Chapter 36

After the Stolen Heart

Inches from Davian's outstretched finger, Erros faked shock at the slanderous remark. He stammered a denial that Davian seemed uninterested in hearing and for a moment they starred one another down, and escalation felt certain. In the yard at Davian's back, suddenly the Martikov children burst from the wagon and ran oblivious past their grandfather to marvel at the signs of battle and blight corpses strewn about the hall, their worried parents beckoning after them. With them Adrian approached, and placed a cautious hand on his father's shoulder. He smiled, nervously, and expressed their immense gratitude, guessing that they'd somehow summoned their horses and that the threat to the winery had somehow been repelled. Fabian asked what they were all itching to know, the purpose of the hidden room in the wine cellar, but Adrian had no idea what they were referring to. With the tension momentarily relived, though Davian's sharp glare did not once relent, Erros thought the moment ripe to play his hand, and subtly wove a charm into his speech, reiterating the question to Davian directly. His glare dropped, the party recognizing why, and he offered an explanation, disregarding a whispered protest from Adrian that betrayed his true knowledge of the room. The old man explained that the gems they found below were gifted to the Martikov's generations ago by spirits of the forest, and were the source of the fertility they needed to supply the rest of the valley with local wine. The group looked initially confused, said they found the room, three wooden hands, but understood nothing of gems. They realized then that what they'd found were merely settings, and the gems had been stolen, just as Davian realized this as well. His uncovered eye grew wide and he uncharacteristically shoved through the group and into the cellar to see for himself, dropping what must have been an act of frailty for he, forgetting himself, moved with the rapid gait of one two decades younger. Adrian ran after and for now the four adventurers were forgotten in the hall. Erros felt the urgency of his new condition at Davian's uneasy, and moved to ready the shipment for their return to Krezk, while the curious Pieron led the rest of her group after Adrian for more answers.

By the time the three of them stepped back into the blackened ashes of the wine cellar Davian had pulled aside the false wall and was kneeling in defeat before the three settings. His dutiful son stood over him silent but stepped back when he heard them approach. Fear and sorrow showed clear on his face and all attempt to deceive seemed to have seeped out of him. He answered their questions in a distant fugue, explained that his father spoke true and the gems were a gift from powerful fey of the forest, whom the group assumed to themselves to be the Ladies Three. The rightmost golden gem was the most powerful, responsible for their crop of Champaign du le Stomp, but that had simply disappeared one night before even Davian was born. They'd no idea how it vanished, but the crop it supported withered and died soon after, and since they'd taken extreme efforts to ensure that no one knew of the existence of the other two. The middle gem, a deep red, grew their Red Dragon Crush, and the third, a bright green, their Purple Grapemash No. 3. So far this served to explain the cuts in the left and center settings as slips of the blades used to pry the gems free, as well as the long dead southern third of the vineyard, and patches of withering vines throughout. It seemed then to the group that the gems, clearly powerful objects, defended themselves from the theft with explosions of growth that consumed at least two of the forest folk. But would the purpose of the attack was not to recover their own stolen artifacts, and the forest folk were the thieves? Fabian highly doubted the account of the Ladies Three simply giving away the gems, especially because Adrian could not answer for what they had earned such a gift, but having happened hundreds of years ago, it seemed they could only speculate for now. They asked after the vials Adrian had found, and he told them he didn't recognize the substance within. The vials they used to test the acidity and alcohol content of the fermentation, and he assured them that whatever this chemical was, it was synthesized here by the forest folk themselves. Through this entire exchange Davian made no acknowledgment of their presence, and Adrian motioned for them to continue their conversation upstairs. He reached out to his father but was rebuked with a gruff swatting, to which he quickly led the group away.

The Martikov's had gotten quickly to work clearing the blight corpses and assessing the damage to their home, and for the first time a bustling energy could be heard throughout the home, as Erros rejoined the group back in the main hall. He'd assessed the delivery wagon and dragged it out into the yard to be hitched, but returned for confirmation of the shipment size. Before he could ask, Adrian insisted they wait for him to fetch a gift along with their payment, and disappeared into the upper floor. While he was away, Pieron, Dyson, and Fabian filled in their companion, and they ideated over the many unknowns. The forest folk had the gems, it seemed to be their primary goal in storming the winery, and the origin of the gems or how the folk came to learn of them seemed lost to time. Perhaps Jenny Greenteeth, who seemed older than the valley itself, would know more of these forgotten truths, though her hut lied a half-day's travel away, and the nonsensical riddles in which she spoke may prove just as indecipherable. What the forest folk intended to do with the gems seemed unclear, but the degree to which they sacrificed to acquire them hinted at a great purpose. Erros, scratching his palm absent-mindedly, looked down to see a bright red rash had formed, and they realized it was the same palm he'd wiped across the strange liquid Fabian tried pouring on the wooden hands. Whatever the substance was, it seemed to be highly irritating.

Adrian returned with a small leather satchel in hand and pulled from it several purple leaves he explained came from the Belladonna flower. He approached Erros, and stated quite matter-of-fact that he was a werewolf, just recently transformed. He'd heard the howls the night before and knew the signs, and Erros didn't deny it. Adrian handed him the satchel and said he could chew the leaves or brew them into a tea, about a third of the bunch, and it would sedate him enough to prevent a night's transformation. Erros looked concerned at his use of the word night, but Adrian only nodded. He explained that every night, save the night of a new moon, Erros would transform and loose himself completely. They asked if Adrian knew of a cure, and to their delight he said there were several. The simplest would be to consume the root of the Belladonna, a potent toxin that would nearly kill him, but destroy the curse as well. But of course he said, the window to use this remedy was brief and had already passed: consuming the root worked only before one's first transformation. Once the curse had fully set in, great restorative magic could cleanse him, but powerful enough spells were known only to some powerful spellcasters. The final solution, he said, was to break the chain of infection. An inherited lycanthrope is one who receives the gift in it's purest form from another inherited lycanthrope, from birth or from a complex ritual. But an infected lycanthrope is a broken and twisted form of the beast. Their curse comes from the bite of a lycanthrope, infected or inherited, and their beast form is a reflection of their inherited lycanthrope master. If that prime lycanthrope is ever slain, any souls they've directly or indirectly infected are freed. Adrian cautioned that while that inherited lives, he could force a transformation in Erros with a simple word, and control his every action with another. Erros thought hard about what this meant, and looked down at his hands, one still red and bumpy. The thought of being controlled by another alarmed him more than loosing all control the night before, and he looked ahead to a life of sleeping through the day and terrorizing the wilds through the night. All thought of remaining in this form left his mind, and together they discussed how they could possibly get him cured.

Regardless, it was reliving to have such conclusive information to inform their course of action, and they were grateful of Adrian for knowing so much of lycanthropes. His demeaner lightened somewhat, and he said he'd had a moment to think and guessed that they'd only just found and unmounted the gems, otherwise they would have left before the group had arrived. This implied, he thought, that the gems were not far, and the forest folk were likely regrouping at Yester Hill, a significant cultural site for them not far south of the winery. By tomorrow they could be gone, dispersed back into the woods to the south to a half dozen different hovels and homesteads, and the gems would be lost for good. The group could sense he was circling his point, hesitant to ask directly, but he finally arrived sheepishly at his obvious question. They debated the difficult choice of making for Krezk or trying one last time to recover the gems. With the Belladonna leaves Erros possibly had several more time to delay the hunt for his cure, but it was a risk either way, and Fabian was adamant that without knowing their true intention it would be wrong to attack them for the gems: for all they knew they would be stealing them back for the original thieves. In the end they agreed to help, though they didn't feel confident they were making the right choice, and Adrian dropped his shoulders in immediate relief. He thanked them again and again, and retrieved for them a second gift, an exquisite black cloak with blue embroidery in the image of a cloak of feathers. He explained it was his late mothers, and that it had a magical knack for enveloping one in protective comfort. He insisted she would be elated if she knew it was aiding the people who would save their winery, and Pieron donned the fabric with her thanks.

As they hitched Omar and Patches back to their cart and prepared to leave for one last daring escapade, Davian returned to look over the yard from the doorway, arms crossed. The rest of the Martikov's came out to thank them and wish them well, and Adrian approached the wagon to speak one more time. He held himself with great importance and stoicism, so much that the gravity of what he felt he was about to say earned everyone's full attention. He began to explain that he and his family held a secret that had helped them thrive for so long in the dangers of the Svalich Wood and that they had clearly proven themselves worthy of gaining this same aid. Fabian, relaxed that she knew where he was going, completed his sentence: that they used ravens to spy on their foes. Adrian looked first shocked, then confused, but she continued that it was called the Keepers of the Feather, and he seemed to understand. A loud chuckle, filled with contempt, bubbled out of Davian, and he said "Not much of a secret if the fool tells everyone he knows." Genuinely upset, the old man turned and disappeared into the doorway. Adrian explained that the Keepers of the Feather is what Urwin calls it, and assumed he and Danika had told them. He smiled at the mention of his brother and looked down, perhaps reminiscing, before his smile faded to a frown. Awkwardly, he said that was it, the secret he wished to share, and he clumsily offered their aid with any local information they could supply. They thanked him as he cringed back from the cart, and with a snap of the reins they set off.

By the time they were underway, allowing time for Erros and Fabian to rest up from their long night prior, it was well into the afternoon. By their count they would arrive at Yester Hill with an hour or two of daylight left before Erros would be of no more aid to the group, and Pieron encouraged their horses to travel as quickly as they could. At the southern edge of the vineyard, Fabian looked back the way they had come, and suddenly realized that the scarecrow they'd seen that morning was gone. She scanned the fields but say nothing, and quickly told Erros, who merely shrugged. Perhaps he was lost in thought about the uncertainies of his life ahead, or perhaps a month and a half in Barovia and the evils behind every corner had lost their novelty. Still, Fabian settled back into her seat with a bit more unease. Dyson set to work tinkering with his latest creation, placing the final adjustments for a fast approaching field test, and Pieron kept a watchful eye on the tree-line and a stern hand on the reins. As Erros dozed off to shake the last of the restless night away, Fabian despondently leaved through a stack of letters they'd saved in Frank Holding. She pulled one from the bottom, the corner of which was stained brown with blood, and gave it a cursory read. Her eyes suddenly grew wide. What was she reading? How had we missed this? She called for everyone's attention and read the letter aloud once more: Ireena was a vampire. That's at least what the letter said, penned it would seem by her own father. But that was impossible. They thought back to their time with her, several days on the road, visits with her in Vallaki, the red scarf she always wore about her neck. All along the road Strahd's brides knew exactly where they were, but then again she'd been staying in a church well before the bones were stolen, she never asked to be invited in, and she certainly didn't have fangs. Their heads swam with the possible implications, but it was all still so clouded in mystery, they couldn't yet be sure. What they were sure of was that this changed things, and that they desperately needed a reliable source on how exactly to identify a vampire. In any case they kicked themselves for possible being fooled, and hoped they would some day soon pick up the trail of her and Vasilli von Holtz disappearance.

At the first red hues of dusk the trees parted and they pulled the wagon into the cover of the brush. Ahead of them they saw what could only have been Yester Hill, and the end of the winding trail-less-traveled. Stone cairns encircled the hill, and atop it stood a ring of stones and a mighty wicker statue. It's visage, even from here, was familiar, and as they held up a coin to compare the Dark Lord's profile, they heard the distant sound of rhythmic chanting commence.