Trilby's Notes: The (Un)Official Novelization (Chzo Mythos #3)

Chapter 6: The Innkeeper

Somewhere in Wales, July 28th, AD 1581

       Owen Somerset, a travelling merchant, was on his way back to his wife and family in London, having concluded some business dealings in Ceredigion. Caught suddenly by a summer storm, he spied an inn by the side of the road and marvelled at his good fortune. 

       "Faith, 'tis an evil storm that blights the sky tonight!" Owen called out in the front room of the inn. Made of stone and wood, the only soul other than himself was the innkeeper. A single candle illuminated the room, casting deep shadows and leaving the furthest reaches untouched by the light.

       "Aye." Was all the innkeeper could seem to mutter back.

       "I must have the Almighty on my side to find myself so close to an inn as it broke out."

       "Aye, perhaps."

       The innkeeper seemed quite taciturn, but Owen was in a good mood and was determined for it to not leave him. It was probably too late to continue riding, even if the storm cleared. Owen decided to inquire after a room for the night.

       "Good evening, Sir." Owen smiled to the innkeeper, up at his desk jollily. "Would it be possible to secure a bed for the night?"

       "Be a wiser man than I. Go from this place and never return."

       "I...what?"

       "There is a curse upon this inn. I will not have an innocent doomed to the same fate as I."

       "I have plenty of gold to pay for my board..."

       "The devil cannot be bought off, my friend."

       "What devil? What is the nature of this 'curse'?"

       "This inn was built by my father twenty years ago. From the wood of a fallen oak he stumbled upon on an island north of here. He noticed human bones scattered around, but did not heed them. This inn has been a curse on our bloodline ever since. Madness and death claim those who stay here. This time last year, it claimed my father. Soon, I am certain it shall claim me."

       "So why do you remain?"

       "I do not believe in fleeing from the mistakes of the past. If the Almighty wills that my family must pay for our errors, then this I accept. But I would not see another suffer for our sins. Leave now before the shadows take you."

       "Sir, I have little patience for fables. And even less for riding after sundown in the middle of a downpour. Lend me a room, and I shall take the responsibility for my own wellbeing."

       "You will insist?"

       "Not only will I insist, but I will pay whatever price you ask."

       "Go, then. Take the upstairs room. And if you remain by morn, you shall pay nothing at all."

      The guest room of The Unicorn was a little bare, but quite functional. Two beds and a dresser were the only furniture, and a set of stairs was the only exit. Owen lay himself down, intending only to test the bed's softness, but in his exhaustion, he quickly succumbed to sleep.

       In the early hours of the morning, something jolted Owen from his slumber. A piercing sound? No...A piercing smell. Owen quickly noticed the smell seemed to be coming from the corner of the room, where smoke appeared to be rising from the floor. The smell was familiar, that of campfire and cooking. Sensing danger, but telling himself it was for comfort, Owen took the blanket from his bed and descended the stone steps.