[Flashback, Bronze Woods] Of Grave Concern

[Guido Faragas]

Timestamp: [Flashback] 80th Day of Summer 509A

It was an old graveyard – not far from the teeming city but long forgotten. The old man had a spurt of energy as he entered the dismal place but Guido hung back, grasping his pick tightly. He glanced around: there were a number of toppled headstones, mainly covered in moss and grasping vines that wove across the hidden graveyard. Silent snakes choking what remained of life in the place. He hesitated but steeled himself to take a few haltering steps forwards.

“Come on boy,” shouted the stooped old fellow, beckoning with one withered hand before hobbling further into the clearing. Well, he couldn’t lose face in front of his companion and, so, with a shrug the youth followed his employer forwards. It had seemed a good way to earn a few coins – escort the old man into the forest and assist him recovering some old relics. Probably a waste of time but he needed the money and the old man claimed to be some sort of archaeologist and the tall youth thought he might learn a few things in addition to the fee he would be paid. He had been on several expeditions with his father and that had taught him little, beyond the fact that he found digging up the past a fascinating if frustrating experience.

The old man called himself Ceris. He had appeared a pleasant enough fellow but, as they neared their destination, he had become more excitable, more insistent and a trifle short-tempered. His own infirmity clearly bothered him more than he admitted and the cold of the early winter affected him much more than his companion. Ceris wore an old battered dark robe that he gathered around his frail body as if it were the one thing that kept this bones together.

“This is the place,” the old man cackled with excitement. “I feel it! I know it. Come here boy, come close.”

[Guido Faragas]

The old man was bending over a small mound that lay in the middle of the small, forgotten graveyard. His trembling hand picked up a piece of broken stone from a triangular cairn of stones that were piled up at one end of the mound. As he brushed off the dirt, he became more and more agitated, mumbling and muttering under his breath. Guido couldn’t make out the words clearly but it appeared as if the old fellow was speaking a name – Argis or Argus – or at least something akin to that. Perhaps he thought that something was buried in the grave? Although why something of import would be in such a poor, neglected cemetery wasn’t clear.

“We must dig here,” hissed the old man, darting an almost feral look at his companion. “This is the grave, I know it. The stones confirm it.” Guido could make out some writing on the stone but the old man saw his gaze and he quickly hid the stone in some hidden pocket of his dark robe. “There is nothing to concern you here save the digging. You must labour where my old bones can’t.”

The young reimancer walked to the edge of the grave. “What am I looking for?”

“We must retrieve the bones of he... whom is buried here,” replied the old man carefully. “They are of archaeological interest to me. Nothing to you or anyone else but they will assist me in my studies.”

Bones! He wants the bones. That can’t be good. Perhaps he is mad or....well let’s just hope he is just mad. I don’t care as long as he pays me.

“You must take great care. Dig carefully. I will instruct you. Nothing must be damaged.” There was a greedy look in the old man’s eyes, as if he was about to gaze on a great treasure.

[Guido Faragas]

Setting down his backpack, the youth extracted the small set of tools that he used for retrieving relics. He chose a scraper that he used for scraping away the debris from around delicate objects.

“A good choice,” nodded Ceris in approval. “Bones are delicate, you must take great care”. The old man took a quick glance in the sky and then his eyes dropped back to the burial. “This is a north-south burial and so the head should be at the north end of the mound. Start at the north of the grave but take care for the skull is often the part of the body that stands out furthest from the grave. It is also the most important part I wish to recover.”

Guido nodded in agreement and squatted down by the head of the mound. Whatever his strange behaviour, it was clear that the old man had undertaken such excavations before and perhaps the novice archaeologist could learn some useful tips. He frowned a little, for although most of the cemetery was overgrown with weeds, there was scarcely any growth on this mound, particularly in the area where the head might lie. Moreover, the ground looked soft and loose, with little sign of compaction. With a quiet raising of one eyebrow, Guido used the edge of the scraper to slowly move away the top layer of the soil at the north end of the grave. He took care to squat to one side of the grave to avoid any weight being put on areas where delicate bones might be located close to the surface.

“The skull allows one to learn much about the person who is buried,” continued the old man, as much to himself as Guido.

“How is that?” Guido questioned Ceris, whilst diligently and slowly scraping away the dry earth,

“The shape of the skull helps to sex the person and perhaps diagnose any complaints or illnesses that they may have had. The teeth are also informative of age.” The old fellow spoke as a teacher to a pupil: he clearly had much enthusiasm for this rather morbid subject. “Often, foolish oafs are too eager and destroy parts of the skull.” His voice began to rise to a shrill pitch. “They hit it with picks and hammers – they destroy its worth. It must be near complete, You will ensure that this skull is complete.”

Guido’s hand shook a little. You are a trifle obsessive about skulls, old man. The sooner we finish up the better. He continued scraping with renewed vigour under the beady eyes of this companion.

[Guido Faragas]

The gravedigger (for that was how Guido was increasingly regarding himself) continued to scrape away the soil. After a short time, the first sign of the white of a skull began to show through the earth. Ceris could scarcely contain himself, almost hopping about on his ancient limbs. “Take care, take special care,” he whispered, as more of the skull was exposed. “Do not take soil from within the eye sockets, the nose, the ear or the lower jaw. These areas contain fragile and delicate bones that are easy to shatter and break. The ear, for example, contains three fragile bones. It is best to leave the soil within the skull and I will clean it by...other means...when we return to the city.”

That’s fine by me. I have no desire to go digging inside this skull. He continued the slow process of excavation. Dropping the scraper to the ground he carefully cleared the path around the skull with his fingers. Earth began to gather inside his fingernails and it was a painstakingly slow process. Still, he knew form previous experience that patience was a virtue as far as delicate relics were concerned and he had no wish to alienate the old man.

It took a little while but the skull gradually revealed itself. To Guido, it appeared to be a normal skull, albeit one that was well preserved. He cleared the dirt from all sides, leaving the skull ready to lift. He knew that this was essential to relieve any pressure on the remains before removing the skull. However, there was no sign that the skull was attached to other bones – it appeared to be on its own. “Do you wish to lift it?” He gazed upwards into the eyes – the mad eyes – of his elderly companion.

Ceris shook his head. “My hands shake too much. I cannot risk dropping it. You must do it.”

Oh great, so I get the blame if it disintegrates.

[Guido Faragas]

With a deep intake of breath, he worked his fingers underneath the skull. The hot breath of Ceris bore down on his face, for the old man had virtually bent double inspecting his companion’s efforts. Having satisfied himself that he had fully supported the skull, he gingerly lifted it from the earth. It came away with ease, for the earth was dry and loose. Slowly, he raised himself up from the grave until he was standing with the skull firmly in two hands. As he did so, he caught sight of some strange markings between the fingers of his supporting hands. His eyes narrowed and he leant forwards a little to inspect the marks.

“No,” barked Ceris. The voice was shrill, loud and unexpected, startling an already nervous Guido. The white skull slipped from his hands. He made a frantic grab but it was too late. In slow motion it fell towards the small cairn of stones, hitting a sharp fragment that stood proud of the pile. The skull shattered into numerous pieces – it had clearly been more brittle than first appeared to be the case. The tall youth’s mouth dropped open.

Silence. Then, a howl arose from the mouth of the old man. He dropped to his knees, scrabbling amongst the broken remains, as if he were some hungry dog searching for scraps of food. Guido backed away, sensing trouble.

Ceris snarled and turned towards his companion. His face was a raw shade of red, his lips curled and his eyes blazed open, bloodshot and hysterical. “I should kill you for that.”

[Guido Faragas]

Guido backed up a little further away from the furious Ceris. “I’m sorry. You startled me. It wasn’t my fault,” the youth blustered. It had no effect. The old man was in no mood to accept excuses. All of a sudden there was dagger in his hand. It must have been concealed up his sleeve. A small weapon but deadly in the right hands.

“One,” counted the old man, weighing the blade of the dagger in one hand.

Guido couldn’t move: his gaze was transfixed on the dagger. A throwing dagger.

“Two.” The second count penetrated deep within the youth’s mind, as if the word itself was a dagger. He turned and ran, ploughing over a nearby grave.

“Three.” The dagger made a whistling sound as it flew through the air. Guido pumped his arms, seeking to increase the distance between himself and the madman. He hurdled a gravestone and caught his trailing foot on a jagged edge, sprawling forwards hands outstretched. It was a lucky fall, for as he hit the ground, the dagger sailed overhead. He levered himself back to his feet, darting a quick glance back towards Ceris. The old man was on his knees, extracting the pieces of skull from the soil – seemingly oblivious and indifferent to the fate of his companion.

Slowly and quietly, taking care to make no noise and avoid any further pitfalls, Guido made his way out of the graveyard. Once he was out of sight of the old man, he broke into a steady jog. He did not stop until the gates of the city appeared in the distance. It was only then he felt the cuts and bruises he had received from the fall and the deeper injury to his pride. Running from an old man.

[Guido Faragas]

As he stood, panting by the gates to Syliras, it suddenly dawned upon Guido that, in his haste to escape, he had left his tools and backpack by the grave. My father will kill me. And, in any event, I don’t want to lose my tools. He hesitated for short while, looking back down the path that ultimately led to the graveyard. Surely the old man will be long gone once he retrieves the pieces of the skull. And, if he hasn’t, as long as I am careful, I should be able to approach quietly.

With a sigh, the tall youth slowly walked back down the path and out into the woods.

*************************************************************************************

The graveyard appeared empty.

He was crouched to one side of the entrance, concealed behind a low tumbled down wall that had once formed the boundary of the forlorn place. He idly wondered why a graveyard existed this distance from the city and in such a hidden place. Indeed, although he was familiar with the woods, there was no way he would have found it without the guidance of the old man.

Having determined that Ceris had departed, the reimancer gathered his courage, climbed over the wall and entered the graveyard for a second time. The light was beginning to fade and the hint of a mist was in the air. To his relief his tools and backpack lay by the grave. All the pieces of the skull were gone.

As he gathered together his tools, his eyes were drawn to a second grave a few paces away. This grave had a cairn of stone similar to the one that stood by the grave he had excavated. He walked over to the grave and squatted down by the side of the cairn. One of the stones in the cairn had faint markings on it: he could only make out one word – Argaus – perhaps the word the old man had pronounced when he had muttered at the side of the grave. Perhaps there is something of value in this grave? I might just have time to dig and return to the city before dark if I hurry. Maybe something worth a few coins in recompense for a wasted day.

He decided to dig the grave.

[Guido Faragas]

Holding the scraper firmly in his hand once more, Guido crouched by the grave. He began at the end closest to the cairn, assuming that the skull would be at this end as it was in the adjacent grave. Bearing in mind the old man’s warning, he proceeded slowly, taking away the dirt layer by layer. Once again, the earth was loose without compaction and could be scraped away with relative ease. After he had scraped away the top soil, his scraper knocked against an object. He put it down and carefully pushed aside the soil with his fingers. Eventually, the process revealed the edge of a small piece of pottery. Taking care not to dislodge the pot, he cleared away the soil from every side.

The pot was a small container of some sort, largely undamaged. He smiled – although it was not of great value, it might fetch a few coins if it was intact. The top of the small, oval shaped container had come away from the rest of the pot which was filled with soil. He left the soil inside the pot before completing the clearing away of the external soil. Then, slowly edging the tips of his fingers beneath the pot, he levered it clear of the surface. It was a tiny, delicate thing of moderate quality. He put it on a small sack that he retrieved from his rucksack and then, using a small brush, he brushed away the dirt that still clung to the surface. Unfortunately, it proved to be a plain pot with no inscription. Turning it over with great care, he shook loose some of the soil inside the pot. Most of it came away with ease and formed a small mound on the sack. He placed the pot back down and searched the earthen mound. There was nothing there apart from the grimy earth itself.

Peering inside the pot, he could see that it too appeared to be empty, save the smearing of dirt that covered the inside surface. he raised it to his nose and sniffed. There was a faint trace of a sweet perfume. It was a pleasant smell that he couldn’t place. The favourite perfume of the deceased? He shrugged: whatever had been in the pot had long since evaporated. He poured a little water from his flask into the pot and swilled it around, removing most of the dirt. Then, he wrapped both the container and its lid in small pieces of cloth before placing them in the sack.

Guido looked to the sky. Darkness was beginning to fall and he didn’t feel like spending the night in the graveyard. He would have no time to excavate the whole body, but perhaps just time for the skull. The tall youth shivered a little as the hoot of some nearby bird penetrated the gloom. He knelt quickly by the graveside to continue the excavation.

[Guido Faragas]

The skull which lay directly beneath the pot looked remarkably similar and just as well-preserved as its adjacent companion. Guido used the same techniques that he had used on the previous skull, leaving the soil inside the orifices and cavities. As he gingerly lifted it from its resting place, he could see that the rear of the skull bore similar marks to the first. However, there was no obvious pattern to the marks – simply a series of apparently random lines and symbols. As he wrapped the skull in a piece of cloth, he felt a slight feeling of disappointment. He wasn’t sure what he had expected – perhaps a treasure map or magic symbols? He grinned to himself: what a fool – this is all some insane old man’s fantasy...

He packed his backpack as the final shreds of light began to fade. It had dropped cool quickly and he was glad to have his coat wrapped tightly around his body. There was a sudden rustling in the bushes at the far end of the graveyard. A cold sweat ran across his face. Ceris? Surely not: he would not have expected the youth to return. He heard a snuffling sound. Some beast, out for prey as the daylight ended? Best not to find out! Hitching his pack on his back, he walked briskly to the entrance to the graveyard, snatching a couple of glances backwards. His final glance caught a glimpse of something white, moving slowly through the misty vapours that now shrouded the ruined graveyard. He could not say what it was, yet in the dim light it had the appearance of a skeleton. He dismissed the thought – he had bones and skeletons on his mind. Just some animal that it was best not to encounter...

With a deep sigh, Guido Faragas made his way back to the city.

[Guido Faragas]

The fire crackled, shooting flaming embers across the tavern. It was well after midnight and Guido Faragas - reimancer, archealogist and weaver of tall tales, was just finishing recounting his tale of his adventure at the graveyard. For once, no elaboration had been necessary – well, until he had come to the end of the tale, of course, when his storyteller’s instinct for a good yarn had taken over...

A Grave Matter And so I packed the second skull in my bag and began to leave the graveyard. But then, just as the pack was resting on my shoulders, I heard a rustling in the bushes a few paces away from the grave. I glanced towards the sound and it was only then that I realised that the mist that had suddenly fallen. I could scarcely see the old ruined wall that edged the place. Apart from the rustling sound, it was eerily quiet. I was transfixed to the spot. My feet wouldn’t move, even though I willed them to do so. My heart was racing – I could feel the pounding of its beats echoing through my head. Drips of cold sweat formed on my brow and slowly made their way across my face. I could see a white form making its way across the yard towards me. In the dim light, at first I thought it was some ghost – an unearthly creature that haunted this long forgotten place. A soul not yet at rest... But as the white form neared me, I suddenly knew that it was no ghost. No, the white figure was a skeleton that was heading straight towards me. I still couldn’t move. As the figure neared me I could see that is was bare save a torn robe that flapped about in the weak breeze that was blowing across the yard. Somehow the robe felt familiar, yet i couldn’t instantly place it. However, there was something of more concern. In one bony hand, the skeleton carried a dagger. I willed my feet to move and they responded a little but it was too late – the skeleton was upon me. It exuded an icy cold aura: my fingers almost froze on both hands and my breath formed icy droplets in the air before my face. I steeled myself to meet my doom – the dagger would enter my flesh, freeze my body – and I would become one of the souls that haunted the desolate graveyard. However, to my astonishment, it walked past me as if I wasn’t there. It went to the first grave that I had dug, knelt down and let out a high pitched moan. It was the tone of the skeleton’s keening that stirred my limbs, for I knew the voice. The dagger - it was the dagger that had whistled over my head; the robe – it was the robe that had covered the frail body of the old man and the moan – it was the voice of Ceris. I knew then that this was Ceris. Either this was his true form, or it was what he had become after performing some arcane ritual with the skull. It is the fastest I have ever run. A mad headlong dash out of the mist and through the night. My arms pumping, my legs straining and lungs bursting. I never want to return to that place again.

The coins for the storyteller were placed on the table. “A chilling tale,” said a small, wiry youth, downing the last drops of his ale.

“Aye it is that,” replied Guido lifting his pack on to the table top. “Well, I must go. Oh, unless you wish to see the other skull. I have it here in my pack.”

A chime later, Guido was on his own at the table, a broad smile spreading across his face. His audience had declined the opportunity to look at the skull as he knew they would and then muttered their goodnights before leaving the tavern or hurriedly walking to the bar.

Guido was tired and with a quick goodbye to the barmaid he made his way to the door. Just to one side of the door, in a darkened corner, a fellow swathed in a hooded robe was sitting motionless. “Goodnight, gravedigger,” the fellow murmured in a familiar voice, a flash of white appearing beneath the hood.

“Goodnight,” replied Guido, too tired to wish to engage in any further conversation. It was only when he was halfway home that the young reimancer stopped suddenly in the street. That voice...it sounded like...no, it couldn’t be...it was only a story....