Witchwars Chapter 1

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It was a cold, wintry day – the kind that you spent the entire time in, hopefully by the fire and with a hot drink to keep you company. The owner of the Spined Hog had no such luxury, though. Work called, and as such all he could do was look longingly at where his patrons caroused near the roaring fire in the center of the room while he cleaned bottles and arranged them on the shelf.

The doors to the inn swung open, and two hooded figures walked in. The barkeep blinked once slowly, and then again. Customers? In this weather? Surely his eyes deceived him…but no, there they stood as plain as day, dusting off the light coating of snow that that gathered on their cloaks.

But where were his manners…“Welcome to the Spined Hog.” he managed to stammer out as he hurried towards them. “Can I take your cloaks?” he asked, stretching out a hand to assist the strangers.

“Yes, please.” Said the taller one in a deep, gravelly voice. “A place by the fire and a room for tonight. And some spiced wine…hot, if you please.”

“You really shouldn’t drink on the job, Tylen.” Said his companion in a lilting tone. The barkeep took a half step back, astounded. The girl – for it was a girl – pulled back the hood on her garments, revealing a shock of pure white hair and youthful features. “Why, she couldn’t be more than fifteen summers…” thought the owner to himself.

“I need to keep warm somehow.” Was the older man’s gruff reply.

“Excuses, excuses…” said the girl with a pout. “We both know you just want an excuse to drink.”

“You can think whatever you want, girl.” That was the last the barkeep heard from them as he scurried away to fulfill their orders. When he next looked back, the duo had taken a seat near to the fire – but not too near, he noticed. They had selected a table that was out of the earshot of his regulars, who were now occupied with a dice game.

They were deep in conversation when he brought the man his spiced wine, and he hadn’t stayed in business for as long as he had without learning to mind his own business, so the barkeep went back to cleaning glasses. All of his customers minding their own business, some fresh coin in his pockets…by all rights there should be nothing to worry about, but there was something about the two that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He snuck a glance or two at them when he was sure they weren’t looking. Both of them seemed intent on whatever they were discussing, the girl sometimes raising her hand to interject or make a point. Despite their disparity in ages – the man looked to be old enough to be the girl’s father at least – there didn’t seem to be anything suspicious about them.

So what was it that he was looking for?

The barkeep whistled absently to himself as he continued cleaning. It hit him all of a sudden after the third glass - their garments…they weren’t from this region. He’d taken care of his fair share of clothes and cloaks in his time, and he knew how to recognize various patterns and weaves. The man and girl weren’t from around here…in fact, they probably were…

“Another round of spiced wine. Actually, make that two. It’s pretty good.” The barkeep turned to see the man approach him, a silver coin in his palm. He placed it on the countertop, giving him an intense look. “Well?”

“O…of course! I’m glad it’s to your liking, sir!” he stammered out again, hurrying to prepare the drink. “Ummm…can I get your anything else?”

“Now that you mention it…” The man leaned in a little closer. “I take it there have been murders here recently?”

Murders? The barkeep blinked again. The town could talk of nothing but. A few days ago, a corpse had turned up at the edge of the town. No one really paid it too much heed initially, thinking it an unlucky wanderer who had been attacked by wolves (you could never be too careful in winter!)…except that the body was completely unmarked by wounds of any kind.

The villagers had suspected illness, and there had been relief all around when the doctor pronounced the corpse plague-free. But that still didn’t explain why it had suddenly shown up…sure, it did no harm, but it also set everyone on edge. Corpses did not suddenly appear for no reason.

Then the village drunkard disappeared – and no one missed him, for Tyrone was loud, dirty and smelly on the best of days…and downright aggressive on the worst. But when his corpse appeared – also without any marks or blemish – tongues began to wag and tensions mounted.

That was just the start of it. More corpses began to appear in various locations about town – always at night, dumped on doorsteps and near the well. They always had the same appearance – pasty-white, as if drained of blood, and without any noticeable wounds.

Things came to a head when the body of Old Man Hesse was found one day in a ditch. It was one thing to have strangers show up dead each day…that was bad enough. But Old Man Hesse – if not exactly beloved – was a harmless fixture of the town, spending each day in the town square either drunk out of his mind or telling people that the end days were nigh. Irritating but ultimately harmless. And now also…dead.

“Murders…why yes!” The barkeep didn’t know where to start. “It’s terrible, good sir. Has everyone on edge half the time.”

“When did they start?”

The barkeep pursued his lips, trying to remember. “About…two weeks ago, I think? I can’t rightly be sure.”

“And you said that no one recognized the first corpse?”

“Yes. It was a complete stranger to us…a man. Middle-aged, dressed in fine clothes. But if you don’t mind me asking, sir…what’s it to you?” The barkeep’s eyes grew suddenly wary. “Why do you want to know all this?”

The man was about to reply when the girl sidled up to the counter. “Tylen…don’t you think we could use a little more finesse in our inquiries?”

“No.” came the flat reply. “This man definitely knows something about the murders, and our job is to find out more.”

“Always the direct approach…” muttered the girl. “Can you tell us more?” she asked in a considerably sweeter tone of voice, placing another silver piece on the countertop. “Take this for your troubles.”

The man eyed the coin critically, then shook his head. “I can’t take your coin, missy. Wouldn’t be right. I’ve told your friend here more or less what I know – which is what everyone around here knows.”

“He’s right.” Came a voice from near the fireplace. It was one of the dice-playing customers. The entire table had stopped playing when the conversation that they had been having reached their ears. Now all eyes were on the two newcomers to the inn. “That’s about all we’ve been talking about for the past two weeks…and who wants to know?”

The man met the eyes of the speaker with a steely glare. Silence reigned in the inn for a few tense seconds, and then with a sudden motion, the stranger produced a seal from within his tunic and placed it on the table for everyone to see. “The Crown wants to know, that’s who.”

A collective gasp went up from the inn, causing the barkeep to step backwards in surprise and the girl to simply shrug and sigh in exasperation. “Tylen…could we have done this more…subtly?” she asked.

“Friesa…I’m a soldier. Not a spy. I do things my way – the direct way. It’s bad enough that I have to babysit you…”

“Excuse me for existing.” Was the girl’s arch reply.

“We are here on order of the Crown.” Boomed Tylen, addressing the inn at large. “It knows of the murders and of your concerns and plight. Thus, we have been sent to address them. Worry not, no harm will come to you and yours. But we require any assistance and information you may have.”

“O…of course.” The innkeeper managed to get out, staring at the seal that the man had placed with something approaching awe. The seal of the Empire was unmistakable – a dragon atop a mountain. “Whatever you need, good sir…and ma’am. But I’ve honestly told you all I know…”

“We don’t doubt that.” Said the girl smoothly. “But still, some details would be good. Times, dates, exactly who you found and where. Now that the cat’s out of the bag…” she said with a barely suppressed scowl. “We might as well be thorough.”

“Why not?” grunted Tylen as he sat down again. “This way we don’t have to pussyfoot around the issue. More wine, please.” He held out his empty glass to the innkeeper, who filled it without a word. “And you lot, back to your game. Unless you have something to add?” he said, turning to the other patrons. They settled back to their dice amidst a chorus of murmur and scattered glances.

“Because we don’t want word of our investigation to get out.” Friesa replied. “We don’t know who is behind the murders. Perhaps they are watching us. There could be observers – third parties. They could have hired people to inform them. Too many unknown factors.”

“Pah.” Tylen let out a grunt and downed his glass. “You worry too much. We ask questions, we get answers, we act. That’s it.”

“There are better ways to go about…oh, I don’t know why I bother.” Said Friesa, raising her eyes skyward. “In any case, what’s done is done. Now…” she produced a quill and parchment from a satchel at her waist. “Good sir, if you would be so kind…?”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing that I can see from this.” Corrected Friesa, peering at her notes. “As in, there are no conclusions I can draw. The murders seem completely random.”

“I told you it was a waste of time.” Grumbled Tylen from his bed. “We should just have…”

“Just have what?” interrupted Friesa irritably. “Starting questioning people in the streets? We both agreed that going to an inn was the best way to gather information.”

“That much is true.” The older man rumbled. “But we don’t have anything to show for it.”

“Yet.” Said Friesa, looking at the parchment again. “I’m sure I can figure something out…”

“Let me know when you do.” The soldier informed his erstwhile charge. “Meanwhile, I’m going back to sleep.”

Both of them had booked a room in the inn after Friesa had finished her questioning of the innkeeper. It seemed a wise course of action to have a base of operations with which to continue their search. Neither of them knew how long their assignment might be, and Friesa had had her fill of camping out in the woods.

The girl let out a soft sigh and leaned back in the rickety wooden chair that the innkeeper had provided. She rifled through the notes absently in her hands. Though there didn’t seem to be any clear links between times and dates, two things were clear. First, only people who wouldn’t be missed had been taken – people with few friends and no family. That meant that whoever was doing this had at least some knowledge of the town’s inhabitants.

And second…each corpse had been completely drained of blood. That accounted for the lack of wounds as well as the pallid complexion of the bodies.

There was no mistaking it…this was the work of a witch. Hence why they had been summoned, and why she was sitting here in the freezing cold instead of relaxing in the gardens as she would normally be doing at this time of the day. But it wasn’t something she would complain about – not when she had requested the assignment herself.

Closing her eyes, Friesa let her memory drift back to when she’d volunteered…

Move the ball. That was all she had to do. Just move it into her hands.

It seemed simple enough…but then, all of Balsath’s tests seemed simple. Few rarely were.

Still, she was going to give it everything she had. Concentrating, she stretched out her hands, willing the golden sphere that was floating a few feet in front of her to move towards her.

It didn’t budge an inch.

“Friesa…Friesa. Concentrate!” came her teacher’s rejoinder.

“But that’s what I’ve been doing all morning!” she replied. She let out a breath of air in a rush, refocusing her will on the orb with the same results.

The old man observing her progress leaned back on his chair, adjusting the spectacles on his face. “Well…there is that.” He said, conceding the young girl’s point. “But your spell still needs work. And we won’t leave here until that’s done.”

“But…”

“No buts, young lady.” The old man’s voice was gentle but firm. “We can’t let you out into the field until you master these basic spells.”

Friesa gave a harumph in his general direction and turned her attention back to the ball. The instructions were simple enough – move the ball towards you. If it gets close enough that you can touch it, you pass the test.

The trouble is…she didn’t know what it was she was doing wrong. She was concentrating hard – as hard as she could remember. But even though levitation came easily enough to her, whatever mental energy she put out just seemed to…bounce of the sphere. It floated in front of her, gleaming tantalizingly in the morning sun.

A little voice in her whispered to give up – let it go, and you could enjoy this wonderful morning – but she paid it no heed. She had been training her whole life to be a mage. It was about time to show her teacher she was ready.

Once again she reached out with her mind, and once again her mental fingers failed to find any purchase on the ball’s surface. She wrinkled her nose in frustration, shooting her teacher a dirty look. The old man wore the same composed look that he seemed to have at all times. No matter the situation, Balsath reacted it to in the same way – calmly.

Alright, Friesa, she told herself. There was something she was missing…but what? Not a lack of effort, not the wrong spell – levitation was what she was being tested on, and she had cast the spells perfectly. So what was it?

Reflexively, she stretched out a hand towards the ball, but paused halfway. Wait. What if she was…trying too hard?

In general, her teacher did not give trick questions in his tests. If he wanted fire lit, he’d tell her so. If he wanted her to break a ward, he would be explicit about it. But this one…it wasn’t force that was the answer. Maybe it was…

Friesa decided to test her theory. She closed her eyes, regulating her breathing, trying to not push too hard, but instead push more subtly…finesse, instead of force. Her mental fingers slipped over the ball’s surface again, but she told herself not to lose her cool – or her concentration.

Slowly does it…her attention rested gently on the ball once more, and with the lightest of tugs – slowly, ever so slowly – the ball began to move towards her.

A light clapping came from the edge of the garden as the sphere came within reach of her grasp. “Well, congratulations, Friesa. I knew you had it in you.”

“I never doubted it for a second.” Was Balsath’s mild reply from where he was sitting. “Back so soon, Marlene?”

Friesa opened her eyes in elation as she touched the sphere with one fingertip. “I did it! So you have to let me into the field now! And Marlene…I didn’t know you got back?”

The newest entrant to the garden laughed – a lilting, high-pitched tone – and walked over to them. “My assignment’s just over, and I thought I’d see how my fellow members were getting on. Congratulations once again, Friesa. I hope you don’t think that field work is going to be easy, though.”

The white-haired girl was about to reply when her mentor stood. “I don’t believe she does. And she’ll be accompanied by Tylen for her first mission.”

“That old coot?” Friesa was halfway through making an expression of distaste when Balsath’s look stopped her in her tracks. “I won’t have you refer to him in a such way, Friesa. He’s an old soldier and though he can be a little…set in his ways, he has considerable field experience. You’ll be working together, and making decisions as a unit. Defer to his judgment in all matters military, and he’ll do the same for you in magical affairs. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Balsath.” Friesa half-expected to want her to give him a salute, but he seemed satisfied with her nod of acquiescence. “Good. You set out tomorrow. Marlene here will help you prepare.”

“I will?” The older woman looked surprised but not displeased.

“Yes. And now I bid you good day. There are matters that demand my attention, and you two will need time to get ready.” So saying, the older gentleman turned smartly on one foot and walked away.

And so she had passed, and by the terms of their agreement, she’d been allowed on her very first assignment. A day she had been waiting quite a long while for…except that now that it had come, she had no idea how to proceed.

A sudden noise from below caused her to slip out of her chair and peer over the balustrade on the second floor of the inn. Behind her, she could hear Tylen roused from slumber, the older man moving to shadow her movements. He sure could move fast for a man that large…Friesa admitted silently to herself that it was a relief having him as support. If she hadn’t been expecting him, there was no way she would have noticed.

But as it was, events below had their attention. There was a commotion of sorts below, and after watching for a while, it was clear they would not be able to discern what it was simply from watching from the balcony. Witch and soldier exchanged a nod and descended the stairs to the taproom below.

“Oh, sir and madam! I’m glad you’re up.” Was the barkeep’s response when he noticed them. The man was obviously worried about something, his ruddy jowls flushed crimson in anxiety. “I thought you might want to take a look at what’s happening outside.”

“Is something the matter?” Friesa asked.

“It’s…they found…well, I think you’d better see for yourself.” The innkeeper gestured to the crowd that had gathered outside. Friesa and Tylen both followed him into the throng of people, wondering what the matter could be.

The reason for the crowd was immediately obvious once they saw what was in the middle. Another corpse, shrouded for decency’s sake, had been placed on a wheelbarrow in the middle of the roads. A couple of the town’s militia – looking very harrowed indeed – were guarding it, barking at any townsfolk who tried to come too close.

“Away! Away for now. We need to take this to the doctor first. Don’t come any closer!”

“This might be good news. Let me examine it.” Friesa whispered to Tylen as they approached.

“And how do you propose you do that? They aren’t letting anyone come close.”

She had to find a way to test it without giving her identity as a witch away. And without drawing any more attention to them besides what they already had.

A distraction…what she needed was a distraction. Maybe a light spell? Too obvious. Or she could try to cause a small fire…but that might quickly grow out of control. Perhaps…

“There’s something strange about that corpse…let me take a closer look.” Tylen took a determined step towards the shrouded figure, brushing past the guards who tried to stop him. “I’ve seen something like that in my time in the Northlands. If it’s what I think it is…then none of us are safe.”

He brushed away the shroud from the corpse, narrowing his eyes - then recoiled immediately. “It’s…it couldn’t be…” he said in a hushed whisper. Then suddenly he boomed = “We need room! Room to work! I’ll call when it’s safe!”

The guards were only too happy to have something else take charge of the scene, and the townsfolk had grown skittish the moment their safety was involved. In about half a minute, the street was empty, and Tylen gestured to Friesa to begin.

“That was…thank you.” Friesa said to Tylen as he turned to face her.

“Don’t mention it. You needed the space to work, right? Now got it.” Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Friesa bent to her task. A few muttered incantations later, and a series of glyphs appeared around the corpse’s body.

It was a lady – quite pretty, Friesa’s mind noted absently – with the hallmarks of the murders clearly evident upon her…white skin and no discernable wounds. But that wasn’t what she was concerned about. No, her spells were looking into the astral plane, trying to trace the arcane signature of whatever had been done to the poor woman.

“I have it.” Announced Friesa after about a minute’s work. It had been surprisingly simple – whoever had killed the woman hadn’t been in the least bit concerned about covering his or her tracks. Perhaps they hadn’t reckoned on anyone finding them. With a wave of a finger, she conjured an arrow of bright light into existence – one that only she could see. It pointed the way to the perpetrator.

“That was fast.” Rumbled Tylen. “So I can call everyone back now?”

“At least you can tell them that it’s not a plague victim – or whatever it was that you were planning to say.”

“I can do one better.” The warrior strode into the inn and returned with a sheet of parchment, which he scrawled roughly on. When he was done, he pinned it to the side of the wheelbarrow holding the corpse and stood back to admire his handiwork.

“By order of the Crown, this body is safe and is to be given a proper burial.” Friesa read. “Very decent of you.”

“I don’t know who this lady is, but if your notes are to be believed, she probably has no kith or kin to speak of. Least we can do is make sure she’s buried properly.”

“Why, Tylen…” Friesa began. “…didn’t think I had it in me? I have a heart, lass. I’m not made of stone. Now, let’s get going. I think we have a witch to catch.”

The arrow led them away from the town – father than either of them had expected. Which stood to reason – whoever had been killing the townsfolk probably didn’t want to do it too close to where they might be spotted.

But why? They still didn’t have a motive. Friesa went over possible explanations in her head as Tylen and her trudged on through the wilderness to their destination at the foot of the mountains to the east of town. Magical experiments? Revenge? Something else? She didn’t know what it might be, but she had a duty to find out.

The arrow faded from sight as a hut nestled at the base of the mountains came into view. Whatever it was they had set out to find was waiting for them there. Friesa felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she felt the unmistakable presence of magic.

“Be on your guard.” She whispered to her companion, only to find that he already had a hand to the sword strapped to his back. “You don’t tell to tell me, lass. I feel it too.”

Together as one, they approached the ramshackle hut that the source of her feelings emanated from. It was a rundown affair, probably only able to house a single inhabitant. Friesa signaled to Tylen that he should approach from the side, and he complied wordlessly. In matters of magic, she would take point. And so –

Any further deliberations on their part were interrupted by a blast of fire that came roaring towards them. Tylen dove to the side, but Friesa’s wards had been put in place since the morning – the flames spattered harmlessly off an eldritch field that glowed around them.

So much for the quiet approach. Friesa gathered energy of her own while Tylen moved into position from the side. They had rehearsed this – in the event of a magical attack, she would take point to draw any fire while he would engage while any enemies were (hopefully) distracted. It made sense on paper – she was the magic, he was the brawn. Now it remained to be seen whether it would work in real life.

Another blast of fire spattered off her shields, but this time Friesa released an attack of her own – a lightning bolt that slammed into the ramshackle hut and blew it to pieces, leaving a very irate looking witch in its aftermath. Friesa made a slight huff of disappointment – she hadn’t intended to retaliate with such strength…now whatever evidence that might have been in the hut had been destroyed.

But they had more pressing matters on their hands. The witch – a tall, thin rake of a woman – gathered fire again and shot it at Friesa, who dispelled it easily. “Isn’t she getting tired of this?” she wondered. She must know that her attacks aren’t working…but the reality of the situation didn’t seem to faze the witch at all, who continued to hurl fire at Friesa’s slight form

As such, she remained completely unaware of Tylen moving towards her from the side. One, two, three steps and it was over – the soldier had his blade unsheathed and pressed to her throat.

“Come with us without a struggle, and we guarantee your safety.” Tylen’s low voice rumbled. “Use force, and I can’t tell you what might happen.”

“You…” The witch glared daggers at the soldier, fire still racing in patterns around her arms which she now held limply to her sides. “You’re with them, aren’t you? Here for your gold?”

“Gold?” inquired Friesa as she walked towards them. “We don’t know anything about that. We only want to know what you did with the townsfolk who…”

The witch’s eyes widened in shock – or terror, Friesa couldn’t tell which – and with a sudden motion she shoved Tylen away, fire once again billowing into existence around her. It had been the wrong thing to say, apparently. Friesa moved her arms to shield herself instinctively, but the attack never came.

When she lowered them again, the sight that greeted her made it clear why – the witch lay on the ground in a pool of blood, Tylen’s sword protruding from her belly.

“Tylen…” Friesa’s tone wavered between gratitude and irritation. “Surely you didn’t need to…kill her?”

“I didn’t see you have any better ideas.” Came his curt reply as he knelt to retrieve his weapon.

“I was in no danger.” Said Friesa with a bluster she didn’t really feel. “I could have weathered the blast, and then you could have…”

“Could have, would have.” Tylen continued to be unimpressed, sheathing his blade and bending to pick up the still-warm corpse. “In the field, we don’t have time to debate these things. I made the call. If you have problems with it, take it up with Balsath. Now, I want to get out of here while we can still get some information out of our witch here before she rots away completely.”