The Grave's Cry

The wind howled outside as he hid in the dark corner of the old barn. He covered his mouth in an attempt to silence his heavy breathing. Blood covered the ground around him, but it wasn't his. It was the blood of his victims that he could now hear crying for vengeance. "I was so careful!" William thought to himself, "not even the Devil could have found me!" For the last couple of years, William had delighted himself in hunting down victims in the nearby city and luring them away to be tortured and killed. His exploits had earned a reputation and a nickname, The Butcher. But he was certain that no one could trace the murders back to his little farm outside the city. Yet what had been his delightful, hideous secret now turned into mounting dread and crippling fear.

But an hour earlier he was traveling down the road to his farm with his newest young acquisition. As he began the final approach, the form of a man with broad shoulders stood in the road ahead. He was robed and wore a thick hood over his head. Not the typical garb of the local city dwellers or of the town guard. "Just act natural," William thought to himself, "the girl is unconscious and this is probably just some foreigner. Worst comes to worst I'll have two animals to butcher tonight." At that thought, he found that he struggled to hide the sickly grin now crawling over his mouth.

"Hail!" He shouted out to the stranger, "Are you lost? Do you need directions to town?" The figure remained silent. The horse-drawn wagon kept a steady pace, but the horse was starting to grow restless. He called out again, but still no reply. William started to feel irritated with the lack of response and unease being manifested in his steed. He reached for his chopping blade and prepared to teach the foreigner a lesson.

The wagon was coming upon the stranger now. The crisp moonlight and firelight from the lantern of the wagon now gave light to the former silhouette. William could now make out that the figure wore smoky grey robes that covered heavier armor underneath. What little of the man's face appeared was deathly pale in the moonlight. Around his neck hung a medallion. William stained to see what emblem was on it.

"William Carver of Tul'Karst." the figure stated with a dark authority that made William's neck and arm hairs stand in defense. A chill ran through him as fear suddenly started to replace his grim confidence. "How does he know my name?!"

"Yes? to who do I speak and what business have I with you?" he retorted as he gripped the handle of his blade even tighter.

"I am merely a humble priest. I have come to you on behalf of my lord."

"A priest? I have never seen a priest of your dress. Who is your 'lord'? What god do you serve?"

From under the robes he pulled out a dark, hideous sickle covered in lightly glowing, archaic runes. "I serve the Lord of Justice; the Great Judge that stands the gates of death!" The sickle suddenly burst to life with blue flame.

William's eyes grew wide and he immediately whipped the horse into a sprint. As the wagon lurched forward into full speed, William nearly fell off. He let out a scream of rage as he sought to run over the foreboding priest that stood in his way.

The priest sidestepped and took a swing with the sickle which tore into the wagon wheel causing it to snap and buckle. William was thrown from his perch and landed face first in the mud. He scrambled to his feet readied his butcher's knife. He could now make out the symbol on the medallion as it matched the shield the priest now held. It was a skeletal hand holding a set of scales.

The priest suddenly burst into a full sprint towards William and the flaming sickle slashed through the air! William barely managed to roll out of the way. He swung the blade only to make purchase with the wooden shield. The blade clung to the wood and did not budge. William reached for another blade as the flaming sickle flung towards him from behind the shield. As the blade swung past his face, the flame radiated with cold and sucked the heat off his body. Terrified and confused, William kicked off the priest causing the hood to fling off. The pale face looked up at him with, pupil-less eyes the color of deep sapphire blue. Two dark, demonic horns protruded from his forehead and swept back along his skull.

"A demon?!" William cried out.

"No, but I will usher you to Hell all the same" he retorted as, suddenly, peering out from behind the priest stood was a translucent figure: a little girl that William remembered all too well.

As he stared in disbelief at the little girl hiding behind the priest, William felt the burning pain throughout his body as a burst of celestial flame appeared all around him. He quickly rolled away and began running away from the devil-priest and the ghostly girl. He turned back once and saw the horned figure releasing the young woman he had captured just hours before.

The priest looked up and pointed at William. A burst of light shot past William's face as some sort of magical energy released from the priest's outstretched hand. He knew he had to get away, and fast!

He wasn't sure how long he had been running when the trees finally broke and he found the small barn hidden in the forest. He stumbled in and quickly hid. Time was lost in the moments he sat there shaking. He was the predator turned prey and he knew why. The hook that he had planned to use hung from the ceiling like a noose mocking his fear. There was nowhere to go.

The room grew even colder as a familiar blue glow appeared at the door of the barn. William reached for a weapon, any weapon! The door swung open and the devil-priest stood staring into the darkness, the little ghost child at his side as if clinging to the leg of a parent. The priest began uttering words in some unfamiliar language. It was then that William noticed that other spectral figures rose up from the blood around him. He recognized each of them just as he had recognized the little girl. They were the spirits of the men and women that he has slaughtered here; their ghostly gazes piercing into his soul.

"No, please! Have mercy!" he cried.

"William 'Butcher' Carver, you stand trial before the spirits of those who lost their lives at your hand. You have been charged with kidnapping and manslaughter." said the priest. "You now cry for mercy? Do you then plead guilty and ask for remission?"

"Yes! Yes, I plead guilty! I'm sorry, please forgive me!" he begged as he threw himself down on his knees before the dark jury before him.

The priest turned to the souls surrounding him. "You have heard his confession. Have you reached a verdict?"

"Yeessss" the spirits said in cold unison.

"Verdict?"

"Guuuiltyyy"

"Sentence?"

"DEEEAATHHH"

"N-" William began, but his protest was cut off along with his head and the priest blurred past him with a streak of blue flame. His head rolled across the floor, eyes wide in horror.

"Justiiiccee" the voices echoed as the spirits began to fade away. Soon, only the little girl remained with the priest and the body of her killer. "Thank you, mister," she said softly, her eyes grateful and full of relief. "What is your name?"

The priest bent down on one knee and began lighting incense. "I am but a servant of the Lord of Death." he said with a gentle smile, "Go now young one and be at peace. The incense will guide you home." He uttered a few words and the soul of the smiling girl drifted away.

The priest stood up. He took his dark sickle of blue flame and began setting the barn ablaze. Satisfied that he had brought swift justice, he turned from the barn and returned to the young woman whom he had freed from captivity. He carried her back to the gates of the city from which she had been taken. Once he had acquired the guards' attention woman at the gates, he drew his hood back over his face and took off into the night in search of the next lost soul in need.