Lucas followed the path cutting through a vast field of wheat and rye. The golden waves rippled in the breeze. He stored the book Evelyn had given him and looked around. He was surprised by how tall and abundant the crops were. He plucked one, rubbing the heavy head of grain between his thumb and index finger.

  “I thought the Empire didn’t work its lands,” he said to Qalda, who walked right beside him. “I’ve never seen a field like this. It almost feels… magical.”

  “I know what you’re thinking, but even she wouldn’t be able to pull this off,” Qalda responded, nodding toward Evelyn. “Very few humans awaken mana, and even fewer can cast spells strong enough to affect such a large field.”

  “No,” Evelyn interrupted. “Humans are incapable of this. We lack the affinity for such magic.”

  “What affinity?” Lucas asked, seizing the moment to learn more about this world.

  “Every discipline outside of the four elements - fire, ice, earth, and water - is limited by affinity.” Evelyn extended her hand, and four tiny orbs slowly formed on her palm - each made of a different element.

  Lucas’s eyes widened. He had yet to get used to seeing magic, if ever.

  “Having mana and the talent is merely the foundation,” Evelyn continued. “It does not guarantee you can cast every spell. A mage must have an affinity to wield Light, Darkness... or in this instance, the Nature magic required to compel such growth.”

  “So if a person had an affinity for several magic branches, they could learn many spells?” Lucas asked.

  “No.” Evelyn shook her head. “It is rare to possess an affinity for multiple disciplines, especially for a Human. However, even if such an anomaly were to be born, they would still need to choose their discipline with care.”

  “Why?”

  “'Cause magic twists the mind! It rots the sense out of ye and leaves ye thirstin' for blood!” Edir boomed, butting in on the conversation.

  “Nonsense!” Evelyn shot him a look, the tiny orbs disappearing. “Anything becomes an obsession without discipline. Much like that swill you drink that smells worse than bile.”

  She paused, noticing the tension her anger had created. She raised her head and continued.

  “Magic is beautiful, and anyone who does not see it is hateful. But it demands respect. A mage’s nature changes with every spell they learn. Healers tend toward compassion, ice mages grow cold, fire mages become volatile… The magic fuels our emotions, and in turn, feeds upon them. The stronger the emotion, the stronger the spell. That is why you should not master opposing disciplines or your magic will always remain mediocre.”

  Lucas nodded. He wanted to ask more questions, but Qalda’s voice pulled everyone's attention.

  “What is this stench?” she exclaimed, grimacing.

  Everyone took deep breaths instinctively, tasting the air - everyone except Gio, who had been walking with a disgusted expression for quite some time.

  Lucas couldn’t smell anything but the heavy scent of the crops. He tried a few more times until the acrid stench of burnt flesh finally invaded his nose.

  “Is it…” he began, but Gio interrupted.

  “Yes, burning flesh.”

  <<<>>>

  The fire roared, consuming the pyre constructed of neatly stacked wood. A human body lay atop it, already half-charred.

  A few villagers stood at the front of the large crowd, weeping and saying their farewells. They all wore black. The women had their heads covered in scarves, revealing only their swollen, tear-streaked faces. They cried openly and screamed, allowing their grief to roar. The men, on the contrary, stood like lifeless wooden posts. Though their expressions showed exhaustion and their swollen eyes betrayed sleepless nights, they did their best to mask their emotions.

  In front of them stood a priest in red robes, wearing a triangular hat with a comically tall point. The man was well past his youth, his beard as gray as the ash falling from the sky.

  “May the Goddess Bahenna collect her soul…” the man prayed, head inclined, eyes closed.

  “Does the Empire worship the Goddess Ban… the Goddess?” Lucas whispered to Qalda, who shook her head in response.

  “The Emperor doesn’t worship any god. But the people are free to choose their own. The Empire doesn’t forbid religion,” she said, looking around.

  Qalda was a head taller than most people; she could easily see everything despite being in the center of the crowd.

  “A crowd like this, and the drinking that follows a funeral, always leads to fights. We must leave quickly before we are forced to beat half the village senseless,” she said, turning to her group. “Ask around. We need to find the Village Elder.”

  Lucas was the only one who nodded and actually moved. Evelyn didn’t even acknowledge her words, while Gio and Edir looked at Qalda as though she had asked something outrageous.

  “Qalda, we are in the Empire,” Gio said, adjusting his hood to better hide his face.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “You can at least hide behind that damn cloth,” Edir complained, crossing his thick green arms as he scowled at a few villagers who were staring at him venomously.

  “Oh, I forgot about that,” Qalda muttered, slapping her forehead. “Lucas…”

  “I’m on it,” Lucas responded.

  He squeezed his way out of the crowd and walked up to an old man sitting on a large stone.

  The villager looked up, squinting. He studied Lucas, an annoyed expression dimming as his eyes landed on the knife at Lucas’s waist and the bow on his back.

  Lucas nodded. “We’re here for the bounty your Village Elder posted. Where can we find him?”

  The old man grunted and stood up. He turned toward the half-finished structure a few dozen steps away and pointed.

  “He’s watchin’ the work. If he ain’t there, he’s holed up at home. But a word of advice - don’t go stirring up trouble. We’ve already had our fill.”

  The old man sighed, resting his hands on his hips, and quickly disappeared into the crowd.

  <<<>>>

  Orland, Elder of Richfield, coughed hoarsely. He was no coward, nor one for superstitions, but he didn't fancy sitting alone with the five Unbowed. He watched his wife leave, eyes trailing her as she crossed the yard to the detached cookhouse. At last, he made up his mind.

  “Unbowed, we need help,” The Village Elder said, throwing up his hands helplessly. “Our village is big and richer than our cursed neighbors, aye. But we got no guards, no steel to watch us. We sent the word to the General, asked to leave a score of men here, but he refused. Said so close to Stonehill, there’s no danger worth guarding.”

  The Unbowed were seated around the dining table, eating hungrily - all except Gio.

  “M’lord, is there naught to your liking?” the old man asked the hooded Sanguine. “Hope you don't find wrong with the stew, or our welcome.”

  “Oh, certainly not,” Gio responded vaguely. “Your welcome is charming. I simply adhere to a rather... strict diet. A boring necessity, I assure you.”

  “Hah!” Edir snorted into his ale cup, earning an elbow to the ribs from Qalda.

  “Please, tell us. What kind of creature is attacking your village?” Qalda asked.

  “That’s the problem. We don’t know,” the Elder sighed. “See, we lived quiet. Neighbors hate us for it. Never had a bad harvest. General never took extra coin, and no beast ever troubled us. But it all turned bad three months back.”

  “What happened three months ago?” Lucas leaned forward on his chair.

  “The General demanded more silver, just ‘cause we had it. But that weren’t the worst. One morning… ah, I still remember the chill… that morning we found Harold’s lad, Erix, dead. We found only his head. Rest of him gone.”

  “What about blood trails?” Qalda asked.

  “We followed it, but the trail led into the swamp. And we don’t go there. It’s cursed earth! Our fathers warned us never to enter, never to drain it. It must stay just as it is!”

  The Unbowed exchanged glances. They already knew where to start their search. But the Elder continued.

  “Like I said, we ain't used to monsters. We panicked, sent word to the General. Since we pay good coin, he listened and sent five companies. They stayed a month, eating and drinking more than they hunted. You should have seen ‘em - chasin’ lasses and beating the lads... eh, world’s gone to rot. They found naught. Said wild dogs must have eaten poor Erix.”

  The old man paused as his wife entered the room. She brought dried fruit and nuts, placing them on the table before sitting beside the Elder.

  “The beast came again when the soldiers left,” the old man continued. “Just a week later, we found poor Greta’s head. We immediately sent a word to General…”

  “Where did you find her head?” Lucas interrupted. “Was it near the swamp again?”

  “Aye. But that’s where the old boneyard lies. Greta was tending the graves.”

  “Please, continue,” Qalda said, wiping her greasy hands on the cloth serving as a napkin.

  “Ain't much more to tell. Sent word to the General straight off, what else could we’ve done? We asked aid from soldiers we feed and pay. But General sent naught. Said it must be wild dogs again.” The Elder snorted, no longer trying to hide his anger. He hastily poured ale in his mug and bottomed it. “Two dead already and we find another. Three weeks back, we found Harold himself...”

  “And no rabid dog could kill a man strong as Harold,” the Elder’s wife chimed in.

  “Aye. Harold was strong as a bull! So we sent word again. This time at least, the army would come. Three dead in a single village. And not any village, in Richfield! We thought the aid would come; we counted days. But we was fools! General said Harold must’ve been drunk, grievin’ poor Erix. Told us soldiers would only come if ten died…” The Elder’s voice broke. “No help for us ‘til six more are eaten alive.”

  “Six? The monster attacked again?” Lucas asked carefully.

  “Aye,” the Elder responded hoarsely, eyes drifting to the window where funeral smoke still crawled into the sky. “Five days back. But this time it weren’t just a head. It were deep night when it happened. We heard the screamin’, loud enough to freeze the blood. We don’t step out after dark anymore, and even by day we keep together. Still didn’t matter. The beast didn’t wait. It came straight in among us, bold as you please, like the village were its own yard.”

  “Aye, m’lords. We’ve scarce slept these days,” the Elder’s wife said, voice shaking.

  “You should’ve heard Esma scream. Poor lass. Begged ‘til her breath gave out, choked on her own blood. Found her half-eaten. Hands gone, belly scooped clean like a gutted pig.” The Elder shuddered as the image returned to him. “What sin could’ve drawn a curse like this on us…”

  “I tell ye what!” his wife flared up. “Told ye we shouldn’t have let that priest and his god in here! We was fine ‘til he showed his face six months back…”

  “Enough!” the Elder barked. “I’ll not hear another word of it.”

  The Unbowed shifted uncomfortably. Qalda clenched her jaw, a faint grinding sound escaping her teeth.

  The Elder’s wife stormed out of the room, cursing him.

  “Beg pardon for the disgrace,” the elder said after a moment, forcing a thin, shamefaced smile. “So… you know what the beast might be?”

  “No, but we will find out,” Qalda responded calmly. “And to confirm, our payment is three hundred silver…”

  I’ve the coin ready,” he added quickly. “Three hundred silver, as agreed. I’ll pay it gladly, if you gut the bastard, whatever it turns out to be.”

  Qalda nodded and stood up from the table. “Thank you for the food. Tell your wife it was delicious.”

  She left the room, and the others followed.

  Outside, the sun had begun to set, golden beams bleeding into deep red.

  “We need more information. For now, whatever happens, do not try to track the creature. I have a feeling this bounty will be much more difficult than I initially thought,” Qalda said.

  “Hear that, lad? Ye might pay for yer gifts with this one bounty,” Edir laughed. But the grin froze on his face as a passing villager spat on the ground after seeing him. “I hate this damn pit.”

  “Then we better complete the bounty as soon as possible and leave,” Qalda said, voice serious. “Gio, Lucas - you go and investigate the swamp. Edir, Evelyn - check the graveyard. Remember: whatever happens, do not fight!”

  The next chapter will be out on Monday.

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