Eric didn’t become aware of the time until he was forced to kindle a lantern to continue reading Rolland Klauw’s book on magical creatures. After finishing the chapter on ahuizotl, otter monkeys, with a hand on the end of its tail, used to drag people from boats and the waters age, to watery graves, he threw the book from him and left the room, before he became absorbed in the books pages again. Vincent was in the study; Hermes curled comfortably in the chair beside him. As he entered the room Vincent looked up from his own book “Expect your hunger, is the reason you’ve abandoned your studies”.
“Yes, you don’t happen to have any food in the kitchen” Eric asked, pointing over his shoulder to the other door.
“Not at this moment, no, we will just eat at the festival in the, town square with everyone else” said Vincent said standing “Any ways it won’t be long now until Kenith sends someone to remind me about it. Grab a coat and we’ll be off.”
As Vincent predicted a small boy was sent with a message to remind them about the fall festival of Wolferic, which from his annoyed look he was hoping to get back to as quick as possible.
Arriving at the village square, which was more shaped than a circle than a square, they were welcomed by a mouth watering mixture of foods stretching from freshly stewed fruits to large crisp pies. Music, unfamiliar to Eric, trumpeted a hearty tune from the church doors, played by a small band, at the centre of the circle-square, as some danced and others enjoyed the tune from the comfort of a seat with a plateful of whatever took to their liking. Long tables, laden with the finest foods, created a ring around the build as torches flickered happily, in the last of the autumn breeze, under its stain glass windows.
This glass was more colourful than the clear version in Vincent’s windows. Colours of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blue and browns made up the church windows. None of these caught Eric’s eye as much as the unearthly black, that formed the shape of a vicious wolf, with its blood red eyes and lethal looking fangs. Grappling with the wolf was a man of medium starchier, wearing the similar outfit as Kenith now wore, but larger! His sword was held high ready to kill the monster in front of him. Leaning over slightly, so Vincent could hear over the noise, Eric asked “Who is, the man painted on the window?”
“That is Wolferic, slayer of the Haunts’ alpha” replied Vincent “and before you ask any more questions remember that the village elder is telling his story tonight.”
“Let me guess, you’re a firm believer in the saying “patience is a virtue” as well”
“Yes I am!” said Vincent in a serious tone, walking to a table to eat, a grin revelling its self for a moment.
The festival continued late into the night, jokes and stories were exchanged, for the most Eric sat quietly simply listening. Occasionally he would look up and spot someone looking at him, most of the time it would be children or a group of girls, who started giggling when he did look, making him feel uncomfortable. There were two people who he noticed more than others though. A girl with long black hair and pale skin, an angelic look about her every time, and a boy about his age, aggressive and calculating looking with thick brows and short cut hair.
It was almost half way through the night before the music stopped and the elder walked over to the bomb-fire and the rest of the village gathered round. Seven men stood round the fire, arms raised holding scrolls. The fire swilled and anticipation grew in the crowd.
“A generation ago, for most of us, Tuscin” the elder began, the fire flaring to form the lands around Tuscin “was plagued by the foulest of Destra’s creations, the Haunt.”
The fire sketched the form of Destra, goddess of evil and death, sitting in a throne of skulls stroking the mane of a large wolf.
“At a time our ancestors, were at the knees of the monsters, hiding in their homes at night praying that their home was not the one the Haunt chose to attack. One night the Haunt chose Albatross Wolferic’s home and murdered his wife and daughter, he only lived because he and his friends, had got drunk and decided to hunt the beasts.”
YOU ARE READING
Magic Bites (Editing)
Fantasy"other Dokumailar class me as a sorcerer! You see wizards need wands and spells to use magic, and neither am I a magician who rely on objects such as scrolls, tomes and other trinkets of the sort. All I need are my hands and mind, like the previous...
