Valknar
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NM - Chapter 37
🕑 Added 2025-04-05 08:16:58 +0000 UTCThe rest of June 1889 continued as most months did for me. I had Herbert go to town to see what happened to the cultist Brother Michael. But he reported back that he found no sign of the man. I was unsure how to react to that, so I just filed it away as a problem for the future.
The rest of the month was pretty quiet on the news front. The only major piece of news was that Jack the Ripper had struck again in London, killing again and leaving a mutilated body to be found. He left another letter with the body this time, but its contents had not been released to the public.
July arrived, and things fell into their usual pattern. I spend my days alternating between tending to my flower beds and watching the world from the top of the spatial bubble. Roberson was out and about, mostly collecting firewood but occasionally hunting any game in the area. Rigger appeared, and I got my first good look at him. He only came out at night now, and he was more hunched over. I had seen him once or twice a day, but when he was, he was heavily bundled up as if he were going out into a winter storm. After those first few excursions, he went full nocturnal.
Like Roberson, he went out to collect firewood and hunt game. He was less successful now, as he hunted exclusively at night. But that did not mean he returned empty-handed; he just hunted different things now. Towards the end of the month, I found him outside his lair harvesting some plants around his doorway. I realised she had been doing some gardening of his own.
“Rigger, a moment of your time, please.”
“What ya thinking, Keeper? " He asked, not looking up from the plants he was laying out and preparing to dry. I noticed the change in his voice; it had become more guttural and a bit deeper. It seemed like talking was a bit harder for him now.
“I was hoping to discuss your recent changes with you.”
He paused, looked up from his work, and turned his attention towards the church. “What ya wanna know?”
“I notice the change in your eye colour. Has it affected your sight?”
“Reckon it has. I see much better in the dark now. I almost see like it's daytime again but with a green tint. Ain't that something.” He looked around as he spoke, and I wondered if he had never thought about why he saw better in the dark now.
“That's good to know. If you're lucky, we'll get some intruders who will be here at night. Otherwise, you'll be fighting challenges only.”
“Sounds right. Hope to see more women soon as I need new wives. Celia’s a bit tired now.”
“Right…. I will leave to your chores.”
I did not request any further elaboration on that statement. Knowing his original dark trait and what he did with some of the bodies he took, ignorance was truly bliss. True to my word, I left him and returned to the top of the spatial bubble, awaiting the dawn.
July ended and turned into August, and August became September. The days mostly turned into a blur as they followed the same cycle. The countryside around me started to change as autumn settled upon the land. The snow line on the distant mountains had not begun to creep down, but I knew it was only a matter of time.
It was late September, and international affairs were relatively quiet. Locally, things were as they had been for the last few years, and I was content to let them continue as they were. I hoped that as the years progressed, the people would start to forget their memories of this place, and I would become a local legend, hopefully fading into obscurity. I ensured that Herbert said no one this way and kept them on the roads going to Crossway.
In the final days of September, I got my next group of visitors.
I notice them crossing the Ridge I'm writing down the road to the river ford. Watching them cross there, I began to feel a strange unease. Even from this distance, I noticed the similarities in how they dressed.
“Well, this is not good.”
I checked the sun's position in the sky. It was late afternoon, and evening was fast approaching. By the time the riders arrived at my gates, the sun would be dipping low in the sky, ready to set behind the mountains.
I moved to the gates and waited for them.
They eventually arrived—thirteen strong, dressed in the same long black coats and hats. I recognised Brother Michael in the group and knew it was the cult coming back for Round 2.
I reached out and contacted my Hunters.
“Be advised that we've got thirteen riders coming in looking for trouble.”
The riders came up to the gates and dismounted. It was not the same style of dress that gave them the appearance of a unit but how they worked and moved together. Brother Michael stood next to an older man with a white beard. He had an olive skin complexion and looked at the gates with great interest.
“Your testament was quite true, Brother Michael.” The old man said. “I'm quite surprised you did not feel that place's power before you passed through the gates.”
“Alas, I am not as sensitive to the mystical ways as you, Senior Ahmed.” Brother Michael replied with a tone of respect to the other man.
“Now, Brother Michael, we both know you have made considerable progress.” Your survival was a blessing, and the sacrifice of Brother Hector and Jonas was a blow to at all.” Senior Ahmed slightly admonished him.
“Apology, Senior. You are right. I must respect the progress I have made and the sacrifices my brothers have made.” Brother Michael dipped his head in a sign of contrition.
“Think no more of it. Now, let us see what you have discovered on your journeys.” The Senior raised a hand and motioned towards the gates. Together, they moved forward and crossed into the courtyard.
“Cross not from this courtyard,” Senior Ahmed ordered, and the others obeyed without a word.
He pulled out a wire-bound crystal, like Brother Michael's, but this one was far more elaborate in design. He wrapped the chain around his palm, letting it hang while he closed his eyes and started muttering. The crystal glowed, cycling through several colours until settling on a red so deep it was almost black. After a few more seconds, he stopped muttering and opened his eyes. He placed the crystal into his palm and inspected it from several angles.
“Fascinating.” Senior Ahmed turned to Brother Michael next to him. “You have discovered quite the exceptional prize here, Brother Michael.”
“May I be enlightened about what I have discovered, Senior Ahmed?”
“Unexceptional rare thing, Brother Michael. It is so rare that I do not fully know or understand what it is. Our order has not discovered one of these in millennia. This graveyard, Brother Michael, is a Place of Trials.”
The other man looked confused but showed interest in what Senior Ahmed had told him.
“This inscription on the plinth is the rule for this place. Follow them and complete the trials before you. If you survive and make it out of the gates after sunrise, you will be rewarded.
“Reward it with what, Senior Ahmed?” Brother Michael and many of those around listening were very interested in finding out what they would gain if they completed the trial of this place.
“As to the answer, I cannot tell you. However, the ancient stories are particular; the reward is given to the person who completes the trials. It is rarely just one thing but a series of things that are gained, linked to what you endure within it. The greater the Place of Trials, the greater the reward for completing them.” Senior Ahmed turned and looked across the graveyard once more. “I wonder to the age and power of this place.”
“It appears this graveyard has been here for many years. Does that suggest its age and power? Brother Michael asked.
“Alas, no. These places are known for being able to conceal their true nature and capabilities behind facades. This graveyard may appear old, but it could be only a few months to a few years old in truth. We must investigate more before we test ourselves against this place.” Senior Ahmed turned to the rest of the group. “Let us be away. We must inform the elders and investigate the history of this place. We start with the town of Crossway.”
With another hand gesture, the whole group turned and left. They remounted their horses and rode away.
“OK, this is a problem.”
The cult members did not return straight away.
This gave me an opportunity to prepare myself for when they did. I informed Herbert and his family to be aware of them and the danger they posed. I instructed him that if he felt that they were in danger, he should head to the Crossway under the pretence that the children were ill and that he wanted to be close to the doctor. I knew there were sufficient resources to cover a few days away from his house. If he needed more, I could supply it, but I was hesitant for right now.
Herbert visited the town and returned, reporting that the men I had described to him were present within the community and asking questions. Nothing overt, but they were inquiring about the graveyard in the forest to the South. The locals were unsure about their intentions and were being closed-lipped. I knew money and alcohol would lose them.
Once I heard this, I told him to take his family for an extended trip away from this area. I supplied him with an additional $800 and told him to take a long journey to the state capitol. His youngest was now old enough to make the trip, and I knew that if you waited any longer, he would be in danger. It would not take too long for the cult to link the land purchase to him of the forest that surrounded my Dungeon.
He was gone the next day, and I rotated the Hunters watching his home. The following day, the cult members visited his house. They were able to break in and search the property, but he had already left.
They returned two days later. The same group of riders arrived late again in the day. This time, I sensed that they were planning to do something as they brought a wagon with them. The group dismounted and set up a camp in front of the gates. Several tents and a fire pit were quickly set up, and it appeared they had been preparing to be there for a while.
Senior Ahmed came and went over the next week. He took several of the cultists with him every time, but there were always eight outside my gates, and this time, they were all armed. I felt like I was under siege.
On day eight, things changed.
I could not hear what was going on in the camp, but something was definitely happening. Most of the cult members were eyeing the gates, and I was worried that they would make a push into the graveyard. Brother Michael had gone into the tent where Senior Ahmed was staying. Whatever happened was linked to that, but it was outside my hearing ability.
Brother Michael emerged and went to the tent he shared with several others. He went inside and spent about five minutes there. When he emerged, he was carrying a satchel and a lantern. The cult's blade, which he usually had, was now displayed openly on his belt.
“I think he's going to make a run at the church.”
I checked the sun's position, noting that it was late in the day and would soon be setting. This only reinforced my suspicion.
Brother Michael walked up to the gates, past the guards on the camp's perimeter. He strode through them into the courtyard. He took a moment at the plinth behind him, and the rest of the cultists, including Senior Ahmed, watched him.
He turned north and walked along the pathway.
[Cult member is recognised as a Challenger.]
“Here we go.”
My options are now restricted to almost nothing. My Hunters were becoming active and leaving their lairs. I wondered what Rigger was going to do with his new condition. Roberson would be first up unless something intervened. I watched him as he walked, following slightly behind and above him to watch what was happening around him.
He had drawn his blade, alert for danger.
Roberson was close.
Recently, Roberson changed weapons. He still carried his heavy blade but now preferred a meat cleaver. I knew why. He shortened his striking range but was more effective at blocking.
He had gotten ahead of Brother Michael and was waiting at an ambush point near the hateful spirit's hunting grounds. It was a good place, between a tree and a row of tall gravestones. It was only a short distance to the pathway, three metres at most, and he was in a stance ready to spring out and attack.
Brother Michael continued to walk along the path, remembering the route he had taken last time. He was close to turning off this pathway to move to the next ring in the maze. He was still alert for dangers but seemed to have missed Roberson in his hiding place.
As he passed him, Roberson attacked. Roberson had learned from the last fight with the cultists and took no chances with cleaver and blade drawn. Brother Michael's reflexes were still impressive, and he turned when he realised he had seen him out of the corner of his eye.
Brother Michael started backing up quickly to give himself space, but Roberson did not let up. He launched attacks in the shape of controlled swings with his blades, seeking to cut his opponent. Brother Michael was forced to defend himself with his blade, blocking some strikes and dodging the others.
The dull clang of metal echoed as blade met blade.
Roberson slashed with his knife, but it was deflected. He tried again with the meat cleaver, but Brother Michael changed tactics this time. He deflected the play again, but this time dropped to a knee and slashed out, catching Roberson across the upper part of his left leg.
Roberson quickly backed up sharpish but was slower than he would have liked as he was favouring that leg and limping slightly. It was hard to see the wood due to his long coat, but it had been sliced through cleanly. On the ground, I started to see blood coming from his trouser leg over his boot.
This time, Brother Michael was on the offensive. He attacked my hunter with a series of controlled stabs and slashes. Roberson was blocking and trying to dodge, but his leg was starting to slow him down. He deflected one blow, but it was not good enough, and the blade cut through his coat once more, this time on the arm. He snarled in pain but continued fighting.
Both of them were breathing hard and sweating from the exertion. I felt Brother Michael now had the advantage of training and physical conditioning. He didn't relent. Now, they had the advantage of pushing back Roberson, who was running out of room to manoeuvre.
My Hunter took another two strikes, glancing, but they all added up. He had four wounds and was visibly slowing. Like many other hunters, he had to make a choice. Fight or retreat. He threw his support blade at Brother Michael, who instinctively flinched and dodged it, giving him the opportunity to run.
Brother Michael looked as though he would follow, but decided against it, gazing up at the sky and noticing how late it was becoming. The route he had chosen was going to take him through the hateful spirits' hunting grounds. He was aware something was in that area, and he did not want to meet it. He set off at a jog, moving quickly to get out of the area.
Unfortunately for him, it was dark enough for the spirit to be out and about. He spotted her a short distance away. He understood what she was and went from a jog to a full-blown run. There was a terrible shriek of hate as she changed and pursued him.
When he was discovered, fortune once more favoured him as he was on the edge of the hunting grounds. Running as fast as he could with the hateful spirit chasing him, he crossed out of her hunting grounds. He glanced back, realised she wasn't following him anymore, and slowed down. He seemed to understand that she had a limit to where she could go and that he had passed out of it into safety.
He paused for a few moments to recover, keeping an eye on the hateful spirit shrieking in the distance. Once his breathing was brought to a more regular level, he set off down the pathway. He was about halfway to the church, now deep in the graveyard.
The gravestones and mausoleums were more densely arranged here, with additional trees and statues filling in the gaps. The church could still be seen in the distance, but the opportunities for ambush increased dramatically here.
We both discovered this as Rodriguez jumped from the top of a low-level roof of one of the mausoleums, colliding with Brother Michael as he walked along the path. As it hit the ground, there was a muffled sound of glass shattering. He was holding his tomahawk out. He was trying to get on top of Brother Michael to beat him to death with it. The two men were wrestling on the ground, engaged in a vicious, close-quarters battle. Brother Michael had dropped his knife in the collision and was using both hands to fend off his attacker.
Rodriguez hit him across the head with a pummelled of his tomahawk, and brother Michael was momentarily stunned, allowing him to clamber on top of him.
“Looks like it is over.”
Rodriguez raised his tomahawk to bring it down into the skull of Brother Michael, but the other man still had some sense of the fight. He punched into Rodriguez's groin, causing the hunter to fold up in pain. A second punch to the side of his head knocked him off the top of him. It was now Brother Michael who was on top of his opponent.
Brother Michael used his fish to start pummelling my hunter, but Rodriguez was a veteran of such fistfights and not so easily beaten. He lifted his head, causing Brother Michael to punch his forehead instead of his face. I heard a crack from the fist that it made contact with, and Brother Michael reeled back in pain. Rodriguez grabbed his other arm and pit deep into it. He lifted himself off the ground, causing Brother Michael to tilt sideways. This was enough to enable Rodriguez to push him off him.
More kicks and punches were exchanged as each sought to establish dominance. The two were rolling around on the ground, trying to get control of the tomahawk. The momentum of the fight carried them over to the knife Brother Michael had dropped. Rodriguez hadn't seen it, but Brother Michael appeared to have, and he reached out to try to grasp it.
He managed to, causing Rodriguez to turn his head and wonder what he was reaching for. Rodriguez was introduced to the blade when it was inserted into his side, just below the ribs.
He rolled off Brother Michael. The Challenger kept his grip on the blade handle. Blood was flowing from the wound, staining Rodriguez’s clothes. Brother Michael started getting to his feet but received a boot to the face, knocking him back.
Rodriguez knew he was in a bad way and took the opportunity to escape.
