The Doctor nods his head, realizing that he's more shaken than he had realized. "Yes, yes. Arter, can we load Amos on your boat?"
"Why not give him to the river? This is just his body, the Lady has his spirit."
"I don't like it." Arter spits in the water. "The beasts of the wood will go out of their way for us if they smell a fresh kill on board."
"Well then. Let's hire a spot when we get to civilisation - or at lest Ardagh."
"If Captain Arter is more worried about the beasts of the forest than breaking a contract with a now-dead man who channeled the powwer of the god of contracts, I say we listen to him."
"I know of a church of Asmodeus in Kaer Maga. That is about..." he does some quick calculations "1700 miles from here. If we hire him a carriage for the trip, that'd be about fifty gold. Possibly a third of that in a cheap cart. Then he'd be in his church's hand, for whatever contract he'd made with them in the event of his death."
He looks sad "Not what I would choose - but it seems to fit the way the man thought."
The Doctor shakes his head as Edward states his plan. "I doubt his god will let him out of their contract just because he's not burned in a pyre. Let's not delay our journey by weeks. He goes in the river, weighted down by rocks. It will have to be enough."
"I wasn't suggesting we take him. I'd expect there'd be someone we could hire at a capital."
"A waste of money."
"I will go get some rocks someone find a bag. Oh, I almost forgot."
The Droht hands Ky the mithril chain shirt.
"I think you would benefit from this. It's good armor, but a bit too light for my style."
"oh shiny...I'll be sure to put it to good use. Amos...you have become the first casualty to our cause but I have no delusion that you will be the last. Farewell."
After the brief ceremony that brings Amos' body to rest in the river, the expedition continues into the north country and along side the Shudderwood itself. You lay over at the Ardagh docks for the night, one more night until breaching the wilds.
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I sleep propped up against one of the dock posts and even when not sleeping am very still. I keep a wary eye on our surroundings and tr to mentally gauge the distance between myself and any possible cover. If the night goes uneventfully, I rise early and do some morning stretches and a short jog, always keeping one side to the river so as not to get lost.
The Doctor stays on the boat this evening, smoking his pipe and looking out over the Ardagh docks.
The events of the previous day had rattled the man greatly. That such a horror as the hotel could exist, so close to the Shudderwood, so easily within Ustalav, was of course, nothing new or surprising. That Aldous was so unprepared to have an answer to the horror's blight, that it could so easily take Amos from them. Well, that was another matter altogether.
Aldous savors the smoke. Things would get difficult soon.
At dawn, the captain steers the vessel away from the dock and back into the gentle current. Just after noon, well after other traffic on the river has become sparse, the river meets another coming from Sarkoris, in the northeast. The speed of the current increases as you turn west and finally find yourselves under the dense foliage that is the Shudderwood.
Captain Arter nods toward the next bend, "By nightfall we'll try to find somewhere to make camp, and if we survive the night...Ascanor the next afternoon. I used to make the trip a few times a year back before the lodge fell to the Shudderwood. Half interested in seeing what became of it...then again, I'm more interested in getting back out in one living, breathing piece."
"So. Doctor. Droht. Shall we have that chat." Edward has been in a black mood since Amos' funeral, staying away from everyone. Apparently the sudden dark of the shudderwood is enough to bring him back to himself.
Aldous nods, and pulls on his pipe. "Of course, my dear Earl. You need not worry about Brogol. He came to me the first time since... he departed, a few nights back. It filled me with dread and horror, of course. But. He is no threat. I know that boy as well as anyone. Dutiful to the last breath, and beyond."
The Droht looks to make sure they are not being watched.
"I see you are both students of and users of dark arts. Beware you do not become of the dark yourselves. You walk slippery paths."
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"'Dark Arts'" the Earl is dismissive "I'm no necromancer. Conjuration is neither good nor evil - it is the user who determines that."
He raises an eyebrow at the doctor "He's not a threat now perhaps. But the dark realms of the dead can change a man, doctor. Are you sure your critical facilities are functioning correctly with this 'Brogol' of yours"
The Doctor sighs, and packs a little more tobacco into his pipe. "I have long been a student of the dark arts, the Droht is correct in that such studies have dangers. Know that my only intent has ever been to shine a light on the forces that plague this country, and to do so, one must delve into the darkness, head held high, convinced of one's own moral and intestinal fortitude. I look forward to a day when studies such as mine are no longer needed."
The evening is much darker under the canopy of the Shudderwood, and the alien cries of the nocturnal predators send shivers up your spine. Those with canny or unnatural eyesight can see some of the giant colonies of arachnid kind in the deep forest, or the glowing eyes of beasts as they stalk or are stalked through the underbrush.
In the gloom, a lantern light appears off the left side of the river, illuminating a small dock. On the shore is a small, one room hut, windows lit, chimney billowing. On a chair, outside the open door, is a figure enveloped by an ample cloak, a wide-brimmed hat covers his face. Captain Arter give the company a inquisitive shrug after he considers the dock and it's proprietor.
The Doctor takes his pipe and waves it above his head. "You there! Would you allow us to dock at your pier?"
The Droht shakes his head, taps out his pipe, then digs for his pouch to fill it again.
"Ehhh! I don't like this, it's going to take me a while to digest it."
After a quick light he takes a deep draw.
"I remain loyal to the group and our cause."
The Drohts eyes speak loudly, "But I will be watching you."
"Like the Abyssal monster I conjured? No. Mircalla can trace her lineage back as far as you and I - possibly further. What do you mean by 'birdlike'?"
"Her familiar is a bird. There's a strange communication there. Perhaps that's what you sense?" The Earl's words are rushed, his sudden smile achingly sincere.
Edward cast a glance at the figure, then outright stared. A strange outfit. I wonder what he - or she - hides?
The figure rises from its chair, pulling itself against the porch railing, "Visitors...it's been some time." The figure's voice seems odd, though you can't quite make out why, it's almost as if his voice is slightly out of synch with itself. "Yes, dock as you must. The next stretch of the river is quite dangerous!"
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"Tell me Edward, I have seemingly accepted that you summon demons from the abyss and that Aldous has a travesty to Our Lady of Graves tied to him that appears at odd times. Would you seek to spare me the truth of something more sinister than that? Or perhaps you are not yet finished speaking your tale and I have so rudely interrupted? If I have, I would like to afford you the opportunity to continue."
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Arter docks the boat and begins to tie it off as the stranger approaches. "Odd, please correct me if I'm wrong, but are you some kind of research expedition? Where might you be going?" The stranger's voice is noticeably inhuman as he approaches, like the gestalt of many smaller voices combining into one.
Aldous steps onto the dock and extends his hand in greeting, trying to get a look under the man's hat, his other hand close to his crossbow. "We're on a hunting expedition, friend. Thank you for your hospitality. What may we call you?"
Edward looks nervously at the dock, then nods and joins Aldous, bowing slightly in greeting.
"Yes, I understand traffic is noticeably decreased in the past few months?
"Your voice sounds odd, like many raised as one. Come no further and reveal yourself, so that we can see your face as easily as you see ours."
" My apologies but we must insist on seeing your face. The Shudderwood has not been as welcoming to us as it once may have been."
Ky makes a motion to the doctor that signals he should retract his hand and steps between the two.
does he mean us harm?
The stranger respectfully takes Aldous' hand in its own, heavily gloved as it is, but Aldous is unable to pierce the shadow under the wide-brim. "I know you, yes, Professor Beauturne, I thought it might be you. Derrick Zstelian, at your service."
"My tenure here has been short, any traffic has been a rare event. Nothing in the woods these days save seclusion or a savage death, if you're not careful." Zstelian looks over at Ivan and Ky, "Sirs, while I understand your need for safety, I must remind you that this is my domain, such as it is, and you are here as my guests, and I will dress as I see fit. Should that bother you to the point of exit, I am quite sure you will only find worse company farther along the river." Zstelian's agitation causes his body to shiver, or convulse, under his clothing.
Aldous holds his hands out, a gesture of supplication. "Of course, Master Zstelian. Please understand that my companions mean no offense - they simply are wary, and for good reason in these trying times."
"And likewise, forgive me, Master Zstellan, but I feel I must come clean. As you apparently know me, I also know you, and I admit I find it fascinating that you stand here, on a forgotten stretch of river in Ustalev, after to my admittedly incomplete knowledge you were lost in the Orthon Expedition in Osiron. How can it be we find ourselves so lucky to be on your pier this evening?"
Though the Doctor's words are inquisitive, his tone is purely genial. Still, his companions have been traveling long enough with the man to know he is wary. The subtext of his talking with Zstellan is clear:
Be on guard. This one should not be here. Should not be at all, actually.
"I would not be here if I had a choice in the matter. Osirion is a cursed land, and Orthorn was possessed by some ancient power. He tricked and murdered everyone on the expedition. I was fortunate to survive, though I am less for it. Orthorn held me captive; after his death I escaped here. This is my refuge from a fearful world. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to enjoying the rest of my evening. Dock here for the night, but leave me be."
"would anyone argue with me this time if I recommend we stay on the boat?
The Doctor chuckles, a low, rueful laugh, almost under his breath. Packing his pipe, he lights it and heads back towards Arter's vessel. "You'll get no argument from me, Master Ky."
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That night, when it is his turn to take the watch, the Doctor has a thought. Sitting against the cabin, the Doctor closes his eyes and imagines his apprentice as Aldous had last seen the boy, twisted and broken, walking into the darkness. Soon, the keening overtakes the Doctor, and within a minute, Brogol ambles from the darkness.
"Yes, Doctor? Do you need assistance?"
"I'd like you to sit with me, Brogol, and help me keep watch, like when we were chasing the haunt at old lady Hattingly's."
"Of course, Doctor."
And so they sit, staring out into the darkness, as they used to do.
"Nor from me. Not tonight, Master Ky. Not here. Our host seems genial, but his decor" the noble looks around the dark, spider infested forest of the Shudderwood "is not so amenable to a restful night of sleep." He pauses, switching topics "We should, perhaps, decide whether we wish to arrive in the daylight, or at night."
---------------------
The doctor follows the Earl's gaze out into the darkness. The woods seem to pulse with sound, even this late at night.
"Daylight, if it is at possible."
The Droht chuckles as he carefully retouches the hone on his curved short blade.
"Heh heh, yes . . . So much safer when all of ones enemies can see you clearly in the light."
"I can't see in the dark myself, hate to miss my target." Henric pats his crossbow.
Edward nods "Daylight then. We should tell the captain to aim for a morning disembarkation, even if it means camping another night in this place."
The night passes.
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Night passes into morning. Fog chokes the forest, and you might not know it was even morning save for a scant few shafts of light that pierce through the dense canopy growth.
"Ky, you and I must stick close together. We have none of the others gifts."
The Droht wants a few answers.
"Doctor, what was that thing we spoke with last night? It was not human any longer, but it made no attempt to come aboard our boat. What is its motivation? It sits here along the banks of the river hiding in plain sight? This makes no sense to me. Does this being know you?"
"Good questions, Droht, and ones that I wish I had better answers to. The creature's name is Derrick Zstelian, and he's famous in the circles that I and the Earl work within. It seems as well that my reputation preceeds itself in regards to him, as we've never properly met, but he knows me none-the-less. I must admit that the notoriety is a little unnerving, in this case."
"You are correct, I believe, that Zstelian is no longer human. As far as anyone knew until now, he disappeared along with most everyone else of the Orthorn Expedition to Osiron. Professor Orthorn, the head of the Expedition, was the only surivor, and he was quite mad - homicidally so - upon his return. That Zstelian still lives is... discomforting."
"More your circles than mine, I'm afraid, Doctor. I have to admit my curiosity at Zstelian's survival is blunted by anticipation of our journey's end. We all but died at that damned manor - if he's happy to leave us alone, I'm content to return the favour."
"We're in accord then, let us depart before we out stay our welcome. I heard stories of Ascanor in my youth, I hope it lives up to its reputation, in scope at least." Henric fills his pipe as he looks down the river. "With a little luck, we might bring it back to glory. A rare thing in these times."
"Oh my dear Edward, you are most certainly in those circles, don't feel the need to pretend around me. You and the doctor are most interesting men, with many . . . Hmm, well I wouldn't want to call them secrets, how about enigmatic streaks of character? After the manor house it really wouldn't shock me to learn Professor Zstelian had arrived here three days hence to have one of you personaly sign his copy of your latest published work. Heh heh heh."
The Droht lightly elbows Mircalla expecting her to appreciate his joke before setting his eyes on the Doctor.
"Also, I was forgetting to be mentioning that I am a light sleeper at times. It is a good idea to warn me ahead of time if you are expecting visitors to our camp. Luckily I was prepared for that possibility last night."
The Droht turns to the other members of the team with his palms up.
"Oh, I wasn't meaning that to seem so directed at one person and I hope I cause no offense. A lifetime of growing up in and surviving the wood can lead one to develop a somewhat paranoid outlook on things. Hopefully I do not come off as unreasonably or obsessively anxious."
The wolffish grin returns to the seasoned warriors face with a glint in his eye.
"So, we are nearly on the doorstep of Ascanor. Our few days journey has felt like months in coming. I for one am ready to finally begin doing something of significance towards the furtherance of our goals."
He gestures toward the gangplank.
"Shall we?"
Captain Arter waits for everyone to board, then unties the boat from its moorings. As you leave Zstelian's little homestead, life seems to return to the forest.
"Just a few hours now, better make plans now, unless you want to do this by the seat of your pants." Arter's paranoia seems to have deepened, his gaze constantly shifting to either side of the river, his hands vice-like on the helm.