Chapter Four , Night Visitors

Grip of Autumn, 11th of Hallowleaf, 1311 CE

Azarra gazed at the lid of nocturnal curtain. No constellations, no evening navigators nor bright guides to be observed amongst that expanse, sodden by obsidian shroud. Umbrage doused starlight, leaving only blank infinity. She was distracted by an impish inkling tugging at her awareness from an untraceable angle

“A rotting shame that the stars are shy tonight. I used to offer up questions to the vast breadth of space and often the celestial orbs that inhabit it would send an answer to me from their glittering bodies.” She admitted aimlessly.

Her chief sentinel, Tallis, merely grunted. “You were saying something about a letter from the Elder Shaman...”

“Ah, what wise words of woe he gifts me!” Azarra sighed. She roped in her stray mind as the pair walked the steady incline. Swiftly she returned to the letter folded in her pouch. “Support for our cause in the Temple proper dwindles. Some among the Sages do not trust our purpose and feel that there is some black magick afoot with the business of Drakkon’s birth. They fear that the existence of such a sun as my son will cleave a rift in the spiritual community when we should be in ‘harmony’. They seek harmony under the horns! Block us from any aid from Ty-Drasil until we can show some proof of miracles and a reason for their sentinels to serve us.”

“A pity, surely.” Tallis grumbled. “But I feel that strength of our cause and the gravity of your resolve will draw in enough that we can stand alone without the blessing of those ‘wise’ old men cowering in their breeches at the prospect of change. Just last week we received three more hunters, trained in bow & blade who pledged to our aim and four agrarians promised a yield of their crops. Not to forget the revenue pouring into our coffers from travelers’ tribute. I believe we have this handled.” Asserted her guardian. Beneath his bold claims, however, indent of doubt curved. His bravado, as much to convince himself as his charge.

“There was more to the letter.” Azarra continued, spoiling his statement. “Kassan’s emissaries returned to Ty-Drasil to interrogate anyone deemed to know of our whereabouts. They were threatened under pain of death & prolonged path towards it. But Gaahl drove the Ferali beasts from hallowed ground by calling of the fierce familiars of his domain. The emissaries fled but not before someone told them of our locale. He’s seen, through Sight or scout, bear-thralls all through Moribond, moving this way. By his estimate we have a few days to a week at most before we’ve uninvited guests.”

Shade stole the sentinel’s expression. “The Keeper would not lie. That is as certain as the danger we face. We are not ready, not yet. We have not the numbers to hold off the Bear. We cannot rely on but provisions of local farmers when they’re soon to be torched. Nor have the arms to defend should they try for siege. Barbarians they may be, my Lady, but ones with enough wit to wield horned rams that batter gates, slings of ember-sap & sheer lust for carnage that lunges at any carelessness. By sea, brook and hillside, their berserkers sack many a monastery & whole heath. Their bear-clads climbed the walls of Torhildenburg and fattened on the blood & spoils of the burghers.”

“Lecture me not on the dangers of our enemy as if I am a stupid girl. I know that lech’s horror.” Azarra interrupted, veiling her fright in fierce curtness. “You are here to advise me on martial matters. Have you no strategy but submission or flight?”

“My advice is to flee with the boy and half our host through the tunnels under the shrine. We’ve a couple passageways that lead far through Moribond. If we flee, set up outposts and act reserved we will have nothing to fear from the clan ov the Bear. Keep contact only with the Elder himself and our location will be hidden on the move.”

Azarra fought fearful resignation. She could invent no better plan. Practically defenseless even behind the walls. All this discourse relating to Kassan courted ominous shivers. The feeling of being hunted, observed by a predator in the gloom. She willfully wrangled the impulse to sprint. Squinting at nearby tree line, swathed in Fall’s murk.

“My custodians abroad hear perturbing rumors amongst the flock gathering in taverns and alehouses; tales of burial grounds ravaged across the region. The dead there, unearthed.” Tallis, normally quite collected, shuddered, and made the sign of the star. “They say their chief consults necromancy. That he raises the dead from their graves to bolster his force. The Crown ov Forests was not enough to convince the living to serve him, so now the dead must be conscripted. At night whole towns are swept away by unholy tide of ravenous ghouls. I know not the merit of this hearsay but do not wish to disc-”

“Do you not feel that?” She severed his superstition to speak for her own. “With every second passing, every mention of that heinous name, the forest leans in on us. Leers at us! Eavesdropping and grabbing for us. I don’t feel right. ‘Tis as though the woods are hostile to us and alive in dark thicket. I want to return now!”

Before Tallis could consider how to console her, she darted at the behest of her pounding heart and racing mind. Closing the distance between her and sanctuary. Naturally the man sworn to protect her bolted after her. But resounding over his hobnailed footsteps came the abrupt advance of hooves, briskly charging over air & field.

Tallis turned to face the oncoming rider, bidding his Lady rush inside and rally the other sentinels should anything go ill. It felt like an eternity before Azarra finally reached the interior of the chancel and raised stern alarum. After rousing any capable of defense, she swung to the upper level to bare down on the clamor’s cause.

Rapacious rider appeared in front, dressed in black fur of the Ferali. A mask covered all of him that was of man but his mouth and eyes, ghostly steel lining his sockets. A face carved of bear’s skull, protruded menacing likeness beneath his hood. His right-hand wielded scepter constructed from human spine, save the ursine skull at the tip. Though quickly surrounded by sentinel spears, the rider was unphased, seating himself proudly upon massive steed, toting the Black Bear banner.

The speaker announced his purpose in sonorous growl. “I am the Harbinger of the Ursine Lord, Kassan! I am his Word! And if thou do not obey it, I shall become his Claws!”

“My chief demands you bring forth this ‘special’ cub, that I may deliver it unto him. Aegis of Ursinium stretches beyond the mountains of Moribond into Harnow Gully. We conquer from Harmsburg to Torhildenburg, all between & far must kneel! Even the dead serve us, whether they did in life or not. For our cause is empowered by crown that commands daemons from their gates!” The Harbinger paced about on his steed. “Bring forth the babe or we shall put every child here and far to the axe! A scouring of townships running up to the Ruun shall soil yer hands! No sniveling infant will defy the Forest Lord!”

Azarra’s mortal marrow recoiled. Her soul’s veins stringed stark medley but she summoned tenacity to deny this worm-word bearer. “Slave! That blood would be on Kassan’s! Look hard at your master. A braggart with nothing to show for his reign but threats and sorrow! You rule no heath, for you till no fields, only burn – and ye shall burn! Should ye raise a finger against one stone of this haven ye shall be immolated by righteous Drakoni thunder!”

Feeling the wicked eye of the defiler shoot through his thrall’s glare, her temperament screeched volatile proclamations. “I defy thee and thy mongrel master! Deny the privilege of setting glimpse upon the Great God, thou misbegotten wyrmling! I decry thee, brute! Thou art no bear but a swine! Leave here in peace, if not disgrace, or my men shall skewer thee, pig!”

But the Harbinger simply smiled. Smoothly and impassionedly. Sinister gleam poked through the holes of his bone mask. His greedy smirk laughed in silence for premature victory. This was no diplomat but a provocateur, sent to rile them to violence and bring the course his master craved so callously. “O, degenerate harlot! Carping defiance will only make the chafing of the chains of justice evermore abrasive! Bleat for forgiveness, little lamb, once you come to terms with how the Bear is the true law of this land! To spit upon his generosity is to invite worse than death into your hearth!”

The macabre rider vanished, evading goading sentinel spears with ease, into lugubrious woods. Hours passed as seconds within the intense scrambling. Nothing decided by her counsel outside of that if anything should turn sour, their Lord and his mother must flee through the tunnels. They must ensure the safety of the still vulnerable god tucked to her side.

Their debates were unofficially resolved by sudden, feverish howling fermenting the hills. Animalistic and unhallowed shouts undermined their nerve; sounds sent from maw of perdition. As they all rushed to the outer wall their worst fears manifest.

A horde of ghastly figures charge forth from foul foliage. Quicksilver paste & black streaks etched over ashen visage of ghouls. Dead but accusing battalions of night come to devour living souls. Their host, deathless & innumerable, surrounds the sanctuary with shrieking ferocity that squashed capabilities of human cords. Inverting vocals they cry, clawing up stone. Berserker wraiths scaling wind & sanctuary.

Tallis flung a dagger at a crevice in one of the rotten figure’s skull-visage. Clawing up the wall to be impaled by edge emboldened by Azarra’s ire, his was a human cry as blade pierced brain. A kill to reveal that these foes were very much fallible, only cleverly conforming to illusion of undeath. But before Azarra could celebrate this revelation Delphine dragged her from the wall – just as a spear whizzed past to shatter mirror behind. Pulled down to lower chamber by a friend who begged her.

“Please, Sister! This shrine is lost. It served us well, but we must leave! If we make haste, we are not so lost! Let us burrow out behind the pass to the seas!” Delphine desperately dug nails into her shoulders, carving through her paralysis and splitting her ear with optimism in defeat. “Think! Let them raze these stones and think us torched with our house. All the while we can sculpt new life while they think us dead! Let it be your choice where we go but let us fly with discretion! And fast!”

Without much choice left in the matter, Azarra agreed to her proposal. With a nod, Delphine as surrogate for her speech, she commanded Tallis to open the hatch to the moribund caverns. Already Tallis’ most valiant men lay butchered by axes, strewn by spears, and left under ladders, entrenching the doom of this seat. Raiders, spectral & corporeal, climbed walls with scaling claws and snuck through windows while the night-gaunts splintered the gate.

The frightened young mother funneled through the channel with Drakkon clenched to her, ushering followers forward through the passage. While a fair amount of their remnants traversed the hatch, the rest were left to undead onslaught. Makeshift missiles of incendiary clusters waged wrath against the foundation, toppling stone and mortar. Beneath the sanctum’s expanse the heat & brutality above was perceptible. Roaring embers and hapless screams from behind forced acknowledgement that this former haven was already burnt by the will of the Hated One.

Azarra’s departure was burdened by the rather plump child toted within her arms. He slowed her enough that her disciples fled far ahead, forgetting her position in panic’s plight. Cynical spurs snagged her. I could chuck this seedling of Kassan’s transgression into swift oblivion and ease my escape. I could with such aplomb rid myself of this burden which weighs me down. This sapling spawned of the horror who befalls us now... Could I?

Yet a spark of insight fostered within her and overtook that petty pronouncement. Am ember inside flared reminder of her child’s purpose and her path. Azarra glanced down and her offspring transformed from anchor grinding her feet into a beacon of redemption and a knife to be keened against the butchers. A burden he may be, but this babe is also a blessing! I must endure for my son to grow as the sun of my earth. Through him I reverse Kassan’s curse. This boy, heavy as he his, is a torch & weapon worth holding. I need only be patient, kind and careful to allow him to be forged strong by this heat.