Chapter 3 - The Hunters of Oldhill

Spirit was getting a little annoyed by having to carry the dismembered carcass halfway across the country.

Not only was it not light at all, but both of the canvas sacks bounced awkwardly against him as he moved, the bag containing the head even more so. It would have been easier to put both the head and the body in the same back and sling it over his back but Spirit knew better; had he done that with a witch this powerful is was very likely she would have simply re-attached her head and attacked him.

Then there was the fact that very few people were willing to deal with a stallion carrying two blood-soaked canvas bags, regardless of the circumstances. Many of the innkeepers turned him away on sight , merchants refused to sell to him or bumped up their prices by the extreme. So Spirit found himself sleeping bushes and rationing his food. Although this treatment did lessen as he neared Oldhill, as the sight of Hunters carrying various bloody things was all too common.

Oldhill itself was a rather small town, barely more than a village, with stone buildings of ancient make grown over my moss and vines. Inhabited mostly by strange folk, old stallions whom didn't speak, bent crones who grew strange plants in their back gardens, and children who would dance for hours at night and never tire. They were there at the privilege of the Chapel.

The path to the Chapel itself lay through a thin crevasse cut through a solid cliff which lay at the far north end of Oldhill. No markings lay to guide you, so only those who knew the way could navigate it. Spirit squeezed through the thin pass and carefully navigated the winding dark trail until light poured in and the pass opened up to a wide opening nestled in the rocks.

A small hill lay at the centre of the vale, with green grass and poppies covering it's slope. At it's peak sat an old and unassuming chapel, with stone walls that had once been washed white but now were covered in cracks and moss. A rusty old bell still hung from the short tower and dusty windows clouded the interior.

Surrounding the Elder Chapel was hundreds, if not more, of graves. Each one with a headstone and with carefully measured identical pits. Six meters deep, two meters wide and two meters long. Many were empty and awaiting use but a fair amount were filled and with names carved into the headstones. Spirit read a few as he passed.

“Lily Petal, the Butcher of Bravish, Witch, Body” Read one, and the gravestone next to it read. “ Lily Petal, the Butcher of Bravish, Witch, Head.”.

Spirit followed the gravel trail leading up to the chapel doors, it was quiet here; at least during the day time. Nary a breeze passed through Oldhill, as if the world was holding it's breath.

“Off your guard, are we?”

Spirit turned around and leaning against one of the headstones was a petite mare. She had a sandy mane tied into a rough braid at her side and a beige coat which was shaggy and not well groomed. Her eyes were stark green as they peered at Spirit wryly.

“Could'a shot you dead thrice over, love,” she tittered, tapping the heavy cross bow which she had leaned against her shoulder, the bolt was nearly the size of Spirit's front leg. More of the bolts could be seen sat in a quiver over the mare's back which was wrapped in rough leather pads of various qualities, with a dusty cloak thrown over it all.

“See you've finally crawled out of the desert, good to see you Dust Storm,” Spirit said. “Got tired of killing Direscorps and Golems?”

“Neva, that lot's me best income!” Dust laughed. “But I happened across a rarity that needed some takin' carin' of, that is a Necromancer had set up in one of old King Red's forts and thought it would be funny to start raisin' mummies and the like. So I put one in each eye and took off his 'ead.”

“Necromancer huh? Nice,” Spirit said, raising his eyebrows. “They've been rare since the raid.”

“Still a few about, anyways, what'cha bagged then?” Dust asked eagerly, standing up properly and slinging her crossbow over her back.

“Higher Witch, whole coven of them actually, but I only bagged the one,” Spirit said. “Were attempting some major conjuration when I found them.”

“A real hunta would've bagged the whole lot,” Dust said, giving Spirit a teasing punch on the shoulder. “C'mon, the Moundmakers should still be kickin' around, the just finished buryin' my hunt.”

Spirit followed Dust as she led him around the backside of the chapel where indeed there was a group of four stallions standing around a freshly filled grave.

“What's the catch?” One asked, he was a Scribe, with grey robes and a deep hood, he unfurled a scroll and prepared to take notes.

“Higher Witch, Red Dawn is the name,” Spirit said, grunting as he finally let the body and head slump to the floor. The other three stallions waited no time grabbing the body and carrying over to the nearest open grave.

“I'd go for the the whole deck, lads,” Spirit said. “I want this one buried until I'm dead and gone.”

“As you say, master Hunter,” one of the Moundmakers grunted. “Go grab a fresh stone and bars.”

One of the stallions climbed the hill and disappeared for a moment as the other three hefted over a large copper cauldron full of a thick white paste which Spirit knew to be full of salt, holy water, and silver shavings. They stirred the mixture thoroughly before carefully pouring it into the grave until there was no less than seven centimetres of it on the bottom. They then waited until their coworker returned whom did in short order, lugging a cart behind him which was rife with items.

First they pulled out a silver chain which they tightly wrapped around the witch's body before tossing it into the grave where it began to slowly sink into the paste. Then they handed Spirit a shovel and all of them began shovelling dirt on top until the grave was three quarters full. More of the paste was poured in and then they pulled out seven thick silver bars which were carefully embedded into the ground like a jail cell.

“Now comes the hard part,” Spirit said.

What was left on the cart was a thick and heavy limestone slab, sanded smooth and with the exact dimensions of the grave. It took all of them to lift it and then carefully place the slab into the hole where it slid in perfectly.

“Whadda reckon?” Dust asked, wiping her brow. “Hundred and fifty years before she makes her way out?”

“I'd bet one twenty,” Spirit said. “You boys need help with the head?”

“Nah, you go ahead master, we'll handle the rest.”

“Much obliged.”

Dust and Spirit made their way back to the front of the Chapel and entered. Inside old dark oak creaked under their hooves as they entered. The interior of the Elder Chapel were simple, a layer of dust lay over the mouldy floorboards. The only clean part was the altar at the far end of the otherwise empty room. A stone table with a white silk cloth over it. Spirit and Dust approached the altar and knelt before it, placing their foreheads against the edge of the table.

"Blood of ancients, hear our call; the hunt begins," they both said together.

There was a moment's pause wherein nothing happened but then there was a rumbling that grew from underground and took hold of the stone altar. Slowly the altar drew away from it's position, sliding backwards with the sound of scraping stone to reveal a staircase cut from stone and leading down into the earth. Torches lined either side of the tunnel and lit up the darkness with dancing flames.

"Ladies first," Spirit said, tipping his hat mockingly.

"You're far from a gentleman," Dust said as she descended into the tunnel.

The tunnel stretched out before them for only a short while before opening up. Before them lay what looked like a much larger and intricate version of the chapel that lay above the ground. With tall pillars supporting the ceiling that sported intricate mosaics depicting battles and heroic hunters of old.

The chapel was a bustle with commotion and talking, a group of no less than seven old stallions stood in a close group murmuring to each other. Young scribes would dash in and out of the group carrying letters and messages of all sorts. One such scribe approached Spirit and Dust.

“The Elder Council awaits both of your reports,” the Scribe said, Spirit and Dust approached the council as they slowly took notice of them and quieted to listen.

“Spirit, you first,” Elder White said crisply.

“My elders, upon travelling to Marginchester I discovered a coven of no less than seven highly skilled witches whom were attempting a summons of some manner of creature,” Spirit said. “I interrupted the summoning and killed one of the witches but the rest escaped.”

“And Dust, what have you discovered?” Elder White asked.

“My elders, upon travelling to Fort Phoenix I discovered a lone Necromancer whom had managed to summon a small army of undead, I managed to kill the Necromancer and banish the undead but the fort is still tainted with curses and black magic,” Dust said.

“Troubling, very troubling,” Elder White pondered. “Bring forth the orb, we must convene with Her Majesty.”

A scribe whom had been standing nearby unfurled a felt wrapping to reveal a perfectly round orb made of some manner of glass. Black smoke and light emanated from within it as blue mist poured from it's surface. The mist collected and took form eventually dissipating to reveal a tall Alicorn figure with dark blue fur and a mane like the starry night.

“Your Majesty, Princess Luna,” Elder White said with a bow. “You heard everything?”

“Yes,” Luna said, as she considered Spirit and Dust whom knelt before her. “You are sure of everything you saw? No tricks of the mind held you in their grasp?”

“I am certain, your majesty,” Spirit said.

“As am I, majesty,” Dust said.

“Then this is, indeed, very troubling as you said, Elder White,” Princess Luna said thoughtfully. “My sister believes that her Holy Order with it's devout paladins is the true path to protecting the common folk from dark forces, but what you have just told me proves that they are not infallible, and that I am just in placing my trust in the Elder Chapel.”

“What would you have us do, Your Majesty?” Elder White asked.

“My spies have reported possible witchcraft occurring around the front... even behind enemy lines,” Luna said. “I know the Elder Chapel takes no sides in war, and that is why I am asking you to follow this trail, which begins at Hoovesburg, the commander there can give you more details, and I request that Spirit and Dust be sent of this mission.”

“Of course you majesty,” Elder White said.

“The emissary I sent to you, she has arrived?” Luna asked.

“Yes, your majesty, not two days ago.”

“Good, she shall travel with Spirit and Dust.”

“But... this is a job for Hunters... your majesty,” Elder White insisted.

“You'll find that she as not as incompetent as you believe, Elder,” Luna said, she turned to look at Spirit. “Good hunting.”

The form of Princess Luna was consumed by blue mist once more which was drawn into the orb until it was all completely gone. The scribe holding it wrapped the orb back up.

“An emissary, from the Princess?” Dust asked. “Tha's unusual innit? Who is she?”

“Come, I'll introduce you, since apparently you shall be travelling together,” Elder White said tiredly. “She's spent most of her time in the archives, harassing the Head Scribe.”

Spirit and Dust exchanged a look before following Elder White over to a heavy wooden door, through it they walked into the archives. Rows upon rows of bookshelves lines every available space, scrolls, books, and pieces of loose parchment were scattered about haphazardly.

They found the Head Scribe at his desk, a very old stallion with long grey mane and beard and yellow eyes. He looked very annoyed with the young unicorn mare before him who was chatting away. She was a bookish look about her with straight purple hair, purple eyes, and lavender fur. She was wearing the colourful robes of a mage with a saddle bag stuffed full pf parchment and ink; and a long oak staff tipped with a blue crystal leaning against her side.

“All I'm saying is a simple genre, subject, and alphabetical system could greatly improve you pace management in here, not to mention some solid dusting-”

“Ahem” Elder White cleared his throat, interrupting the mare's tirade.

“Oh! Elder, I was just explaining to the Head Scribe that-”

“Yes, yes, but we have more important matters to discuss,” Elder White said. “This is Spirit of Medica and Dust Storm, two of our best hunters, you'll be travelling with them it seems.”

“Oh? How exciting!” the mare said, trotting over to the two hunters and smiling. “I'm Twilight Sparkle, First Mage to Princess Celestia, and I have sooo many questions about the creature's you hunt!”

Author's Note

Yeah I'm still writing this.