1
They are fools, all of them.
She stands at the edge of the trees, looks out across therough ground of the clearing. It’s been a hard trail to get here; these lands are not easy for a woman travelling alone, however well she might conceal herself. It was a necessary journey though, to see this act completed, this sorrowful chapter of history brought to a close.
And the fools are going to ruin it all.
Is it her fault, for assuming they understood what they were dealing with? Perhaps, although this isn’t her domain and shouldn’t be her problem.
They have prepared a tomb, that is their first mistake. Far from the world of men, it is highly unlikely anyone will ever stumble upon it. No doubt in years to come these deep forests will earn a reputation for haunting. People will enter and never be seen again. Superstitious folk will shun the darkness under the trees and they will be wise to do so. For most that might even be enough.
She watches the procession, figures swathed in heavy cloaks against the chill. At their head, the high priest carries his prize like it’s the word of God himself. A small wooden box, even at her safe distance she can see the intricate inlays that have gone into its construction. She can feel the power they represent too, a shield around the dark malevolence that is trapped within. It’s a fine piece of work, she can’t fault them that. She would have constructed something similar, were it her task to constrain this evil. But she would not do with it what they are now doing.
She doesn’t need to enter the tomb to know what it will look like inside. A cavern, deep in the earth, its walls carved with warding sigils, a massive guardian statue at each of the four points of power. The floor will be paved with stones brought from far away. Perhaps India, or Thule to the north. No easy connection to the land all around. They will place the box at the perfect centre, upon an altar cut from granite, and weigh it down with heavy silver chains. They will chant binding spells as they do this, layer upon layer as they retreat from what they believe will be the final resting place of the creature they all fear.
It won’t be enough.
An hour passes, two, and finally the procession leaves the tomb. Four fewer now than went in, so they have performed that needless act as well. Poor souls, their sacrifice might be noble but it is unnecessary, and quite likely in vain.
She feels the tension building in the air, a prickling on the skin of her face and a deep, uncomfortable ache in her bones. The high priest and his retinue stand before the entrance to the tomb, and at a command, the rest of the party spread out across the clearing. She shrinks back into the trees, unwilling to witness what will come next, although she knows that she must. She can scarce believe they are doing this one, fi nal, foolish act. But then, they have done everything else wrong, so why not this?
The blast is not an explosion as men would understand it. The earth doesn’t move, and neither is the lid blown off the tomb they have so meticulously prepared. Instead, the shock moves through the gathered priests and workers like a swift pestilence. One by one they gasp their last, then crumple to the ground where they stood. Crashing in the branches nearby, the bodies of birds fall lifeless from the sky. She is not sure, huddled and shielded from the blast as only she knows how, but it’s possible the circle of death spreads for a mile from this point. Such tragedy, such waste.
The bodies lie dead where they fell as she picks a path towards the centre and the tomb. It is sealed shut, beyond even her power to open. Well, that is for the good, but how long will such protections last, even paid for with so much life? A few centuries perhaps. Not long enough for the evil trapped inside to finally wither and die.
With a shrug, she pulls her coat tighter, looks up at a sky that promises snow. Nothing to do but make the long, perilous journey home now, and hope no one strays upon this place for many lifetimes yet.