The Ghost of Vermil-Chapter 24: Marco XVI

Marco's eyes glinted back at him from the smooth edge of his sword. He called it the Demonkiller in hopes that one day he would slay a demon with it. With a ssshing, he slid it back into its scabbard and tied it to his belt.

He whispered a small prayer to the angels before he swung the door open and made his way down where he bumped into Quain dressed warmly in a dark green overcoat adorned with the Foilsebay sigil — a galleon with three massive sails.

Foilsebay wasn't a small House. They held an armada of a hundred galleys or perhaps twice more. A House in the southern reaches of West Bismuth, the Foilsebays overlooked the Mer Gulf and the nearby scattering of islands on the Sailors Snare. Ships passed along the Gulf —cogs and fishing vessels alike. Meanwhile, on the Sailors Snare where imprudent shipmen ran their ships aground frequently, the Foilsebays constantly needed to fend off pirates lurking in the isles. And now, there were speculations a demon had hidden in one of the islands there.

Quain greeted, "How was your night, Marco?"

"Not too bad." He walked alongside him. "Yours?"

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"My brother actually came to meet me last night, urging me to withdraw." His older brother who was a fourth-year scholar was among the top ten in the whole of Demach, two ranks below Marco. As most of them, he did not show any fondness toward him.

"Since you're here, I assume you did not listen to him."

Quain chuckled, "I've got to make a name for myself too. And I need to catch up to you."

Under the dim-lit sky, they followed a trail of lamps to the Garden where their companions awaited, waving at them from inside their furs. The morning was especially chilly before sunrise. But it would improve come the midday.

Another team had gathered there as well. They were about to depart for the city walls.

He bumped fists with Ingryd, keeping both their arms in the air as he implored her, "Keep us warm when the winds blow cold in the Gallen Delta."

"My pleasure," she answered, breath coming out in a puff of cloud. Among them, she was the one with the thinnest layer of coat. On her back was a quiver of arrows, in her hand she held a hunting bow.

To Ferdinand, he said, "Reserve your holy power for healing, Ferd. Do not fight unless it is the direst of situations."

Fedinand Decastil nodded. "I will."

Apple was shivering even inside a thick carnation fur coat. For a villager of Heinstead, she seemed unused to the cold.

"Guide us to our goal, Apple," he said to her.

She smiled, "Absolutely."

And finally to Quain, he said, "Show us the power of Foilsebay, Quain."

"You'll be impressed," his classmate grinned.

He addressed all of them, "We fight as a team. We protect each other. No one will be left behind. May the angels favour us all."

"May the angels favour us all," they replied in chorus.

They marched out in Demach and retrieved their mounts at Ser Gerald's abode. Even as a commoner, Apple did not have difficulty mounting a horse, he noticed.

By the time their horses trotted on the cobblestone streets, the sun had already risen, splashing the sky above the tiled roofs with warm ochre. Marco spotted blue uniforms in horses near the portcullis. Another team followed in their wake.

Past the gate, the teams did not take the same route. Marco's band went down the road that led towards the sandbars and around the small fishing town of Ausferth. They went past several stone bridges, crossed a number of distributaries of the Gallen River, and finally made it to the first houses in Ausferth. It took them almost two hours for they had to water the horses at a small stream.

One Holy Guard with the mark of the three-pronged Star of Michael on his chest rode up to meet them. "Great morning, my lords, my ladies. I'm the guard assigned to Ausferth."

Marco reigned his horse toward him. "Wonderful morning, Ser. We appreciate your service to the subjects of the King. I am Marco Vermilon, a scholar of Demach. We were sent to find the cursed being."

"At last," he said, his expression relieved, "I cannot leave Ausferth, so I have just been patrolling inside the town. Nothing suspicious have come up, my lord. But I cannot say the same for the woods for I have not ventured past the clearing."

"That is why we are here, Ser. We leave the townspeople in your care then."

Quain uttered, "Will our horses be alright?"

Marco replied, "In the first stretch of the forest, they can manage. But after that, the soil will be much softer and the undergrowth will be filled with silt. Then we would have to leave our mounts behind."

"Much better to go on foot from the start, then," Ingryd suggested.

They left their mounts at an inn and trudged to the forest of elms and alders. An autumn breeze blew past them, signifying the first storm brewing east of West Bismuth. Although today the sky was clear, in the coming days they should expect more rains. Then the better part of the Gallen Delta would flood, the swamp would grow, and they might lose the chance to exterminate the cursed being.

"Hm, does he mean to charm her?" Ingryd whispered beside him.

Marco glanced to Apple's direction. Quain seemed to have taken undue interest of her, regaling her with tales from his castle. Rich black tresses and a fair complexion, Apple indeed looked appealing to any man's eyes. Paired with her headstrong disposition, she might have posed an irresistible target to a lord's son like Quail who was accustomed to easy conquests his whole life. Marco wondered if Lucas felt anything towards her. He was close to her, after all.

"Apple," he called, interrupting their lively conversation. "I think we can start locating it."

She perked her head up at him and answered, "It's nowhere near us. We should go deeper to find out if it's in this forest at all."

All four of them looked at her in renewed awe. She did not chant any skill but the Light of Truth told Marco she told it true. She probably had an innate sense like Lumen Veritatis. It consumed holy power but it activated without chanting, without a trace.

"How did you know?" Quain asked.

"I just know," she smiled, proud of herself.

According to Director Garren's instruction, each team was to start near a settlement around the Delta. They were supposed to ensure that the cursed being was not in any of the villages before scouring the flatlands and the forests, towards the swampy centre where they should rendezvous. In such a way, the cursed being would have no escape from them. A flare of holy energy must be shot to the sky who found the target first.

Marco's team wound their way through the woods, each time he would give Apple a glance, only to receive a reply of "Nothing here." Ferdinand and Quain struggled over salient roots and vines, swatting mosquitoes and bugs that seemed to have taken a liking to them. Ingryd, meanwhile, seemed to be on alert, studying the marks on tree barks and prints on the wet soil, her steps nearly soundless. As nomads of Pilthern, Yutens would normally venture into unknown territories. Among them, she was the most used to this.

Whenever the path became blocked with ferns and shrubberies, Marco would move them aside with his blessing. They parted as though submitting to their master. They soon entered a less humid area of the forest, where the canopy was thicker and the undergrowth sparse. Ash and willows surrounded them. If they looked deep into the distance, they could see only shadows.

"We should take respite here," Marco announced.

Quain slumped on the trunk of a white willow, panting, "Ooh, finally. Ferd, I think I need some healing." He took out a loaf of bread and a skin of water from his bag.

Apple crouched down next to a lonesome lily she found. She started caressing it and sniffing it.

All of a sudden, her head perked up. Marco noticed it too. A presence. He stood up and looked around.

From the shadows in the direction where they came, a lumbering man emerged. He was clad in the long robe of an exorcist, his face veiled under a black curtain hanging on the brim of his tall hat, as if in mourning. On his back, he carried an enormous sack.

Despite his cumbersome frame, the fall of his footsteps did not make a sound. The holy power he held tingled Marco's nerves in the wrong way.

"An exorcist of the Gabrielic Order," Quain whispered, mouth agape, bread half-eaten.

"He gives me the creeps," Ferd murmured.

"He came for the cursed being too, didn't he?" Ingryd said, gripping her bow, one hand ready to pull an arrow from her quiver.

"I suppose. Do not engage, Ingryd," Marco cautioned her.

The giant who towered over them by at least three feet stopped before Apple, petting her head. A hoarse voice sounded from beneath his veil, "So, you are here too. Give my regards to your father."

Brushing past them, he tromped deeper into the woods without another word.

"Do you happen to know him, Apple?" Marco asked her.

With her eyes never leaving the exorcist's retreating figure, she answered, "My father and I bumped into him in the Jewelled Road. He accompanied us for a short while."

A lie. The first lie that Apple told in his presence.

"You said your name is Apple of Heinstead," he tried to pry, "Is Heinstead a place where you used to live?"

"Indeed. When the Fifth Crusade began, my father thought it best to pack up, in the fear that when the Crusade fails, the hive would encroach on our land."

More lies.

"I see." She hailed from somewhere else. She must be associated with the Gabrielic exorcists. Why is she in Demach?

When they regained the energy to trod on, they resumed their trek under the cover of white willows and ash trees. The sun was directly over their heads when they decided to rest again.

"Damn these insects!" Quain thrashed at the flies and mosquitoes hounding him. "Why do they seem to only come after me?" He took off his coat and swatted them with it.

They were equally obsessed with Ferdinand and Marco, although the two weren't as bothered by them. Marco was constantly surrounding himself with a thin layer of air to keep them at bay.

Ingryd cackled at the three of them. "It's the perfume you wear, you idiots! You smell like fruit and honey."

Dusk soon shrouded the forest, and they were still yet to see even just a trace of the cursed being. Their jovial banters quieted down, Quain stopped complaining about the bugs, and a silence fell over the group as they grew weary with every step. Marco conjured a small orb of light. But that was a mistake for the bugs came swarming after them. He had to extinguish it.

Ingryd said, "Better to light a fire." She produced a fire with the SONG OF CREATION and took the lead. The heat of it at least drove insects away and kept their party warm.

Under their boots, the soil turned wetter. They were approaching a distributary again. As the fire crackled in Ingryd's fingertip and twigs crunched under their feet, Apple made a sound.

"It's close."

Marco turned to her, whispering, "Which way?"

Apple pointed to the shadows, far to her right. "It's moving away from us."

"Quain!" Marco called his classmate to action.

"On it." Quain had summoned holy energy before Marco even spoke. The weary expression on his face instantly washed off as he focused and chanted, "TRUMPET CALL!" His holy energy flowed out of him to materialize a green arching door beside him, the olive glow of its fringes illuminating the trees.

"I summon LEO!" Quain yelled. BRAAM... With the sound of trumpets ululating amid the silence of the forest, the door blasted open, and a roaring lion jumped out. Different from normal wild cats, Leo was thrice as big — rivalling almost an elephant — its mane giving off a green and gold glow, its eyes a deep emerald. "Lead it to the edge of the river!" He commanded it. ROAR! The lion bounced off into the shadows, lighting up the woods as it went. For its huge frame, it was too quick and light.

"Let's go. We should intercept it," Marco ordered.

They dashed to the river, leaping over roots and ducking under tree branches, all the while glancing at the trail of viridescent light that Leo gave off.

"Aww!" Apple caught on a root and stumbled. Ferdinand immediately helped her up, chanting to heal her, "MIRACULOUS FAITH!"

Marco yelled at them, "Meet you at the bank!"

Seeing the glinting surface of the river, Marco called forth his holy power. INVIOLABLE EDICT! From the tendrils of holy energy that surrounded him, he poured a surging stream of it into the water, climbing upstream, making the bank glow golden. "Arise!" With his order, the water closer to the shore that his golden stream touched suddenly rose up, forming a wall of glinting water that stretched far up the riverbank.

Roaring and growling, Leo bolted out from the cover of trees, chasing after a shadow that was far smaller compared to it.

Ser Gerald said it was humongous. With many eyes and feet. The lion thwarted the darting shadow from going upstream. To block its retreat back into the trees, Ingryd lined the edge of the forest with flames, chanting the SONG OF CREATION. It was left with no choice but to run toward them.

STAR OF PURGING. Marco created the star and dissolved it into the engravings of his sword, the Demonkiller.

"SONG OF CREATION!" Ingryd trapped the small creature in a small ring of fire, halting its movements even just for a second. When it leapt, Marco thrusted his searing sword. CHIK!

The creature gave off a squeal before its limbs utterly stopped thrashing.

"It's a rat," Quain commented beside them, as he rubbed Leo under the chin where the lion liked it.

"I swear, they said it was bigger than this," Ferd said as he caught up to them, Apple just a step behind him. "A big rat but not as big as the witnesses said."

The black rat turned to ash in Marco's blade.

Apple sniffed at the air. "There's more of them."

The sound of skittering feet soon reached their ears. "We should send the signal," Marco said with urgency.

Light suddenly flashed across the sky. RUMBLE! The thunder sounded far off into the distance.

"Lightning. That's the direction of Gallenport!" Ingryd blurted. The sky was clear. The clouds that floated overhead could not have produced it.

Catherine. Marco thought.