The not-immortal Blacksmith

057 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Crimes against the Kingdom Part 2

The hills of Pondge.

16th of Kusha, the month of Harvest.

2290 Years since the New gods came.

“Aw shit. Dragons.” Maxwell mumbled.

“What now?” Officer Sgt Blake Smith asked.

“This is a Dragon chest.” Max said, swearing under his breath. “By the shape, it’s a Sea Dragons chest.”

The cops all swore several different oaths. The young one in the back spoke up, “So?”

The farmer, John Johnsson, looked at the lad. “You really are young. Even I’ve heard of those things. They control the weather around their lairs.”

“So, it wasn’t a freak storm that sank Mr. McKinney ship. It was a dragon.” Smith said.

Brandy spoke up. “That doesn’t explain the bodies.”

“What bodies?” Smith asked, his voice becoming soft. “There are no bodies. Just a cursed chest!”

“But I saw BODIES!” Brandy yelled, voice going high. “I saw the gods damned things! Dismembered things! Dried blood and viscera all over the room!”

Smith’s face clouded over, “Then show me where they are, Fairy.”

Max stepped between the pair, holding his hands out towards each one. “That’s enough.” He calmly said. He looked at Smith, “First of all, Brandy is a Pixie, not a Fairy. Calling her that can carry a death sentence. Second, I believe her, therefore there are bodies here. Somewhere.”

Smith fumed for a few moments, then spoke again. “Apologies, lady Pixie. I didn’t mean to insult you. That much.” He took a deep breath, “Men, pull that cursed chest out of here. Ms. Brandy, please go through the motions of what you did before you found the “bodies”.”

The cops dragged the oversized Sea chest out of the barn, and shivered as the wind blew what could only be another storm in from the sea.

Meanwhile Brandy went over what had happened, even mimicking the shaking off of the rain.

“And that’s what I did.” Brandy said, while hovering in the air. “See outside? That’s even what the weather was like!”

Max looked down at the hole and pile of dirt. A hole and dirt pile that were not there, having been replaced with a rotted trapdoor surrounded by rotted hay. He pointed at the spot, “You mean like that?”

Everyone gathered around and stared.

Smith looked critically at the trapdoor, then outside. “Okay. Magically concealed door, only visible when the weather becomes stormy.” He looked over to farmer John. “That would explain why you never found it. No one searches corners of barns when it’s pissing rain like this. You work on getting the animals in and comfortable.”

Jonh didn’t look up from the floor, “Speaking of, I need to get them in from the weather.” He stepped away from the group and headed out. “And to think, I could have been rich if I had kept digging. Betty is just going to love this.” Was heard by the group.

Max leaned over and pried up the hatch. “Who’s going down first?”

Smith scowled, then spoke, “I will. It’s my job, after all.” He slowly down the half-rotted ladder. “Someone pass me a lantern?” Lantern shortly retrieved and handed down; Smith returned to climbing.

“The ladder is still good, for the most part. Fourteenth rung is broken.” Smith yelled up a bit later. “It is about thirty feet deep. There is a ten foot long, hand carved tunnel leading to a large chamber. Two of you keep watch up there, everyone else, climb down slowly, one person at a time on the ladder.”

A few minutes later everyone was gathered in the small chamber at the base of the ladder. Some of the cops wondered how Lady Brianna had descended without any dirt getting on her dress, but no one commented.

Brandywine lit her internal light, and flew ahead of them, scouting the next chamber again, looking for anything that had changed. “It all looks the same as yesterday.” She announced to those following. “Although, I don’t remember seeing the door here in the back!”

When the rest made it to the chamber, most wretched on the floor, while Max and Bri looked impassively at the scene. The walls were covered in decaying partial corpses, dried pools of blood beneath each one. The size range of the corpses varied from newborn, to hunch-backed adults. The several tables scattered around the room were covered with viscera and severed, and in more than one case dissected. Body parts. One smaller table held several small organs that had been dissected and pinned to the table. Thankfully none of it was fresh.

The youngest officer began to hyperventilate. “That…that one. It’s the size of my little cousin!” he wretched again, nothing but bile coming up. “I…I need to leave.” Another bile filled wretch happened, and he ran from the chamber.

Smith looked around, “There is no shame in leaving. If you think you can’t stand this sight any more, I don’t blame you. Get out. Write some notes about what you saw, it will help.” All but one of the remaining officers departed.

Smith looked over to the last remaining man, “Well Joe, what do you think of all this?”

“Looks like a serial butcher to me.” Joe replied. “We will need to go over everything and see if any organs are missing. See if we can match the parts to the proper bodies.”

Bri looked at the previously unnamed cop. “You act like you’ve seen this kind of thing before.”

“I have.” Joe replied. “About ten years ago. The rotting smell got me called out to the edge of town. Found a fresh, and smaller, version of this.” He waived his hand at the scene before him. “Never found who did it.”

-

Several hours and a dozen lit lamps later, Brandy was sent back to Rorevilia’s police department to summon more officers, a pair of battle-hardened surgeons, and a cleric. A guard was set on the barn, and the rest of the group sat in the Johnsson’s parlor. Meanwhile Bri and Betty sat in the kitchen, quietly talking while the men went over for the fourth time what they knew.

“Do you have any idea how many people have gone “missing” since McKinney came to town?” Bri gently asked Betty while sipping at an incredibly good cup of tea.

“I don’t honestly know.” Betty said in response. “Every year someone gets it in their head to climb the high cliff. Most come back, but some never do.”

Bri nodded, “Some people like to take irresponsible risks.” She stared through the open doorway into the parlor, eyes resting on the back of Max’s head. “Does anyone search for bodies from those trips?”

“Yes.” Betty said, both to Bri’s question and statement. “John did it when he was fifteen, as a test of courage. He almost died falling down. Luckily, he just broke an arm and a leg.” She sighed. “The council send out a search party after a few days pass. Sometimes they find a body, sometimes they don’t.”

Bri raised an eyebrow, “Is falling off that often of an occurrence?”

“Yes. Most of the boys do, actually.” Bety said, twirling a lock of hair around a finger. “Most of the boys, and some of the girls, do try to climb the stupid thing. Everyone falls at least once.”

“Did you ever do it?” Bri asked.

“Um…yes?” Betty said, a light blush touching her cheeks. “I actually was slipping when John caught hold of me, and slipped himself. If not for me falling on his arm, it wouldn’t have broken.” She smiled at the memory. “That was when I knew he was the one.”

Bri cocked her head to the left, and spoke her thoughts aloud, “Bodies that should have been found at a common climbing spot, but weren’t. Okay.” She looked back to Betty and gestured for more tea. “This is excellent tea, by the way.”

Betty beamed, “I made the mix myself!”

“Have there been any other disappearances of note?” Bri asked after taking another sip of tea.

“Not that I can… Wait! Miss Alice disappeared around five years ago while looking for a lost sheep.” Betty responded, eyes narrowing as she thought. “We never found her, or the sheep.”

“Where did that happen?” Bri took another sip of the tea.

“I don’t remember. I was tending to John’s wounds at the time.” Betty blushed a deep red. “It was a… interesting time in our lives.”