Monster Blood Tattoo: The Peltryman's Behest 12

The Ichormeer

17 Calor 1602 HIR

"Sedorner, official and most insulting and incriminating name for a monster-lover. Anyone having any sense of friendship or understanding with monsters is said to be under the influence of outramour—the “dark love.” Those worse affected by this outramour are apparently meant to run off into the wilds to spend the rest of their short lives with the bogles they so admire. To be heard even trying to understand monsters from a sympathetic point of view can bring the charge upon you. Different communities and realms deal with sedonition to different degrees of severity, but it is not uncommon for those found guilty to be exposed on a Catherine wheel or even hanged on a gallows." - D.M. Cornish, Foundling

The sudden emergence of what appeared to be Albany Reeves caused a confused pause among all the witnesses, who just moments before were on the verge of doing violence to each other.

Dr. Corvinus rushed to the tumulus from which Albany was struggling to emerge, still clad in her shroud.  Corvinus' body guards, two huge revermen were at his side.  In the confusion, Sister Angella, Ottimo, and Alhambra pushed their way to the black habilist side.  Corvinus took hasty notes into a large book, noting the unusual fact that she had emerged seemingly unchanged in appearance from the dead body that had been placed in the gravid mud.  Here eyes, while animated, showed only fear and confusion.  And other than small grunts, she seemed incapable of speech.

As Angella moved to protect the girl, Corvinus offered to give the girl's body to them, once she had been dissected, as necessitated for his experiments.  In a rage, Angella brought her fuse down upon the doctor, killing him instantly.  In an instant, Alhambra twirled about one of the reverman, cutting the horror down.  Ottimo similarly struck down the other creature but in dying the reverman struck the swordman with its great axe, nearly slashing the battered adept. 

A tall Heilgolundian woman warrior approached Ottimo, the glittering therimoir in her hand marking her as a sabrine adept.  Her weaving blade showed she intended to engage in duel with her fellow adept.  However, as she lunged at him, a bullet plowed through her skull.  The bullet came from Lord Danny's long rifle, the leer/wit having taken up a position to fire at the party's enemies.

Frensalir attempted to push his way into the enclosure but a great derehound gripped his arm within his mighty jaws.  With great difficulty, the skold pulled away, smashing a costrel of loomblaze in its mouth.  The hound retreated, whimpering pitifully.

From his stand rear the stone cottage, Lord Danny flung the last grenado that Frensalir had prepared for him.  Unfortunately, the skold had been less than certain of the effects of the cast.  When it burst in the midst of Corvinus' mercenaries, the blast was enormous, the force of it knocking down everyone in vicinity, with few ever rising again.

As the blast of the huge explosion echoed through the swamp, the mercenaries guarding the causeway broke completely and fled towards the river.  Tanga, Lord Avi, and Sister Perfidia led the surviving lamplighters in a vigorous pursuit, soon arriving at the burning hunting lodge.

Suddenly the Warden General appeared on the river bank, having escaped from the bounds in which he had been left.  Holding a ancient dagger above his head, he called out, "Sucoth, Seven-mouthed Lord, Swallower of Men, accept this sacrifice and bring cleansing to an evil world!"  He then plunged the knife into his own throat and his lifeless body slipped into the waters of the river.  However, there seemed to be no sequel to this desperate and mad act.

Meanwhile, the party struck down the few remaining mercenaries.  A wit and leer, being but hired minions, readily accepted quarter and surrendered.  Much to their relief, they were permitted to walk away into the woods.

As quiet descended upon the scene and little evidence that the Warden General's sacrifice had an effect, the party tended their wounded while Accural took to decyphering the correspondence that Alhambra had rescued from Dr. Corvinus' desk prior to fire consuming the lodge.

This Accural was able to accomplish with alacrity and was shocked to find one letter written in a bold hand to read:

“To Corvinus

From Himself,

By my own hand

I will brook no further delay.  I have provided you with more men and treasure than a major campaign would cost, yet the results have been meagre at best.

Although my agents have removed one curious interloper, it appears he had friends who have proven to be far more dangerous than could be imagined.  And yet my agents cannot deal them but must hope that these scoundrels  meet their fate along the road. My men must provide directly for the delivery of the materials for your experimentations due to the relentless attacks of the fictlers out of Haltmire.  I have provided you with ample numbers of men to deal with such inconveniences and yet you seem unable to deal with a group of crazed lunatics.

Our time grows short, the trouble along the Conduit Vermis have resulted in inquiries from the highest ranks as to why I have not yet restored order. I cannot express how much more difficult it will be to keep our endeavors secret with an entire imperial army marching along the Wormway.

Demonstrate the genius for which you have been recommended to me. Write to me of progress, great and rapid and you shall retain my favor, otherwise….

I hardly need remind you that Time waits for no one.

                                                                                    N”

Meanwhile, Sister Perfidia approached Albany who was being cradled in Sister Angella's arms.  The Soratche argued that the child had not been resurrected but her body had served only as a host to the formation of another monster.  She offered to kill the child mercifully and then the party could return the body to its mother who need not know the horrible things Corvinus had done to her.  

As Angella prepared to resist, Lord Danny, ever the assassin, stole up behind Perfidia and slipped a blade into her neck.  The rest of the party stood in shock as the body of the fanatical calendar slipped to the ground.

Frensalir, who had spent the years since the Vab hunting cultist rather than monster, argued that the murdered Perifidia had been right, the child was the product of knowledge obtained from the false-gods, an abomination.  Trying to prove his point, he invoked the name of Sucoth and spoke some of the foul ritual words he had heard to see if they evoked a reaction from the girl. The girl only showed fright and clung to Sister Angella.  

However, Frensalir's words unwittingly completed the invocation that the Warden General's self-sacrifice had begun.

 Suddenly, an enormous monster in the form of a crocidole emerged from the murky depths of the river.  It rushed toward the party, roaring fearsomely.

It's tongue, in actuality a giant serpent, uncoiled from its mouth.  A gout of flame emerged from the serpent's mouth, consuming Frensalir's self-motive test barrow as well as Corvinus' broken assistant, Snivrow.  This proved too much for the lamplighters who fled back toward the road.

The wounded Ottimo clambered up the creature's back.  Managing with difficulty to reach its head, he plunged his therimoir into its eye, which exploded in a flood of disgusting ichor.  the creature roared in pain, Ottimo was flung from its shacking head, the swamp grasses provided a softer landing than could be expected.

Frensalir took the remaining mushrooms he had collected at the Battle of the Vab.  Knowing it would produce living trees, he plunged them into the gravid mud.  Within moments seven great walking trees strode out against the Crocidole.

In the midst of this, Lorent had been furiously mixed every agrise in his salamanticum, hoping to create an expunctant.  He mixed several of the casts and turned toward the creature.  His cast struck the creature directly in the chest and the obliterant exploded, burning the monster's unarmored chest.  The rest of the party flung themselves at the horror, striking at its vast legs.

Then they heard a great fluttering and flapping from up the river.  A vast cloud of birds was rushing toward the monster, a mighty sparrow-like creature at their head.

The birds swarmed about the creature's head, pecking madly as Alhambra climbed up the crocidole's back, hoping to repeat Ottimo's success.

Lord Danny tossed aside his musket and put one hand to the side of his head.  With blood streaming from his ears, he focused all of his witting power upon the distracted creature.  Within the vast head of beast, its brain exploded.  The suddenly dead creature's vast bulk collapsed and slid back into the river. 

The Duke of Sparrows landed and bowed to the party.  He then led his birds and the living trees in the destruction of the tumuli in the gravid fields, ending Corvinus work entirely.

The party limped back to the Wormway.  They found the lamplighters who, somewhat sheepishly, greeted them.  With them was a troop of horse, the first vedettes of the army that was retaking the Conduit Vermis.  Having been told of the party's efforts against the cultists and these black habilists, the newcomers congratulated the party fulsomely, saying their way had been eased considerable by the party's actions.  The fight to recapture Winstermill, although successful, had been bloody enough. They helped the party into a supply wagon to take them back to the camp of the army's vanguard.

After several hours travel, they arrived in the army van's large camp.  Given some medical attention, they were provided food and other sustenance.  Suddenly, they were surrounded by a full battalion of Brandenbrass troops.  With hundreds of muskets aimed at them, the party had no option but to surrender.

Heavily guarded, they were taken to the command pavilion.  The Archduke of Brandenbrass, the army's Captain General, was waiting for them, his hostility palpable.

"You have vexed me.  Interfered with my plans, killed my servants, destroyed effort that have cost enormous time and treasure."

The Archduke was given Corvinus' notebook, which the party had taken after killing the black habilist.

Reading the end of  the notebook, "Perhaps something can be salvaged of this."  He noticed Albany standing among them. "And this is his most successful subject.  Yes, not everything was lost.  We have the materials to begin anew."

Turning his attention to the rest of the party, he said, "But you shall not be able to interfere any more.  You are about to learn what it means to earn my displeasure."

Before the Archduke could utter the final sentence on the party, two gentlemen pushed their way in.  One was dressed in the fine dress of the Imperial Court.  The other Accural recognized as Mr. Runciman, the man who had commissioned the investigation of Valentine Portent's murder.

Runciman's companion spoke up, "Pardon a simple Imperial Secretary for this intrusion, Your Gracious Sufficiency but I understand that some of my servants have arrived in camp and the results of their endeavors are of the utmost interest to certain most highly placed servants.

Imperial Secretary Strathclyde, for such was the grandee's name, directed Accural to deliver his report in the Archduke's presence.  Accural told them how the Archduke had conspired with the black habilist Dr. Corvinus to find a form of extending life or reproducing it in its original form, in other words, a method of immortality.  To this end, they had directed the theft of hundreds, if not thousands, of corses, routing them down the Wormway to the Ichormeer to Corvinus gravid mud fields.  Likely Winstermill was used a warehouse of sorts and minor experiments conducted by the surgeon there Swill, who was a servant to Corvinus.  It is likely that the fall of Winstermill was the result in the mishandling of these efforts.  Finally, when Valentine Portent, squire of Useless and former peltryman in the Emperor's service, investigated the theft of his step daughter's body, the Archduke set his agents, the Silent Shadows, upon the poor man and murdered him.

The Archduke, whose face showed his anger, said quietly, "The Wormway is still in a most dangerous state, my good Imperial Secretary.  What a pity that such a devoted imperial servant lost his life in these disturbances."

There was a rattle of drums and flare of fifes.  Suddenly, a whole regiment in cream-colored coats marched into the clearing, pointing their muskets at the heads of the Brandenbrass troops, even at the Archduke himself.  At their head was Colonel Lord Coniferus Figge, elder brother to Lord Danny.  The Colonel gruffly said, "Stand easy please, Your Grace, I haven't had my morning cup and so I, and my men, may be a bit touchy.

The Archduke, slumped down in defeat.  Secretary Strathclyde took Corvinus notebook from the Archduke and directed him to withdraw to his pavilion.  "We shall discuss what happens next privately, Your Gracious Sufficiency."

Discovering from the party that only the notebook remained of the Corvinus experiments, that all of notes and the tumuli of the mud field had all been destroyed.  "Good, that will save Mr. Runciman considered effort, then."  He handed the notebook to Runciman directing him to destroy it.

When the Secretary bent over and said to Albany, "Hello girl," she cringed and clung to Sister Angella but still seemed incapable of speaking.

"I suppose she is a monster," observed the Imperial Secretary.  "I suppose she must be put down, what a pity...."  Here he turned and addressed the party, "well, you are the experts in this monster slaying business.  I leave her to you.  May Providence guide you."

"Well now, isn't that tidy end to things.  I do love tidiness." With that the Imperial Secretary departed.

A Fortnight Later:

Village of Useless
 9 Estor 1602 HIR

The midsummer sun was setting over the Vale of the Use.  The tenants and hired men were working to bring in the summer wheat, the Widow Portent directing them.  They worked in silence for the most part. Since the deaths, the Widow, who been quite jocular, rarely spoke except to give instruction and she never laughed.  The men, respecting her, generally remained subdued in their work.

One of the hands looked up from his work as he noticed the strangers approaching down the road.  He pointed and the others saw them as well.  Their grips tightened on their reaping tools for this was rough looking bunch well-armed and brigandish.  But there was something more, almost refined about them.

The Widow saw them now and was about to call out the alarm but then she recognized her late husband’s companions. 

And then she saw the girl in their midst.

Eyes squinting in the dying sunlight, she moved onto the road and began slowly to walk toward the approaching party.

The more she looked, her pace increased. With each step, her wonder increasing as well.

Forgetting her dignity, she broke into a run.

As she neared the group, she slowed. Her joy, her hope, now mixed with confusion when she saw the girl’s uncomprehending eyes.

She stopped and the two stared at each other for a long while without saying a word.

Finally, the girl’s face broke into a great smile and she said,

“Mother.”

Epilogue

It was said that the Emperor frowned when informed of the tardy manner in which the Archduke of Brandenbrass had effected the recapture of Winstermill and of the other associated problems.  The merest hint of the Emperor’s displeasure is enough to curtail the power of even an Archduke.  Powerful figures at court arranged for His Gracious Sufficiency to return to Brandenbrass.  

Command of the affairs along the Wormway was returned to the 8^th Earl of the Baton Imperial of Fayelillian, that is to say, the Lamplighter Marshal, who was restored to his post as well as to the Emperor’s good graces.  He soon had things well in hand and the lamps were lit all along the road once more.

Although the life at the court at Brandenbrass did not appear to change when the Archduke returned, those who were in a position to know reported that the Archduke found little satisfaction therein. He had grown very morose, it was said, in contemplation of his own mortality.

In the town of The Wight, a new tavern was opened, The Leaping Sagaar.  It enjoyed great success catering to the soldiers who now swarmed the Wormway. Its proprietress eccentrically insisted on being called Lady Tatty and ruled the place as a virtual tyrant.

Throughout parts of the Southlands, there was a collapse in the market for stolen bodies, demand having all but evaporated.  In at least one case, this resulted in one notorious corser, one Osa Frangellin by name, giving up the trade to become a gardener.

In the quiet valley of the River Use, the peltryman’s behest was fulfilled and the body of Albany Reeves was laid to rest at last, although the obsequies were held with coffin closed due to the poor condition of the body.  

But the widow did receive some consolation in the form of a foundling child that the behestee’s had rescued from the cultists who had formerly afflicted the Wormway.  This child they gave into her care and the Widow Portent loved the child as if she had been her own. Few begrudged her decision to change the foundling’s name to that of her late daughter.  

There was some in the valley who thought this whole affair quite queer, commenting on how strongly the foundling resembled the late daughter, some even suggesting that the foundling might be a mannikin, a monster in the shape of an everyman.  These few were dismissed as jealous cranks.  

For mother and daughter were greatly loved, and as young Albany grew to adulthood, she was renown for her kindness, her generosity, and her gentleness.  It was said that in the whole of the Southlands, nay,  in the whole of the Half Continent, there was no one who more reflected what a human being should be.

Although, as is the custom, those who had fulfilled the peltryman’s behest received no reward, beyond thanks, their fame spread throughout the Soutlands and beyond.  And the story of their heroism grew in the telling. So much so that those who had participated in the behest were much sought after for the most desperate of adventures.  

But those stories are for another time…