The Witch Hunters, Book 1: The Prophet of Ash

Siegfried woke to take his watch with a few hours until dawn. Theo had barely made sure he was awake, before wrapping himself up in his blanket and laying down. He began snoring at once. Siegfried marvelled at how the minotaur, indeed, how everyone else here seemed able to fall asleep or wake up instantly. It was not a skill he had much use for growing up. It was true that he had done drills with Sturmwatch’s army, and had even stood watch as a novelty once or twice. It had been easy, exciting even, to do something so new and unbecoming of a royal Prince.

It felt different, now. He did not like the camp ground, and liked the circumstances even less. During training he had been told that there might be some unit out that could make a mock attack on the camp at any moment during the night. He had stood his watch, and nothing had happened. Siegfried remembered the disappointment of the feeling of not being able to warn his fellow soldiers that danger was near. He had spent a week with them, before he went back home to his elegant chamber, hot meals and warm bed.

A chill descended over the Prince. He wrapped his ermine cloak about him a little tighter, before leaning over and tossing a few more bits of wood onto the fire. Should they really be burning this? It might be seen by others, possibly even the creature they were hunting. Siegfried shuddered again, as his thoughts turned back to the farm they had just escaped, and the quiet, terrible things they had left there. He had, of course, seen death before. Some of his most vivid memories were of people close to him dying. But this was somehow different, worse even. Those people who had died during the overthrow of his father at least had an idea of why they were dying, even if they were caught off guard by it. The slaughter back at Bauer’s farm seemed like something else, something wholly alien to Siegfried’s experiences. It was killing for the sake of it, because it could be done, and there was nothing to stop it. The notion itself made the young man sick to his stomach. He had not wanted to come, and truth be told, if he could have gone back instead of Janus without looking a coward to his subordinates he knew that he would have. Seeing such subtle carnage had given him an unquenchable urge to be among happy, living people. The cold bodies had made him need a woman more than in any time in his life. He looked over to where Klara, big and powerful, lay sleeping. Part of him wanted to wake her, see if she felt this need for kindness and contact too, but the wiser half of him knew nothing would happen, except annoyance and polite toleration. Siegfried looked over the prone forms of his comrades, and sighed. What could he do to earn their respect? Could he at all?

I should have taken Eisengrim’s advice, he thought, turning his attention to the trees beyond, trying to hear anything out there which might warn him of approaching danger. I should have gone on ranges with him and Dietrich as soon as I was confirmed as Master of the Order. I’ve read all the books, but I don’t know what I’m doing.

Time passed. A reddish hue began to flow its way gently between the trees, accompanied in time by blades of gold that danced from the ever rising sun. A small layer of dew began to cover everything.

Gerda slipped quietly down from her tree. Siegfried nearly jumped at the sudden movement. He stifled a cry of surprise as the dwarf turned to look at him. She smiled, pressed a finger to her lips, and then vanished through the bushes. She had not made the slightest sound the entire time. Siegfried watched after her, feeling a mix of horror and real admiration. Was she always that quiet, or was it a teachable skill like anything else?

Time passed. Siegfried was not entirely sure how much. He began to wonder just when he should wake his comrades, when they began stirring themselves. Eisengrim and Dietrich were up first. Klara and Theo took a little longer.

“Gerda went off already,” Siegfried said. He wanted to say more, but was surprised then by a yawn that suddenly escaped him.

“Probably to do some scouting, and shoot us a little more breakfast,” Eisengrim said with a smile. He began cleaning out the coffee pot, sending Dietrich out to fetch water from a small stream Gerda had discovered for them the day before. “Do you want to grab a little sleep before we head out, your Grace?”

“No, Eisengrim. I’ll rest when you all rest.”

“Very well, your Grace,” the minotaur said. For just a second, he looked the human in the eye, and the quiet contempt Siegfried was used to wasn’t there. Dietrich appeared again, bringing water. “Coffee?”

Gerda was longer than expected, but the rest of the hunters seemed to show little concern.

“Nobody sees her, unless she wants them to,” Klara explained, after Siegfried had spent awhile staring in the direction he had seen the dwarf go, rather than sipping his second cup of bitter, disgusting brew. They settled down to eat dried, salted meats and travel bread, until Gerda suddenly appeared, standing by Eisengrim’s side as if she had always been there.

“Your report?” Eisengrim said, in between sips of his own coffee. If the dwarf had surprised him, he was doing a great job of not showing it.

“I’ve found them, sir. There’s a big abandoned building four miles away. The trail leads there.”

“We best finish breakfast, then,” the old minotaur said with a razor edged smile.

*

The main building must have been impressive in its heyday, though when that could have been Siegfried had no idea. There were memories of fences scattered about it, as if there to pen off the trees which had moved in after the people who lived here left. A rotten old stable, the only building made fully from stone, lay closest to them. There were other outhouses scattered haphazardly about, most of them very old, while a few others looked newer, haphazardly put together from planks and other resources taken from the surrounding buildings.

“Looks like an old plantation house,” Eisengrim whispered. He gestured to some patches of green amid all the trees. “Look there. Those are tobacco plants, if my memory serves me.”

Siegfried nodded, acknowledging that the minotaur was speaking, more than hearing what he actually said. The main building fascinated him. There was an elegant balcony that curved its way along part of the top floor. The woodwork itself was unusual. The balcony and its balustrade were especially alien, unsettling even.

“Is this Elvish work?” Theo asked then, giving voice to the thought Siegfried held in secret.

“Yes,” said Dietrich immediately. He sighed then, turned and walked over to another tree and sat down. Siegfried watched him, put his hands into his face.

Eisengrim rose, slinking back further amid the bushes they were hiding in. He stood after a few steps, walked over to Dietrich, and patted the pale man on the shoulder.

“At least we know why it’s abandoned,” Klara said. She was leaning against a tree a few feet away, a compact telescope pressed to her eye.

“Any sign of Gerda?” Siegfried asked. He stared at the strange, alien interloper in wood and stone, and felt a chill suddenly come over him. There were no Elvish buildings in the Capital. There had been none in the great cities of his homeland. They had been destroyed. The very idea that there were still some that had escaped the order troubled him. This was an evil place, this plantation. When this was all over, Siegfried vowed to burn the entire building to the ground.

“I think she’s by the stable,” Klara replied, pulling him back to the now.

“Let me know when she starts heading back,” said Siegfried. He extricated himself from the bushes, and left Klara and Theo to it.

“You’ve seen Elvish buildings?” he asked Dietrich as soon as he was close enough. He spoke in a whisper, tinted with awe and suspicion. “Where?”

“The Dead Lands,” Eisengrim answered, turning to look at the intruder.

Siegfried felt his stomach twist a little. His mouth began dry. “Why were you out there?”

“He – ”

“I’m not asking you, Eisengrim. Dietrich can speak for himself.”

“I was hunting a witch,” said Dietrich.

“I’ve read the report about your hunt,” said Siegfried. “You said you hunted them down in the woods.”

“Yes, your Grace. I hunted them in the woods near the Dead Lands. They didn’t stay in the woods, though. He fled into the Dead Lands, maybe thinking I wouldn’t follow him.”

“Is that where you lost your star?”

“Yes, your Grace,” said Dietrich the Deathless.

“Is there anything else in that report you neglected to mention? Like how you survived your encounter with the boy, Alois Roth?”

“Nothing special about that, your Grace. It was stupid luck.”

“We have other pressing matters to attend to just now, your Grace,” Eisengrim said then. He took a step forward, blocking out Siegfried’s view of the haunted looking man sitting under a tree. Siegfried met the eyes of the larger, far more powerful creature. “Once Gerda assesses the situation, we shall need to be ready to move on the house.”

“Of course, Eisengrim. Have you a plan?”

“I will, once I know what we are up against.”

Siegfried reluctantly returned to watching the long abandoned plantation with Klara and Theo. In good time Klara spotted Gerda, who was heading stealthily back towards them.

“Something’s happened here,” she said after she was among them again. “There’s eleven dead horses in the stable, and signs that there was a lot more that left. The tracks are fresh, so we must have just missed them.”

“Shit,” sighed Dietrich.

“Why are there so many horses here?” asked Eisengrim. “Is there anyone left in the building?”

“Couldn’t say why, sir, but there looks to be maybe as many fellas in the place as there are dead horses left. They look rough, and all the ones I’ve seen are armed.”

“Bandits?” Siegfried asked.

Gerda nodded. “Maybe.”

“Any sign of Martin?” Theo asked.

Gerda shook her head.

“Enough of this,” Eisengrim said. They all looked to the minotaur, as he drew out the massive hammer he carried. “Time is against us, and we have work to do here. We must storm the place, take captives, and learn whence our prey has flown to.”

“There’s a lot more of them than us,” Siegfried heard himself say. He quietly cursed himself right after. The looks he got from everyone else made him wilt and look away.

“It doesn’t matter what their numbers are,” Eisengrim said then. “We are the superior force, and we shall strike down whoever will not surrender. We are witch hunters, your Grace. This is what we are made for.”

*

“Twenty minutes, Gerda. Get yourself, Dietrich, and his Grace around the back to cover the rear of the building. Depending on what you hear I give you three permission to act whatever way you see fit. Theo, Klara, you two will accompany me to the front of the building. Gerda, are you certain they are all inside the one structure?”

“Definitely, sir. Nothing but dead horses outside.”

“Very well,” said Eisengrim. “Get going.”

As the two human men and the dwarf left, Theo and Klara made themselves ready while Eisengrim stood watch. Klara had already fixed her on her armour, a suit of full plate with the crest of the House of Saddler on the breast. She checked her dagger, her sword, and her kite shield, before drawing down the visor of her helmet.

Theo was not so heavily armoured. Aside from breastplate, plackart, vambraces and shin guards, he wore mostly leather armour instead of steel, as his fighting style required speed and mobility. He then slipped on a pair of brutal looking steel knuckle dusters.

“Ready?” Eisengrim asked. The pair nodded.

“How are we doing this?” Klara asked.

“Simple. We shall go up to the front door, and I shall knock.”

This earned an amused chuckle from the pair. Humour had its place after all, and the rising tension was almost unbearable.

“How are we really doing this?” asked Theo.

“I just explained. Let’s go.”