Oswin held his nose into the evening breeze. Except for winter cold and mustiness there wasn’t much to smell. Possibly there also was a waft of coming snow in the air but that was hardly something unusual in January. Then the calf-sized shaggy black dog let the gaze of his fiery eyes drift through his surroundings again. The church grim stood on an abandoned fog-shrouded graveyard. All of the tombstones were densely overgrown with moss or lichens, their inscriptions so weathered by wind and weather that nobody was able to read them anymore. Where once well-tended graves were located, now weeds uncontrollably grew rampant even if their activity was heavily limited in winter. In the center of the forgotten graveyard towered an enormous vault in sinister splendor. This burial vault too was helplessly exposed to the ravages of time. But the thin lines of a magic seal could still be perceived on the heavy stone door locking up the entrance to the vault. Oswin’s duty was to guard the graveyard, less against grave robbers and other evildoers who were after the remains and grave goods of the deceased – although this also had happened once already – but more the dead man banished into the vault forever who the gods themselves feared. Since time immemorial, the church grim pursued this assignment entrusted to him by a god. Or was it a goddess? The black dog could only remember very fragmentarily. No wonder, since he attended to his duty faithfully for centuries if not for millennia after all. The buried on this graveyard and the place of their interment had already disappeared from the heads and chronicles of humans since time immemorial. No mortal still remembered the ghost who was able to terrify the gods themselves both in life and death, let alone the ordinary dead that had found their eternal rest here. Oswin was by no means bothered by it. He pursued the assignment entrusted to him. If the graveyard was visited by many relatives or if it slowly fell to ruin in the twilight sleep of time like now too, it had nothing to do with him. Finding food had actually become even easier for the black dog through the centuries because by this time the forgotten graveyard was located in the middle of a forest whereto no human strayed but wherein there was ample prey for the church grim.

Soon it should become apparent that Oswin should have attached more importance to the gradual dilapidation of the graveyard. As a dog what he could contribute to the maintenance of the graveyard was indeed more than limited, but even so. That the man-made works of stone, becoming brittle through the centuries, could crumble through the smallest influence, the church grim was already used to that. Therefore it didn’t interest him any further when a sound bide the disintegration of a piece of masonry art riddled with holes by wind and weather. Rather bored he looked into the direction where the sound came from.

How Oswin’s hairs stood on end when he noticed that the impending collapse didn’t apply to one of the many tombstones like every so often but to the vault itself. As fast as he possibly could he ran into the direction of the mausoleum but he came too late. In front of his fiery yellow eyes opened widely in horror, the magical seal, bleached out through the centuries, on the vault door crumbled into dust.

Shortly afterwards the sound of a roaring wind in the depth of the vault rang out. All of a sudden a violent gust of wind pushed open the stone door wings – although it would be better to say that it downright took them off their age-worn hinges. At the same time a mad laughter arose that appeared to literally come from the depth of the tomb, followed by the words: “Finally! Finally I am free! Now the time has come that the great Eorpwald takes back what the great Eorpwald deserves!”

Then a man clad in mothy archaic garments stepped out of the tomb. He was a heavily built and unrefined looking giant without equal. In life he would even have been a good deal taller because instead of wearing his head on his shoulders, the ghost carried his under his arm. It was a pale faced head with fiery eyes that wildly shone from beneath the black locks, and a wide mouth seemingly reaching from one ear to the other. In the hand of his free arm the undead held a whip which turned out to be a human spine upon closer examination. When the dullahan stepped out of its prison – albeit stepping wasn’t quite the right word for in doing so the giant sat on an equally gigantic white horse that had no head – he gazed around with sinister satisfaction. Although Eorpwald saw the church grim he paid absolutely no attention to it. The state of the ruinous graveyard too didn’t seem to interest him any further. After that he cracked his macabre whip and stormed away on his mount into the forest gradually covered in nightly shadows.

For a while Oswin still stared into space aghast. Then he pulled himself together, set up a loud howl and chased after the escaped dullahan. The black dog wanted to and had to capture the death demon and banish it back into its prison or even directly put an end to it, cost what it may.

Doderic was as cool as a cucumber. Although the fourteen years old boy had been separated from his companions and found himself alone with his trusty steed in the darkest woods, he didn’t panic. At first view the youth wasn’t particularly remarkable. Somewhat smaller than his contemporaries but of athletic stature, the tanned face full of freckles, with shoulder-length dark red hair, and attentive light brown eyes. He carried a short sword on his belt and the simple clothes of a squire that belied his abilities though. Doderic was actually a genius in dealing with weapons and in fighting in general who had beat many experienced knights successfully in spite of his young age. He was no ordinary boy in other ways as well but the little brother of Gamelyn I, former Duke of Gorgewell and King of Seathornia for a year now. Doderic himself would become Duke of Gorgewell when coming of age.

The Dukes of Gorgewell were a branch of the royal dinasty of Seathornia. After the main branch of the royal family had ceased to exist last year with the death of childless Archibald IV, subsequently the throne fell to the only twenty five years old Gamelyn of Gorgewell who was crowned as king in the capital Thuneriver just two years after he had succeeded his father in the position of Duke. However, Foulques III too claimed the throne of Seathornia. This man was the King of the neighboring kingdom Sucellie and the spouse of Eglantine, the only sister of deceased King Archibald. King Foulques primarily aimed for Seathornia’s prosperous ports but also for the military power of the peninsula kingdom that he wanted to use for his political goals. The nobility of Seathornia for the most part backed up their new King, as they wanted to prevent that Seathornia lost its independence after all. They didn’t want to have anything to do with Foulques III who lusted after the lands and subjects of Seathornia from far away Couron.

Doderic had to separate from his companions since they got unexpectedly surprised by Sucellian knights. King Foulques’ troops had invaded Seathornia in the previous summer already and had conquered the bigger part of the peninsula’s Southern counties. Now they had obviously aimed for the brother of the, in their eyes, false king to use him as hostage against the latter. But even when Gamelyn I surrendered the crown of Seathornia to Foulques III for the sake of his brother, Doderic’s life likely wouldn’t be safe. It didn’t even enter the boy’s mind to fall into the henchmen’s hands though. On the contrary, he wanted to chase the occupiers out of the country but even as adolescent fighting genius it was a likely impossible endeavor for a single person.

Suddenly it cracked in the undergrowth. Doderic on top of his dun horse looked around in surprise. He likely had startled but not too much, for there was hardly something that could throw the battle-hardened youth off track. What then appeared though took him completely aback at first. In the twilight of the late-night bald forest trees, the figure of a headless giant on his headless steed showed itself soon afterwards. Very gruesome was the sight of this gigantic figure that raced past him like a tempest, leaving the boy and his horse behind like petrified.

Sometime later a calf-sized black dog came out of the underwood, its tongue hanging pantingly from its mouth. With its fiery eyes it looked at the red-haired boy in front of it.

Has he passed by here? a mellow voice that woke the young man from his trance sounded in Doderic’s head Has Eorpwald passed by here?

The King’s brother looked around in astonishment and caught sight of the church grim whose inauspicious figure gave him a real scare. Who had not heard about the black dogs that made an appearance to herald the impending death? Doderic couldn’t know that this was just a superstition without any substance.

Has the dullahan passed by here? the dog asked again.

“Oh, umm, yes.” the boy responded „A headless horseman has passed by here.“

What direction? the church grim wanted to know If I don’t catch up with him soon, then the whole peninsula is doomed!

That indeed scared the heck out of Doderic. For a moment he reflected upon what he should do. Then he abruptly dismounted his horse and lifted the seemingly exhausted dog on the back of his mount. The horse of course was not really delighted that it was suddenly saddled with a calf-sized mutt. And Doderic too, who was somewhat small but fairly strong for his age, was surprised how much the animal weighed.

What do you do, boy? the church grim asked, barking discontentedly I have no time for games!

“I am called Doderic, not boy.” the squire corrected “You are obviously exhausted. If the dullahan really is so dangerous then I will bring you to him.” He said, swung up on his steed and off they went in gallop.

Thank you, Doderic. The black dog now meekly replied I am called Oswin. Somehow he felt the necessity to disclose his name too. Then he explained in a nutshell what it was about the dullahan. When he even got a helper, the latter should at least know what he let himself in for.

Doderic impelled his horse to the highest speed it could reach with the church grim as additional burden. At it the dun horse was still faster than most other horses because this mount that the boy had nursed from foal age onwards had also been raised into one of the best steeds in the whole of Seathornia by him.

Soon afterwards the gigantic apparition came in sight. The dullahan made his whip fall repeatedly on his horse like a madman. This ruthless behavior caused Doderic and Oswin to grimace sympathetically. It could only be hoped that the white horse, since dead, couldn’t feel pain anymore.

Try to overtake him! the church grim demanded.

The youth nodded as a sign that he had understood and made his steed hurry up further. It didn’t take long, there the King’s brother and the dullahan rode alongside each other. Eorpwald, who had ignored the boy on horseback in the forest before, now glared at him from fiery eyes. Who dared to compete with the great tyrant Eorpwald?

Doderic didn’t allow himself to be intimidated and did what he had to do. With a hazardous maneuver, he launched to overtake and with his trusty dun horse he utterly fearless obstructed the way of the ghost.

The headless ghost horse – in whatever way it was able to perceive its surroundings – was so heavily surprised by the sudden appearance of the still living member of its species that it started to balk.

Oswin gathered his remaining strength and jumped from the back of the steed that had carried him over the horse rearing up directly at the ghostly rider.

Eorpwald shouted out in anger and surprise when he was catapulted out of his saddle by a calf-sized dog. In the process his head also slipped away from his grasp and rolled over the ground.

Doderic, who had followed the events descended from his horse, boldly walked up to the dullahan’s head lying on the ground that gave him thundering curses and blazing gazes, and drove his sword straight into the head of the undead right in between the eyebrows. The giant began to scream and howl that it deafened the ears. The downright unhuman sounds echoed through the whole nightly forest. At the same time eerie black flames lightlessly illuminating the darkness burst out of the monster’s head. Although the flames made his sword red-hot and also licked at his hands, the young man didn’t let go. Had he turned around, he likely could have seen that the dullahan’s gigantic body writhing in pain also burst into black flames that nearly threatened to devour the dog.

All of a sudden it was over. Head and body of the ghost went up in smoke as if they never had been. Doderic and Oswin who saw themselves exposed to hotly licking flames hadn’t even a single burn. The twisted Eorpwald’s headless white horse powdered into countless small light particles wafting off towards the sky on the quiet. Only the ordinary short sword the youth had used wasn’t anymore. Instead a sinister looking black scythe was found that alone was already as long as Doderic was tall. Considering that, it was uncommonly lightweight, barely heavier than a common spear the boy knew to use.

This is a gift from the grateful gods. explained Oswin who silently and inconspicuously came up to the young man still gazing at the scythe dumbfounded and warily. Just a moment earlier he had received a divine revelation. The first since time immemorial. The gods thank you for annihilating the evil spirit they themselves couldn’t deal with. Don’t misunderstand. With their power the gods likely had been able to annihilate Eorpwald but that would have cost countless innocent lives. As replacement for your sword melted in the flames of death, they have given you this scythe the black fire’s power is inherent in. This power of death that creates new life is not evil in itself but also not good. It simply is. With that said, so that you won’t be seduced to evil by this power like Eorpwald, the gods have entrusted to me to accompany you and to have an eye on you. Since I now don’t have to guard the dullahan anymore, I am quite alright with it.

Doderic had listened to the church grim attentively. At first he got a big scare that such an enormous power should be entrusted to him but soon he became happy because this power gave him hope to expel the Sucellian invaders from Seathornia once and for all. Then he showed a beaming smile on his freckled face that even somewhat seemed to light up the darkness of the nightly forest, and spoke: “I’m glad to be in your care in future, Oswin. Let’s be good friends.”

The fiery yellow eyes of the dog widened in surprise. Friends? he said astonished and, how the wagging tail gave away, also pleasantly surprised I had no friends as of yet. Only duties. But I’d love to try that, being fiends.

Doderic nodded affirmatively. Then he again mounted his horse that was obviously given the creeps by the scythe, and rode away accompanied by a calf-sized black dog to find his companions from whom he had been separated. As of yet he couldn’t surmise that he should chase the Sucellians off the peninsula just a few months later, dreaded and revered by friend and foe as Grim Reaper of the Battlefield who came over his enemies relentlessly with the scythe of death and the black dog heralding death, and whose mere existence should secure the rule of his brother Gamelyn I and his descendants for generations.