It was a warm summer afternoon. More than a month had passed since Barcias had come to Ostwood. He and Elias had just arrived at Old Hobson's farm, in the locality of Ebbswick, about three miles from the city. The knight was wearing a long chainmail, splint greaves and bracers, and a sable surcoat.
The Archmage's uncle had been asked for help by the old cob and in turn had sought the aid of his nephew. That uncle's name was Veravin. He was a brewer who had settled in the region a little more than a year prior. Most people knew that Veravin brewed more than beer. He had no interest in the metaphysical concepts of alchemy, but he was quite adept at concocting all sorts of potions, remedies, oils, ointments, and elixirs. He was the polar opposite of Elias, who would have had trouble infusing tea but could already utter words of power at barely thirty years of age.
"Ah, Nephew! How happy I am to see you again," Veravin exclaimed when Elias and Barcias found him and Old Hobson in his fields. "'Tis such a pain that you never visit your old uncle."
Elias rolled his eyes. "I've not come to see you, Uncle. I've come to see what's wrong with Old Hobson's livestock and crops."
Elias' exasperation came from the fact that his old uncle was, in fact, three years younger than him. The wizard's grandfather, an innkeeper who had done well for himself, had remarried late in his life to a greedy young woman who had borne him a son to whom he had bequeathed all of his possessions. Veravin merely looked a bit older than his nephew: he had a bushy beard, strong arms, and a barrel chest. He always wore practical clothes and was rarely seen without his dirty leather apron that had large pockets in which he kept a variety of tools, flasks, and phials. Barcias had heard much about jovial Veravin.
"Uncle Veravin, Hobson, meet Barcias of Agrioch, knight errant of the Malliverian chapter of the Poor Fellows of the Order of the Sacred Halo," Elias said with a grandiloquent gesture. "Now, why did you insist for me to come here, uncle?"
"Well, as you know, Old Hobson here is one of my suppliers of barley and wheat, and he recently came to me to have a chat about strange things happening on his land. When he told me everything, I had to call upon you. Tell him Hobbie."
Old Hobson was indeed a very old man, but still vigorous. He was small with a gangly physique and legs arched by the passing years. He owned a good parcel of land and therefore, even though he was not a rich man, had some coin to his name. He was wearing clean clothes: green breeches, a short yellow tunic, a loose brown jerkin and an old coif from under which his white hair peeked out. He looked calm, but his shifty blue eyes showed a measure of distrust.
"Hail, M'lord Archmage Elias. Your wizardriness."
The mage raised his hand. "Elias shall suffice."
"Master Elias, 'tis a great misery what's happenin'. For three months now, me land's been haunted by some manner o' evil spirit. At first, 'twas jus' strange noises, screams or howlin' more like. Then, four weeks ago, the nights started gettin' colder and colder, so much that our windows cracked. One day I found one of me cows just torn apart an' all frozen like. It's become more frequent now, an' the morn 'fore yesterday, I found one of me daughter's young'uns in the barn. He was deathly cold an' pale, an' we was mighty afeared for the lad's life. I turned to Master Veravin for counsel an' he said we should send for you."
"Didn't your letter say that you had taken care of the child, Uncle?"
"That he did, Master Elias. Gave him a broth o' some sort that has him sleepin' still."
The Archmage turned to his uncle again. "What did you give him?"
"An infusion of pepperbark, prickroots, savory, aldemyrh, and a bit of salamander saliva thrown in for good measure."
"Did him good it did, whatever 'twas. Now, if you want, I could show you me cow that was gutted last night. 'Tis no pretty sight. Come with me."
They followed Old Hobson to his byre, a large half-timbered building with a thatch roof. It was empty except for the ravaged carcass of a cow. Having seen his share of corpses, Barcias was unfazed. As for Elias, he looked intrigued more than anything else. The animal had been ripped apart and, according to the enchanter's scrutiny, some of its internal organs were gone, most notably its heart. Its intestines and stomachs had been thrown aside and strewn on the ground. The carcass and the gore were frozen and had not thawed despite the warm summer weather. Elias leaned on his short wooden staff
"Did you also find your lad here?" the wizard asked.
"Aye, Master Elias, I did two mornin's ago. I reckon we thought it strange that somethin'd gut a cow like this an' not do the same to the lad"
The wizard knelt to have a feel of the ground. "I suppose he'd come before dawn to let the cows out of the barn and lead them to the field."
"Aye, exactly."
"Did he have a block of salt on him? Like cow herders sometimes have," Elias said after licking his finger pensively.
"He did, an' when we came to find him, it'd turned black, burnt like."
Elias started walking out of the barn.
"Most probably a frost fiend, a demon spawn of the Southern Desolation. Bloody abomination! If Artibasos of Locrea is to be trusted, which I'd wager he is, they seek to devour the warmth of the living above all else. That is why they go for the hearts of their prey, as it's the hearth of the body. They can be destroyed by the light of the sun, a blessed flame or an incandescent blade of some kind, and running water also dissolves them, I think. The salt that your boy was carrying saved his life: precious few cacodaemons can stand it. Unfortunately, we can't do anything about it today."
"You mean me family and I have to live with this soddin' monster roamin' about?"
"During the night, the creature is too dangerous to face. It usually burrows in a cave during the day, so we'll have to unearth it to dispose of it. I'm no tracker, so I've no way to find out where it slumbers. We'll ask Father Darian to come exorcise and bless your fields as soon as possible. Until we come back, you shall line your doorsteps and your windows with salt and never leave your home before dawn."
The old man looked relieved, but still seemed disappointed and a bit frustrated.
"Fine, then. We'll do as you say, Master Elias."
"As for you, Uncle, I'm sure you can do better for that lad than an herbal broth."
"O' course. I'll make him Errenlay's decoction: like fire in the belly. That oughta put lil' Hambron back on his feet."
"Good. Off we go, then."
The wizard stopped and seemed to remember something. "I was about to forget..." He said while taking out a medallion decorated with the symbol of an eye. "Members of my Order have pendants bearing a raven to signify their affiliation and their dedication. This one means that you're under my protection. If you ever find yourself in a bad situation, show it to one of my people, and if you're alone, hold it up and whistle the first notes of the Lay of the Jackdaw."
"The Lay o' the Jackdaw? 'Tis a bloody nursery rhyme..."
Elias threw him the pendant and turned around to take his leave.
"Yes, it is." he cried as he left the barn without looking back.
"Well, I, um..." Barcias heard the old man mutter. "Bloody wizard!"
They left the farm and started walking down the road headed for Ostwood. After a few hundred paces, Barcias chalked up a question on his board.
"You know, I don't have the slightest idea. There are just more monsters and I think they are getting more and more powerful. That's all I know. Ten years ago, vampires were just oddities that sodding peasants hunted down and burned at the stake. And then last week, Riza of the Lauss proclaimed himself king of the vampires of the South and formed his own clan or pack or whatever the Hell he calls it. To think even that hasn't deterred those damned fools in the Council from trying to negotiate with him..." Elias sighed and rested his staff on his shoulders. "We should ask Zelphrid for her help in tracking down the fiend."
Barcias shrugged. He didn't know who she was.
"She's the widow of the huntsman of the little lord who lorded over Ostwood until last year," the wizard said. He then added with irony: "When the dukes deposed His Majesty and elected His Imperial Highness."
He punctuated his sentence with a deep breath.
"Thing is, I don't think the newly crowned emperor even knows or gives a damn about Ostwood being a 'free city'. The wizards who come here from the North are always surprised when we tell them. Must be that they're in enough of a pickle up there with the wars and the purges not to care."
They walked the rest of the way in silence until they caught sight of a young man, barely out of boyhood, coming from Ostwood and running toward them, shouting.
"Master Elias! Master Elias, me name's Gowan. One o' the enchanters o' your circle sent me ta find you."
"Who?"
"Errr... a lad named Yvennec, I reckon."
"He's just a disciple, my boy, not an enchanter yet," Elias said and raised a pedantic finger.
The boy paused and shot him a perplexed look. "Right. Many thanks for correctin' me, Master. Now I jus' feel foolish about me panicking jus' cause o' a few trolls."
"Trolls?"
"Trolls."
"Forest trolls?"
"Trolls."
Elias grunted. "Rokchew and his band again?"
"Aye, 'twas them I reckon."
"And where is the city watch?"
"Captain Erveldt took some o'em ta deal with some Craglings o'er in Keldrigg and others are escortin' Master Thalor to Bannerbrock," the boy, counting on his fingers.
Elias shook his head. "Lead the way, lad."