Chapter One

Syrvena Kunning squatted in the cool alley mud beside the wall of the Feast and Flagon Inn, tying back her hair with a length of twine. It was still twilight, perhaps an hour before dawn, and she still had to work quickly.

Syrvena, or Ven as she preferred to be called, rolled up the sleeves of her tunic, and slid her leather slippers off so that the mud squished between her toes. There were only a few scant moments the inn's common room would be devoid of patrons, and there was no chance of her getting in the crawlspace and back out in one piece if a couple dozen bodies were pressing the old wooden floor of the place down onto her. She could barely fit in there anymore as it was. Soon she'd have to start bribing one of the local children to retrieve the coins that fell through cracks in the floor for her. Maybe Mikkem's son. That boy was fearless.

And there was Mother to contend with. She’d be furious if she found out her daughter had gone diving in the muck for lost change. Again. After being told not to. On five separate occasions. No, wait. This would be the sixth. At this point if she was caught again, Ven was fairly certain she’d be drug out of the house by her ear and made to sleep in the pig stalls for a week or two for disobeying.

Giving the narrow gap between the muddy ground and the inn floor one final glance, Syrvena sighed and pulled herself stomach-down into the dark gap of the crawlspace. Once inside, she ran her free hand across the lumenite rod in the other. The stone rod flared to life, illuminating the narrow slot between floor and filth she now occupied. The light was dim, but in the near absolute darkness it felt like sunlight. She scrambled forwards, using her hands and feet to half-drag, half-push herself through the dirt as she cast jagged dancing shadows against the joists and beams only a few inches overhead.

She found her first silver crown near one of the support beams, and a second one a few paces further in the bottom of a small puddle. After some more scrambling, she found a pair of copas directly beneath the seating for the bar. Then she noticed the gilder next to them. Seeing the large gold coin sticking half out of the ground next to the two copper ones made her eyes grow wide. In a town like Renning, a gilder was enough to buy you a month's worth of drink and meals, or a pair of decent oxen. Compared to the wages she made serving in the inn, it felt like a fortune.

She slid the gold piece into the pocket of her trousers along with the rest of the coins. A few more minutes turned up a few more copas and crowns, but no gold. There was no chance she was going to get that lucky twice. Satisfied that she’d found everything there was to be found, she turned herself around and began to crawl for the exit. Then she stopped short as the front door of the inn clicked gently open and the floor above her creaked. Had she left the door open? More creaks groaned in protest as someone walked down the second floor staircase and crossed the common room, then pulled a chair away from one of the tables nearby.

“You’d better have a good reason for pulling me from my dreams, love. Especially not when you’ve even let me know you’re back first.” A woman said softly. She didn’t sound happy. It took a moment for Ven to place her voice. It was Erie, daughter to Logen the blacksmith.

“I would never wake you without reason. But this is important.” A man replied. He had a thin, nasally voice, like someone was holding his nostrils clamped shut with a clothespin.

Ven frowned. She didn't recognize his voice. As distinct as it was, she would have probably remembered hearing it before. She drew to a stop and listened, curious.

“I want you to leave town with me before the festival tonight.” Nasal-voice said.

“Why? What’s wrong?” The woman asked.

“I just have a bad feeling. You know what they say about spirits coming back on Last Moon to torment the living. Well, I can’t shake the fear they’ll come this time, and I don’t want to be here when they do. ”

The woman scoffed.

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe that you, Harkam Telishan, actually believe those wives’ tales.”

“I do, Erie. I didn’t used to, but in these past months I’ve seen things and heard things that make me believe there might be some truth to them.” The man called Harkam said. “And if there is, no matter how little, I don’t want to risk losing you. If I could have convinced you to leave and didn’t, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Erie started to laugh quietly, but quickly fell silent.

“Oh Gods, you’re actually serious.” She said.

“Yes, for once I am. Leave town before nightfall. Go where we always go. I will meet you there. Please, I am begging you.” He said urgently.

“Harkam, I don’t want to leave. You’re being ridiculous.” Erie said. Her tone, however, didn’t sound convinced.

“Erie, I love you. You can think I’m being ridiculous. I probably am. But out of your love for me, please just give me this. Please.” Harkam said.

Evie sighed loudly, and a thick silence hung between them for several long moments before she spoke again.

“You are lucky I love you so much.” She said, then added, “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to miss my favorite night of the year. But if it’s what you need to feel okay, I will do it for you. Though I want to make it very clear that I think you’re being absurd.”

Harkam sighed, sounding relieved.

“Thank you, Erie. Thank you.”

“You can make it up to me later.” She said. “Now, can I go back to sleep? Or do you have more ridiculous things to worry me about?”

Harkam snorted softly.

“No love, that’s all. Get some rest. I will see you tonight.” He said.

A chair slid back from the table above, followed by the other. The two said final words of parting, and two sets of creaks traveled off in opposite directions before leaving her alone in silence again.

What in the 5 Planes was that about?

It took a few long moments of scrambling to get out of the crawlspace again and back into open air. Ven went to head straight back into the inn, but stopped short when she remembered that she was caked from chin to toes in filth. If she drug a path of mud into the common room her mother would kill her. After making her get down on all fours to scrub it up with a hogbristle brush, of course. Looking around, she spotted one of the horse blankets from the stables hanging over the stall wall that bordered the other side of the alley. She pulled it down, wishing now that she’d just unlocked the back door instead. Grabbing her slippers, she made it to the front porch and used the blanket to clean off her feet and legs before she slipped the shoes back on. She then wrapped the blanket around the rest of her and walked towards the kitchen doors to get a bath.

To Ven’s complete horror, she was only about a dozen paces from the doors when her mother entered the common room from the kitchens. Seeing her daughter standing awkwardly in front of her, she set the stack of dishes she was carrying on the wooden bar and crossed her arms.

“Syrvena Kunning, I hope that’s not mud I see all over your arms.”

Sheepishly, Syrvena hid the one that was visible beneath the horse blanket.

“...No?”

Amara Kunning crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow at her daughter.

“What have I told you about crawling around down there?” She asked.

“Mom, I-” Ven started, but stopped short when her mother raised her hand.

“If you keep doing that, one of these days you are going to get yourself stuck. And when you do, and I have to get Mikkem or Torfel or one of the other men to drag you out of there...”

The berating went on for several long moments before Ven could get in a word edgewise, and that only seemed to make things worse. She was only finally able to smooth things over by turning out her pockets and handing over the crowns and copas she’d found. She was careful to palm the gilder out of sight, however. Mother didn’t need to know about that one. At least, not yet. Ven had plans for that one.

Cleaning up from her little adventure was a fast and unpleasant affair. As Mother was already up and prepping the kitchen, there wasn’t a chance she’d be allowed to take the time to heat water for a proper bath. So Ven shed her muddy tunic and trousers in the backroom wash basin and rinsed off with a couple buckets worth of water from the pump. At this time of morning it was frigidly cold, and within moments she was shivering uncontrollably. Serves you right, Ven. That’s what you get for sleeping too long. If you’d gotten up at first crowing, you’d have had plenty of time for a warm bath before she’d woken up.

The morning crowd arrived soon after sunrise, and before long  she'd all but forgotten about the conversation she’d overheard in the bustle of filling drinks, checking out guests, and carrying platters of food to tables. She did keep an ear out for Erie or the nasal-voice man, but whether because of the din of a dozen conversations around her, or the pace of her work, she never heard or saw either amongst the crowd.

Once breakfast and lunch had been cleared away, Ven took advantage of the break to head outside. Once she was sure no one could see her, she pulled the loose brick free from the back corner of the inn, and stashed the gilder with the other coins she’d been saving. She almost had enough. A couple more times, if she was lucky, and she’d finally have enough to leave Renning for good. Or, at least for a good long while.

On her way back to the front entrance, she stopped for a moment to admire the decorations being set up around the village square for this evening’s festivities. The Last Moon Festival only came once a year, but she always looked forward to it. She didn’t believe in all the superstitions surrounding it, of course. She was too old for that sort of thing now. But she wasn’t too old to enjoy the costumes, and the sweets, and the tales Old Havard would tell around the Great Fire. Maybe this year she’d finally get to play the Thresher in the Harvest Hunt. She’d been practicing her cackle all year in preparation. In secret, of course.

Despite the village’s size, they did still have the best celebration within a hundred miles. It wasn’t uncommon for outsiders to flock to Renning to participate. Not that Ven had been to any others, but that didn’t make it less true, right? As she thought about it, hadn’t the conversation she’d overheard been about tonight? Thinking about it, the whole thing seemed rather funny. Of course spirits and monsters didn’t come out during the Last Moon Festival. Any kid over the age of eight knew that.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur. After seventh bell, the Feast and Flagon was finally able to shut its doors for the night, and she could get dressed for the festival. At fourteen, she was probably too old to be dressing up in costumes anymore. Most stopped by eleven or twelve. But she didn’t care. It was fun. She liked dressing up like a spirit in her horned demon mask. And she wasn’t going to let anyone ruin it for her with their stupid little made up rules that didn’t actually exist.

Finally dressed for the night, she began to tie her slippers as eight bell rang to mark the start of the festival. Cheers rose up from the village square outside her second-story window, and music sprang to life as a group of musicians started one of the customary jigs to start things off. Everything was in order for this to be another wonderful celebration of the mysterious and the macabre.

Then, out of nowhere, the music stopped.

And the screams began.