Eve of the Hunter

Old Amos stumped down the street, leaning heavily on his walking stick and glanced up at the sky.  The sun was setting in the hills behind the town of Oberstbad, the last few rays turning the clouds a deep red.  The busy streets emptied quickly as the townsfolk trudged their way back home after a long day in the fields.  The bare earth streets were slick with mud from the afternoon rains and there was a chill in the air.  As Amos set to closing the large wooden town gates for the evening, a lone rider was the last through.  Amos regarded him, and then quickly looked away.  “That’s trouble, that is,” he mumbled.

The rider sat upon a great black stallion with flashing eyes and an impatient manner.  He was clad in a long leather riding cloak that showed signs of long use on the road.  His broad-brimmed hat shaded his face and his mouth was protected from the filth of the road by a dark bandana pulled high over his nose.  The tip of a long rapier protruded from the folds of the cloak.  The pack mounted on the rear of his saddle showed several angular bulges.  Amongst them was the clear outline of a crossbow.

He rode through the emptying streets slowly, eyes flitting left and right, missing nothing.  He stopped at an inn, dismounted quickly and tossed his reins to a nervous looking stable boy.

“See him well cared for.” He grunted and tossed the boy a copper coin.  He spun on his heel and made to enter the inn but stopped.  His gaze travelled over the roofs of the houses on the other side of the street to the hills beyond.  He could make out a large, dark, shadow looming over the town.  It was clearly a castle of some sort.  Small by the standards of the Empire’s great keeps but easily the largest building for miles around.

“That’s Oberstschloss,” squeaked the stable boy. “Lord Oberstbad lives there.  But I’ve never seen him.”

“Indeed?” grunted the man.  He hefted his pack and pushed the tavern door open.

The inn proved to be clean and well-kept.  The floor was freshly scrubbed and the tables and chairs while basic were in good repair.  There was a healthy fire roaring in the hearth which gave the common room an agreeable glow and welcoming warmth.  A small cluster of working men stood near the bar enjoying an ale after a long day’s work.  Some older men sat at tables near the fire playing cards and nursing small glasses.

As the man entered heads turned and conversation trailed away until the room was quiet but for the crackling of the fire.  As he strode forward, heavy boots clumping loudly, his cloak billowed revealing a glimpse of a three-quarter length brown leather coat, crossed by a heavy bandolier holding two throwing knives and several narrow lengths of wickedly pointed wood.  The rapier was clear on his left hip, the hilt and guard ornamented but clearly functional.  On his right hip was a smooth handled pistol held in a holster of dark leather. 

When he reached the bar where the innkeeper stood, he dropped the pack to the floor.  It landed with a loud thud that made several in the room twitch and swallow hard.  He pulled the bandana down to his neck and revealed a pale, gaunt face with a patchy dark beard.  His unwashed hair pushed past the collar of his jacket, framing his sinister face. He looked up from beneath the brim of his hat and fixed the innkeeper with a piercing gaze.  The eyes were heavily shadowed and twitched quickly while he spoke.

“Are you the innkeeper here?”

“I am, sir. Gebhard Rostig is my name.”

“I’ll take a room.”

“No Sir, I don’t think you will,” said Gebhard, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke.  “I know all about your sort and we don’t need your kind of trouble here. We’ll have none of our women folk burned at the stake to satisfy your bloodlust.”  His voice grew stronger as he spoke and took confidence from the agreeing grunts and nodding heads of the other men in the room.

The man removed his hat and very deliberately placed it on the counter before him.  He reached out one gloved hand and gently tapped a small silver badge mounted above the brim.  The badge was a skull flanked by oak leaves.

“Do you see this?  Take a closer look.  I suspect you may have missed it before you spoke.  This is the emblem of the Temple.  Moreover it indicates that I, Caleb Brandt, serve Holy Sigmar as Templar Captain,” said Caleb quietly.  His hand shot up and grabbed Gebhard by the back of the head and dragged his face towards his own.  “And I don’t take orders from fat, stupid innkeepers.  Understood?”

“Yes sir, Sorry sir.  Magda here will lead you to your room sir, our very best room sir.”

The room was silent for a split second and then a shrill shriek came from below the counter, “get off my daddy!”  A little girl, with tight blond curls, wearing a pale blue dress, ran out from beneath the counter, kicked Caleb on the shin and then began pounding her tiny fists against his leg.  There was a collective sharp intake of breath around the room and then some of the men laughed.  Caleb smiled grimly and released Gebhard.

“You have a brave daughter sir.  Perhaps you could convince her to cease her assault upon my boots?”

“Come here, Lone,” said Gebhard, holding out a hand towards his daughter, who scampered over to grab it and hide behind his legs.

“I understand your trepidation,” said Caleb in a low voice.  “Many of my Order can be…let’s say, overzealous, in their hunt for abomination.  Rest assured I am not here to put any of your wives to the question, or your daughters for that matter.”  He glanced again at Lone, who was frowning fiercely at him from behind her father’s apron.

“I am here for other matters.”

These words caused the men in the common room to sit up sharply.  The brief moment of relaxation was gone and their expressions were tense once more.

“Oh aye, and what matters might these be?  That is, if you don’t mind me asking, sir.”  Gebhard attempted a nonchalant tone that fooled no one.  He looked embarrassed as he swept a hand through his thinning hair.

Caleb fixed him with his gaze.  He placed both hands on the counter and leaned slightly forward.  “I am not here to play games with you, sir.  Word of your tradition, ceremony, rite, call it what you will, has reached the Temple.  If what I have heard is true, then I shall render judgement as I see fit.”

“I don’t know wh-“ Gebhard began but then clearly thought better of it and his shoulders slumped.  He turned to his daughter, “Lone, go and wait for me in the kitchen.”  Lone yelped indignantly but then surrendered and stamped off into the kitchen. As the door swung closed behind her, Gebhard turned back towards Caleb and gave him an anguished look.

“I know why you are here witch hunter.  We all do.  You must understand we have no choice.”

“You would be surprised how many people set out upon the road to damnation with those very words.  But please, continue.” said Caleb. No one else spoke in the room.  All eyes were fixed upon the witch hunter as he listened to Gebhard.

Gebhard cleared his throat, nodded at Caleb and continued, “ten years ago, people were dying.  They were found in the mornings, dead in their own homes.  The murderer was never found and as the deaths continued they grew bloodier and bloodier, until all we found were the tattered remains of the corpses.”

“So what did you do?” asked Caleb.  “Surely you thought to call in some authority. Whatever passes for the local sheriff here, or even the Temple itself?”

“We were terrified.  We beseeched our Lord Oberstbad for help, but none came.  Then the Lord himself was found dead, torn to shreds in his own bed, they say.  His son Friedrich became Lord in his place.  The new Lord Oberstbad said he knew the nature of the curse we were under, from his travels abroad.  We were beset by a daemon, he said.  He told us the killings would continue until the daemon was appeased.  He told us we must sacrifice a girl, between the ages of eight and ten years old.  The towns people were outraged, especially those with young daughters.  But we were to be spared the ordeal of choosing from amongst our own children.  We were to shepherd the girls of the right age into the town hall after sunset and lock the doors.  By morning the chosen girl would be gone and the others spared.  With this yearly sacrifice there would be no more deaths.  Now, every year we perform this ritual and we lose one girl to spare the whole town.  There is nothing we can do.”

As he finished his tale Gebhard, drew a deep breath and said “Lone is seven years old this year.”

“And will you shepherd her into the town hall like the cattle you have sacrificed before?” spat Caleb.  “Will you mourn the loss of your own daughter?  Could you live with yourself?  You disgust me, all of you disgust me.”  His gaze swept across the few men in the common room.  None dared meet his eyes and they shifted uncomfortably in their seats, staring intently into their drinks.

Caleb strode into the centre of the room and spoke loudly so that all could hear him.  “This is an abomination in the eyes of holy Sigmar.  It shall end at my hand.  Whosoever is perpetrating this atrocity shall answer to His holy justice and burn for all eternity for the evil they have brought to this place.”  His voice, if anything grew darker, “then I shall address each of you who have conspired to hide this indecency from the light of the Just.  Pray your souls are clean.”

Caleb continued, “I know full well this disgusting ritual takes place on Geheimnesnacht. Therefore, tomorrow night I shall enter the Town Hall, confront the monster responsible for this evil act and bring it to an end.”  There was a low mumble from one of the men sat at a table near the wall but his companion quickly nudged him into silence.  Not quickly enough though, as Caleb noticed and advanced on the man, his eyes burning.

“You! Did you want to say something?  Do you think to defend this evil?”

The man rose shakily to his feet and looked at the floor.  He snatched a thin cloth cap from the table and began to wring it with both hands.  “N-no sir.  Begging your pardon sir, but there’s one thing you don’t have right in all of this sir.” His companion snatched at his sleeve and tried to make him sit back down.

“Let him speak,” growled Caleb.  “Pray tell, what do I not have right?”

“It’s the ceremony sir.  It don’t happen on Geheimnesnacht sir.  It happens every year on Geheimnes nacht Eve, sir.  That’s tonight.  That’s why we’re all in here.  Our daughters are in the Town Hall.  Their mothers are gathered in the Chapel to pray for them.”

Caleb gasped, stunned.  He spun on his heel, cape whirling around him.  He shot a finger at Gebhard and barked, “Is this true?”  Gebhard could only nod.

“Then I must go, now!”  He charged towards the door but Gebhard shouted, “No! Stop him!”  Two of the drinkers threw themselves at Caleb and grabbed at his arms, another wrapped his arms around his waist. Caleb struggled, madly and broke free of all but one and lurched towards the door.  The remaining man was still holding on grimly and Caleb let out a roar of frustration and drew his pistol.  By now Gebhard had reached him and grasped the arm holding the pistol, desperately keeping it from being turned upon the man clinging to Caleb.  The Witch Hunter strained against Gebhard for a second and then spun and slammed the point of his elbow into the bridge of Gebhard’s nose.  The nose broke with an audible crack and Gebhard fell backwards, blood spraying from his destroyed nose.  Caleb grabbed the last of his attackers by the neck and threw him to the ground.  He stepped towards the stunned innkeeper and levelled his pistol at his forehead, “May Sigmar have mercy upon your soul!” He snarled.  A familiar high pitched shriek announced Lone’s return.  She ran from the kitchen door and grabbed the arm holding the pistol shouting, “leave my daddy alone!”

Caleb let out a roar of frustration and swung his arm around to free himself of her grip.  He put all of his might into the gesture and the young girl flew through the air.  She hit the stone fireplace, her head colliding with the corner of the plainly carved surround, her cry of terror abruptly cut off.  She slumped to the floor, blood trickling down the fireplace from the darkly stained corner. Gebhard screamed and ran to her.  As he lifted her small body gently into his arms, her head twisted at an impossible angle and blood flowed onto the inn floor.  Gebhard sobbed and looked up at Caleb, who stood, motionless, in the middle of the destroyed common room, “You monster.  My Lone. My little girl.”

Caleb seemed frozen in place, his mouth worked soundlessly as he looked at the still body of the beautiful little girl lying crumpled in her father’s arms.  Caleb’s own arms gradually fell to his sides, his pistol hanging limp in his hand.  His head sagged forward on his neck, his face hidden by the wide brim of his hat.

Gebhard’s sobs filled the room and then stopped sharply.  “He can save her,” he gasped.  Before anyone else in the room could move, he leaped to his feet and ran towards the door.  With Lone pressed to his chest, he wrenched open the door and ran out into the night.

The sudden movement seemed to break the spell of paralysis cast upon Caleb.  “What? Oh Sigmar no.  You people know? And still you-” a fearful growl escaped the Witch Hunter’s lips and he broke into a run as he pursued Gebhard out into the darkness.

Caleb paused as he left the inn behind and looked around him.  He saw Gebhard disappear around a corner in the distance and set off after him at a sprint.  As he reached the corner he looked up to see Gebhard arriving at the doors to the Town Hall.  The street was otherwise deserted as Caleb called after him to stop, but he paid no heed and disappeared through the heavy, studded door.

Caleb ran to the door and halted listening intently.  He could make out faint, indistinct sounds from with the Town Hall and then a voice.  His stomach lurched and he swiftly drew both his pistol and rapier and kicked open the door.

As he burst through into the moonlit Hall he saw several young girls huddled together on the front two rows of benches facing a raised lectern.  A man in a long cloak stood on the stairs to the lectern with one girl holding his hand.  Gebhard was on his knees before the man, with Lone’s still form held in out-stretched arms.

Caleb heard him speak.  “Please my Lord, take her I beg you.  You can save her.  We all know what you are.  We have always known. Please, my Lord, save her with your kiss.”

The man in the cloak held out his other hand towards Lone.  He spoke in a sonorous, hissing voice, “Her heart beats still, but only faintly.  I can save her.  Give her to me.”

Caleb sucked in a great breath and bellowed “No!”  He stormed forward levelling his pistol at the man who had now lifted both girls, one cradled in each arm.  “Foul abomination.  I condemn you in the name of Sigmar.  Lay down those innocents and face judgement.”

The moonlight fell upon the cloaked man’s face revealing stark, animalistic features.  He barked a harsh, guttural sound and exposed vicious, curved fangs.  “This fresh one is mine.  But you can have the dead meat.”

In an instant, the creature hurled Lone’s limp body at Caleb and then leapt the length of the Hall in a single bound and disappeared through the door.  Caleb caught the girl’s body and turned and ran to the door in time to see the monster scrambled up the sheer wall opposite and disappear over it, still clutching the girl.

A despairing wail from behind him made Caleb turn.  Gebhard ran at him, snatched Lone’s body from him and lowered her gently to the floor.

He wept as she said, “she’s gone.  My poor little angel is gone.  It’s all your fault.”  His voice was wracked with sobs.  “He could have saved her.  He could have made her one of them.  She would have lived forever.”

Caleb slid his rapier back into the scabbard and looked down at Gebhard.  “You people willingly give your children to a vampire?  For what? Protection?  You are damned.  You are all damned.  Never before have I known an entire town to turn their back upon the light.  And you, you brought your daughter to him, knowing, begging.” he looked directly into Gebhard’s eyes and slowly shook his head.  “By the power vested in me by the Temple of Sigmar I find thee guilty of traffic with daemons and their get.  I do hereby commit sentence.” He raised his pistol in one smooth motion and pulled the trigger.  Gebhard’s body collapsed upon that of his young daughter.

Caleb muttered a brief prayer commending both their soul’s to Sigmar’s mercy and walked back outside.  A fearful crowd had formed and he stopped before them.

“Take back your children, they are within.  One was taken, she is as good as dead.  Know this, the Temple will scourge this town of abomination, be ready to face judgement.  You have trafficked with evil and shall surely know retribution.”

“As for the vampire you have taken to calling Lord, I shall visit retribution upon him, personally.”

Caleb recognised the stable boy amongst the crowd.  He grabbed him by the shoulder and hissed “have him saddled and standing by the gate in ten minutes.”  The boy ran off as though a daemon were at his heels.

Caleb left behind a concerned crowd of townsfolk as he rode through the town gates, several clutched their young daughters.  One woman wailed pitifully as her husband attempted to comfort her, silent tears rolling down his rough cheeks as he muttered empty platitudes.

Caleb regarded them briefly as he passed, “Your daughter is dead. Mourn her and pray for the deliverance of her soul unto Sigmar’s grace.”

He set off along the dirt track that led to Oberstschloss at a good pace.  The vampire had a good lead on him but Caleb knew where it was going, there was no need to give chase.  As the path rose higher into the hills towards the castle, Caleb regarded the still clear night.  The twin moons, Mannslieb and Morrslieb, could be clearly seen in the sky, barely a breath of wind stirring the few strands of cloud.  He felt disappointed by the weather.  “There should be rain,” he muttered.  “Nights like this deserve rain.”

His horse crested a rise and he found himself looking down a short stretch of track that led through a wrought iron gate into the castle’s courtyard.  The gate stood open and unguarded.  As Caleb approached he noted the dishevelled grounds, peeling paint on the door and weeds growing through cracks in the brickwork.  Castle Oberstschloss had clearly seen better days.  The whole building spoke of disrepair and decay. 

Caleb dismounted in the courtyard and hitched his horse to a rusty hitching post.  He reached for the crossbow strapped to the saddle but thought better of it and turned towards the door.  Eyes roving from beneath the wide brim of his hat he shrugged off his long riding cloak and draped it across his saddle.  He gently patted the sharpened stakes on the bandolier across his chest and strode towards the castle’s large doors. Still he saw and heard no one. 

There was no sign of guards or even servants.  The whole castle seemed shrouded in a deathly hush.  That suited Caleb just fine.  He reached for the large round door handle and thick black paint peeled off in his hand.  The door swung open, unoiled hinges protested loudly.  Caleb stepped back and drew both his pistol and rapier, but no attack came.  He looked inside at the dusty unlit hallway, empty save for the remains of an ancient suit of armour scattered across the floor.

Caleb decided the time for caution was gone and strode the length of the hallway and kicked the helmet towards the door at the far end.  It rattled along the floor and ended with a crash against the door.  As the oppressive silence returned Caleb stepped up to the door and opened it.  Still no attack came.  He emerged into another hallway running at right angles to the one he had left behind.  To the left, the passage ran off into the distance, to the right was a small door and directly ahead was the large main door that told Caleb the castle’s main hall lay directly before him.

Caleb straightened his hat, checked his pistol and stepped forward to kick open the door to the main hall.  A scraping noise from behind him made him stop and spin on the spot, pistol levelled.  The small door had slid open but no one appeared from behind it.  A huffing noise made Caleb glance down.  A tiny, grubby, grey hand reached around the edge of the door.  The hand was followed seconds later by a head.  A young girl peeked slowly round the edge of the door and then stopped as she spotted Caleb.

“Come here child,” he said.

The child stumbled into the hallway and halted before Caleb’s intense gaze.  She was barely eight years old, painfully skinny, with lank, filthy blond hair wearing a tattered grey night dress.  She dragged an equally scruffy teddy bear along the ground behind her.  “Have you brought dinner?  We’re terribly hungry.”

Caleb stared at the child’s grey skin, flat eyes and wickedly sharp canine teeth.  “Of course I have child.  Where is everyone?”

“Why we’re all in the playroom of course.  I’ll show you the way.”  The girl’s flat, emotionless voice made Caleb shudder. Nonetheless he accepted the small hand that was offered to him and allowed her to lead him back through the doorway, pistol held high in his left hand.  “My name’s Ophelia,” said the girl.

The doorway led to a short corridor and other door. The girl pushed this door aside and led Caleb into a room that had clearly once been the castle’s nursery.  The wall bore faded paintings of playful scenes and coloured animals.  Old and broken toys were spread around the floor and there were several beds jammed against the walls with filthy sheets hanging limply from them.

The room contained another eight starving, dishevelled children who all looked up as the door opened.  The girl who led Caleb said in a dull voice, “this daddy’s brought us our dinner.”  The group of children stood up and began to move towards him ponderously.  Caleb looked around and realised there were bones amongst the scattered toys.  He saw one dark haired girl half-heartedly kick a skull from her path towards the door.  Caleb recoiled from the approaching pack shaking his head. “Such appalling blasphemy,” he said.  He grabbed a high backed chair from against the wall and retreated quickly through the door, jamming it shut with the chair.

Caleb heard the children pounding on the door from within and heard their high pitched wails of anguish.  He pressed his forehead against the door and began muttering a prayer, “May almighty Sigmar cleanse your tainted souls, that you may find your way unto his Grace.”

He removed two small pouches from a pocket, poured the contents of one into the other and shook the mixture.  Counting aloud, he took three backward steps and hurled the pouch at the door with all his might.  The pouch exploded on contact and the door was immediately engulfed in flame.  The heat made Caleb throw a hand before his face, although he watched as the door frame caught light and the flames began to work outwards, seeming to consume the very stone.  He heard the children begin to scream and turned away.

He strode back down the passageway, the flaming doorway framing him in ethereal fire.  “Oberstbad!” he roared.  “I am coming for you.  Judgement is upon you.”

Caleb stormed back to the door to the main hall.  Without pause he shouldered the heavy door wide open and marched inside.  He saw the vampire, Lord Oberstbad, sat in the midst of crumbling banquet tables coated in dust.  The tables and chairs were disordered, broken and in some places shattered.  Oberstbad sat in the midst of the filthy ruin with a young girl cradled in his arms.  His long, dark cloak was spread around them on the grimy flagstones. 

Caleb ripped his rapier from his scabbard and advanced upon them, his pistol held high in his other hand.  “Oberstbad! Leave the innocent.  In the name of holy Sigmar your blasphemous rule is at an end.  Even now your foul progeny burn in the cleansing flame of damnation.  You shall join them.”

The Vampire looked up and Caleb gasped.  The creature’s eyes were stained with blood red tears that ran down its emaciated face.  “My children?  My poor little children? What have you done?”  The voice was eerily high-pitched and musical, a terrible contrast to that ghastly visage.

“Those creatures are destroyed, monster.  By the grace of holy Sigmar, you shall soon follow them.”

Caleb halted his advance, taken aback as the Oberstbad began to laugh mirthlessly, “Monster?  You hypocrite.  I keep the people of the town safe.  In return, all I ask is they give me my children.  I care for them. I love them and I make them live forever.  The vampire who made me took my own daughter and fed me her blood. I do so miss my little darling.  This one shall be so beautiful when she wakes to our life.  I shall call her Ophelia.”

“You’re insane.  You have turned innocents to a life of evil.  You have damned them all.”

“Damned?” shrieked Oberstbad shrilly.  “Tell me, Witch Hunter, which of us is more truly damned?”

The smell of burning wood reached Caleb’s nose and he nodded, satisfied the fire would destroy anything he could not.  He took a step towards the vampire but stopped. Oberstbad had floated clear of the ground, his cloak billowing around him although the air in the room was as still as a tomb.  “You will not take her. She is mine!” he screamed and flew directly at Caleb, impossibly clawed hands raked at his eyes, vicious teeth snapped at his throat.

Caleb raised his rapier and desperately defended himself against the vampire’s frenzied attack.  He parried a strike towards his eyes but the other hand raked across his chest, shredding clothing and flesh.  His bandolier bearing his stakes and knives tumbled away from him.  As he watched it fall he barely had time to block another wild swing and was forced to retreat through the crumbling debris.

The fire had spread quickly and the door Caleb had entered through was now ablaze.  Smoke began to drift across the room.  He glanced around looking for an advantage, anything he could use to slow the vampire and he caught sight of the fallen girl.  He turned to move towards her but Oberstbad was quicker.  He threw a wild backhand that caught Caleb flush on the chin and sent him flying through the air.

Caleb grunted as he hit the ground, hard.  His head collided with the corner of an overturned bench and his rapier rattled away across the flagstones.  Oberstbad clambered across his chest and pinned his shoulders to the floor.  The vampire was panting madly and licking his lips.  “I had expected more of a challenge, imitation Witch Hunter.”  He wormed his head across Caleb’s chest, his lips parting to expose those terrible fangs.

Caleb looked directly into Oberstbad’s eyes and spoke through gritted teeth, “This challenge is not yet at an end, heretic.”  The report of the pistol was muffled by the weight of Oberstbad’s body.  The vampire’s eyes flew wide in astonishment and he tumbled to the side.  Caleb clambered unsteadily to his feet and staggered as he looked down at the vampire.  Oberstbad clutched both hands to a terrible wound in his chest.  The blessed silver shot had left a great gaping hole from which a black sticky substance pulsed.

Tearing his gaze from the wound, Caleb stumbled forward and dropped to his knees beside Lord Oberstbad.  “You turned children into monsters.  You gave the blood kiss to the most innocent of all Sigmar’s people. None shall have mercy upon your black soul.”  His breathing was ragged, the thickening smoke caught in his throat.

The vampire held out a shaking hand and touched Caleb’s face in an almost tender gesture.  As he spoke, more of the black liquid trickled from between his teeth. “Tell me. Tell me how you do it.  Please.  I never wanted to be this way.”  His voice trailed off into a whine.

Caleb stared hard at the dying vampire and grimaced.  “Devotion, prayer, penance and denial.”  He removed his hat and laid it on the flagstones beside him.  He made the sign of the hammer and said, “By the power vested in me by the Temple of Sigmar I find thee guilty of blasphemy most foul.  I do hereby commit sentence...and by Sigmar I am hungry.”

The Witch Hunter threw his head back and screamed, the skin of his face parting to transform his mouth to a terrible maw.  Vicious fangs glinted in the firelight, slick with saliva and he surged forward, burying his face in Oberstbad’s chest.

When the sun rose over Oberstbad the flames had already begun to die away, leaving a thick pall of black smoke drifting through the valley from the remains of the old castle.  Old Amos reflected it had been quite a night, but probably for the best, and hobbled to open the gate and start the day.

They say when old Amos opened the gate and saw what had been nailed to it, he didn’t even scream. He just keeled over backwards, dead before he hit the ground.



The End