King of Dust

Chapter 30

The path, as we climbed the mountainside, dwindled. The trail hugged the side of the mountain, our wagon teetering precariously towards the edge as we turned. Astrid clung to me, holding her breath. The height seemed to terrify her. Soon, we came round the bend and back down into a valley, the fog of Starkovia swallowing us up as we descended. A lake stretched its way before us as we approached, still as glass. I pulled the wagon to a stop, the horses pawing at the ground in fright. Something terrified them, their eyes surrounded by a ring of white. Then, as the moon appeared again behind the clouds, a shape protruded from the fog.

A windmill.

In the light of the moon, I could see that the windmill had been stripped bare, its vanes tattered and out of use. Urien got out of the back of the wagon, Yra following shortly, and I put the disguise cloak in the back. I would not need it anymore. I dropped the fur one I wore into the back also, the furs wet and clinging from the humidity, and helped Astrid off the wagon. Urien said some soothing words to the horses, hoping to calm them, and hitched them to a tree.

"Is this the right spot?" he asked.

"This is it. This old windmill was where they did me in the first time. I'm certain of it," I replied.

"Then let's take a closer look. If there are hostiles here, we need to be quiet and cautious. Stay behind me, please, and don't touch anything."

We all neared the old structure, the wood creaking in the near silence. Owls did not even hoot and all the night insects had fallen quiet. A sign of imminent danger, I was sure. The windmill was horribly lopsided, leaning to one side like a tired old man. I ran my hand along the grey brick at the base, dirt coming away on my fingertips. As I went to turn the corner, a loud snapping of wood echoed across the clearing. A raven, seemingly from nowhere, dove at us from within the fog, squawking and flapping its wings violently.

It flew at Urien's head, pulling his hood away with its talons, until it finally settled on a wooden beam above the door. Urien cocked his head to one side, trying to glean what was wrong. After a moment, his eyes widened, and he whispered. "Oh, this is definitely where the witches are."

"You can understand it?" Yra asked.

"My goddess speaks through it," Urien explained. "There is danger here. We need to be stealthy and careful."

Urien opened the door a crack to peer inside, crouching down to mask his frame. After peeking into the room, he made the call that it was safe... or, as safe as it could be. He opened the door wide, moonlight flooding into the building as it set. Soon, that moonlight would be sunlight. All it needed was an hour or so. I covered my nose with the crook of my elbow as I walked about the space, abhorred by the sight.

The entire bottom floor of the windmill had been gutted and converted into a kitchen – the filthiest kitchen in the world. Old dishes teetered in precarious towers in corners, and all the cookware that had been used still had old food in it. Mold bubbled and grew out of every container and piece of tableware, taking on a life of its own. Up against the wall, a peddler's cart had been stuffed, as well as a chicken coop, which made the entire space reek of bird droppings. The chickens clucked absentmindedly, but among them I heard something else... toads.

And among all of that was the sweet smell of pie. Yra almost vomited and Astrid's face turned green. Another layer of putrescence added on top of the horrid barrage to the senses, coming from a barrel. At the very least, the place was warm. The oven at the back of the room, near a crumbling and rotted staircase, burned on, having just been used. Someone was here.

A cackle echoed throughout the mill from somewhere above us, and the structure shook. Urien crept over to the oven and pulled open the hatch at the front, being careful to not burn his fingers. He paused for a moment, and then closed the oven.