“It is a good thing the townspeople burned the manor,” Granny Esmer said. “Ye know what was in there.”

“So you say,” Campbell sighed. Preston thought the Knight was a little too torn up about the destruction of a pit of evil. “But there was so much that could have been learned. The ancient history, the rituals, the Other. Such knowledge could have been worth… well, I would have liked a great deal to recover it.”

“Good fucking riddance, I say.” Preston threw another log into the pyre. The stump of his ring finger stung as he did so, but he ignored it. At least it hadn’t been the left. He still had his wedding ring, even as the matching ring hung around his neck for the last decade. “Let it all burn.”

At the death of the demon, her thralls and thugs had been released from her corrupting influence. Faced with what Akis had made them do, and what the demon had done to their neighbors, friends, and families, they had made the gratifying decision to burn the manor to the ground. Some had thrown themselves into the fire, from despair at the loss of their Lady or the horror at what they had done.

Preston said good riddance to them. At least it had been a quick death. He had never seen stone burn the way the strange black stone of the manor melted and vaporized in the heat, but he was sure it was because of something magical.

“Hmm,” the Knight grunted but did not say more. The heat of the fire added to the heat of the noonday sun, shining through the cloudless sky above, enough to make Preston begin to sweat. He could have stepped back from the flames, but he needed to witness the demon burn to ash. Given she was missing the top half of her skull, it was a near certain thing she was dead, but there was no surety with magic.

Fire could purge the greatest evils, applied vigorously enough. Every child was taught that bit of lore, regardless of talent. A clacking chatter from the ground drew Preston’s attention to the disembodied head laying beside Campbell’s boot. The Revenant had not died when Akis did, a fact Preston found mildly concerning. Nor had they found all the pieces of the Revenant after the manor burned.

“How come we ain’t burning that thing too?”

“‘Cuz it’ll tell us when Akis is true dead.” The Granny Woman sat on a stump, elbows on knees and chin on fists, staring into the fire as if she was willing it to burn hotter. Given what she was, she might well be. “She cast the resurrection on it, an’ if ye kill a Revenant’s master, it’ll die too. Problem bein’, if ye can create a Revenant, ye’re damned hard to kill. Nice way to double check.”

Watching the flames lick and dance around the remains in the pyre, Preston felt a stab of worry. What if Akis wasn’t dead? What if she sat up, head reformed, and leapt at his throat? The fire wasn’t burning her right. The skin wasn’t blackened, there was no crackle. The feather dress had burned in a flash, but the flesh had remained, stubborn as a mule with the bit between his teeth.

“What if she doesn’t burn?” Preston asked. “Do you throw some elymis in there like before? She doesn’t look very burned.”

“Elymis would be a bad idea. She could use the power in it to reform. No, best to encourage the fire to greater heat naturally. Keep piling wood in there.” The Knight held a hand into the fire, touching one of the glowing logs. Preston leapt forward with a shout of surprise, but pulled up short when he saw the Knight’s hand remained unburnt. The flames leapt higher where he touched, and grew closer to a white flame.

“See? Fire is easy to make happy and bright. Best be adding more wood, though. A happy fire needs lots of fuel.”

“Could you, could you teach me?” Preston asked as he moved to do as the Knight suggested. The ability to speak with the fire could come in handy on the farm.

“It is not something to be learned.”

“Sure it can, how else’d you know how to do it?”

The Knight held up a finger. “You would know if you could. It can be trained; it cannot be learned if the ability is not there to begin with.”

“Hmm. Guess I’m too old to teach new tricks anyway.”

“Never too old fer new tricks,” Granny Esmer said from her uninterrupted vigil. “Get too old to be easy quicker than ye think, though.”

“I-” The words died in Preston’s throat as the fire shifted in the pyre. The bright yellow flames flashed into a rainbow, from a bright red to smooth green to the deepest purple, racing along the remains of a young woman inhabited by foul demons and her own corrupting desire for power, reducing her to silver ash in an instant.

“Why’s it silv-” Words died again as the colored flame lifted into the air, a swirling pillar of heat and destruction. Campbell held a hand overhead, palm to the sky, muttering under his breath. Preston looked at Granny Esmer, hoping someone would be able to tell him if this was what was supposed to be happening. He didn’t know if he could handle any more surprises.

The pillar of multicolored fire forked into two, shooting off in opposite directions from the pyre. At first Preston thought the lines would continue until the mountains stopped them, but the fiery lines stopped at the town boundary. Following the crumbling wall surrounding the town, the fire burned a clear circle before lifting into the air again, curving until meeting at the apex of an enormous half sphere above the town. Once there, the fire flickered and went out, not even leaving smoke behind.

“What the hell was that?” Preston sputtered. Was this something like Kindale all again? Did the burning of Akis release some terrible fate?

“I was renewing the town Wards. These should hold for a decade or so, with the energy I fed them,” Campbell nodded at the Granny Woman. “Enough time to find someone to maintain them.”

“Thank ye, Knight. Though I doubt there will be a town to speak of in a decade.”

“Nonsense,” Preston said. “There were folks building again at Kindale before we left there. It was scoured to the bedrock.”

“I will try my damnedest to ensure there is no town here in a decade,” the Granny Woman spat. “Too much evil here. In the ground, in the air. It can no be cleansed, no with an army o' priests.”

“Campbell might count as an army of gilded robes,” Preston said. “You sure?”

“Yes. Nothing much left here.”

“We have done what we can here. Akisoromokevheje is dead. Her Revenant tells it so,” Campbell said. The light show had distracted Preston from the reason they were here and he checked the undead head. There was nothing left of it but a pile of greasy mush the color of aged bone left for the scavengers to clean. As he watched, even the mush melted away into the ground. “We must be going.”

“Must ye? Could use the help.”

“I am afraid so.” The Knight dug into one of his numerous pockets to remove a small sheet of well worn paper.

“It is funny,” Campbell said, crumbling the sheet in his hand. “I thought I did not have a home to go back to after this. He said he left our home.” He pulled the paper back out and smoothed it across his leg. “But I think I do. I have to try, at least?”

“All anyone can do,” Granny Esmer said, scratching at one of the bandages wrapped around her head. The demon had come close to removing an eye. “Ye boys be careful. Dangerous world out there. Hate to have to drag myself out o' my chair to help ye.”

“You’ll be kicking longer than either of us,” Preston reassured her. Might even be true, magic folks being able to disregard age as they saw fit, seemed to him.

“Way ye two handled yerselves in that scrap, might well be.”

Preston was inclined to agree with her. “Do all your hunts end like this one?”

“Not as such, no. Most are neatly done.” Blake shrugged. “Of course, I am usually not dealing with a realm beyond our reality, nor evil gods old when the world was new.”

“Good to hear,” Preston said. He rubbed his chest when Akis had backhanded him. Granny Esmer had assured him nothing was broken, but he felt bruised to his bones. “I’ve never been shot with a cannon, but I suspect it is similar to a backhand from Akis.”

He held up the cracked remains of his protective amulet. “I guess I’m pretty hard on these.”

The Knight chuckled. “That you are. I will make another as a parting gift. At this rate, I will need to replenish my store of hawk feathers.”

“Fire’s out,” Granny Esmer announced. Preston glanced at the pyre where the body of Akis had burned. The wood had been reduced to wane, thin ash. As he watched, it lifted away in the breeze. The silver ash, all that remained of the monster who terrorized this town, was left alone to glitter in the light of the sun overhead.

“Best get this gathered immediately.” Campbell knelt and scooped as much of the silver dust into two leather bags as he could. What little dust remained in the pit he left there, and ground into the soil when he stood. He held one out to Preston, who took it. For as small as it was, it was heavier than a quarter bushel of corn.

“Lynch, these are for us. We need to spread the ashes as we travel up river, on the bank, in the water, to be thrown in pig sties, outhouses, campfires. Nothing must be allowed to remain. Cannot be too careful with something that had already died at least once before and came back stronger. It is the only way to be sure.”

Preston nodded and gripped the bag a little tighter. If this was the only way to ensure what they had fought the night before never returned, he would do what was necessary.

“Now that’s taken care o', let's get ye boys somethin’ to eat. I’m sure the Harpers won’t mind ye spendin' another night.” The Granny Woman stumped off without another word.

…

“So I was right,” Preston said as he climbed the road cutting through the mountains beside the Iron Knight. “In the end, it was a magic Ferret solution to kill her. Wasn’t grave dirt, sure, but the bullet was sure as shit magic.”

“I am not sure if it was the blessings that killed her,” the Knight said. Preston and Campbell had left the town of Quincy Hill as dawn’s first light caressed the horizon, leaving behind a ruin of a town and hundreds of saved lives. Granny Esmer had seen them off, but had been quiet. Her way of life was over, and Preston didn’t know if he would react any better.

“No?”

“Could have been the eighth pound of iron pushed through her skull at twice the speed of sound.”

Preston stopped walking to look at the man. The Knight stopped the same and gazed back. It seemed the Knight had a sense of humor after all. With a wry chuckle, Preston shook his head and continued walking, clapping the Knight on the back as he walked by.

“Damn shame we couldn’t keep the horses, these hills are the worst.”

“The mountains around west Aztla were worse.” Campbell shrugged. “Quincy Hill is going to need the horses more than we will. River boats will not take horses, more than likely.”

“Didn’t get sent to west Aztla, only you poor mage saps. They stuck me at Berakrus at the start. Brutal fight, that.” Preston waved a hand behind him. “Don’t tell me we don’t deserve a little something for saving their asses back there.”

“We deserve much more than horses, and we saved much more than one little frontier town. But welcome to life in the Iron Order.” A frown covered Campbell’s face as he spoke, a deep shadow behind his eyes, but it vanished as Preston noticed it. “The siege at Berakrus turned out better than Kindale, eh?”

Preston could only nod in agreement. And complain. “They wouldn’t even spare a mule? Beats walking hundreds of miles.”

“Those few who remain will need what they can to get away from this place.”

“I get it, but I’m also a little selfish,” Preston shrugged. The Knight grunted in response and mumbled something Preston couldn’t make out. They continued in silence until the sun sank from its apex to halfway above the ground. It was not a companionable silence, but neither was it hostile. The Knight broke the silence first.

“This is where we take our separate paths,” Campbell said, drawing up short at a narrow turnoff from the main road. Preston would have hesitated to call the turnoff a full road at all. More of a disused cart track. “I will not say it was a pleasure, but it was good to fight alongside you again, Preston Lynch.”

The Knight stuck out a hand and Preston enveloped it with his own. “And I’ll say the same about you, Blake Campbell. May we never meet again but in the Halls of Heaven.”

“Spread that ash far and wide,” Campbell said. “I do not want to have to see you again to kill Akisoromokevheje the Third.”

“You can be sure I will,” Preston chuckled. “I don’t plan to see you again either.”

“Do not go too early to the Soldier’s Honest Rest, Preston. There is much good you could do the world.” Preston could only nod at the Knight’s words.

And so they parted ways, both heading North for their own reasons and on their own paths. Preston settled into a comfortable lope, able to stretch his strides now he walked alone. He’d been delayed saving the southern Federation from ruination, but he would not allow that to get in the way of his promise to his son. He would be there in time for harvest, come hell or high water. Preston had already fought off Hell, high water could not be much worse.

“When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah, Hurrah,” Preston began to sing,

“We’ll give him a hearty welcome then, Hurrah, Hurrah;

“The men will cheer, the boys will shout,

“The ladies, they will all turn out,

“And we’ll all feel gay,

When Johnny comes marching home.”

Demonic (susp. succubus) presence, Sep. 7, ‘65

Location: Southern reaches, Ebbolochian Mountain Range. Town of Quincy HIll, and surrounding areas.

Time: First encounter, late afternoon. Final encounter, midnight Sep. 10, ‘65

Category: Succubus OTHER. See Raven Entry.

Description: Strikingly beautiful human woman, red head, green eyes, approximately five foot 7 inches. Altish accent, though may have been an affectation to fool the locals. No noticeably demonic features, save for the customary succubic beauty and alluring gaze. Travelled under the assumed name of Kathryn Kingston, later discovered her name to be Danielle, sister of the Granny Woman. Demon found to be named Akisoromokevheje, a Starvarian demon. SEE Raven Servant Entry.*

Encounter: Succubus had assumed local control of a small mountain town, Quincy Hill, after presumably killing the local Preacher, and driving the Granny Woman into hiding. I arrived at manor where succubus had set up operations, lately occupied by the mayor of Quincy Hill. Died before arrival of succubus? Succubus invited me for dinner, tried and failed to Charm me before resorting to poison and physical assault. It was then I learned of the Revenant the succubus had raised. Lessons learned. I was lucky to escape with my life, thanks to the timely intervention of the local Granny Woman. [Personal note: Granny Esmer is to be treated as if she is an Undermarshal of the Iron Knights. A great resource for any Knights operating in the area. LOCUS.]

*Further notes in Raven Servant Entry

Resolution: Entity killed, Revenant destroyed.