Homebrew

            Eris looked at the cabin across the clearing.  “Just like the villagers said.  An old loggers’ place.”

            Razer put a hand on her shoulder and drew her back into the foliage.  “Don’t break cover, girl.  No sense letting him know we’re here.”

            “Sorry,” she said.  “How much did that merchant say he sold this guy?”

            Razer frowned and rubbed his chin.  “At least a liter.”  He snarled.  “Bioreagent is dangerous, but the laws against are those of the crown, not Nerroth.  We shouldn’t be here.”

            Eris shrugged.  “Tough.  The King of Aragon made the Master Hunters Castellans of the Meadows.  So we’re now considered ‘knights’ with an obligation to the Crown.”

            Razer scowled at his apprentice.  “And the only reason we’re investigating that merchant is because he was suspected of selling supplies to a ‘treasonous’ group.”

            Eris sighed.  “I’ll admit that was a stretch.  It was just the one broadsheet and not terribly critical of old Ricardo, anyways.”

            Razer snorted.  “And technically they’re right about those male heirs.”

            Eris rolled her eyes.  “The contents of the King’s balls aside, let’s get this over with.”

            Razer hefted his crossbow.  “I agree.”  He groaned as he came out of his crouch.  “I’m getting too old for this.”

            “Then don’t refuse the next promotion.”

            “Then who keep you alive?”

            Eris smiled.  “I can watch out for myself.”  She raised her own crossbow.

            Razer scanned the cottage.  “No enchantments.  He’s confident.”

            Eris nodded.  “Something still isn’t right.”

            “Whatever he’s brewing in there is what we’re sensing.  Don’t try to disenchant it.  The chemicals themselves could be unstable without the alchemy.”

            Eris glanced at him.  “I know, old timer.”

            “Let’s circle it.  See what else is out there and find a back way if we can.”

            The two prowled around the edge of the clearing.  Aside from the cottage itself, the clearing held a woodshed and an outhouse.  Their senses detected the most active magic in the woodshed.

            Razer ground his teeth as he looked at the woodshed.  “That’s where he brews.  He’s probably brewing right now.”

            Eris looked away and rubbed her eyes.  “You think?  What’s the plan?  Kick in the door and take him out?”

            Razer shook his head.  “No.  See if he comes quietly first.”

            The two walked up to the woodshed and Razer knocked on the door.  “Alejandro Montalban, we are Witch Hunters.  You are suspected of heresy.  Please cease your activities and submit to interrogation.”

            A minute passed.

            “Alejandro Montalban, if you do not submit to interrogation peacefully, we will be authorized to use lethal force.”

            The silence continued.

            Eris leveled her crossbow.  “So much for peacefully.”

            “You’ll never take me, Witch Hunters,” a voice from the shed said.

            Razer’s eyes widened.  “Get back!”

            Black powder explosions rocked the front of the shed, destroying the door.  Razer and Eris dove and rolled away.  A series of smaller pops and bursts came from the shed as alchemical bindings failed and chemical reactions followed.  Noxious fumes leaked out of the broken door and from between the planks of the walls.

            Eris stood up.  “Still alive, old man?”

            Razer coughed, groaned, and stood up.  “I’ve broken most of the bones in my body, girl.  This is nothing.”

            “Think he’s dead?”

            Razer picked up his crossbow and checked it.  “It’s never that easy.”

            A man in tattered robes stumbled out of the shed, coughing.  He held a dripping object in one hand.

            Razer braced his crossbow.  “Drop it!”

            The man chuckled and dropped it.  An empty glass flask landed in the grass.  The man hunched over as his body spasmed and twitched.  “I warned you.”

            Razer fired, invoking the magic-cancelling runes he had etched into the head of his crossbow bolt.  The bolt struck the man in the chest, thrummed for a second, then stopped.

            The man grinned, revealing too large teeth that seemed to be growing.  His muscles rippled and the sound of popping bones filled the air.  “Too late for you.”  He pulled the bolt out with a rapidly enlarging fist.

            Razer dropped his crossbow.  “Run, Eris.”

            “We can take him.”

            Razer snarled.  “No we can’t.  Just run.”

            The now grossly enlarged man lunged forward and swung its meaty fist at Eris.  She dodged back and threw a dagger at it.  The blade pierced an engorged bicep.  The creature chuckled again, and pulled the weapon out as if it were a nettle.

            “Right,” Eris said.  “Run.”

            Razer scattered a handful of caltrops on the ground as they fled.  The monster gave chase, howling as the spikes pierced the soles of its feet.  But it was only briefly slowed, and it crashed through the brush after the Witch Hunters.

            “How long do you think we can keep ahead of it?” Eris said, listening to the sounds of snapping wood behind them.

            “We won’t have to for long,” Razer said.  The sound of sapling being torn-up by its roots reached them followed by another massive roar.  “I hope.”

            They emerged into a clearing.  The village was visible nearby.

            “We need to keep it away from there,” Razer said.

            Eris nodded.  She pulled a small cylinder out of a slot on her belt.  “Are you sure this thing works?”

            “Old Desmond says it does.”

            Eris pulled the top off the cylinder and a bright pink flame flared up.  She hurled it toward the now hunch-backed hulk barreling through the forest, its angle facing just slightly away from them.  The flare hit it in the chest.  It batted it away, but diverted its attention to the thrower.  It roared again, and turned towards the Witch Hunters.  Again, they turned and fled along the edge of the forest.

            “Isn’t there a river near here?” Eris said.

            “Dammit,” Razer said.

            They reached the shore of the river, swollen in the late spring.  They turned and faced the on-coming monster, drawing their thin bladed swords.

            “It’s been an honor, sir,” Eris said.

            Razer grinned and held up a hand.  “Wait.”

            The monster slowed as it approached, its breathing becoming labored.  It stumbled and huffed, but finally reached them.  It drew itself up to its full height and raised its thick, bone-spur encrusted fist.  Then it let out a huff and fell to the ground.

            Eris crept forward and examined it.  “It’s dead.”

            Razer sheathed his sword.  “I told you we wouldn’t have to run long.”

            “How did you know?”

            Razer shrugged.  “More a guess, really.  You know magic has to draw its power from somewhere.  That potion probably drew from that poor fool’s metabolism.  Starved himself to death and burned out his body trying to kill us.”

            Eris looked down at the corpse.  “What’s worth dying to protect?”

            Razer patted her shoulder again.  “Let’s find out.”

            The ruins in the woodshed contained nothing of value.  The cottage, however, contained several books, including a journal.  Razer looked through the library and separated proscribed books to be kept by the order from mundane books to be sold.  Eris examined the journal, but it contained few details beyond general daily itineraries and a ledger of expenses.  But she did find a folded sheet in the cover.

            “What is that?” she said, unfolding it.

            Razer examined it with her.  It was a strange, twisting diagram drawn in blue ink.  He shook his head.  “Nothing I know of.”

            At the bottom of the sheet, written in thick black letters were the words: “the Pilgrim.”