Table of Contents – (spoilers)
“I thought you were going to do something about all these filthy cretins cluttering up my church!” Barrelmender snapped at Choke when he and Peep saw him in the church yard the next morning.
“Aint a church exactly the kinda place that cretins are meant to be cluttering up? They’re our flock!” Peep returned with a cheeky grin.
“Don’t be glib! You know what I mean! You were supposed to speak to the slattern about them!” Barrelmender shouted.
“Me? No. Yar getting yar parties confused, Brother,” Peep jerked her thumb at Choke. “And we need a word about something that’s actually important.”
Barrelmender scowled at Peep for a while before relenting.
“Fine. Come into the kitchen. I’ll have Mariola put on the kettle,” he said.
“Well, I’m stugged up enough, I’d reckon, so if it’s all the same to you, Brother, I’d just as soon get right to it,” Peep said as she and Choke followed Barrelmender into the church’s kitchen through the back door.
In the kitchen, Mariola was finishing cleaning up the breakfast dishes.
“Do you need anything to drink, Lieutenant?” Barrelmender asked Choke.
“No, thank you, Brother.”
“Very well. Mariola, you may leave the dishes. I shall finish cleaning them up after my meeting with Lieutenant Pekot and Otilla. While we are having our meeting, I would like you to have Otilla’s followers pack up their belonging. They are relocating to a nearby Church property where their labor may be of some good use. There is a serviceable building there, although it has not been occupied for some time. They shall have to work hard to make it habitable. Explain all that to them in whatever fashion you believe they may understand.”
“Oh. Yes, Brother. And, do you want me to relocate there as well?” Mariola asked, glancing at Peep and then Choke to gauge their reaction.
“Yes. It would be unseemly for you to stay here without all of them. But, if you are willing, I would like you to continue coming to the church to prepare my meals and clean as my housekeeper. Just once a day should be sufficient. If, of course, that suits you,” Brother Barrelmender said, facing Mariola with stiff, formal propriety.
“Ah… yes, Brother. Yes. I believe it does suit me. If Miss Otilla thinks it is okay,” Mariola looked at Peep again.
“Yeah. Sure. That’s fine. So where is this place they’re gonna fix up, Brother?” Peep said.
“It is the old Wilson property. The sla— the church’s property manager, Shasta,” Barrelmender caught himself, “can set them up. She is to provide whatever tools they might need to get the property well again. It was a good, small farm once, I was told. With hard work it might be again. Lieutenant Pekot will inform Shasta, our property manager, of my decision immediately after our meeting has concluded. Yes?” Barrelmender said to Choke sharply.
“Yes, Brother. I will do that,” Choke said.
“So, there you have it. You may go and inform your people, Mariola. Thank you,” Barrelmender nodded to her.
“Thank you, Brother. Sir. Miss Otilla,” Mariola nodded deeply to them in turn.
“Oh. Just one thing before you go, Mariola. You are a widow, you said, yes?” Barrelmender asked.
“Yes, Brother.”
“Good. You may go. Have your people ready to leave with the Lieutenant as soon as we are done. I don’t want to see any of them around here until next Mass. I’ve had it with them. Thank you,” Brother Barrelmender waved Mariola off.
She nodded deeply once more and shut the door behind her on the way out.
“It’s the way they stare,” Barrelmender went on as he took his seat at the kitchen table. “Like frightened cattle. Staring at me with their witless need. I can’t solve your lives for you! Fools!” Barrelmender shouted at the inner door to the church proper. Unlike previous outbursts, this one seemed almost controlled.
Peep checked that the doors were all shut before she and Choke sat down at the table.
“You and Mariola seem to be getting along pretty well. How’s that going?” Peep asked Barrelmender.
“Your insinuation notwithstanding, it is going very well, thank you. She is kind in her way without it reeking of pity. This soothes me.”
“Yeah, well, she is easy on the eyes. And she knows her mind, so I’m cool with it. You two can have a good time,” Peep smirked.
“Shut up. Don’t the two of you have pressing business to discuss with me?”
“We do. I’m just wondering why ye think it’s good that she’s a widow,” Peep said.
“Because it is seemlier that way. And were she anything but, her seeking to serve the Church would be strange. And her service may serve as a balm to her grief, even as it keeps the wolves at bay until she is in a less vulnerable place. As much as she may hide it, she is in need of a safe place to rest and lay her troubles down. I don’t expect you to understand that, though, Otilla. Vulnerability is not your strong suit.”
“Ye got that right. It aint. So, enough about that bullshit. Whad’ye know about Bristlenook, Brother?”
“Bullshit you say. Bullshit…” Barrelmender drifted off for a long moment, his gaze drawn once again to a place of horror. Eventually, he continued:
“But I suppose you are right, Otilla of the Holy Fire. What better avatar of our Faith? Mewlings of loss and grief are but ashes swirling in the aftermath of what we do. Soft. You are right to mock me.”
“Yeah. I know. Now, whad’ye know about Bristlenook? Is there a witch there? Druids? Some kind of forest creature? What’s the deal?” Peep asked.
“Bristlenook. There is a heretic practitioner there. A Solluna Union priest, I believe. He beguiles womenfolk with his lurid filth.”
“Yeah, we’ve seen that first hand. But he seems a bit on the light side for keeping all the bad boys of the wild away,” Peep said.
“Yesterday we patrolled the road to Bristlenook, Brother,” Choke said.
He and Peep then went on to tell Barrelmender the whole story. Without embellishment, it took almost ten minutes. Brother Barrelmender listened silently without once saying a word. When they had finished, he sat thinking for a while more.
“The skeletons suspended from the trees; you are certain there were no snares or counterweights to do the trick?” he finally asked.
“Pinch was in the rear and he swears he heard nothing suggesting that. He’s a good scout, so I believe he’d know it. And we saw no evidence of that,” Peep said.
“And it was vines suspending them from the trees. Not strings or rope and the like. You’re sure of that?”
“Yeah. I’m sure,” Peep said.
“Well, there you have it, then. Such manipulation of nature is demonic spellcraft. Possibly of a priest with a focus on the plant sphere of spells. Or, more likely, a druid.”
“Could a Solluna Union priest have access to the plant sphere?” Choke asked.
“Absolutely. But their affinity for nature, and therefore their ability to manipulate it, would be limited when compared to a proper druid. However, this skeleton trick would be very minor spellcraft. Just having some vines pull up some skeletons from the forest floor. Simple.”
“Okay. But that don’t seem like Thad’s style,” Peep said.
“Who?” Barrelmender asked.
“Thad Swallowtail. The Solluna Union priest,” Choke said. “While we’re on him, Brother: are you sure he is a Solluna Union heretic?”
“He arrived here about a year after me. I heard from some members of my flock that he began preaching of the blessed union of the sun and the moon into one divine being, eternally locked together in coitus, with Aern, our world, existing within their union. It could not be clearer.”
“I see,” Choke said, doing his best to hold his judgment of Barrelmender’s failure to act.
“I understand all too well how I have failed. You needn’t remind me of it.”
“I wouldn’t do so, Brother. What’s done is done. We must look to the future,” Choke said.
“Must we? That is even more bleak, I fear. But, even so, let’s get on with it,” Barrelmender waved at Choke and Peep irritably.
“The white stag. D’ye have any idea what that was?” Peep asked.
Barrelmender shrugged. “It could have been a spellcaster’s summoned animal. It could have been a druid’s animal companion. Or an animal previously befriended through spellcraft. Or, although this seems unlikely, it may just have been a random occurrence.”
“It came at me right at the spot that the skeletons popped up out of just a minute later. That wasn’t random,” Peep said.
Barrelmender shrugged.
“Could the white stag be a creature of feydom, Brother?” Choke asked. “At the Pekot orphanage, we were taught that such creatures will often manifest in ways similar to druids, and might present themselves as animals.”
“Yes. Or trees. But if that stag was our principal foe as a creature of fey, then it put itself in front of your bows. That would mean that it has no fear of your arrows, making it a powerful creature indeed. So let us hope that is not the case.”
“If the thing is that powerful, why would it do some bullshit trick trying to scare us off?” Peep said.
“Good point. It probably wouldn’t. Also, the rubes of the forest regard white animals as blessed or otherwise special. They are superstitious about them. So, conjuring one to help scare off human pests would make sense,” Barrelmender conceded.
“So we’re back to a human agent, or agents, manipulating nature in a demonic way,” Choke said.
“I believe so. From what I have been able to glean from my passive surveillance of Bristlenook, I suspect that the Solluna Union heretic is working in conjunction with a druid. Probably the woman herbalist and midwife they have up there.”
“Diya,” Peep said. “Yeah, we were starting to think the same thing. So what are we gonna do about it?”
“Well, first of all, we have to get Bristlehump in order,” Barrelmender said, his voice and manner now almost that of a normal community leader attending to administration. “Remember that Bristlenook is quite literally beyond the law. We are at the border of the kingdom here. If they remain peaceful, we ought not to instigate anything while in such a weak position here.”
“I agree, Brother. We are working on improving the fortifications as we train our men as well. So, do you think we should avoid patrolling to Bristlenook at this time?” asked Choke.
“Yes. For all intents and purposes, that must be regarded as enemy territory. They are all wild, bandit people out there. The ones there have just settled down a bit. They are all dangerous, though. Hunters. Trappers. Trackers. Half bandits as they are born. And they have given us a message to stay away. So, that is what we shall do for now.”
“For now,” Peep said, her tone deadly serious.
“Yes, Otilla. For now. Are you intent on another course of action?”
“I don’t need to rush into it. But my palms have been getting to itching every time I hear mention of druids. What’s that all about? I always heard that druids used to pretty much run the show here until the Stronians killed them all,” Peep said.
“Well, them having all been killed by us is certainly the yarn that we prefer the flock to believe,” Barrelmender said with just the faintest touch of humor.
“Are the Moondark Hills a druidic enclave, Brother?” Choke asked.
“Who told you that? Morrenthall? Or was it Brother Willem at the orphanage?” Brother Barrelmender asked sharply.
“Neither, Brother. Although Brother Willem did teach me that druidic enclaves still exist. With this stories we have heard of the Moondark Hills, and the likely presence of a druid in Bristlenook, it only made sense.”
“Well, then, yes. The Moondark Hills are a druidic enclave. And a particularly vile and evil one. The sect of druids there perform their blood rituals with human sacrifices flayed alive. They dangle the cured skins of their victims from the profane trees they worship as gods.”
“Have ye seen that yarself, Brother?” Peep asked.
“No. We do not enter their enclave, just as they are meant not to leave it. But I have read the accounts of the Brothers of the Holy Stone who fought the sect some three hundred years ago.”
“Meat Log Woods,” Choke said, his voice distant.
“What?” Peep snapped.
“Just so. Once of the dark, bloody places in the Moondark Hills. Where did you hear of it?”
“Father Morrenthall mentioned it when he cautioned me against going into the Moondark Hills.”
“Just so. You must not. We must not.”
“So what happens if we do?” Peep asked.
“We are Stronians. So we shall keep our eyes long enough so that we may watch our skins being hung from the bloody branches of a demon tree before birds peck them out.”
“Woah, now. Hold up,” Peep said, giving her head a shake. “Now, I aint saying I’m a real good Stronian here, or nothing. But I have always heard that the Stronians killed all the fuckin druids. And now yar saying that there’s a forest nearby that we’re afraid to go into because there are fuckin druids there? What the fuck, man?”
Barrelmender snorted. “Otilla. You have heard precisely that which the Church demands the flock believe. Nothing more. And before we speak on this further, know that we tread now into topics forbidden for the lesser minds of our flock. Are you capable of hearing what I might say on the topic without losing your bottle? You have to hold it.”
“Yeah. I’ll hold it. So, what the fuck, man?”
“Before there were Stronians, there were the druids in these lands. And they served the warlords and petty kings as priests and healers, even as they served themselves every demented whim that their demon-addled sickness could express. And while the warlords rose and fell, the druids remained and became the true power in these lands. So, when the Alquinians conquered here, their mages clipped the wings of the druids. It was the Alquinian wizards who killed most of the druids. The ones not killed were driven deeper into their woods where they could disappear.”
Brother Barrelmender sat watching Peep and Choke to gauge how they were taking this. Eventually, he continued:
“As we Stronians rose up to drive the Alquinian Empire from our lands, so too did the druids attempt to rise again. And we cleansed our lands of their heresy of nature worship. But the more powerful of those druids once again withdrew into their accursed forests. And there they remain.”
“And there they remain? They’re yar enemy and ye let them just hang out in the middle of yar lands?” Peep asked, looking disgusted.
“We do not let them, Otilla. They do as they see fit. Understand that a powerful druid can assume the form of any animal they wish. They can switch forms at will. And they emit no telltale sign of magic as they do. They are indistinguishable from a normal animal. As well, they can cast their spells when in these animal forms. So how do you suggest we track these individuals down? A hawk dives into a river to become a trout, only to rise up again sometime later as a pelican. And at every turn they send swarms of insects, choking vines of thorns, and summoned animals to do their murder.”
“So how is it that they don’t run the show?” Peep asked.
“Because such powerful practitioners are few and far between. And those most powerful of druids have no interest in our society. If they were to come out of the wilds to challenge us, they would be spotted more easily and fought. But they no longer seek out fellow humans. They are creatures of the wild themselves, content to keep to their profane forests. And so, there are woods that we do not venture into.”
“But one of them is out here in Bristlenook fucking with us,” Peep said.
“Probably so. But Bristlenook is not the Moondark Hills. And when any woman may wander into the forest to offer her monthly menses to the demon moon as a blood sacrifice, such naturalistic heresy can spring up anywhere. And so, here in our communities of Bristlehump and Bristlenook, we find a microcosm of the greater problem. Those in Bristlenook do not bother us, and we do not bother them. But understand that on their side there is no cohesion. There is no grand unified system of druidic heresy. No single leader of a movement. Pockets of it might sprout up like mushrooms in the forest floor, but they are not coordinated. But even if they were, the Stronian Church does not negotiate with heretics. And the powerful denizens of the Moondark Hills give no loyalty to others of their ilk outside their domain. And I grow tired of preaching to a near empty church, while the folk meant to be my flock slip down the lane to the profane orgies of the moon worshipers.”
“Is that so, Brother? Are ye tired of it?” Peep asked, meeting Barrelmender’s eye squarely.
“I am.”
“Earlier I noticed ye referred to the one out there as ‘our foe.’ So, does that mean yar ready to take up the fight again?”
“I think so. But I need some time. As you need some time to fortify our home base and train your men. There is work to be done first.”
“Fuckin A,” Peep said. She stood up and held out her hand to Barrelmender across the table. The Wheel brand in her palm stood out in the dim light of the kitchen.
Barrelmender looked at the Wheel for a long moment before rising to his full height to take Peep’s hand. He shuddered as the brand pressed into his palm, but, this time, its touch did not break him.
“Fuckin A,” Peep repeated. “Alright, Brother, we’ll get my followers settled in the Wilson place, and talk to Shasta about setting that up. And we’ll settle her as the Church custodian and property manager. Mariola is your new housekeeper. When do ye want her to come?”
“Every day at breakfast. She can prepare that and lunch at the same time. I prefer not to eat dinner.”
“Good. Anything else ye need right now?”
“No. I shall pray for guidance and strength. You and your men patrol our town and train. Stay away from Bristlenook for the time being. The power, whoever it may be, will perhaps think they scared you off. Complacency may follow.”
“Sounds good. Stron bless ye, Brother,” Peep said, raising her palm up towards him.
“Thank you, Otilla. I feel that perhaps he has. Now go. I require solitude now.”
“Alright. We’ll check in tomorrow morning,” Peep said as she turned to head out the back door.
Choke nodded to Barrelmender before following her out.
Muse Vassal 