Chapter 12. The Moaning Hills

They rode a cart road that weaved between fields and farms scattered around like islands on a green sea. The sky, yesterday heavy with clouds, today spread over them, blue and clear.

"Look there," Ravin pointed at a grove that grew far away behind a field of millet. A narrow path led in its direction, and between old spruces, Jules saw a roof made of wooden tiles. "It's where I lived with Prichard when we worked for Lord Harald."

Jules stood in the stirrups of his saddle, straining his eyes to better see the house. Ravin rarely talked about his past; Jules regretted he didn't know Master Prichard, Ravin and Raimont's old teacher.

It was an unwritten law that a former apprentice took care of the current one if their master died. Thus, seventeen years old Raimont had ended up in Ravin's care after Prichard had passed away. They rarely mentioned their mentor, and Jules wondered if the man hadn't been close to them or if mentioning him was still too painful.

"I talked to Rosalie before we left," Jules squeezed his eyes when the rays of rising sun hit fell onto his face. "She claims that Melissa is not haunting the castle anymore. Strange, isn't it?"

"I don't think we convinced her to leave," the hunter shielded his face. The sun, red and swollen, was rising from behind the hills right before them. "Anyway, do you get on well with Rosalie?"

"What do you mean?" Jules' face became red in the sun's glow. "I talked to her only two times!

"I just wanted to know, if you're up to the task of helping her leave this world," the hunter gave his apprentice a long, examining look. "No need to make such a funny face."

"I'm not making a funny face!" the boy turned away, pretending to be occupied with re-adjusting his stirrup. He took a deep breath before he straightened in the saddle. "I'll help Rosalie to find peace. You can leave it to me, Ravin."

A river cut the road before them, A stony bridge held the two banks together. In the middle of it, a lonely rider on a white horse stood still, waiting.

"It's Kedmon," the hunter nudged Opal's sides. The stallion speeded up. Jules tried to hasten Grumbler, but the moody horse only turned his head to nip at his calf.

"You made it at last," the Lord shook Ravin's hand. He wore simple riding clothes; a long sword hung by his belt, and, by his saddle, there was a quiver and a longbow.

"It was you who told me not to follow you too closely," the hunter reminded.

On the other side of the river, the fields turned into wild meadows and behind them, a wall of the forest stood high up to the sky.

Ravin and Lord Kedmon quickened their horses to canter between meadows. Jules nudged Grumbler lightly with his heels and the steed followed the other two steeds reluctantly, whinnying in complaint. The boy watched enviously, admiring the graceful moves of Opal and the Lord's white mare. Grumbler lumbered, and Jules felt like a bag of potatoes jumping up and down in the saddle.

When they reached the forest, tree crown's closed over them, and they rode in green shadows between old spruces, firs, and beeches. They forged ahead deeper and deeper into the wood, up and down the hills. The path, once wide enough for the hunter and the Lord to ride side by side, now narrowed. The trees grew densely, extending towards them their wooden arms. The riders wound through twigs, raising their hands to shield their faces.

White, bare rocks projected above the ground. Their tall, heavy blocks were scattered between trees or formed stony walls; some of them narrowed under their tops and looked like huge, irregular mushrooms.

The hills around grew ever higher, and soon Jules noticed caves in the hillsides. Some of them were encumbered with stones, and there were strange symbols carved above their entries. The wind, so far pleasantly warm, now chilled. It carried an echo of distant voices - groans and cries - that grew louder whenever they passed by a cave.

The air stank with moisture and rottenness despite the wind. Jules looked down at the ground but found it dry. Grumbler's hooves crushed yellow needles and old cones. In the tracks the horse left, there was no sign of moisture, but still, the soil smelled with dampness.

And then, when the wind blew again, it was like a cold hand brushed Jules' cheek.

"What's wrong with this place?!" he rubbed his face fiercely.

"Local tribes used the caverns to bury their dead in the past," Ravin explained as he saw his apprentice's puzzled expression. "It was long ago before Gillard the First King united all of them into the Limra Kingdom."

"Most of them were later opened and robbed," the Lord added, "My ancestors often used them as death cells. They chained the worst criminal to the walls and left them to die of thirst and hunger."

"That was cruel," Jules frowned. "Wasn't it against the law?"

"The common legal code for the whole country is rather a recent invention," Ravin reined in Opal so that Jules could ride by his side. "In the past, each fief had its own law."

"We're almost there," Lord Kedmon stopped his horse and the hunter and his apprentice followed him. They all dismounted. "Look up here," he pointed his finger at the nearest hill that towered above them. "It must be behind those firs."

Ravin detached the axe, his reila and leather bag from the saddle. He helped Jules to tie up Grumbler to the pine's trunk but left Opal as he knew the horse wouldn't go anywhere without him. The Lord claimed his mare would stay with the other horses, so they climbed up the hill.

"It will be a dirty job," the hunter warned his old friend. "You can wait here, Kedmon. I have Jules to help me."

"She's been lying here for weeks," the Lord gave Ravin a meaningful look while motioning at his apprentice. "It's the lad who shouldn't see that."

"I'll be fine, my Lord," the boy chimed into the conversation. He followed the men closely, with his eyes fixed on the pines, trying to spot the cavern behind them. "I've seen many corpses before. It's nothing new for me."

"Collect brushwood and dry branches," the hunter gave him a long stare. A twinge of guilt flashed in his eyes before they turned a shade darker. "I'll try to draw the circle around the corpse, so maybe we won't have to move it. You're responsible for making the fire."

"If you say so," Jules consented, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt. He hadn't lied – Melissa's body wouldn't be the first for he had seen - but he wasn't eager to work by it, especially as it had been in the cave for weeks. "I'll get started."

"Remember to stay close," the hunter reminded him. "And keep your eyes and ears open."

The boy headed toward the fallen spruce that lay near the top of the hill. The tree was long-dead. In many places, it lacked bark, and saws had scarred its surface. The needles which remained stuck to the twigs were yellow-brown.

Jules squatted to take a branch, but then a dark shape flitted in the corner of his eye. He jumped up and turned in its direction, but it was already gone. Taking a deep breath, he went back to collecting brushwood.

He picked broken branches until his hands were full of wood. Then, he headed back toward the firs covering the cave's entrance. As he came nearer, he heard his master and Lord Kedmon talking in quiet voices.

Jules wondered why they hadn't started with demolishing the brick-built wall. He circled the firs and saw the men standing before a steep rock formation.

"Hey, Ravin?" he threw the wood down. "Can I take the axe and try to smash the wall?"

The men turned toward him, and he stopped, rooted to the spot when he noticed the Lord was deadly pale. Then he looked at his master - the hunter tried to keep his face expressionless, but Jules knew him well enough to see his concern. "What happened?"

Ravin met his eyes but didn't say a word. He stepped aside, and now Jules could see the cave's entrance. There was a big hole in the wall. Shattered bricks covered the ground.

A short gasp escaped his lungs.

"How?" he scooted toward his master and stopped by his side to have a better view. He grimaced when he felt the fetor of rot and death coming from the cave. "Eugh! Do you think someone has stolen her body?"

"I doubt it," the hunter handed the axe to Lord Kedmon. "I'm going inside. Wait for me."

When he entered the cavern, Jules gave Lord Kedmon a backward glance. The man stood still, staring down at his shoes, his lips moving fast - did he pray or think aloud? He paid Jules no attention. The boy pressed his hand to his nose and mouth - the stench was so strong it was difficult to breathe - and followed his master. As he went deeper into the darkness, the air chilled. Soon it was so cold the boy shivered, and fear made his heart pound in his chest.

He caught up with Ravin, who inched forward with a ball of light hanging above his raised hand, scanning the cave with alert eyes.

"I've told you to wait," he glared at his apprentice over his shoulder once he heard him approaching.

"Um, sorry. I thought you were talking to Lord Kedmon".

The corridor turned right and widened into a larger cave. Here the aura of terror and despair was so strong Jules' legs trembled. He almost hit Ravin's back when the man stopped suddenly. Halting in the last second before they collided he peeked from behind his master's shoulder.

There was a pair of chains attached to the stone wall in front of them. In the bluish, magical light they could see their links were broken as if a giant took both ends of the chain and tore it apart.

"Let's go out," the hunter turned around and pushed Jules to make him walk.

The boy was more than relieved when he saw the end of the tunnel and felt a gust of air on his face. Then, something by the wall caught his attention.

"Hey, look!" he fell to his knees "It's a track!"

It was an imprint of a human hand, impressed deeply in the dirt.

"Ravin...," he looked up at the older mage. "The soil is still wet. The track is fresh! So, yesterday, when the ghost disappeared... She came back here, to her body..."

"That's impossible," Lord Kedmon knelt by Jules to inspect the track. "You surely don't mean that the ghost came back for its body?"

"I'm afraid it is exactly what we mean, Kedmon," the hunter took hold on Jules' shoulder and pulled the boy up. He headed down the hill, "It's not a ghost anymore. Now it is a bloodthirsty wraith."