Chapter 2 - The Hidden Witch Council

Soaring towards a mountain range east of Astasia was the witch with the wounded leg who had escaped from Vermont Province. Along the way she was surprised to see that the Grand Inquisitor’s pagan hunter troops had already invaded Percule, which was the name of the small settlement located at the base of Guillume Mountain.

Though the sun was at its highest in the sky, the purifying flames that engulfed Percule were bright enough to reflect their brilliance in the witch’s eye.

Staring below upsettingly, she cursed, “Those wretched bible lickers have already reached this far? I hope I am not too late.”

A look of urgency was painted on her face. She redirected her focus to the summit of Guillume Mountain. However, as soon as she did so, a threatening arrow whooshed passed her face and scraped her cheek.

“Huh! It’s them?” The witch glanced in the distance behind her and noticed Commander Dreylude and his squadron of horseback riders chasing at her tail. “They followed me all the way from Vermont? How persistent can they be?” She increased her aerial speed to try and lose them

A concerned devotee was starting to become annoyed with the witch’s elusiveness. “Commander Dreylude, how long can she keep flying for?”

“She should be running out of magic very soon.” Commander Dreylude was sure of himself and by God, his assumption was spot on. A couple of minutes later, they saw the witch quickly losing altitude just a stone throw away from the northern borders of Percule at a path leading up to the base of Guillume Mountain.

“The witch has landed! Now is our chance to get her!”

While the men on horseback were riding around the destroyed forts of Percule to intercept the witch, an impatient crusader went ahead of the gang up the base of the mountain where he was unexpectedly ambushed by a legion of werewolves who burst out of the soil.

“Oh God no!” The young crusader was torn to pieces in an instant. His bones served as a brief sharpener for the werewolves’ baleful fangs.

“Hold!” Seeing this brutality occurring ahead of him, Commander Dreylude commanded his steed along with the other riders to halt their advance up the mountain. This allowed him to get a better analysis of what he was dealing with.

 “I count about 5 Lycans on the ground and 6 in the trees.” He weighed his options carefully to mitigate the loss of his men. A brief scan of the environment made him notice the wounded witch occasionally staring back at them while running up a clearing that was heavily guarded by a pack of werewolves of different shapes and sizes.

Commander Dreylude glared at the slippery witch and shouted, “You think hiding behind your pack of dogs will save you today? You’ve only extended the duration in which your head is attached to your body! And by the grace of God, that time is counting down!” He threatened to decapitate her and he was certain that it would come to fruition very soon.

Instead of tackling the mountain dogs impulsively, Commander Dreylude waited until the other Commanding Knights and their infantry conquered Percule settlement and then regrouped to increase their numbers. Now that more able bodies were to their advantage; armed with weapons of blessed silver, the crusaders commenced their assault on the pack of werewolves who were keeping guard of Guillume Mountain.

“Kill them all!”

“Send those fury demons back to hell!”

“Give them a taste of our blessed silver!”

An all-out war involving the werewolves, witches and pagan hunters was wreaking havoc across the mountain range. Both sides were heaping up many wounded and fatal casualties. Guts were being pulled out of stomachs, beastly hearts were being cut open, eyes were being gouged out, limbs were being severed, spells were being cast, arrows were raining like droplets and bodies were being set ablaze!

The scenery leading to the top of Guillume Mountain resembled a hellish depiction of Satan’s avant-garde at its finest. The holy crusaders were banishing evil back to the pit of hell whence it came while the witches and werewolves were trying to safeguard their lives from being damned.

“Forward men! Your sacrifice will surely be rewarded by God!” Through all these savage murders, Commander Dreylude was still alive and pursuing his wounded target. He gave a heroic battle cry that increased the morale of the crusaders to apply more pressure on the witches’ dogs who were blocking their path.

Everyone was so busy slaughtering each other that they hadn’t realized the arrival of dusk. The witches' magic was potent at this darkening hour, so they along with their collared werewolves were now able to push back the holy troops that were forcing their way up the mountain.

“Don’t falter men for God is our protector! Evil will never triumph over good!”

The crusaders' strong belief in their religion gave them the motivation they needed to fight back against the supposed forces of darkness. They became so empowered that the summit of Guillume Mountain was becoming more vivid in their sight. 

“We’ve entered the den of sin and witchcraft! This mountain is crawling with demonic presences. Send word to the Watchers that we’ve located the witches’ stronghold!”

The Commanding Knight closer to the rear of the mountain troops fired a sparkling purple smoke signal into the air that was seen and comprehended by another army of the cause that was stationed miles away at Vermont’s castle.

“That is the signal! They’ve located the witches’ hideout!” The men stationed atop Vermont Castle passed on the message to another group below who were on horseback. One of them rode out of the city to go inform the Grand Inquisitor who was at an outpost situated some distance to the northern region of Vermont.  

The messenger arrived at the outpost in swift shakes of a horse’s tail. He was stopped by a pair of guards just outside the main tent that hosted the Grand Inquisitor.

“Hold it right there, crusader. What brings you here?” Inquired the guards roughly pushing at the man’s chest whilst grasping the hilt of their swords.

The massager responded eagerly, “I have an urgent message for the Grand Inquisitor. Please let me pass.”

“Hold!” The guards were giving the messenger a hard time but they soon stopped their hassling after a husky voice that came from within the tent told them to let the messenger in.

“The Grand Inquisitor will see you now.”

Receiving the go-ahead from the guards, the messenger barged into the tent and prostrated on a carpet at the feet of an elderly priest who was sitting in a chair garbed in white raiment laden with holy Latin inscriptions.

This figure of nobility ordained by God was Ezeus Teppesh, otherwise, known as the Grand Inquisitor, progenitor of the Astasia Inquisition. Caressing his rosary crafted from blessed silver, he aimed his commanding eyes at the messenger and told him, “Out with it.”

“Right away, Grand Inquisitor.”

The messenger conveyed crucial information about the witches’ stronghold to Ezeus. He graced his long beard with a pensive attitude as he thought about his next course of action.

“So we’ve finally discovered where they’ve been hiding. Who would have thought that those witches were holding up at Guillume Mountain all this time? It’s no wonder they chose that place. The terrain there is rough to traverse by foot but with the aid of magic they could easily fly to the summit.”

Ezeus glanced at the loyal subject prone at his feet and said, “You’ve done well messenger. You may leave now.”

“Thank you for receiving my presence, Grand Inquisitor. I shall be going now.” The messenger respectably got up from the floor, turned his back and started walking to the exit. However, he abruptly stopped as he was about to leave, moreover, he secretly withdrew a dagger from his vest while glancing behind him with malicious intent.

“Huh?” Ezeus noticed the man’s idle body and inquired, “Why have you stopped, messenger? Do you have something else to share?”   

Transitioning to a voice replete with murderous values, the messenger answered, “I do.” He swiftly turned around and launched at the noble elder with the dagger thrusting at his chest. “Now that I have you to myself, I’m going to cut out that damn beating heart of yours!”

“Huh!” Ezeus’s eyes were staring in shock at the keen blade getting closer to his chest. “What’s the meaning of this betrayal, crusader? Did the witches’ magic get to you?”

“Shut up and die, old fool!”

‘Stab!’