Revenant in the Wood

Dappled rays of light danced across Leona’s face, deepening her scowl. She knelt at the road’s edge, inspecting a discarded hounskull bascinet—what some call a pig-face helmet. The moniker made little sense. To her, the pointed nose and curved slits looked more like an incredulous metal mallard.

The armored woman, adorned in ecclesiastic vestments bearing the Sanctifying Sigil of Ank-Mon-El, the One True God, scanned the surrounding wood and sighed.

For a second time, the Abomination had evaded her custody, no doubt slinking off to sate its vile impulses. Fortune and providence, however, proved to be on her side. It is, after all, trivial to track a fugitive when every merchant and farmhand you pass is babbling in tongue tied terror, white as fresh linens.

“Revenant!” She called out to the roadside thicket, helmet in hand. “You swore an oath! Return at once!”

There was no response. Even the trees seemed to sway in leisurely defiance.

“Revenant!” She shouted again, agitation roiling in her voice. She had half a mind to up and purge the damn thing herself. Necrospawn be damned. But she was well aware that the Prelate had other plans.

Leona drew her sword and set to work, hacking her way through the dense underbrush. The ill-fitting armor jostled with each swing, chafing against her neck and arms. The cost of wearing glorified hand-me-downs.

As branches shattered and sweat pooled, she looked forward to the end of this interminable mission and her rightful prize—a new, properly fitted suit and the title to match.

The rightful rewards for her years of long-suffering devotion.

With a final determined slash, she found herself in a clearing, witness to an idyllic scene out of an old minstrel’s tune: a babbling brook meandered through a lush sward where fawns frolicked and sparrows swooped. In the middle of the clearing, tranquil doe and curious squirrels gathered beside a stone, upon which a lone figure sat with a small pouch in hand.

Leona opened her mouth to shout. “Abomi-”

“Ssh.” A voice, clear as a whisper in her ear, loud as a ceremonial gong, obliterated her thoughts. “No yelling, please.”

Leona hissed. “I told you to stay out of my head, fiend.”

Across the way, the lone figure lifted its hand, clean bone devoid of flesh, and pressed a single, slender finger against the exposed teeth of its bare white skull.

Leona crossed the clearing and held up the helmet. “You’re in violation of your oath, Revenant.”

The much-maligned Revenant, clad in cotton pants and scale mail, plucked a nut from the pouch and offered it to a squirrel perched upon its thigh. The bushy tailed rodent accepted with eager gratitude. Leona wrinkled her mouth in disgust.

“You just can’t call me Mitch, can you?” The Revenant took another nut and held it out on open palm. A second squirrel scampered up the scale mail and out onto the extended arm. It snatched the nut and greedily stuffed its merry little cheeks. “It’s easier to say, you know. Friendlier too.”

The Abomination’s casual tone set Leona’s teeth on edge. As if this affront to life had any right to speak, let alone be treated like a friend.

She tossed the helmet at its feet, startling the squirrels.

“Aw.” Mitch muttered with disappointment.

“Pay heed Stygian aberration, you Chthonic miscreant, for the terms of your oath are simple and clear. One, you are to remain at my side until we reach the Capital. Two, you are to remain fully garbed in the attire that was apportioned to you. That means the helmet stays on!”

Mitch shifted his weight. “It’s a bit suffocating in there.”

“Three!” Leona raised her tone, startling all the animals of the clearing. “You are to never, ever speak!”

A traveling acolyte of the Sacred Order and her silent mercenary companion. That was the harebrained scheme the Prelate and his council concocted to transport this thing across the wilds and roads of Lin-Terra.

At first they planned to dress it in the monastic robes of the Sacred Order, its ghastly face obscured by hood and sigiled veil. But that proved too blasphemous for even the most cosmopolitan of the governing body.

Leona leaned over, leveling her gaze. “Do you understand?”

Mitch pointed to his mouth and shrugged.

Leon sighed. “You are allowed to say yes.”

“I understand.”

Using its antlers, a buck scooped the helmet and offered it to the Revenant called Mitch. “Thank you, friend.” Mitch smiled, or would have, if skulls could make faces.

“Four,” Leona continued. “You do not buy nuts, seeds, or any other sundry from passing merchants. Especially without your helmet!”

“It was a good deal.” Mitch shrugged. “You can’t visit friends without bringing a gift.”

“Five,” Leona fumed. “No visiting friends. Or animals. Or anyone else!”

Mitch slumped. “Now you’re just making up rules.”

Leona puffed her chest. “As is my right as Justicar, anointed emissary of the Sacred Order of the Judicious Inquiry.”

“Provisional Justicar,” Mitch helpfully corrected. “The Prelate said you wouldn’t ascend until I was delivered to the city. That’s got to be exciting, huh?”

The Provisional Justicar did not return Mitch’s enthusiasm. Instead, Leona stepped forward and jabbed a finger in his chest. “Don’t forget we have the girl.”

The revenant’s tone darkened. “I haven’t.” He donned the helmet and stood, looking about like an incredulous metal mallard. “I can’t see anything in this bucket.”

“No matter. The only thing you need to see is me,” Leona admonished. “The only thing you need to follow is me. I am the relentless sun that leads the way, the shimmering star that guides your steps, the-”

“Alright, alright.” Mitch turned and set the pouch down on the stone. The squirrels returned, ready to feast. “Let’s be on our way, my guiding star.”

Leon squinted. “Don’t call me that.” She glowered as the revenant walked past.

Mitch shrugged, hands wide. “I’m just a humble, slathering abomination. I can’t be expected to keep track of names, now can I?”

Leona followed, scowling. “If I call you by that ridiculous moniker will you stop running off to feed every crawling, slithering, winged thing in Ank-Mon-El’s creation.”

The Revenant put a finger to his helmet. “Hmm. I could agree to that. At least until we reach the city.” Mitch turned and tilted his head, the helmet clinking against his skull. “Lee-Oh-Nah.”

“Justicar Leona.” The woman pushed past, heading for the road. She wondered how one godless aberration could be such a pain in the culet.

As they made their way back, a wandering doe crossed Leona’s path. As an acolyte of the One True God, it would of course recognize her piety.

She removed her gauntlet and offered her hand. The doe took one sniff and turned up its snout, departing from the Provisional Justicar with nary a glance back.

“Contemptuous beast,” she fumed.

“You know,” Mitch said. “You’ll catch more flies with vinegar than honey.”

“Rule six,” Leona snapped, stomping through the tall grass as she stormed toward the exit. “No platitudes!”

“It’s more of a well-worn aphorism.” Mitch observed. “And isn’t that covered by rule three?”

“Augh!” Leona howled. Ω¹