Witch of Fear [Mild horror, Isekai High Fantasy]

The blazing dawn shed burning light down upon a befouled world. Bodies of rot and decay festered under the heat and a nauseating aroma of death clogged the air. They filled the breaches in the crumbling ruins like a wall of their own creeping imagination. Outside the walls, alchemical fires still smoldered, adding a stench of cooking meats to the already tumultuous atmosphere. 

Guardsmen and adventurers alike roamed over the battlefield with spear and halberd like grave-keepers. Anything that twitched with unlife was swiftly rendered to be simply dead. 

Rain came down unabated by the carnage below. Streams of gore washed away like a noxious river in the downpour, staining the mire further.

Through the night’s chill and icy rain cut the hot rays, weaving its way to alight upon the cheek of a slumbering witch. She lay against the crumbling wall she’d collapsed against in her exhaustion. One arm lay bound around a gore-marked spear as it pointed heavenward where a makeshift tent of hempen rope and leather rain-cloaks hung protectively. Nearby, a fire burned, throwing out a warmth that sought to drive away the dampness in her clothes, imparted by an uncaring deluge.

It was to this that Autumn awoke. 

A groan tore through her throat as she shielded her eyes from the morning’s glow. She looked about the camp tiredly. Around her huddled the rest of her party beneath the covering of the cloaks, some already rising with the sun. 

Autumn’s body was once again aching; her arms felt like lead weights were dragging them to the earth while her back popped like a series of firecrackers thanks in kind to her bad sleeping posture. Yelping, she massaged her back as she stretched and let out another tired groan. That wasn’t all of her early morning problems as she stunk something awful. Death and rancid flesh clung to Autumn’s clothes and hands despite the heavy work the rains had done. The smell of it sent her reeling. 

Gagging, Autumn scrambled for her tome. 

One spell she’d been practicing in her spare time was a cleaning spell named Dirt Dismay. Before now, Autumn had been willing to tough-out the stink of travel as she had more powerful combative options to learn, but with zombie guts assaulting her senses, she regretted that decision. 

Autumn found the spell page within the now dirty tome. It took a few tries to memorize it properly and cast, but when she did, it stripped the grime from her body in a shiver of icy fear. The dense ball of black ichor hung in the air before Autumn’s wand, smelling like a collection of the foulest evil. It was the worst smell she’d ever had the displeasure of encountering. 

Eager to be rid of it, she cast it out into the mire beyond the walls. 

Autumn only had a few moments to luxuriate in her cleanliness before a subtle cough interrupted her. Looking at the sound, she saw a gore-smeared and bedraggled Nethlia staring at her with wide, begging eyes like a puppy. Behind her, the rest of the party had similar looks of desperation. 

Butterflies rioted in her stomach.

Sighing, Autumn flicked her wand with fear and cleaned the party of their befouled nature. She’d never admit out-loud just how effective puppy dog eyes were on her, but she feared the party could properly guess and likely would exploit it. Not in any mean way, she hoped, but already Liddie had coerced her into buying an ungodly amount of booze, so who knows?

“Here.” Pyre held out a series of small green tinctures towards Autumn and the rest.

“What is it?” Autumn asked. 

“A small dose of Stamina Potion, just enough to wake you up.” 

Autumn took the green tincture and swallowed it in a single gulp. The flavor of lime and caffeine lingered on her tongue as a shock coursed through her body as if she’d licked a battery. Instantly, Autumn was wide awake. 

“Woah!”

“Good, isn’t it?” Liddie grinned as she pounded hers back like a shot. 

Pyre gave her a side eye of annoyance mixed with concern. 

“Be sure to consume enough water and include some salty foods in your diet. The potion speeds up your body a little rather than replacing anything, so you’ll get hungry sooner.”

“Yes, boss!” Liddie chirped. 

“I’m serious! If you take too much Stamina Potion, your heart can beat itself to failure.”

“Scary~”

Nethlia huffed. “Leave her Pyre, she’s just winding you up.” 

“Hehe~ Caught me!”

Ignoring Liddie’s antics, the rest of the party packed up the little gear they had and doused the warm fire. Autumn retrieved her leather rain-cloak and draped it over herself, snuggling under the added layer of protection. Grabbing her canvas backpack, she went through it one more time, not wanting to leave anything behind. Apart from her rations and basic equipment, she only had spare clothes, a mess and sewing kit, and her valuable map. 

After binding her 50ft of rope to the side, Autumn gathered with the rest of the party. Just packing up wasn’t the only task before them this morning: the mountain wall of corpses needed to be cleared if they wanted to leave and the fallen had to be sent off. 

The smell of baking corpses was utterly rank. Autumn hastily unwound her bronze-colored sash from around her waist to use as a face mask. Her hands once more got filth-coated as she helped clear out the bodies. Behind them, the pair of clerics turned the dead into naught but ash with a holy sanctifying light, scattering the mounds of ash out over the bog and nurturing the earth once more. 

Sifting the ashen remains, they recovered a vast quantity of arms and armor. Unfortunately, time and the mire had completely degraded them to the point they were worthless. Not even the metals worth anything now in their ruined state. 

However, there was a single piece of enchanted armor that had survived the ravages of time. While it was mostly destroyed, its historical value remained intact, seeing as it was from the empire's initial rule. Thus, it would be worth some amount of gold to the right people in the noble or merchant circles. 

In terms of raw coinage, they found roughly 80g worth of soldier’s pay in old coins.

With everything packed and sorted, they turned their attention to the fallen. 

The clerics held a solemn vigil in the name of the Goddess Netix, the divinity of honor and battle. They held a prayer for Harold and the four other guardsmen who’d fallen to the toxic claws and hungry jaws of the ghouls. Death shrouds wrapped around the shredded bodies that those foul, tainted undead had eaten away. Holy light split the dark clouds to bless the dead and ward off the corrupting influence of undeath that stained the world. 

Into the boats they lay the bodies, and the ferrymen bore the fallen out into the waters, back to Bogward.

Autumn shouldered her pack and followed behind Nethlia as they made their way out into the mire. 

A flat expanse of waterlogged reeds and grasses stretched out to the horizon where dense groves stood tall. It didn’t take all that long before Autumn’s clean robes got soiled once more. Holding her pack out of the murky waters, Autumn huffed as she trudged through as it crested her chest. Muddy water seeped into her boots and stuck between her toes in an unpleasant sensation. 

Even with a guide to show them the way, the mire was still an incredibly difficult terrain. 

Edwyn was having an even worse time than Autumn, as the shorter mage had to be carried through the deeper sections lest they drown.

The adventurers lead the way in front of the trailing Duskguard. 

The Dusk Wolves took the center with The Wise Cavaliers. To their left at a distance strode the broad figures of The Nemesis Crew and the slinking ones of the Red Scorpions while to their right was Les Lames Du Crépuscule. Occasionally, Autumn would send off a magical message or receive one to keep the groups together and at pace.

Time itself was caught in the bog; hours crawled by them as they dragged a path through the murky waters. 

Now in the mire proper, Autumn couldn’t relax, her powers were far too impactful to let her attention waver. It did make her grow more irritable and tense as the day passed. To be fair the mire was having that effect on everyone. A quietness enveloped the journey broken only by the melodies of the mire. 

Despite their vigilance, nothing truly impeded their journey. A few larger than normal spiders had tried to ambush them, but Autumn saw them clearly beforehand. 

Fire worked especially well in clearing that particular obstacle.

Under the beat of a noon-time sun, the expedition finally broke into the tree-line on the far side of the expanse and took a quick break. The grove they’d found was a mess of willowing, hooked trees grasping ever upwards to shade a series of shallow ponds. Fish swam within the waters as prey to the myriad of colorful birds clamoring in the boughs, drowning the air with songful calls.

Edwyn grunted in pain as they sat down beside Autumn. Their wounds had yet to fully heal, even under the influence of the Minor Healing Potion. 

Autumn observed them as she ate her lunch of dried meat and mushrooms. 

For a while now, she’d wondered about the level of iron production this world possessed. It seemed inconsistent. Most people she’d met wore armors of hide, silk, and bone or horn. She’d even seen chitin armors in Bogward. Metal armor was rare, aside from an underlayer of chainmail that the better provisioned knights and soldiers wore. 

Edwyn was the sole exception; their arms and armor being steel.

So, with curiosity and boredom burning her, she sought out answers. 

“Excuse me Edwyn, Umm, do you know much about metals?”

Edwyn cocked a bushy eyebrow at her. 

“Ay. Whit are ye wantin tae know?”

“W-well. I was just wondering if you knew much about the state of iron. I heard that the prices of iron were going up, and it got me thinking about why everyone uses bone armors. Surely metal armors would be better? Even if it’s just bronze or something.”

Edwyn hummed as they contemplated her question. 

“Do yer know much about the Demonlands?”

Autumn shook her head. 

“Not much. I’m not from here…I’ve traveled from far away.”

“Firstly, ye need tae understand some geography. Privanoya, that’s the actual name of the Demonlands continent, is cut in half by an inland sea and a massive mountain range. We are in the north, which Inferni control alongside their allies in the Lepus. The south is dominated by the Letorum Divine Empire, a human centric nation, and a few Umbra elven nations. There are a few other species in the middle, such as the Felis, Vipera, Noctua, and Manus clans.”

“The Ironspine Mountains are the only major source of iron and other precious metals on the entire continent. Currently, the Iron-blood Clan holds the vast majority of the mines in the deep roads and keeps firm control over the sales of metal and who they sell tae.”

Edwyn patted their steel mace. 

“Good luck buyin’ anythin’ nowadays. Wit’ a war on the horizon the prices will be ridiculous.”

“What about other mines? Surely there should be at least a few smaller mines.” Autumn asked.

“Sure there are, but they aw likely suffered ‘accidents’ or went out of business. Don’t underestimate the lengths the Iron-bloods will gae tae in order tae remain in control.”

Autumn blinked, taken aback. Dancing her fingers across her iron knife’s handle, she thought. Her knife had proven to be effective against the foul fae they’d come across, but it was fire-worked iron, not cold-iron. If they came across a true fae, it’d be far less effective. 

If she were to encounter them again, which seemed probable if the only way home was through the Feywild, she would want her party fully equipped with cold-iron or an equally effective alternative. However, if prices were going to be climbing, she didn’t know if she could afford it, even with the expected income from this mission. Not to even mention trying to get it enchanted. 

It was something to think about, at the very least. 

She wanted to be ready for whatever came next.