"Well then," the Doctor says, loading and cocking his crossbow. "Ivan and Brogol to the front, Edward and I right behind."
"Yes... I suppose so." Edward casts a look back at Amos "I'm reluctant to leave our poor companion here, though. And I begin to doubt this spirit chose him through coincidence - instead I suspect it detected his divine connection."
He coughs."Would we be better to retire and start this expedition anew in the warm light of day, with our friend safely interred?"
Aldous sighs. "You are wiser than your years, Earl of Caromarc. What say you, Droht? Shall we lick our wounds and avenge our companion on the morrow?"
"Amos is dead and beyond help. We have driven off the spirit, why would we abandon this victory now? I don't want to risk coming back day by day chancing another death. If we have business here let us do it now."
"Does he have anything on him we can use in this venture?"
"Judging by the screams, there's something else here." Edward looks distastefully at Amos "While I'm sure our companion wouldn't mind us borrowing things we need, I'm equally sure he'd expect fair value for them."
"Very well, Droht. I'd give a great deal for a good gorget, but lead on."
"Heh, heh, he also believed the strong would triumph and the weak deserved to grind under any boot heel they couldn't escape from. I am a Son of Usalav, I am a survivor, and as such I am saying does this body have anything on it effective against spirits. You are a magician Edward. Is anything here magic."
The Droht begins dragging Amos to the stairs.
Edward sighs, and casts.
As you march forward, or attempt retreat, it is no matter which, you come upon the open door. Inside is a large gallery of dead men and women, almost filling the room, all hanging from the ceiling, swaying as if they had all just barely stopped jerking from asphyxiation. The air if foul with old decay.
"I have this. On my word, slam the door." sneered Edward through gritted teeth. He screeched out words in a high, resonating voice.
The Doctor and Brogol each take one side of the door, ready to slam it at Edward's word. "These may be his victims. If we put them to rest..."
Edward's shadow was elongated in the failing sunset, falling across the door. The blackness of that shadow deepened, then a hint of light within suggested it was not a shadow - but a hole, some immensely deep hole. A rustling, surging noise came from the shadow, and a moment later a storm of fluttering back wings burst from the shadow up into the room. For a second the air was filled with the beating of a million wings.
shouted Edward, taking two steps backwards,
The Droht glares, but complies.
"Have I consented to join a coven? Such dark magics smack of such."
The door slams closed, but the swarm soon silences, replaced by the slightest of sounds...tiny carapaces landing against the wood floor.
Silence follows.
"Uh . . . Was that the expected result?"
Edward ignores Ivan "We need a cleric - a holy one! good. Doctor, do you have any spells to summon Life Energy? Do either of you have Holy Water? Unless we can return this spirit to rest, only spells like those have any real chance."
The Doctor looks to Brogol as the room goes quiet, his face grave with concern. "I am afraid not, Earl of Caromarc. I have a simple ward to protect against evil forces, but nothing that calls forth holy power... Except my wand here. It can cure wounds, as it did for Ivan."
"Then unless we can, in the next few minutes, reason out what caused the terrible crime that undoubtedly spawned this abyssal nightmare on the top floor... or unless that wand is so easy to use we can all do it... I suggest we need to concentrate on getting out of here. This is a job for exorcists, not scholars."
Nodding gravely, Aldous puts his hand on the door knob. "Perhaps we should see what this room has to offer before we retreat. All those people... it could hold the key to putting this haunting to rest."
Turning the knob, the Doctor swings the door open again, crossbow at the ready.
Ivan attempts to push Aldous aside.
"I will not have my future Count go first."
The door opens, the dead continue to hang from the ceiling. Are they looking at you? Yes, one or two of them, their dead eyes staring right into you. Then more, a noose turns, then another, until the entire menagerie is staring at you from inside the room. The air in the hallway begins to feel dry and cold. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.
Ivan mummers.
"As I stare at death it stares back at me. You were as I am and I will be as you are some day. The Lady of Graves sheppards my soul, from birth through life and unto death, may her crook lead me to green pastures and help you find your rewards as well."
Aldous swallows his fear - literally - and steps into the room. Wise words, Droht.
Turning to the hanging dead, the Doctor clears his throat and projects his voice, addressing the lot. "What do you want? Speak, damned ones!"
Edward twitches in anticipated reaction. Desperately he casts his eye around - if there is light, there is a window. At this stage he's all but ready to defenestrate himself to escape.
The hanging spirits point at Aldous, mouthing grotesque, impossible words, quivering and shaking like angry beehives. The air continues to grow stale in the hallway, but in the room, there is none left to be had.
"This is madness! We are not clerics. You wouldn't send scribes to lead the vanguard nor knights to run an archive. If we are over our heads then let us begone from this place. You have proven, to whomever cares, that we were brave or brash enough to come up here. I fear we are risking the future of our nations nobility by continuing this."
"Tell me if I am wrong."
The moaning brings a shortness of breath to the doctor, a buzzing in his head as his vision narrows to a pinpoint, crowded with darkness. Backing out the room, Aldous sighs, closing the door as he goes. Turning to the others, the Doctor presses against the door for a second, waiting for the dizziness to leave.
When he speaks, his voice comes out weary, quivering. "You are not wrong, Droht. This horror wants nothing but nothingness. Some day, I will shut this place down, raze it to the ground so that no one can be a victim to this malevolence again. But not tonight. Let's go, with haste."
The Droht places the cloak from the downed warrior on Aldous's shoulders, then begins to try and drag the fallen comrade out with them to the stairs. Ivan tries to avoid looking at the at the hanging bodies.
"Those are just spirits right? Are they going to attack us? Or are they the victims of what we drove out of this room?---I can't believe we came up here without vials of holy water even."
"If they are victims, they're complicit in what horror takes place here now. They tried to suck the life from me."
"Sometimes evil on this scale can etch itself into the fabric of objects and places." he looks grim "I suspect the house will not let us leave so easily, now that we are here. Be ready to burn this place down."
"This place is being run as a hotel. I think our presence here is making it what it is. Let's just try to leave."
As you descend from the upper floor, the air is suddenly fuller and more invigorating. Millair, still guarding the gate, gives the group a curious look.
"You all look wore through, and we're missing one...he didn't make it?" Millair takes the bolt out of his crossbow, and slings the weapon over his back, eyes keenly focused on the group, waiting for an answer.
Ivan drags his former companion.
"Yes, one did find his way to the lady."
Edward looks grave, and troubled.
"This is no simple spirit. This is a site of evil, evil that has fed on death again and again to gain strength. It could take years to unravel the threads of death that hold it together."
Aldous nods, concurring with his friend. "Amos is lost to us. I think we should grab Ky, stay the night on the boat, and come back here in the future when we have a better understanding of what we face."
Craning his head, the Doctor peers down the stairway, to make sure there is no one lurking to overhear them. "Or... we could burn the hotel down tonight."
"My instinct is the same. The Lord of this Land, who will be our neighbour, might look darkly on it." whispers Edward conspiratorially.
"I think we should write a strongly worded letter to Count Muralt as well." he adds, more loudly. "This land is littered with abandoned castles and manors. Perhaps he will act to save this one, perhaps simply condemn it."
"This is exactly what the palatines have failed to address. Evil grows, monsters prowl the woods stalking the small folk while the bloated false nobility seeks out thrills such as this hotel."
"We should not even pause to burn it down, we should proceed to our original destination after caring for Amos."
"You have earned notoriety and respect for ascending the stairs. Be hard men, delare that your hired man expended himself in your service."
Edward, in a rare display, claps the Droht on the shoulder.
"Well said. Well said indeed."
"Perhaps next time I advise we stay on the boat my request won't fall on deaf ears. I will say that I have seen nothing unusual since coming downstairs though. I have also made a copy of the hotels manifest. Feel free to paruss it for any info you might find useful"
Not in the mood for I told you so's, Aldous grits his teeth and heads down to the boat. "Arter, you got a shovel or pick axe on your boat? We'll be taking one less to our destination."
The threat seemingly subsided, Brogol wanders into the nearest shadows, a shaded copse of trees just off the path. Soon his rustling is replaced by silence, the boy having gone back to wherever he came...
Arter sits up from his quick nap, "Shovel? What? Where's the body?"
Millair steps back onto the boat, setting his crossbow on top of his pack. He starts prepping his pipe for a smoke as he watches the others discuss their next step.
Edward shivers as Brogol wanders off
"We still need to talk. Once we're on the boat."
"Happily, Earl."
--------------
The Doctor sighs. "The Droht has our muscle. He died in our service, bravely protecting the rest of us from the malevolent forces in that damned hotel. We'd like to bury him, quickly, and get underway at first light."
The older man scratches his head, "That's the first I've heard of anyone leaving the Beumhal place after they'd died. People usually disappear around this place." Arter's face sours as he looks at the blackening face of his former patron, "Just a camp shovel, not big enough for this work, though we'd probably be better off with a pyre, considering the location and his religious...affiliation."
"Are you familiar with the rituals, Arter? Is anyone? As the doctor says, the man died in our service. I'd like to see him get the funeral he'd want. Gods know where we'd find a priest for it, though."
Aldous slumps. "That's a good thought, Arter. I'm afraid I know little of their funerary practices, but a pyre sounds right."
With that, the Doctor sets about collecting wood, using an axe if there is one available, and if not, collecting fallen branches.
"I don't rightly know, just stories from passengers who've been there or heard of it second hand. But I'll say this, he won't be welcome in any churchyard I know of in Ustalav."
"If I may. Given that he has sacrificed his life for our mission - perhaps it is best to burn him at our destination?" the Earl is uncharacteristically hesitant.