Bog Standard Isekai

His initial thought was to check it out himself and then warn Hogg if it really turned out to be a problem, but he’d been burned enough times by that line of thinking that he was finally starting to learn his lesson. This time he went straight for Hogg.

He didn’t know exactly where he’d be, but there was a good chance he was with the council who met in a formal conference room in the Prefit’s house. He started walking there before getting struck by a thought. There was a pretty good chance Hogg was spying on him somehow.

“Hogg?”

He peered around, trying to find some sign of a visible eye. There wasn’t anything up in the air that he could see. At night Hogg would probably get away with it but there’s no way people would miss floating eyeballs in the sky in the middle of the day.

He waited, but nothing came. Was Hogg really not spying on him? Well, he knew someone who Hogg definitely was keeping an eye on.

He walked to the Pimental’s house, and found exactly who he wanted to see. Bruna was in the business room in the front, using a funnel to pour milk from a big jug into smaller bottles for the morning deliveries. She carried the big ten-gallon jug with ease, despite her thin and bony frame. Clearly a few of her attributes from her high levels had gone into Strength.

“Brin? Davi is out, I’m afraid,” she said.

He folded his arms against the refrigerated air. “I’m actually here for you.”

Bruna laughed. “A confession! I’ve told you; our love is not to be!”

Her eyes twitched in annoyance. “And am I going to like what you need to tell me and Hogg?”

He looked around for the visible eye. Hogg had promised that he was going to keep an eye on the remaining [Witches] night and day whether they liked it or not. There would be one nearby.

“Hopefully it’s nothing. I’m worried about Yon,” said Brin.

He saw it. An eyeball was sitting on a crate. It looked like it was made of glass; that’s probably what they would pretend it was if anyone saw it. Brin walked over and poked it. “Hogg, get over here.” The eye didn’t react, so he slapped it. It disappeared.

“Oh, he’s not going to like that,” said Bruna.

“He’ll get over it.”

“Now, what’s this about my Yon?”

“Do you know where he is? Can you find him?”

Bruna looked at Brin as if measuring him in her mind. She seemed to come to some decision and nodded. She reached into the pocket in her apron and pulled out a little silver bell. She rang it four times. “Yon, dearest. Come home.”

Brin didn’t feel anything specifically magical, but that had to be some kind of [Witch] ability. He didn’t know how to feel about it. Clearly, Bruna had her hooks into her family to some degree. There was no way you could live in a home and never violate your mother’s hospitality. At the same time, being able to call your children home wasn’t exactly an evil power. Not necessarily. “How does that work?”

Bruna crooked an eyebrow and said nothing.

A short time later, little Yon opened the front door, just as expected. He had bags under his eyes, which opened wide in shock when he saw Brin standing near his mom. He stepped back, but then Hogg was behind him. He gently pushed Yon by the shoulders, into the house, and closed the door behind him.

Brin whirled on Yon. “You’ve been playing with dolls. Can you show me one?”

Yon gulped but said nothing.

Bruna snorted. “That’s what this is about? Children are allowed to play with toys. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Yon dearest.”

Hogg looked at Brin. “Toys. You don’t think…”

“I don’t, honestly, but it doesn’t hurt to check,” said Brin.

“Check what?” Bruna said uneasily.

Hogg crouched down to Yon’s level and put a smile on his face. Probably trying to look friendly, but he clearly didn’t have a lot of experience with that. “Yon, can you tell me a little about the toys you’re playing with? Dolls, or the like?”

Yon pursed his lips so tight they went white.

“What’s gotten into you two? All of this over a stupid little stuffed rabbit?”

Brin’s stomach sank. Yon whimpered. Brin saw Hogg’s face go white as he came to the same conclusion that he did.

Hogg closed his eyes and stood slowly. “A yellow rabbit? One of the eyes is missing?”

Bruna nodded.

“Where did he get it?” Hogg closed the distance between himself and Bruna in a flash. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Do you remember where he got the toy?”

Bruna pushed Hogg’s arms away from her, stepping back. Her face was blank as she thought, and then it darkened, turning a deep red and twisting into a furious grimace. “I don’t… remember. Someone hexed me. Yes, I can feel it now. Someone hexed me? ME? Someone put that evil on me? They’ve come after MY FAMILY?”

She shrieked and threw a pint of milk, shattering it against the wall.

“Who was it? It had to have been Balbi. I’m going to kill–”

Yon stood still, heaving silent sobs. There was still one thing to check. Hogg had told Brin that Basil the Bunny liked children and he liked to play with knives. If Yon really had been “playing” with Basil, there would be evidence.

Yon didn’t resist when Brin took his arm and pulled up the sleeve to reveal a large collection of scars. Some were healing over, others were still puffy and red. Basil had been having his fun for quite a few days now. Hammon’s Bog might have another [Scarred One] a few years from now.

Yon whimpered. “He said he’d kill you if I told. Lu found out and… and he–”

“He? Ademir?” Bruna growled. She hunched forward, seeming to deform herself in her anger. The whites of her eyes changed to black. Her fingernails grew longer; her hair became wilder.

“No,” said Hogg. “This is so much worse than that. Basil Bunny is Awnadil’s familiar. A servant of Arcaena.”

The gravity seemed to double in the room. Bruna took a step forward, which landed with a loud thunk. The shadows behind her lengthened and stretched, dancing like the only light in the room was a flickering candle about to go out.

“Awnadil. Arcaena,” Bruna whimpered, as if her anger were so profound it was starting to cause her pain. “She couldn’t just leave it alone. She couldn’t just let it go. This is punishment. Isn’t it? For Neptune. I went with you to turn Neptune and now–”

“Mom,” said Yon, pleadingly.

All at once, Bruna’s twisted, angry features snapped back into her regular motherly self. She swept Yon up in her arms. “Oh, sweet boy. You’re fine. You’re safe now.”

Yon hugged her back, weeping. She patted his back, consoling and kind, whispering words of comfort. “You’re fine now. He can’t hurt you here. You’re safe. No one will hurt you like that ever again.”

She glanced up, over Yon’s shoulders, and Brin could see that none of the fury had departed at all; it was only buried. “Never, ever again,” she said. “You’ll get your ritual, Hogg, and much, much more. We’re part of this now, until the bitter end. Send him tonight. Now get out!”

The door flung itself open, and Brin felt a strong wind push him out the door, not that he needed much convincing.

The door closed behind him. He and Hogg found themselves blinking in the sunlight in the street outside the house. Even though he’d only been in there for minutes, it felt like he’d been in a dark cave for hours and his eyes were shocked by the bright sunlight.

“Good catch,” said Hogg.

“Thanks,” said Brin. “So Yon was the spy?”

“One of them, I suppose. I think Bruna’s guess was more on the money, though. Those types tend to be– let’s continue this in the cellar.”

Brin clamped his mouth shut on any other question. The walk back home was one of the longest of his life. When they finally got there, he didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“What ritual? What was she talking about?”

“I’ve been trying to persuade the [Witches] of Hammon’s Bog to give you special protection. That’s more important than ever now that we know that Awnadil knows you and knows you’re here. Go with them tonight and do what they say. Oh, and keep some glass nearby recording your memories, just in case. I don’t think they’ll try any funny business but you can’t be too careful.”

“Wait, after all the warnings you’ve given me, you want me to just follow a group of [Witches] into the forest and let them use me in a ritual?”

Hogg winced, looking genuinely regretful. “It’s the best I can do for you right now.”

“Why me? When push comes to shove, you’re the one who’s going to throw down with Awnadil. They should do the ritual on you.”

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“Because you’re the one I have a duty to protect!” snapped Hogg. Then slower, he added, “And because you’re the most likely next target. She knew you as Aberthol, and you’ve messed up her plans with Neptune and now Yon. She has plans for you. Mark my words.”

“I’ll go,” said Brin.

“That means our game is over, though. Any last minute guesses? You’re still two down, by last count.”

“Dulce was one. That was a mean trick,” said Brin.

“What? Nothing in the rules said I had to tell you if they died?” Hogg spread his hands out in feigned innocence.

“Was she really the traitor? Did she turn Neptune?”

Hogg frowned. “We don’t know for sure, but we couldn’t take the chance. The original plan would’ve had all the [Witches] visit Neptune together. They’d capture and turn him, and then let his testimony decide her fate. I don’t think I need to point out the obvious flaw in that plan.”

“If Dulce was the traitor, she’d have lots of opportunities to screw up the ritual,” said Brin.

“Right. To all appearances, Dulce was furious about what happened to her son and desperate to find out who had done it. But of course she would act that way. You can’t be a [Witch] without being a good liar. Your idea to use the potion was a good one, and the way things turned out was much safer for all involved. Except Dulce.”

“There are still things about this story we don’t know. Dulce didn’t turn Neptune, he turned himself. She might not even have been involved,” said Brin.

“In which case, she let the whole thing happen right under her nose without noticing. A [Witch] didn’t know her son was undead? It’s possible, but if that’s the case she deserved to die for the crime of absolute stupidity. The most likely scenario is that they were both working for Arcaena and if we’d let Dulce work a ritual with all of the other [Witches] it would’ve been a disaster that left them and half the rest of the town dead.”

“The other [Witches] aren’t upset that you killed one of their own?” asked Brin.

“Eh, they’re acting like they aren’t bothered, but honestly who knows with that crowd? I’m satisfied they’ll do what we need. Bruna was the last holdout.”

“Really?” That surprised Brin. If there was a [Witch] who would object to helping him, he didn’t think it would be Bruna.

“She insisted that she needed all her power to protect her own family. As for why today’s revelation changed her mind? You can ask her yourself. All masks are off. Well, their masks are off. You know what I mean. Any last guesses? You still have one more [Witch].”

“I don’t even have any huge suspects. Hela is in a good position for a [Witch]. If it were her, she’d have most of the town under her power by now. There’s also Elvira…”

Hogg’s face didn’t give anything away.

“I guess I’ll find out tonight.”

That night, Brin left the town gates alone. A visible eye floated above him in the sky, but Hogg wouldn’t come to this in person.

This wasn’t something a person did in Hammon’s Bog. The forest was something to be feared, or at the very least, respected. A [Hunter] might have some cause to enter the forest at night, but someone like him never should.

It wasn’t just the cultural taboos that he’d picked up that made him dread this. It was his own personal experience. Traveling into the forest alone last time had predicated a string of disasters that had almost cost him his life. Disasters, but triumphs as well.

Hopefully tonight wouldn’t be so intense. He was entering alone, but at least this time he planned on meeting some people soon. Some [Witches]. That didn’t make it much better.

He passed the fields of mato, and into the boundary of the forest.

It was dark. The moon wasn’t in sight, and the faint starlight barely penetrated the canopy above. Still, it wasn’t so dark that it challenged his [Know What’s Real]-enhanced darkvision. He could see well enough to not stumble over the roots or walk into a stream. He was a little tempted to use his Skill to make light, just because he could, but obviously that was a dumb idea. If he had any chance of hiding his [Illusionist] abilities, he couldn’t bust them out for every little thing.

First, he saw a flickering light through the trees, and then heard voices. Not strange or threatening voices, but the sound of casual conversation. He approached silently, hoping to see what they were really doing before they knew he was there.

A woman in red and white, Bruna, kneeled in front of a raised brazier. She held her hands up, speaking or chanting, to an unnatural-looking flame that rose six feet in the air. Sometimes a word she spoke made the flame shudder or spark a different color. Green, then a deep red.

There were four other people, away from the flame a bit, sitting on a blanket. He saw a bottle of wine, and a basket. And plates. They were having a picnic. That group chatted as if it were totally normal having a woman do strange magic right next to them. Maybe for them, it was.

“You might as well come out!” he heard Ademir shout. “We still have a bit of preparation to do before we can get started. Oh, and remove your shoes if you please.”

Brin did, and walked out of the treeline, over wet grass, into an open clearing. The clearing felt supernatural, a liminal space, where something vast and powerful lay just outside his perceptions. The starlight became especially bright, casting its blue glow down into the grass and wildflowers. That contrasted sharply with the bright, powerful light of the shifting flames, but rather than overcome the starlight it mixed and shifted and cast odd colors onto the buzzing dragonflies and flapping bats.

He approached and saw Ademir in the center of the blanket, holding a glass of wine. He lifted it in greeting. To his side, Balbi was running her fingers through his long hair, free from its usual tight ponytail. Clementine was sitting on his other side, idly fiddling with a bowl of berries.

Next to her, was Chamylla the [Enchantress]. Unbelievable. That was the final [Witch]. Literally his first guess, and he’d let her talk him out of it.

He’d sort of expected them in ugly black robes like Halloween witches, but they were dressed fairly well. Ademir wore a nice black suit, and the women had matching white dresses with red overcoats. The biggest difference from what you’d see them wear on the street, other than the bare feet, was that they were completely free from ornamentation. No jewelry, and no embroidery at all. Even Brin’s clothes from Myra had a long dragon embroidered on the back and down a leg.

Clementine was an older pinch-faced woman who always seemed to him to have a severe personality, but she wore an easy smile. She gestured around with a berry and then plopped it into her mouth. “Welcome! Welcome to Ademir’s Harem.”

Ademir rolled his eyes and snorted while taking a sip of wine, but apparently the line wasn’t so unexpected as to make him choke.

“Ok…” said Brin, not really knowing where to go from there. He pointed an accusing finger at Chamylla. “I can’t believe it! You lied to me! You straight up told me you weren’t a [Witch].”

“No one would ever expect a [Witch] to tell a lie," said Chamylla with a smug little smile.

“You said that [Witch] would be a downgrade from [Enchantress]!” said Brin.

“You said that?” asked Balbi with a frown.

“I only have five levels in [Witch]. I evolved [Enchantress] from [Witch], not the other way around. So in a way, I told the truth.”

“She’s barely a [Witch],” said Balbi with a sneer. “More like she’s our mascot.”

Ademir set down his empty glass. “Now, now, ladies. Don’t fight. The boy is here, so we may as well get started. I’ll go cast the circle. Maybe you could let Brin know what to expect?”

“Yes, a real [Witch] certainly should,” said Balbi.

“I suppose that leaves only me, then, since Bruna is busy,” said Clementine, earning her a glare from Balbi. “There’s not much you need to know. We’ll be the ones doing all the work.”

“This will protect me? From witchcraft?” asked Brin.

“It will tie your fate to ours. If you are hexed, so shall we be. If we are restored, then you as well. No single one of us could stand against the likes of Awnadil. Even all of us together wouldn’t be able to stop her if she struck one of our number alone. Forcing her to dilute her curses between the s–five of us will weaken them enough to give us a chance.”

“But if one of us dies–”

“This will do nothing for physical violence. You must depend on Hogg for protection from her familiars.”

Near the brazier, Bruna’s chanting increased in volume. Then with a shout, the flames flared, then died back down to the size of regular fire. She wiped her brow and stood. “We can begin when the circle is cast.

Around the edges of the clearing, Ademir poured small piles of salt. He didn’t make a circle in a line like Brin expected, but poured four piles in a square. Each of them he patted with his hands and said some words in the weird, witchy language they all knew.

He walked back to the circle. “We can begin.”

Bruna snapped her fingers, and the blanket on the ground swept up, gathering the cups and plates from the picnic and then wrapping in on itself. It disappeared in a flurry of twisting spiderwebs. When it was gone, it was gone without a trace. The grass underneath didn’t even look like it had been pressed down.

She and the other women removed their red overcoats, leaving them in matching white dresses, and stood in a ring around the fire.

Ademir sat on a stump, away from the brazier. He put a drum on his lap and began to sing. He didn’t have the voice of a [Bard], but it was passable, and soon a strange energy began to fill his words, making them resonate with the subtle energy of this place.

The women danced, all together like it was a song they’d been rehearsing for years. Their every move and gesture were precisely controlled and a perfect mirror of each other. The movements looked wild and frantic, and yet there was clearly an order there that Brin couldn’t quite grasp.

They danced to the beat of the drum and the sound of Ademir’s voice. Brin watched, mesmerized, trying to understand what they were doing and how they were doing it. There was something magical, something about the words Ademir was saying. He felt like the words and the dance were the same. As if just like regular language could be spoken or written, the language of the Wyrd could be sung or danced.

The flames didn’t rise higher as they went. Instead, every beat of the song seemed to beat the fire down, suppressing and containing it.

As time passed, whether it was a minute or an hour Brin couldn’t tell, the fire sank lower and lower until in a puff of smoke the last flame died out and only coals remained.

Bruna gestured Brin forward. He walked to the fire, and when he opened his mouth to ask a question, Bruna warned him against speaking with a glare.

She took his hand, and gestured again, towards the brazier, like she were helping him into a carriage.

He took a hesitant step, and found that the hot coals didn’t burn him. It wasn’t his [Heat Resistance]. They were completely cool.

Bruna drew a knife, and for a brief, panicked instant he was sure she was going to plunge it into his heart. Isn’t that the way these things go? Instead, she cut her palm. Then she reached and grabbed a burning coal with her injured hand, crushing it and letting the ash fall through her fingers. With one finger of the same hand, she drew a crescent on the top of Brin’s left foot.

Balbi did the same, drawing a star on his other foot. Clementine drew a wheel on his hand, and Chamylla drew a teardrop on his other hand.

Then they linked hands and the song resumed, only this time it was a shout that grew louder and louder until it ended in a furious howl.

Silence followed. Bruna gave Brin a hand, letting him down from the brazier that had gone completely dark.

The clearing had gone dark as well. It was now just an ordinary meadow at night.

He had a million questions, but there was a strange mood. An ominous feeling that made him know that it would be inappropriate to ask. It would be an affront to speak at all. He walked to the edge of the clearing and put his shoes and socks back on. It was annoying; his feet were wet with dew from the grass, but he didn't voice any complaints.

They walked home in silence. At the gates, they each went their separate ways, turning off one by one as they got to their streets. It was just Bruna and Brin left as they passed her house.

When her hand hit the doorknob he opened his mouth to ask a question, ominous feeling or not, but at that moment, a shout came from the direction of the walls they had just left.

“Undead! Undead in the forest!”

The same call came from the other side of town. “Rouse the militia! The undead are leaving the forest!”

Bruna looked at him. “Get home! Get Hogg!”

Brin dashed away towards his house.

People started to leave their houses, some already rushing to the walls with weapons in hand, others looking about with fear. Brin sprinted, determined to get away before the streets got too crowded.

Soon, he saw Hogg running towards him the other way, with Marksi on his back. Marksi dropped off Hoggs shoulders about ten feet away. He hissed in alarm, looked at Brin, and then flinched away.

“Marksi, it’s me!” said Brin.

Marksi bolted, flinging himself away through the streets.

“You’ve got some [Witch] magic on you,” said Hogg. “I’ll have a talk with him. He’ll come around. But right now I need to get to the walls. They’re staying at the treeline for now; I don't think this is an attack. Intimidation, more like. But I need to be there.”

“Got it,” said Brin.

Hogg grabbed him by the shoulder and put a finger in his face. “Get home. Stay there. You hear me?”

“Understood,” said Brin.

Brin did go home, pushing through the increasingly chaotic situation in the city streets. Entering through the front door, he’d be able to say that he’d done as he was told. He’d gone home. He’d stayed there. Hogg had never specified how long. Now, he was going to grab his things and get back out there to see what was happening.

He felt a prick on his stomach. Looking down, he saw the source.

A little yellow rabbit, with one eye crossed out with a sewn ‘X’, stood at his feet. He held a knife, pushed a couple inches straight into Brin’s stomach.

“Aberthol! I came to play. Be careful, now. One of Hogg’s watching eyes is right behind you, so you’ll need to do exactly what I say if you don’t want your guts to paint this floor.”

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