The Barrowland Slayers

Chapter 16: Heroic Conviction

 "You make yourself out to be heroes," Inquisitor Varus sneered, "claiming to have killed a mythical being of your own invention. Yet so far you have danced around the real issue," he said, scattering papers at his lectern before seizing one in triumph. "The murder of guards at the Lazerine Bridge and the trafficking of refugees from the Frontier. We have not yet begun to address these issues and yet the day drags on."

Gynefra crossed her arms. "You're conducting the trial," she pointed out mildly. "You asked about the Crypt Demon, and I answ—"

"Yes, yes," Varus replied. "We've heard your story, though I'm still unclear what you were doing in the Barrowlands in the first place. How did you then return from there to involve yourself with the border guards?"

Gynefra sighed. "Well, that—"

"Fool," the Seeker spat out. "Have we not been clear? We traveled to the Barrowlands to save your race, after all. You should be grateful for everything we went through."

Varus steepled his fingers and studied the Dwarf. She'd been silent and obstinate for some time now, and while he found himself increasingly eager to see her executed, Varus was curious about what more she might say. He glanced over to the side, taking in the bright light of the early afternoon. It was possible he might have to rush the proceedings near the end, but they'd worked diligently through the lunch break without pause, and Varus supposed they had time to be thorough.

"Tell us of your sacrifice then," he replied with a sneer. "Why, exactly, should we be grateful?"

The Seeker sniffed and rose to her feet, manacles jangling. "I'll tell you why. You see, I had as accurate a map to the Barrowlands as any could be found, and with the passage cleared that was little time to waste..."

***

The butterfly flitted ahead at the far end over the cavern. The Seeker limped forward, glaring as it left them behind. "What is this insect doing? It seems to be taunting us."

"I disagree," Gynefra said, her brow furrowed as she led the way forward. "There's something about it..." She shook her head in wonder, then turned back to face the others. Barnabus had just risen from the empty shell of the Crypt Demon, having chipped away at the plating, the fresh black scrapings now filling a glass vial. "Did you get anything?"

"Not really," Barnabus said with a heavy sigh, stowing the vial in his satchel. "As best I could tell, the spirit extinguished itself once the armor was breached. The plate mail's interior had blackened traces of superheated ectoplasm, I suppose from the spots where our magical energies impacted on the outer armor. Yet I doubt the study of the charred ectoplasm will yield much in the way of information."

Darius shook his head slowly. "Physikers," he muttered.

"Still, it will be more than anyone's brought back in a century," Gynefra observed, gesturing for the others to follow. In the distance, the butterfly hovered in place, before disappearing through an opening. As the group drew nearer, they could make out the night sky, dotted with innumerable stars. A gentle breeze drifted inside as they paused at the entrance.

"Is anyone around?" the Seeker asked, gripping one of her twin daggers for comfort. The wooden grip had been worn down by years of constant use.

Gynefra shook her head briefly before padding out and creeping over to a nearby thicket of long, yellowed grass. For a moment the Seeker could make out nothing but her long ears and the back of the Elf's head as it swiveled from side to side. Then she rose to her feet.

"Nothing," Gynefra said, her words feeling strangely loud in the quiet of the night. The others pushed forward, spreading out as they finally left the caverns behind. Up ahead the landscape was a churned-up mess, with sloping hills and small mesas—a badlands of narrow canyons and bare rock that gleamed silver under the moonlight. The Seeker didn't need her extensive knowledge of history to understand what had happened here. This could never have been formed naturally.