Chapter 4: Chapter 3 – Pursue That Bloody Witch!

Soaring towards a mountain range east of Astasia was the witch with the wounded leg who had escaped from Vermont Province. Along the way she was surprised to see that the Grand Inquisitor’s pagan troops had already invaded Percule, which was the name of the small settlement located at the base of Guillume Mountain.

Though the sun was at its highest in the sky, the purifying flames that engulfed Percule were bright enough to reflect their brilliance in the witch’s eye.

Staring below upsettingly, she cursed, “Those wretched crusaders have already reached this far? I hope I am not too late.”

A look of urgency was painted on her face. She redirected her focus to the summit of Guillume Mountain. However, as soon as she did so, a threatening arrow whooshed passed her face and scraped her cheek.

“Huh! It’s them?” The witch glanced in the distance behind her and noticed Commander Dreylude and his squadron of horseback riders chasing at her tail. “They followed me all the way from Vermont? How persistent can they be?” She increased her aerial speed to try and lose them

A concerned devotee was starting to become annoyed with the witch’s elusiveness. “Commander Dreylude, how long can she keep flying for?”

“She should be running out of magic very soon.” Commander Dreylude was sure of himself and by God, his assumption was spot on. A couple of minutes later, they saw the witch quickly losing altitude just a stone throw away from the northern borders of Percule at a path leading up to the base of Guillume Mountain.

“The witch has landed! Now is our chance to get her!”

While the men on horseback were riding around the destroyed forts of Percule to intercept the witch, an impatient crusader went ahead of the gang up the base of the mountain where he was unexpectedly ambushed by a legion of werewolves who burst out of the soil.

“Oh God no!” The young crusader was torn to pieces in an instant. His bones served as a brief sharpener for the werewolves’ baleful fangs.

“Hold!” Seeing this brutality occurring ahead of him, Commander Dreylude commanded his steed along with the other riders to halt their advance up the mountain. This allowed him to get a better analysis of what he was dealing with.

 “I count about 5 Lycans on the ground and 6 in the trees.” He weighed his options carefully to mitigate the loss of his men. A brief scan of the environment made him notice the wounded witch occasionally staring back at them while running up a clearing that was heavily guarded by a pack of werewolves of different shapes and sizes.

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Commander Dreylude glared at the slippery witch and shouted, “You think hiding behind your pack of dogs will save you today? You’ve only extended the duration in which your head is attached to your body! And by the grace of God, that time is counting down!” He threatened to decapitate her and he was certain that it would come to fruition very soon.

Instead of tackling the mountain dogs impulsively, Commander Dreylude waited until the other Commanding Knights and their infantry conquered Percule settlement and then regrouped to increase their numbers. Now that more able bodies were to their advantage; armed with weapons of Blessed Silver, the crusaders commenced their assault on the pack of werewolves who were keeping guard of Guillume Mountain.

“Kill them all!”

“Send those fury demons back to hell!”

“Give them a taste of our Blessed Silver!”

An all-out war involving werewolves, witches and pagan hunters was wreaking havoc across the mountain range. Both sides were heaping up many wounded and fatal casualties. Guts were being pulled out of stomachs, beastly hearts were being cut open, eyes were being gouged out, limbs were being severed, spells were being cast, arrows were raining like droplets and bodies were being set ablaze!

The scenery leading to the top of Guillume Mountain resembled a hellish depiction of inferno’s avant-garde at its finest. The holy crusaders were banishing evil back to the pit of hell whence it came while the witches and werewolves were trying to safeguard their lives from being damned.

“Forward men! Your sacrifice will surely be rewarded in heaven!” Through all these savage murders, Commander Dreylude was still alive and pursuing his wounded target. He gave a heroic battle cry that increased the morale of the crusaders to apply more pressure on the witches’ dogs who were blocking their path.

Everyone was so busy slaughtering each other that they hadn’t realized the arrival of dusk. The witches' magic was potent at this darkening hour, so they along with their collared werewolves were now able to push back the holy troops that were forcing their way up the mountain.

“Don’t falter men, for God is our protector! Evil will never triumph over good!”

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