Season of Bloom - 24. Deathly Desserts

“Kiba.”

Faes glared at the kobold. More precisely, he stared past the kobold, at a ghoul standing motionless in the open barn doors. A gaping hole in the dead man’s chest showed the circumstances of his death… or the effects of time upon his body. A rattling breath escaped him, filling the air around him with the putridness of decaying flesh.

“Kiba, back away slowly. You cannot fight the dead,” Faes continued, his eyes never leaving the ghoul.

“Living ones… I do not harm… help me…”

The gravelly voice of the dead shook the hollowborn, his face schooled to keep any emotion from slipping out.

“And just what help could the living provide the dead?” he demanded. “Blood? Flesh?”

“Coins… The fey said I could rest… as long as I have two coins…”

Faes’ eyes widened, the hollowborn reaching for the marked coins in his pocket.

“Wilbur?” Lapis asked suddenly, startling Faes.

“Dorsy… I think…” the ghoul rumbled.

“What happened to this village?” the amurrun questioned, stepping between Faes and the ghoul.

Faes reached around him, pulling Kiba away from Dorsy. As though released from a spell, the kobold staggered back, a wail on his throat at the sight of the undead man.

“Kiba sees no zombie!” he whimpered.

Arms wrapped around him, Tristian guiding the kobold away with a troubled look on his face.

“Fey…” the ghoul rasped. “Hate them all… hate the headsman… they killed everyone…”

“There were fey guarding a corpse. A human corpse,” Faes frowned. “What business do fey have with humans?”

“Nyta… stolen away by the damned fey… and her father helped... Damn Wilbur… He sold his own daughter to the fey! Kill them… kill them all…”

“You called down the curse on the village. Upon a fey?” Faes demanded. “Callitropsia… was he a fey who took Nyta?”

“Callitropsia… cursed fey…” the ghoul spat.

“We found coins in the well. Two with Wilbur’s name on them, one with Callitropsia. Which did you write?”

The hollowborn pulled the coins out, showing them to the ghoul. The undead man lunged suddenly, bubbling laughter filling the hole in his chest. With a nimble dodge, Faes pulled the coins away, the ghoul letting out a keening cry as his freedom was yanked away.

“You cursed this village. And you were cursed in return,” Lapis said quietly, beside the hollowborn. “Why should you get your rest?”

He nudged Faes away from the ghoul, turning his back on the dead man. Smirking, Faes tucked the coins back into his pocket, following the amurrun away from the ghoul.

“I want to find the graveyard.” Lapis said as they left the barn.

“You’re just going to leave a soul in eternal torment?” Tristian demanded.

“I am going to get to the bottom of this mystery,” Lapis denied. “So far, all I can tell is that a man hated his village so much he was willing to kill everyone because of an arranged marriage. Perhaps if we visit this Wilbur, we can find the answer to this entire mess.”

“And what is a grave going to tell you that a dead man couldn’t?” Valerie frowned.

“You spoke to Cassiel. Why couldn’t you speak to Wilbur?” Lapis mentioned, staring at Tristian. “Dorsy can have his coins. I wouldn’t leave someone in torment for eternity. But I want answers first. There’s something we’re not seeing here. Why would Dorsy put two curses on the same man?”

“If you wish me to speak to a dead man, I will need to pray first,” Tristian warned. “Disturbing the rest of the dead is not something to be done lightly.”

“We need to find the graveyard first,” Valerie pointed out.

Their feet carried them through the midnight fog, voices continuing to haunt their every step. It sent shivers down Lapis’ spine, but he was a curious cat, and he would get to the bottom of this.

“I don’t think the graveyard is this way,” Linzi frowned, looking at the towering gulch walls that replaced the abandoned village.

“Why would they keep a graveyard within the village grounds?” Lapis pointed out. “In An, the dead were entombed outside the city, within the desert.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is not exactly the desert, my lord,” Valerie said.

“Please Tiressia, don’t send me away! I would rather die than leave you alone!”

A velvet baritone cut off Lapis’ reply, the voice filling the fog. Two figures appeared as the group approached a secluded grove, a satyr and a dryad. Caught in an animated argument, they appeared as shadows in the fog.

“Falchos, I love you. You’re my knight in shining armour, but if you stay, they’ll kill you!” the dryad protested, her soft voice like a whisper in the chill air. “I could not bear to see you dead.”

“They would- wait, someone’s here,” the satyr said suddenly, whirling around. “Who are you? Show yourself!”

Lapis approached silently, trepidation filling him. His last encounter with a fey had ended with him fighting several creatures, and he did not want to repeat that. But Linzi more than made up for his silence.

“Holy kittens, real live fey! Hi there!” the halfling beamed, waving at the two.

“Who are you?” Faes demanded, interrupting the bard. “What are fey doing in a village they destroyed?”

“My name is Tiressia. I’ve lived here since my tree awoke from the ground,” the dryad said. “And this is Falchos, from afar. We’re-”

“Together,” Falchos said firmly. “And we will stay together until death welcomes us into her embrace.”

“Falchos!” Tiressia protested. “Could you skip the whole death part?”

“I have thus far,” the satyr grinned.

“If you have lived here long, perhaps you can tell us what happened to this village,” Lapis requested quietly, still fighting an uneasy feeling.

“Oh, it was such a beautiful village,” Tiressia sighed. “A human village on the edge of the real fey kingdom. We were bound together by friendship, and even love. That is until our queen, Callitropsia, fell in love with the headman’s daughter.”

Callitropsia was a fey queen? Lapis tucked that information away to mull over later, making a mental note to mention the absurdity of Faes thinking a fey queen was a male lover.

“They were such a beautiful couple, bound to be married. But on their wedding day, something happened. No one knew why, but Callitropsia suddenly turned into a tree, the Scythe Tree, and murdered everyone in attendance. Her bride, her love, gone in an instant. It was horrible.”

“Almost like a curse,” Falchos added. “Not that I was there.”

“It was the same with the fey. No one was safe from Callitropsia’s wrath, and the entire village was destroyed. I couldn’t leave my tree, so I slept for decades. Until the sweetest flute playing woke me up.”

The dryad shared a tender look with the satyr, who blushed deeply.

“Well, we found the other curse,” Faes muttered. “Dorsy could only have offered one curse though. And even then, he wouldn’t be strong enough to turn a fey into a tree.”

“Someone from the village hated our queen enough to doom his soul just to destroy her?”

Tiressia shuddered at the sight of the coins in Faes’ hand.

“You were right Falchos. It was not a random attack. I’d hate to see what happened to the one who put this curse out into the world.”

“He’s looking rather rotten,” Faes mentioned offhand.

“A dryad fell in love with a human?” Lapis asked, ignoring the hollowborn’s remark.

“It’s rare for our worlds to touch, but when they do, great love and passion can arise. And from that passion, a third joy, children. Like this village, for example. There was a satyr who fell in love with a woman, and they had a child, Elga Verniex. Oh how we loved watching her grow and learn. But her mother decided to leave the village one day, and that was the end, we never saw Elga again,” Tiressia said sadly. “This village is doomed, dead. And the one who killed it has gone mad. She attacks any who nears her, a dryad driven insane.”

“We’ll put her out of her torment,” Lapis promised.

“You’ll find the tree to the southeast of the village. But be careful, even as a tree, our former queen is deadly. Of course, to a brave hero, we would offer a reward. It’s not much, but surely it will help,” Tiressia smiled.

“Then we will return when Callitrospia has been put to rest,” Lapis replied.

The amurrun led his group away from the fey, shivering as the whispers filled the air again. Heading south through the small gulch, he let out a frustrated sigh as they found the graveyard… and a spirit of an old man sitting on a stele.

“Wilbur?” he asked as they approached the spirit.

“That’s me, the headman of the village,” the spirit smiled cheerfully. “You aren’t locals, are you? Well, let me welcome you to the village.”

He looked around the area and sighed, his smile sliding off his face.

“I’m dead, aren’t I? Just like the rest of this place. I keep forgetting that. Eh, that’s old age for you, I suppose.”

“Do you know what happened here?” Lapis frowned.

“Where? Oh, the village. Huh. Truth be told, I don’t remember. I was preparing for my daughter Nyta’s wedding, and then everything went dark. Must have passed on before the village was destroyed.”

“So you don’t remember any of it?” Faes demanded. “You were killed before Callitrospia was turned.”

“Turned? Aye, I suppose I was. I don’t remember any of that,” Wilbur frowned.

“And these coins bearing your name, that we found on a trio of wisps. Do these ring a bell somewhere in that mind?”

“Faes, don’t be rude,” Lapis sighed.

“Coins? Oh… so that’s what this is about. No wonder I can’t rest properly. It’s an old legend in our village, that if you carry hatred in your heart enough to burn another soul, etch your enemy’s name into a coin and throw it in the well. It would be the end of their soul… and yours as well. Curses carry a steep price and if you hate someone enough to give your soul to see them destroyed… well… your life is forfeit anyway.”

“Utterly foolish. What’s the good of revenge if you’re not around to see it come to fruition,” Faes grumbled.

“Do you know why your name is on two of the coins we found?” Lapis asked.

“Two of them? And here I thought I had no enemies in the village,” Wilbur frowned. “I’m guessing that yobbo Dorsy did one of them. The second one though, I really have no idea who could have cast it. Look… I don’t know if a curse like this could be lifted, but can you do me a favour? Can you put the coins with my name on them onto the altar of Erastil over there? Maybe he will hear my prayers and release me from my torment.”

“Wait a moment,” Lapis frowned. “We talked with Dorsy, and he said you sold your daughter to the fey. Is that true?”

“Dorsy, pfft, that’s the man to listen to,” Wilbur scoffed. “He was my Nyta’s fiance. Rich, handsome, a real lady’s man. He was courting her, and then she changed her mind about marrying him suddenly. Went for a walk in the woods, and fell for the charm of a fey. I wasn’t about to let my daughter be unhappy, so I changed my plans, and helped her wed her fey lover. Or tried, at any rate.”

He sighed, looking down at his ghostly form.

“I suppose that was enough to drive him to madness, screaming about fey stealing Nyta away. But she left him of her own free will. After all, what mortal could compare to the beauty of the fey?”

“So you let your daughter marry a fey?” Valerie interjected.

“Maybe I did. The village was different. Trysts between fey and mortals were commonplace. Take Elga Veriex for example. Her mother conceived her in the forest; her father was a satyr of all things.”

“Wouldn’t mind trying out a satyr,” Lapis muttered.

He frowned at the eyes that glared at him, clearing his throat.

“Maybe later,” Faes said.

“Anyway…” Wilbur frowned, trying to recollect his thoughts. “Elga was clearly born fey, green skin, sharp ears, but she was loved by everyone in the village regardless. It was our way, to love and let love. I wish I knew what happened to her.”

The ghost sighed as Faes handed the coins to Lapis.

“Three coins, and both this ghost and the ghoul want two of them,” the hollowborn smirked. “Go ahead Baron. Choose who is trapped on the Material Plane for eternity.”

Wilbur’s eyes stared at the coins hungrily, his release just within reach. He looked up at Lapis, and sighed quietly.

“No. Give them to Dorsy. I drove him to this madness. He doesn’t deserve to suffer like this.”

Lapis stepped around the ghost, setting the coins on the altar to the Stag God.

“Dorsy didn’t have to curse you. He chose his fate,” the amurrun said quietly. “We’ll find some other way to help him.”

The ghost’s face split into a grateful smile as he started to fade.

“Before I go… there’s a chest hidden over there. I gift its contents to you in thanks. And because they won’t really be of any use to me anymore.”

He let out a laugh that echoed around the graveyard, hanging around long after the spirit had vanished.

Soft chanting filled the air as Kiba stared at the purplish haze hanging around an enormous tree. He clutched a stick in his hand, holding the wand like it would save his life. For all he knew, it would.

Tristian had already explained the wand to him. He was supposed to point it at the tree and say ‘ixen’. Fire. It would make the tree burn. But he wasn’t supposed to say the word until Lapis told him to.

The amurrun was busy with Khemet, a small file running over the tiger’s claws as bark grew from his skin once more. He had already prayed for relief from the noxious fumes around them, relieving the effects of the poison the fey tree spewed.

“Ready,” Lapis said, setting Khemet’s foot down.

He tucked the file away as Kiba raised the wand. All around the kobold, his companions prepared for a fight. Pulling out his scimitar, Kiba traded hands, setting the wand into his right hand so his left could wield the sword properly.

The kobold took a deep breath.

“Ixen!”

A tiny bead of fire escaped the wand, and Kiba’s heart sank. He had failed. There was no way the tree would burn with such a small-

An explosion knocked the thought from his head, a fey voice screaming in agony as fire bloomed all around the tree.

Faes stepped in front of the kobold, a blue flame appearing in his hand. He yelled as he hurled it at the tree, and the tree erupted, fire crackling all around as Khemet leapt forward.

Claws gouged the tree, a sword hacking at limbs as the fighter threw herself into the melee. Kiba followed, his scimitar cutting into wood as the wand lay useless on the ground. Fire scorched his scales, the warmth filling him and driving back the chill of night.

Together they fought, dodging fiery branches, and fiery orbs that Faes hurled into the fray. Slowly, the tree died, burning bright in the predawn air until nothing was left but a golden ring and a letter that was untouched by the fire.

“Kiba,” Tristian said sternly as the kobold watched the tree burn.

He held up the wand, and Kiba’s heart sank.

“Forgive Kiba…” he whimpered.

The wand was pressed into his hand, Tristian kneeling beside the kobold.

“Hold onto it for me. There is still magic inside.”

The kobold stared at the man in shock, his eyes flicking between Tristian and the wand. Hand trembling, Kiba slipped the wand into his belt, nodding eagerly.

“Kiba will keep the magic safe,” he promised.