Chapter Text
The black goat comes.
The black goat comes.
The black goat comes.
Neitsh shakes his head. The four words won't leave his mind, voices whispered or yelled, old and young, happy or scared. All women's. There is another voice, male that one. Less frequent. Monochord. All hail the King in Yellow. Hastur. Sovereign of Carcosa. Master of dreams. They mix, a cacophony of languages, a mish mash of barely understood words.
The king of Carcosa the goat yellow comes black in Hastur sovereign the goat and...
The black goat comes .
The voice is screaming this time, loud. Neitsh keeps on walking. They have a way to go before they camp tonight. The witch's curse is lingering, longer than Neitsh thought.
King and goat Carcosa the black comes yellow and sovereign destroyer of worlds it comes, it comes, no safety to be found, herald of the mother, yellow of the woods.
He won't let that distract him. Bad enough that they lost a lead because he couldn't keep his tongue. That he had to insult that witch. She was... She was dangerous. She was touched by some of the most evil stain Neitsh has ever felt. It didn't originally come from her yet it permeated her whole being. But she definitely knew something about the Blackstone.
They need the stone. They need the power that it gives to rid the world of creatures like that witch, or maybe like whatever turned her into what she is now.
That could do the same to him. To his friends too, but Neitsh knows that the fey mark covering his right eye would make him such a juicy target.
The black goat comes.
The voice is so loud this time, it takes all Neitsh's discipline not to cover his ears. There would be no point. The noise is in his head. He'll pray tonight and try to remove the curse. He knows it might be more difficult than that. That witch was powerful. He just hopes she wasn't powerful enough to turn him into something like her.
***
"Do I know something about a black stone?"
The witch is looking at the three of them. Smiling. There is something wrong with that smile, it's a hair’s breadth away from turning into something more sinister and Neitsh can feel traces of interactions with some of the worst evil he's ever felt hanging around her. Infecting her essence, down to the core. She doesn't look like much of a threat. A petite young woman, with messy black hair, intelligent and troubled blue eyes, an old tattered thing of white fur around her shoulder.
She is dangerous, Neitsh can tell, but she looks like someone Entie would write a play for, that Erwin would like to protect, and that idiot of a soldier is standing far too close to her.
"Yes, madam, we are looking for the Blackstone," Entie says.
"The Blackstone. Not just any black stone then. There are loads of black stones. Volcanic stones and onyxes, but you don't want one of them, do you?"
"No ma'am," Erwin says.
The woman laughs. Her encampment is small, full of herbs and ointments, the hideout of a witch. She is alone although there are some traces here and there of someone else living here with her. Sharing her fire. She's clearly on the move.
"Yes, I do know something about a black stone. But why should I tell you anything?"
Erwin talks. Gives one of these long speeches he is familiar with about the need to protect such a powerful artifact from evil hands - something the witch seems to find amusing - about working together for the greater good. Entie adds arguments here and there, and his not negligible charm. Neitsh tunes most of it out. He can tell the witch is nervous, that she doesn't trust them, even if she is listening to Erwin. He notices that she keeps looking to the side, waiting, Neitsh expects, for whoever shares her camp to come back. Maybe to defend her. Neitsh keeps an eye out. He doesn't want to be caught by surprise.
There is also something a bit odd about the way she moves.
Despite all his suspicions, Neitsh nearly is caught by surprise when the witch's companion arrives. He's an unassuming man, fairly tall but of medium build, limping, his face badly scarred. He is carrying some wood for the fire on his back. There is a hatchet in his hand.
"Petra?" he asks. "Is everything alright?"
"Jan!" the witch - Petra - calls.
Then Neitsh understands what her hands have been doing this whole time. He didn't catch on because it was taking so long, but she's been casting. And she's about to finish. He doesn't think twice. Erwin and Entie are far too close to her. Well in range for many nasty surprises. He pushes them away. Grabs Petra's hand, roughly, stopping her from casting anything.
"Don't you dare touch them, witch," he warns.
He recognises the spell she was trying for, too late. Not an aggressive spell. Sanctuary, for both her and Jan. He sees the fear in her eyes as he is restraining her. Then the anger. In the back, the man is getting ready to attack with his hatchet.
Petra is stronger than Neitsh expects. With a twist of her wrist, she wrestles one hand out of his grip and pushes it straight into where his left eye would be, had he not lost it years ago.
The pain hits first, though not in his knees, but in his back, like a burning knife. Neitsh screams. Falls to his knees. Still hears Erwin, calling his name, then the images come. Blood, a lot of it, falling from a wound under his hands. And the head of a child. Exploding. Over and over again, pieces of brain spilling on the floor and in the water of the cave below, a black man's corpse sinking down, and down, grinning, soul ripped apart, the kid again, brain growing back together and exploding again, and again, and again, and again, the shadow of a god, so much blood. So much blood. Someone is calling his name. The pain is still in his back, burning, but now he knows it's not real, he knows the witch is gone - puff of smoke, teleported away, gone, gone - and the voice that's calling is Erwin's again.
The illusion gives way. Neitsh finds himself on his knees, Erwin's hand gripping his shoulder keeping him from falling further. Entie is standing a bit further back, sword out, looking around. Neitsh knows there is no point. Knows that the witch is gone.
"Neitsh!"
"I'm alright, Erwin," Neitsh says. He's surprised how rough his voice sounds. "I'm alright," he repeats, sounding more convincing this time.
"What just happened?"
"She was getting ready to cast. I stopped her. She... She fled."
"I think she's gone," Entie says.
"She is," Neitsh confirms.
Erwin is helping Neitsh up, but he pulls away.
"I'm fine."
"You're shaking," Entie remarks, and so, in an effort of will, Neitsh stops.
"What was she casting? I didn't think she was hostile, but..." Erwin trails off, uncertainly.
"She wasn't. She was protecting herself. But I thought she was about to attack you. I couldn't let that happen."
"Neitsh, you... Why..."
Erwin doesn't finish the sentence. Neitsh sees him push back on his annoyance at the lost information.
"Are... Are you really alright? What did she do to you? You were screaming."
Neitsh can't help but check his back for an injury. He doesn't find any. He didn't expect to. The pain is ebbing away, slowly.
"Illusions," he answers Erwin. "Some pretty nasty ones too." Then, turning to Entie, "They're gone, Entie. I saw the spell she used. It's not something that's going to be possible to track."
Neitsh sees his frustration. He knows how much this means to Entie, although he doesn't entirely understand why. It seems Entie has been taken over by the mystery. That he just needs to know.
"I do wish you hadn't done that," Erwin admits, "but what's done is done. We did have another lead. We should move on to that castle in the east."
"I'm going to check the encampment first." Entie says.
"I'll check our packs then," Neitsh says. He readjusts his patch. He knows he is getting a bit red in the face, embarrassed at the mistake he's just made. He doesn't expect Entie will find much in that camp. (He doesn't.)
Neitsh does wonder about the witch casting such a powerful spell to get herself and her companion out, yet being scared of them. It doesn't quite make sense. If she is that powerful she shouldn't have perceived them as a threat. But his head and back are hurting too much from the spell still for Neitsh to really give it that much thought. He just follows the others. Soldiers on.
It takes barely half an hour after they left the encampment for Neitsh to start hearing voices that he knows aren't there.
***
Jan hits the floor, hard. He feels horribly disoriented and like he's about to throw up. He swallows it down. Opens his eyes. Closes them almost immediately as the nausea gets worse. But it's enough to know where he is. He would recognize that hut anywhere.
Home. Petra has gotten them home.
Which does mean they have escaped whatever that was, but this was too far for the spell to be safe. Jan has never quite gotten used to Petra being able to do actual magic, but he has learnt pretty fast that there is a cost to her well-being, that it is steep, and that it gets steeper the more powerful the spell is.
This was far too powerful.
So Jan swallows down his nausea, forces himself to open his eyes - not thinking about explosions and getting buried alive in a trench, this won't happen for another eight hundred years or so - and looks for Petra.
He finds her, almost immediately - the hut isn't large. She is curled up on the floor, shaking badly.
He curses and gets up. Muffles another curse as the pain of his bad leg makes itself known- those bites from those insects never quite healed. He checks that he still has water in his waterskin - he does - and grabs a rag from the table. Slowly kneels down next to Petra.
There is blood coming from her nose and mouth. She's bit her tongue. She's also crying, snot mixing with blood and tears and she's whispering, speaking in a language Jan doesn't understand. Actually it's probably several languages. Jan catches a bit of English and Ukrainian here and there. And the name Sammy, once or twice.
"Oh, Petra,” he says.
She flinches at the noise. Opens her eyes but they are all white, rolled back in her head. This hasn't been that bad in a long time.
"Petra. It’s me. It’s Jan. We’re home. "
She groans, but at least she’s stopped speaking in tongues, and her eyes have fallen shut again. Jan puts some water on the piece of cloth and wipes away the blood from it. Jan's knuckles accidentally touch Petra's face. She leans into it. Her face is cold. Too cold. Staying on the floor won't help. And he should probably build a fire.
"Petra," he calls.
She doesn't answer, so he puts a hand on her forehead. She leans into it again. Opens her eyes. There are now pupils to be seen.
"Jan?"
"Yeah. It's me."
"I feel horrible. I'm cold."
"I know. We're home. You got us home. But that was far too far to teleport. You'll need to tell me what happened, but not right now. Right now, let's get you warmed up, alright?"
"Good idea," she says, and closes her eyes.
So, Jan carries her to her bed, her straw mattress. It isn't easy. She's quite heavy, something Jan is so very grateful for. She couldn't eat for quite a while after they got to the past and were looking for the stone, and Jan feared he might lose her. She's a lot better now, but Jan's leg hurts quite a lot today. Still. He makes it. Lays her down. Puts covers on top of her. Lights a fire. Makes some broth. Stays with her. Wakes her when the nightmares get too bad. She kept him safe back there. She probably could have run. He couldn't have. So she teleported the both of them away. Drained herself doing so. Now it's his turn to take care of her.
It takes a few days before she's fully there again. And Jan knows it will take a couple of weeks before she's back to health. He doesn't think there's any long-lasting damage at least. One night, she tells him those men wanted the stone.
"I don't know what they wanted it for. I think it's safe for now, but if people are looking for them..."
"It's well hidden, right?"
"Yes... I yes. I think it is well hidden."
***
Arthur stumbles. The Entity within doesn’t appear to notice.
"John"
"Hmm?"
"John, what have you been doing? You remember I’m blind, right? I need you to describe what’s in front of me so I don’t end up smashing my face into a wall."
Arthur feels himself look up, even as he can't see anything. That was a weird sensation to get used to
"There are no walls here. We're in a field, on a path. It's flat."
"What the fuck did I stumble on, then?"
"A rock. I think."
Arthur stops walking.
"John, what's going on?"
"Nothing. I was thinking."
"John, you're a terrible liar, don't even try, something's clearly bothering you, and since it's bad enough that I'm bound to fall over when you get lost in thought, we obviously need to talk about it."
John flinches. Arthur feels him flinch. He doesn't even know how it's possible when the entity doesn't have a body. One more odd sensation to add to the list.
"Fine," John says. "But not here. We're in the middle of a field. We're far too exposed. There's a small grove, not too far."
"Alright. Guide me there, then," Arthur says, and John does.
Arthur wasn't expecting for John to agree that easily. John has felt… odd lately. Still, Arthur walks to the cove, sits down at John’s prompting.
"So?" Arthur asks. "John."
"What if those cultists fucking kill you?"
"John, we've been over this. You were the one who said we can't afford not to take every chance we get. The stakes are too high. We're going to have to take some chances."
"I know. I'm not saying we don't. But you were asking what was bothering me. And I'm not lying to you anymore. So here. That's what it is."
"What's even brought that on? I've been in danger every single moment since I opened that book and you know it, John. I was in a coma for a month for heaven's sake."
"And nearly died of hunger and were... I know all of that. But you don't remember this. This one came too close. So I am thinking of ways to prevent it from happening again. I am coming up short."
"I..."
"This doesn't matter. Just keep on going. We do need to get to the castle. I will not let myself be distracted again."
"John!"
"There is a flat path in front of you. The sun is starting to be covered by dark clouds. I think we might get some rain soon. In the distance..."
"John, this discussion wasn't over!"
"You're the one who said you needed me to narrate."
"Fine. Be like that then."
"We do have a task to accomplish. You know what is at stake."