Witch Hunter

Chapter Two: The Old and the New

The acrid scent of burnt flesh lingered in the air. The villagers, bless their ignorant, superstitious souls, called it the smell of dying taint. It was simply the smell of the burning dead.

Rain fell in uneven sheets, causing a cacophony of crescendos that almost drowned out all other sounds. The downpour did not bother him though. Nature was power. Thus, being close to nature was tantamount to being close to power.

Mesmerised by the sheer might of the rain, he barely heard it; a sound that did not belong. Refocusing his mind back to his physical senses, he stood with a stillness that would have put a statue to shame.

“Nefarious!”

The voice came from just behind him, and it was that fact, more than anything else, that made him spin with dagger in hand. The force of the movement sent a shockwave of water spreading out from his shoulders, perpendicular to the falling rain.

“Ah, it’s you,” he said in a monotone that betrayed no emotion. “I should have known; you’re the only one stupid enough to call me by my name.”

“Would be best not to antagonise me, Nefarious. Not only am I your best agent, I’m the only one who knows what you’re doing.”

There was a moment of silence between the two, punctuated by the incessant downpour.

“So then, why are you helping me?” asked Nefarious slowly.

“Because it suits my purposes.”

For a brief moment, Nefarious thought about cutting the man’s throat on the spot, but discarded the thought immediately. He was too valuable. And he had managed to get right behind him without Nefarious hearing ...

Twitch.

On reflex, the finger on his dagger tensed. Quickly, Nefarious hid the weapon within the folds of his black cloak. He hoped the other man hadn’t noticed.

“So, how proceeds our matter with the Imperium?” asked Nefarious cautiously.

The other man smiled contently. “Well enough. There was rumour of further aggression, but we will be forewarned and prepared.”

“We’ll need more numbers.”

The other man laughed. He had a way with laughs. He could convey so much emotion through them. Usually it was aggression. Despite the torrential rain, the sound of that laugh chilled him.

“Where do you think you’re standing, Nefarious?”

He bit back a retort. This man was still too useful to be antagonised.

“A graveyard.”

“Exactly.”

*     *     *

He awoke to the sound of shouting.

Instinctively, the first thing he reached for was his sword. Blinking rapidly, he inspected his room blearily for a few seconds until he became fully alert. Nothing was out of place. The noise was coming from outside.

Dressing quickly in his cloak and pants, still stained from his last mission with blood and dirt from the woods, he made his way downstairs.

“Morning, Aion,” greeted Dortan immediately. For a second, he thought he detected nervousness in the innkeeper’s expression.

“What’s all the fuss?”

“The Imperium has made another move to banish the Exorcists. They claim the organisation isn’t necessary now that the Cleansing is over. They mean to delegate all witch matters to the common soldiers.”