The Witch Hunters, Book 1: The Prophet of Ash

Theo woke from the dream. It took a second for him to remember where he was. He saw light grey clouds above the criss-crossing canopy of branches and swore under his breath. The minotaur bolted upright from his bedroll. He should have woken an hour before sunrise to take watch. Good god, had he been woken earlier, only to fall asleep again? He couldn’t remember. Panic gripped the young bull as he looked around. Was anything out of order? More importantly, was everyone alright?! Dietrich lay beside him, asleep and unharmed in his bedroll. Theo’s gaze swept over their small camp and he saw Klara sleeping under her blanket. Fear replaced the young bull’s panic then. Gerda was supposed to be asleep in the tree above Klara, but she was gone. Theo’s eyes widened then and the minotaur pulled himself to his feet. His shoulder objected strongly as he put his weight on his arm, reminding him painfully of his wound from a couple of days back. He hissed in pain and cursed again, but he stopped dead when he noticed the firepit from the night before.

“Eisengrim?”

The old bull sat by the fire, staring at the wisps of smoke that drifted skyward from it. His hammer lay on the ground before him. It looked freshly polished. Theo heard the unmistakable whisper of a whetstone on steel and then spied the short sword upon Eisengrim’s knee as he sharpened it. He did not seem to hear Theo, who moved to stand closer.

“Eisengrim?”

The great bull stirred, then. He looked up to his younger companion and offered Theo a humourless smile.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Asked the Oak.

“You need the rest,” the Hammer answered. “You all do.”

“And you don’t?” Theo growled despite himself. He grit his teeth and rubbed his shoulder as he looked around the camp, unable to stop himself from getting annoyed at the old bull. “You sat all our watches?”

“I’m old, Theo,” Eisengrim replied, his attention drifting back to his whetstone. “I don’t need much sleep any more.”

“Where’s Gerda?” The younger bull asked.

“Hunting.”

Theo turned back to regard Eisengrim. There was something about the way the old bull had said the word that Theo didn’t like. It made him nervous and carried quiet, cold promises with it.

“They’re close, aren’t they?”

Eisengrim nodded. “Gerda thinks so,” he replied. “I am inclined to believe her.”

Theo shivered. He sat down by the dead fire, staring at the last embers.

“This morning?” he asked.

Eisengrim nodded. Theo wrapped his arms around his chest, cursing himself silently for needing to.

“Are you alright?”

“I never killed anyone before we went to that house,” Theo said quickly, voice a whisper, as if afraid the others might hear.

“Even during your travels?” This was asked with a sceptical eyebrow raised. “Were you never beset by bandits or highwaymen?”

“Of course I was,” Theo shot back. “I’ve beaten a lot of people to a pulp, Eisengrim. I never, ever killed any of them before.”

“And it bothers you?”

Theo nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the old bull said then, looking up from his blade. “The world has enough cold hearted killers in it, Theo. There is nothing wrong with having regret for taking a life...but only up to a point,” he explained, holding up a finger. “You cannot let it impede you in your duties. Those people you killed at the house had no hesitation in trying to take your life. You defended yourself. What you did there was justified. We all much prefer you being alive to any of the scum we found there.”

“I’m not sure I’m fit for this,” Theo said quietly. He bit his lower lip as he spoke, looking out into the woods that surrounded them. “I…I thought this would be an easy job. I figured it was free money. You get a lot of respect from people if you tell them you’re a Witch Hunter,” he explained, bowing his head in shame. It took him a while before he found his voice again. “...out in the countryside they treat you like you’re the Legate himself. I never thought any of this stuff was real, Eisengrim. I always thought you and Dietrich were con men, or just lunatics that believed some old wives’ tales or something. I don’t think I can do this.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Eisengrim said. Theo felt the old bull’s hand grip his good shoulder. “But right now, you have to put those feelings aside, Theo. I need you to remember your oath, and I need you to be ready to kill.”

“Including Kurt’s son?”

Eisengrim sighed. “I hope not. I really, truly hope not.”

Theo looked back. In the growing light, it struck him then just how old the bull was.

“But if we have to,” the Hammer went on, in his own relentless way. “Then we must. He’s dangerous, Theo. If he tries to fight us, we must treat him like one more of those brigands. We cannot let our compassion overrule our heads. There are too many lives at risk if we fail. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Eisengrim.” Theo wanted to look away, but he did not. He needed to show that he could do this, if just for a little longer. “I swore to myself back at the farm that I’d see this out to the end. I will. I promise.”

Eisengrim smiled, pleased. He squeezed Theo’s shoulder gratefully. “Wake the others. Gerda will be back to lead us to our prey very soon.”

Theo did as he was bid, while Eisengrim set about making coffee. H e had passed out mugs to each of them, and informed Dietrich and Klara about taking the watches, before Gerda returned. Her appearance quelled the argument the two humans wanted to have with Eisengrim almost before it could begin.

“Well?” asked Eisengrim.

“Half a mile from here,” answered the dwarf, her crossbow in hand. “There were thirty-one of them.”

“Fuck,” said Dietrich.

“How many on watch?” asked Klara.

“There were two,” Gerda said, a dark smile spreading across her lips.

Theo did not ask, nor did anyone else. They all knew she’d left twenty-nine of the enemy for them to deal with.

“Anything we need to be aware of?” Dietrich asked then.

“Aye, there’s a river not too far away from them,” she replied. “It’s got an old wooden bridge over it that looks like it might drop into the drink any second. If they are heading to Anderswo, they’ll need to stay on this side of the river. The nearest crossing in any direction is thirty miles downstream.”

“If you have hard tack, eat it now,” ordered Eisengrim. He rose, and picked up his hammer. His comrades all followed his example. “We leave the horses here. Gerda, you lead. We approach quietly. We will take up our positions and determine our tactics once I have a better idea of the layout of their camp. We must make them think there are more of us than there really are. Kill as many as you can. We drive them to the river. If we’re lucky, we can provoke any magic users they have into casting spells and slaying their own horses.”

“What about Martin?” Theo asked then.

“Keep an eye out for him,” Eisengrim ordered, looking to each of them in turn. “But don’t risk yourselves unnecessarily.”

“And their leader?” asked Klara. “This minotaur of theirs?”

Eisengrim smiled darkly. “Leave him to me.”

*

They crept through the thick wilderness, time ebbing away as red light began to blaze across the sky above. They came to a sudden clearing that stretched out in either direction farther than Theo could see. The young minotaur paused when he felt his boots treading against smooth stone. It was then he realised this was a road. How had he not seen it before? Was it headed towards the river and the other bridge Gerda had mentioned? It looked as if it might have been one single, whole construct once, but now it was cracked, covered in layers of dead leaves. Plants had forced their way through it. Had he not stepped on its crumbling surface, Theo realised he would never have noticed.

He felt Dietrich’s hand on his arm.

“It’s a road,” Theo told him, still struggling to believe it himself

“I know, kid,” Deitrich replied, patiently.

“It’s an elven road,” Theo insisted.

“I know, kid,” Dietrich told him.

“It’s broken, Dietrich,” the Oak went on, a stammer briefly creeping into his voice. He waved a hand at it, as his mind raced at what it meant. “Do you see the surface? It’s been torn apart. The forest’s destroying it.”

“I know, kid,” Dietrich said. He was smiling, but he firmly began to pull his old pupil onwards. There was work to do.

They climbed up the other side of the dip, passing through increasingly thicker woods. Behind them and ahead of them, silence reigned, but it would not be that way forever.

*

The ground led to a low, even plateau covered by trees. Gerda raised her hand and everyone else stopped. She and Eisengrim disappeared into the bushes ahead, leaving Dietrich, Klara, and Theo behind. They sat in silence, looking at the ground together. Theo slipped on his dusters.

“Any advice?” he asked the two veterans.

“Don’t get separated,” said Klara. “Stay in sight of us at all times.”

Theo nodded. They settled down to wait. Time crept by at a glacial pace. Finally, Eisengrim returned.

“There are camps setup around three different fires with some trees and bushes in between,” he explained quickly, as they all quietly gathered around him. “The trees and bushes are thick. They are starting to wake, but don’t seem to have noticed their missing guards, yet. Their horses are tied up to trees in the centre of the three camps. The camp farthest away from where we are now is the only one with any kinds of tents arranged. I suspect that is where our minotaur friend is. Martin Bauer should be there, too.”

“Do we hit them?” Dietrich asked.

Eisengrim shook his head. “It’ll take too long to get there. They’re already beginning to wake. We shall have to hit the group closest to us. We must get as close as we can. Perhaps we can snap a neck or two before we announce our presence. I will give the signal. When I do, we raise hell. Until then, you are all to remain silent as the grave. Do you all understand?”

They nodded. The knuckles of the old bull’s fingers paled a little as he tightened the grip on his hammer. He rose into a crouch, gesturing for them to follow. Theo felt dizzy. He gripped his hands into fists to keep them from visibly shaking. No time for doubt, now. This was it.

*

They crept forward, weaving silently through the trees, watching their step, lest an errant twig give them away. Eisengrim raised his hand, halting their progress. Light flickered above them as the branches stirred in a light breeze. Dawn broke. Theo held his breath, strained his senses to hear any signs of activity from beyond where Eisengrim and Gerda knelt. There was nothing, or at least, nothing that he could discern. Had they really not been spotted yet?

Eisengrim turned to look at his companions and began to make simple hand signals any trained hunter would recognise. They were to follow after Gerda and take up the positions she indicated. He would remain here, at this end of the line.

Then? Theo signalled.

Gerda snipes. Eisengrim gestured back, making sure everyone could see what he was saying. Get close. Be quiet. Kill sleepers. Five minutes. Get to position. Good luck.

They all rose. Eisengrim squeezed each of their hands as they passed, and then stalked closer to the edge of the camp to count off the seconds. Theo did likewise, lips moving silently as he began to count.

He had reached forty-five when Gerda stopped them near a pair of thick oaks. Just before them, Theo spotted a couple of men huddled up together under blankets, snoring quietly. Klara remained here, while Gerda continued on with the others.

They moved on, skirting the edge of the camp quickly. The young bull risked glances inside the ragged circumference of their target. Smoke hung in the air, along with the foul smell of unwashed people. He did not notice that Dietrich and Gerda had stopped in front of him until he almost walked right into his old mentor. He was just able to stop himself before he sent Dietrich crashing through the bushes he was crouching beside. Theo swore to himself, and then did so again when he realised he had lost count.

Shit!

Dietrich and Gerda stared sternly at him, and all he could do in return was offer a pathetic shrug and sheepish grin. Gerda pointed to him, and then the bushes. Theo nodded, thoroughly humiliated. The dwarf began moving again. Before he followed after her, Dietrich gave him a pat on the shoulder that was quickly, gratefully returned. Theo watched the smaller, much older man disappear into the thickets beyond. A lump formed in his throat then, as he was left alone in the imperfect silence of the wood. Dietrich would be fine. They all would be fine. They were witch hunters. This was just what they did.

Theo looked about the hidden space he had been assigned. He noticed the boots then, hidden under a bush outside of the camp. Reaching out to touch them confirmed his suspicions. He was not quite so alone after all. Gerda had left him a ‘friend’ she had met earlier. It was chilling to Theo, when he realised the discovery of the corpse did not bother him all that much. He did not like that, no matter how much better it might make him at this task ahead. It opened windows into the world he had managed to keep shut up to this point that he did not want to look into. He settled in to wait, surveying the camp before him through the bushes and trees that hid him.

He could see the campfire just beyond, unattended and dying. Theo leaned in closer and was caught unawares by a snore just below him. A quick glance down revealed the source of the noise. A young scaled man slept within reach of him. He lay on his side, his back to the skulking minotaur. Theo watched what looked to be a very thin frame rise and fall rhythmically.

Theo pulled himself a step back into the bushes before risking a look left and right. There were people lying all over, and he quickly counted a dozen prone forms, including the one within reach. Nearly half of the people they hunted were gathered together in a modest space, under worn, filthy blankets. He watched as some began to stir, wondering how much time was left before all hell broke loose. He would have to kill this man in front of him. There was no choice in the matter. Any second it would begin, and then it would be kill or be killed. It would be easier for him, and perhaps safer for his people if Theo were to reach out and break the man’s neck as he lay sleeping. It was coming anyway. He’d been ordered to do this, and he saw the logic behind that order. The opportunity was there. These people were killers. They held a child hostage. So why couldn’t he do it?

He’s someone’s son, Theo thought, staring at the man he would have to kill. Back at the old, cursed house, there hadn’t been time to think about these things, or even catch a glimpse of the people he would slay before it had started. They could have surrendered, but they had tried to kill him. His shoulder was still stiff and hurt whenever he moved from the crossbow bolt that so easily could have taken his life. This wasn’t like that at all. Theo stared at the man. He had no idea how much time was left. Someone was yawning out in the camp, just out of his view. Another coughed. Theo held his breath, felt the seconds crawl by.

Something cut the air out in the camp. There was a sharp, surprised grunt of pain, and the coughing stopped. Theo felt sick. It had started, and yet it didn’t feel real, until he heard the snapping of twigs, and a cry suddenly cut off.

The man before him stirred. Was he waking naturally, or had the noise roused him? Theo watched him roll onto his back and yawn obliviously as a man just beyond sat up abruptly. He lay back down, one of Gerda’s bolts protruding from his skull.

Theo looked back down to the man before him and felt his heart stop.

The scaled man was staring right at him, his eyes white and wide. Things happened too fast, then. Bushes rustled and weak branches snapped. Theo had no idea what the cause of it was, until he realised he was out in the open, and the man was lying under him, pinned by the young bull’s massive weight. The Oak’s heart was thundering. What the hell was he doing?

“Please,” the scaled man begged. “I yield! I’ve a family! Wait, sir! Please!”

Theo stared down at the man. He knew he was panicking even as his hands moved on their own. They enveloped the weaker man’s mouth as he kept talking, muffling the frenzied screams that started immediately after. The man began to kick and thrash, his eyes wide and pleading. Theo pushed his head back and up, exposing the throat. The man squirmed and twisted, so when the minotaur’s shaking fist struck him the bones around his left shoulder caved in. The muffled screams became high pitched. Sheer terror made Theo squeeze the snout so hard the bones broke like dry twigs. Theo brought his fist down again, and again, until what was left finally went still. The young bull pulled his wet, lumpy hands away.

All hell broke loose, as Theo stared down in horror at what he had done.