually been given full access to the local temple's stores, which had turned up a nice amount of sanctified oil and some silk stoles-turned-scarves the priest had gotten made up in preparation for going after this monster.
The scarves offered no protection at all from the cold – Kir could still see all of their breath seeping through the filmy things they'd wrapped around their lower faces – but between the material, the salted sandalwood smoke they'd been stored in for days and the embroidered protective sigils along the edges, they formed quite the barrier against the more threatening part of this trek. There was a fifth one in Jakyr's coat pocket for the hunter they had borrowed, but that would have to wait for the bishra splinter to be expelled from his lungs.
"How is he doing?" Kir asked the lieutenant, the pale-faced man looking up from the victim he was monitoring and saying shakily, "Still breathing but – it's getting shallow I don't – the sandalwood is helping?"
They'd brought a small censer from the local temple too, and it was hanging from a hook probably intended for lanterns when this mine was operational. The incense was staying in this general area at least, keeping the splinter from getting too much stronger despite now being closer to the primary. They needed to finish setting the trap up before digging the wretch out.
Initially Jakyr had been helping Anur and him set up the trap, a somewhat makeshift threshold crafted from iron, salt and blessed oil, but the man had been getting short of breath and rather shaky while they discussed how the trap would work, so he'd directed the lieutenant to take Devek's place at the hunter's side. The sandalwood scent would hopefully reassure his mind that he was safe here, or at least safer, from the monster that had nearly killed him.
Anur occasionaly woke up shivering and frantic that he couldn't hear Aelius – and that was with the Companion immediately murmuring reassurances directly into his mind and Kir waiting with probably too-warm tea. He would have to get Anur to pull Kalesh aside and speak to him about being attacked by horror-tale monsters.
"Good," Kir nodded shortly and kept his tone brisk, keeping the soldier focused on the task at hand, "We're about done with the set up. Could you ensure the evacuation route is clear for yourself and Koshiro?"
"Of course sir," the lieutenant immediately stood and headed towards the entrance to the mineshaft – they were hardly ten meters in, but the mine had been shut down for over a decade and there was plenty of debris. Most of it from travelers and hunters such as their victim, but that didn't make it any less of a tripping hazard.
Once the splinter was removed, the faster the other three got away, the better.
Kir knelt by the unconscious man's side and let his vision slip sideways to the world half-removed and winced. The splinter had darkened, indicating a stronger grip, but it hadn't expanded at all at least. Hopefully it would remain anchored purely in the man's energy network and not transcend to the physical – claws raking along the inside of his lungs wasn't exactly something incense and time could fix. As it was, his networks – faint veins of color, of warmth and life – would remain scarred for some time, if he ever fully recovered. All the victims of this monster would have to remain wary of lung ailments for the rest of their lives – much as he did, actually. But his was a purely physical problem, theirs… well, hopefully Oskar would be the only one with a bordering on traumatic extraction. The goal of this whole plan was to get the primary trapped and calling on the splinters so they left willingly to aid the source.
"I think we're set over here Kir," Anur called, keeping his voice low, "Do a final check?"
"Check and run through, I think – then we'd best get started, I'm not liking the shade of this splinter," he replied, rising to his feet and quickly heading for the trap Anur and Devek had just finished. The Senior Leiutenant raised his torch higher so the light hit all the rail ties they'd assembled – a simple box, really, with the line towards the depths of the mine broken by one misplaced tie. He scanned the set up another time anyway, before letting out a low hiss, "Looks solid," he said.
"Right – so, to run through," Anur bobbed his head a few times before visibly forcing himself to stop and continuing quickly, "You extract the bishra splinter, which will pull the primary out from wherever it's lurking in this mine-maze and it'll have to cross the broken line – once it's in, I pull that back line into place and you set the oil alight."
"Jakyr and I drag Conners out of here once the splinter is removed and get away from the entrance, as that's going to be a funnel for the rest of the monster-pieces," Koshiro supplied.
"We crack the front threshold so the other splinters can get in, and play a waiting game with iron and fire to keep us safe while the splinters are all called in – Aelius keeps an eye out for stragglers, tells me when there aren't any more coming and we shut the gap, then burn the hell out of this thing," Anur concluded, rubbing his hands together before crossing his arms, a frown on his face, "That's the plan."
Kir nodded grimly, sparing a moment to pray for their success and if at all possible, safety.
"Now let's see if that plan plays out at all."
***===***pagebreak***===***
The noises coming from the mine-shaft were not exactly reassuring, Devek thought grimly, knowing he was as white-faced as Jakyr without any need for a mirror. Hopefully he wasn't shaking too, but white-faced he'd grant quite willingly. That – that thing that had come up the mine at them while Father Kir performed a significantly more elaborate extraction on Conners – chanting, anointing with oil, very fancy – it was…
Devek shuddered, feeling far more chilled than the frigid air and snow could account for, Conners groaning and grumbling somewhat coherently about it being blasted cold. If he were truly conscious he wouldn't be complaining about the cold, but right now Devek wasn't too worried –
He flinched when the snarls and screeches suddenly changed pitch, became a higher, ear-piercing shriek echoing out from the shaft they were very carefully avoiding looking at directly. No splinters had gone in in a while, but seeing warped shadows with teeth and thorns that drifted on the breeze with sounds like nails on slate had been bad enough when it was one or two. When the swarm came in he was hard pressed to keep Jakyr from sprinting headlong in the other direction, duty and semi-conscious man to guard be damned. Hells, he'd been hard-pressed to not just throw Conners over his shoulder and follow. They'd have stopped before they hit the Plains.
Probably.
He had at first been a little disappointed that he wouldn't get to see how this monster actually died; getting away from his unit for this venture hadn't been too difficult, but still tedious and he wanted to see it!
He had been a bloody idiot.
Father Kir and Herald-Enforcer Bellamy were more than welcome to that sort of thing; he'd be perfectly happy to never encounter one of these witach monsters again. These things belonged in tales, in horror stories to scare children and Sunlord he was never going to be able to tell one of those creepy spook stories around the fire again no wonder the twins had alternated between shuddering refusal and hysterical laughter when people pestered them for the lothga story.
How could someone possibly ever explain this, ever even think that some words strung together in a story could capture the sheer wrongness of what had passed them by, thank the One God?
He winced, the shriek hitting piercing heights and Jakyr groaned, swaying slightly and clutching at his head. Before he got more than a brief ache in his ears there was a low rumble he felt in his bones and he recognized it with a dry-mouthed sort of terror.
But the shriek was cut off, the rumble turned into a roar, and he had no time to worry about slides of mud and muck and boulders washing villages away because there was a clearly worried witch-horse running towards a mine shaft that was spewing dust and pebbles.
***===***pagebreak***===***
Kir sat up carefully, a rain of pebbles falling off of him at the movement. Raising a hand and calling a magelight rather than fire – no need to eat up their usable air after all – the blue-tinted light cast harsh shadows onto Anur's face, exaggerating the strain in his features. "All right," Kir said, keeping his voice low and calm, "How long can you hold this pocket?"
"Absolutely no idea," Anur managed, wincing as small pebbles rained down at the distraction.
At the moment, they were sitting in a pocket big enough for the two of them to sit up and stretch out if they lay down, but if they tried to stand it would be with a definite stoop. As it was, Anur's limbs were already starting to shake and Kir doubted this would last long enough for them to get dug out. They'd been pretty far back from the entrance of the mine shaft for the trap, and even with the brief sprint they'd managed towards that entrance when the cave-in began, they couldn't be more than halfway there.
"Okay," Kir said, reaching mentally for Aelius and calling, :Witch-horse?:
:Here. I'm supporting Anur with what I can but this isn't going to work for very long. Half a mark at the most.:
:And that will definitely not be enough time for digging us out, even if we work at both ends.:
:Probably not – Koshiro's willing to try though, already started actually. Kalesh is making his way over, Riva is watching over Conners.:
:While I appreciate their efforts I don't think it's really going to help. Right – we need to just…:
Kir paused, before rolling his eyes and sighing exaggeratedly, casting a rueful look towards Anur, who'd been listening to the whole conversation anyway, and said aloud, "We need to just ask for help."
Curls of flame at his feet answered that declaration, and Kari appeared with glowing blue eyes that he was willing to bet were glittering with humor. :Wondered how long that was going to take,: the Firecat said wryly, Anur giving a relieved laugh and Kir carefully shifted around so he could wrap an arm around Anur's waist and Kari quickly draped himself across both their laps and with a warm yet disorienting surge of fire, they were sitting on sun-drenched snow.
"Father Kir!" Koshiro was clearly relieved, backing away from the small dent they'd already made in the wall of rubble that blocked the mine. A low rumble came from further in and there was another shower of dust as the rocks shifted with the collapsing pocket. "We – completely forgot about the Honorable Kari. Thank you, Sir Cat."
Kari simply nodded regally before rising to his feet and vanishing in a curl of fire, leaving the four of them and the witch-horse staring at each other for a few long, relieved moments before Anur was seized with a coughing fit, Kir wincing and dragging himself to his feet, grabbing a waterskin from Aelius' saddle and passing it to him. Anur toasted him with it, still coughing, but there was no worry from him, just an exasperated sort of humor so Kir turned to the soldiers they'd dragged into this. "Conners is all right?" he asked.
"Believe so sir," Jakyr spoke up, "Semi-conscious, but muttering about how cold it was so he has his voice back at least."
"Good," Kir let that worry fade, "Hopefully we got all of the blasted splinters. Let's get back to Almondale and return Conners to his family."
"And convince them to part with some ale in gratitude," Devek grumbled, looking over his shoulder at the mine and shuddering. "That was – disturbing."
"No argument from me," Anur snorted, accepting Kir's hand to pull himself to his feet. "I'm going to need some of your tea Kir, that was – that was a lot of weight, all at once."
"Of course," Kir eyed his brother worriedly, "You need it now or can it wait until we get back?"
"Oh it can wait," Anur grinned, eyes already tight with pain giving away the exaggeration, "Aelius can just follow behind you and Riva – I'll keep my eyes shut and the glare shouldn't give me as much trouble."
Conners still wasn't quite coherent, but he was conscious enough to be helpful when it came to getting him up on the horse in front of Kalesh. The path they'd taken through the snow was already rather slick, making the hobnails they'd screwed into their horses' shoes more than worth the curse-driven hassle that morning. As it was, Kir was simply glad the winters in recent years had given all their horses plenty of experience with navigating snow covered slopes, otherwise their descent would have taken a lot longer.
Anur was covering his eyes with his hand by the time they reached the main road, Kir feeling his own temples start to throb in sympathy. Hopefully it was due to his own exertions and the glare, not some strange new feature of their mental connection. Sharing headaches was going too far.
Before he could give the order to stop – he wanted to make a flask of headache tea, forget waiting until they were in town – Conners gave them the excuse. Stirring and blinking at the sky dazedly, the hunter sat up from where he'd been slumped against Lieutenant Kalesh and asked, voice rough from disuse, "Where – what happened?"
"What's the last thing you remember?" Kir asked, not needing to signal for the four of them to rein in their horses. While Conners furrowed his brow and tried to think back, Kir pulled an insulated flask out of his pommel bag and quickly found the wax-paper cone he stored his tea in. A couple of pinches would be more than enough – this was far from the first time he'd desperately needed tea on the trail.
If there was one thing about his gift for fire he'd desperately miss, it was the ability to heat water with no preparation – the sheer convenience of it!
"I… I couldn't talk," Conners rasped finally, Devek passing the man a waterskin, "And just felt – tired, all the time. Couldn't breathe right. So I just – I went to sleep. And then I was… coughing? I think I heard chanting? I'm sorry Your Holiness, I really don't know."
"That's to be expected," Kir assured him, capping the flask and letting the tea steep for a few moments. "Did you go into the old mine at any point recently?"
"A few days before I couldn't speak, yes sir," Conners suddenly blanched, "You mean – those shadows it wasn't – "
"It wasn't a trick of the light, no," Kir grimaced, that answered that question. Bishra could latch on without someone noticing, particularly when they were asleep, but the odds of the entire party being asleep in a cave while on a hunting excursion had been rather low. But brushing off that corner-of-the-eye shape?
Not unusual at all.
"What was it?" the hunter shuddered, white showing all around his eyes. Blast, the man was going to go into shock at this rate.
Riva sidestepped so he could reach the man's shoulder and he carefully dried and warmed the man's clothes and coat. The surge of warmth got his attention and Conners shook his head, looking over and apparently only just registering the trim on his robes.
The man immediately stiffened and Kir grumbled under his breath, straightening in his saddle and passing Anur the now potent tea. Urging Riva to continue down the road, he said shortly, "Calm down. We didn't get a mine-shaft dropped on our heads to have you freeze to death now. It was an old wretch called a bishra, brought in from the taint of blood-magic. It spread from your hunting party to about half the town – we're heading back now to see if we were able to get all of the splinters or if some managed to escape."
The remainder of the ride into Almondale was spent in silence, though Anur rode up next to him so they could pass the tea between them. The throbbing at his temples had gotten worse while he talked to Conners, so it didn't seem to be feedback from Anur's headache at all, thank the Sunlord. Passing crippling headaches between them would be a huge liability given how often one or the other of them managed to get one.
Sandalwood scented smoke reached them first, but by the time they reached the tiered streets of the hillside town, it had faded to nearly nothing. Between that and the joyful voices that carried on the breeze, Kir felt rather confident in saying the bishra itself was no longer a problem.
At least one of these messes had been easily resolved.
"Your Holiness!" the local priest had apparently been keeping an eye out for them, walking towards them just shy of what could be called rushing, genuine gratefulness in his gaze. "It is good to see you've returned – and Oskar! Is all well?" he asked, clasping hands with Kir the moment he dismounted and they exchanged quick blessing gestures. This priest, at least, was willing to welcome a Firestarter and his entourage of Sunsguard – they were monster-slayers now, after all.
"Those affected for longer will need to be particularly careful of lung ailments for the rest of the season, and cautious for the rest of their lives," Kir said, inclining his head in acknowledgement of Conners' bow before the man hastened off to where his family was waiting, having followed their priest.
He kept an eye on that thrilled reunion, having a feeling that joyous occasions, chances to feel warmed by something other than anger, were going to be few and far between in the coming weeks. "But other than that," he continued, returning the majority of his focus to the other priest, a man probably a bare decade older than him but all the greyer for it, "All is well, yes. Well, aside from scrapes on our part, but that is nothing to concern yourself over."
The priest's eyes narrowed and the man said, "I think we can determine what we should worry over, Your Holiness. For the past week I've worried that I would be burning pyres for half my village, with hardly a guess as to what had caused it. We are in your debt, and we would be remiss if we did not acknowledge that. We have a small inn, I'm afraid there are only two rooms in the whole place – "
"We've rested in tighter quarters," Kir said dryly, "So long as there is a roof and a place for our horses, it is perfect."
"Well those two we can certainly manage," the priest hesitated before saying, "And if you are agreeable – the headman and I would appreciate the chance to hear details as to just what was terrorizing our people. After you've rested of course! Perhaps after the Sun Descending service?"
That would give them time to settle the horses, find food for all members of their party, and hopefully nip their headaches in the bud. Ideally, he'd get a chance to pick Jakyr's brain over some local maps again, but if that had to be left for after the tale – because that's what they were after, a tale – then so be it. Locals to question as to odd silences or strange quarantines would be most beneficial.
That bishra had been far too strong for a mere half-moon of mild contaminants. Somewhere in these hills was a scene of brutal, witach-bound slaughter – and it was their job to find it and those who'd perfomed the twisted rites, Sunlord be merciful.
Kir had no plans to be.
A/N: Ugh. That was rough. And then super short - sorry - rewrote the bishra death sequence so many times... Have the next chapter half done though, so hopefully, computer gremlins aside, this won't take as long! And maybe it'll be a hefty sized chapter again!
