“It’s gonna be hilarious when some poor child down the river stream finds that body,” Vera cackled. “Look mama! There are some shiny boots in the water! Oh no! Gods, I wish I could fuckin’ be there to see their faces.”
“That would be quite funny,” Death admitted. “A true pity.”
Snow shown them some shiny gold coins. “He had these in his pockets though! I wonder what killed him…”
“Must’ve been an act of fate,” he said. “I was going to snap his neck and take the cart; the world did all the work for me. Snow, this may be a strange question to ask but I must ask. When I began my conquest, it would on occasion snow in the summer, it is winter, is it not?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, the snowfall is heavy, the cart is struggling, perhaps there is a different path that people take during the cold seasons?”
“There ain’t,” Vera answered. “Gotta travel on hopes.”
“Do you think the cambions hide out in Hell?” Snow asked. “We went past the river a while ago, the letter said they were watching… do you think they have eyes on us right now, spying on us?”
“Likely,” he said. “Must be warm in Hell.”
“Did you never conquer Hell?” Vera asked curiously.
“Hm, I never did, my memories as to why seem to be stolen from me by the scarred man. I do know that I never cared much for it, although with a succubus at my side it would be easy to portal to Hell and back on a whim… I would guess it would have something to do with my heir, something for my son to conquer, something to work towards and strengthen him in the art of combat.”
Vera changed her question and asked him why he conquered it all to begin with. This memory was stolen too, he couldn’t give an answer.
There must be reasons that the removal of my memories was so specific and selective, that scarred man dug through my brain and took all traces of who I was and what my reasons were… but still I was left with snippets, faces, vague motivations, how strange.
A strange warmth rubbed up Death’s spine. Based on the wide eyes of Snow and Vera, he guessed they felt the same thing.
He took a few steps back, feeling the heat fade, scraping away the snow with his boot to find a line of red chalk across the path.
“Is it a ritual circle?” Vera asked. “Fuck, is it a big one? They’ve covered the whole of this area to trap us in.”
A stench of sulphur and salt hit Death’s nostrils. He licked the chalk at the end of his thumb and tasted vinegar, wine, and cherry.
This type of circle is not violent or restraining, I have seen this done by the residents of Hell from my own time.
“We have nothing to fear,” he told the two. “It is a spell, yes, but it is a protective one.”
“Protecting us from what?” Snow squeaked.
“Outsiders,” Death said drily. “Cambions are hunted; cambions are hated, depending on how much demon-blood runs through their veins, I would bet their skin has a pinkish colour, easy to spot against the whiteness of snow. It’s a barrier, affecting them only, any that remain outside the barrier cannot see them, this one was made on a massive scale, it is not something every cambion knows how to do.”
“So…?” Vera said. “What does that mean?”
I always forget that the fox is a complete idiot.
“It means one of them has a natural tuning towards witchcraft, they must’ve been present at Caron while we were investigating, watching from within a tiny circle of chalk, using the opportunity of the dragon to escape using a spell to teleport them away.”
Vera crossed her arms and pouted. “Great, so now we’ve got a fuckin’ cambion witch, how perfect.”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Not as bad as you may believe,” said Death. “You may hate the cambions from centuries of propaganda and oppression, I hate them because I hate every soul that won’t submit—the difference is that I know beings like this, especially ones that write letters, don’t often resort to violence as a first idea. It’s a surprise, I know, one would assume the dwellers of Hell seek out suffering, which they do, but the ones that dared the attempt of living alongside the nations were well-mannered and cooperative.”
“Don’t care,” Vera huffed. “Demons are demons, those devils should all die.”
“Do you share this opinion, Snow?”
“I never learned about history, can’t hate what I wasn’t taught to hate I guess.”
“That’s fuckin’ stupid,” Vera huffed. “You should hate them.”
Hm, maybe it would’ve been best to leave her somewhere else instead of bringing her… hope her shallow temper doesn’t force this meeting to go south.
Snow pointed to a building nearby “Do you think they’re at that little cabin over there?” she asked. “Smoke from the chimney, a few candles outside… it’s not going to be that simple, right? Oh, are we going to be ambushed? Is it safer to be at he back or front?”
“If they were going to attack us, they would do it now, while we are bickering like idiots. Vera, you will enter first, if there are any traps you will die for our safety.”
“Oh, yippee!” she exclaimed. “What an excellent fate for me.”
“I can tell you expect me to say something nice, I will not, such a dumb death suits a woman like you. I will stay at the back, my ears will hear if someone tries to sneak behind us as we enter.”
The hut was cosy, decorated eerily similar to Vera’s own home on the outskirts of Sekoi. “Copycats,” she muttered. “Even a chair made from the fur of a bear, mine is bigger though.”
“Maybe you’re just simple,” Snow joked. “The fireplace looks like it’s been burning for a while.”
“Magic,” Death sighed. “The logs won’t char, those flames are casted by witchery, don’t you see the sparks.”
“Oh, I do!” Snow exclaimed. “Magical fire feels nice. Can we learn how to do it so we’re never cold?”
“I cannot teach you witchcraft, Snow.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have no idea how to do it, you would need training from a real witch, a powerful witch.”
“Or you could kill one and give the powers to me!”
“… I… I suppose so, Snow, but you would still need to learn the incantations, spells, witchcraft and natural gifts are different.”
“I know that!” she lied. “It would just be cool!”
“It would be cool,” Vera added.
“You do not get an opinion on this matter, fox, what is cool and what is not doesn’t concern me.” Death opened the cupboard and found emptiness, no dust, completely clean. “I don’t think this hut is real, I think it is a temporary conjuration meant to accommodate.”
“Well, its comfy,” Vera said, sitting on the bear chair. “Can it kill us? Should we leave?”
“The conjuration would be rigged with traps if it could.” Death tapped his feet on the plank floor, a magical hiss with each tap. “She really put the work into this meeting, I’ll give the cambions credit where it is due, they seem friendly.”
“You better kill them,” Vera snarled. “Don’t you agree, Snow, he should grab them by their throats and fuck them to death!”
“Only person he’ll be fucking is me.”
“You two are getting far too comfortable talking openly about your thoughts,” Death said. “Continue on this path and I’ll have to sew your mouths shut.”
The snowfall is getting heavier, soon it could pile up and block the door from being openable… how the weather went from a wet storm to this in less then half a day, who knows?
“Do we just wait for the cambions?” Snow asked.
“Yes,” Death answered. “There are five seats around that table, they know there is three of us, we should expect a company of two.”
“Well spotted!” Vera yelled. “I never would’ve fuckin’ thought to start counting chairs.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
There were two knocks at the door, one gentle and patient, then the second heavy and in a hurry.
Death drew his sword and placed it on the table. “What are you doing?” Snow whispered. “You’re surrendering?”
“Conjurations have eyes, Snow, they will have heard our whole conversation from when we entered, even now, they hear whispers.”
“So, they heard my suggestions?” Vera squeaked shyly.
Death nodded.
“Oh fuck.”
“My companion is foul-mouthed and has no intention of killing either of you,” Death yelled, approaching the door. “My sword is on the window, as I am sure you can see, you will enter armless I should assume?”
“Of course,” a sweet voice said. “May we come in?”
“You may.”
