The Barghest of Briar Glen

The elders say that the barghests rise from light of the blood moon when the shadows of the town’s hearts greet the rusted light from Mani’s eclipsed face. That night in the village of Briar Glen, a beast greater than any barghest rose from the shadows to haunt the night. Its viscous howl tore through the darkness shaking even the stouthearted from their beds. The ground quaked under its clawed feet. The whole village shivered with fear.

In the morning, the shattered body of a young man lay on the village green weeping crimson blood and a strange amber ichor into the dying grass.
The aldermen of Briar Glen called out to the county council to send them an exorcist to rid them of the barghest before another citizen dies, and instituted a curfew to keep people off the streets.
Over the next week, every morning, another broken body lay crumpled on the ground in a different part of town. The beasts howling yowls haunted the nights, while the people rushed through their days to return home before sunset.
Fear of the shadows turned to accusations of black magic and betrayal leveled against children, butchers, and the farmers in the surrounding countryside. The desire to drive off the threat escalated become a danger in its own right.
One night, an unknown person torched the barn of a poor farmer who hadn’t gone into town throughout the attacks. Rumors circled around them. Had they summoned the beast to torment the village or exact some kind of revenge?
The less people knew, the more frightened they became. Under the cloud of unknowing, suspicion poisoned the villagers hearts and fed the power of the barghest.

By the end of the week, the exorcist arrived. He was a grim man who joined the curate of the Sith Thyrsa when he was just a child. Decades of serious study wore deep lines into his face, and his eyes grayed from so many hours of work deep into the night.
The exorcist marched into the village green in his imperious black robes and held his amulet of the giants’ favor over his head, tilting it constantly so it caught the light of the sun and shone like a torch in his hand.
“People of Briar Glen, I have come to save you.” the exorcist proclaimed with a certainty that warmed the hearts of all who heard his words. “Do not fear, people of the covenant. The Dark Lord has heard your cries and we have lifted you concerns to the Lord of Life who shall empower me to relieve all your suffering. Fret not, and go about your lives as if nothing were wrong. Your salvation is at hand.”
The citizens of Briar Glen rejoiced with a song of praise to the Dark Gentry and the Powers on High who sustained their life and world.
For many in the village, life returned to normal. Their faith in Dark Lord and the Curate outmatched their fear of the barghest. Nothing could harm them if they declared it so. Their words were law and no power stood a chance against them.

As night approached, only a few rushed home as they had before the exorcist came. The others didn’t dawdle, but they lost the speed they once had.
The exorcist stood tall and proud in the heart of the village green reciting spells, charms, and incantations of protection over the village. His voice rang out into the night light the clarion call of a bell invoking all the powers of the covenant to come to the aid and protection of the people.
Witch lights flickered to life in silver balls of swirling flame floating through the air in widening gyres around the hero of the hour.
As he continued to chant and rage against the darkness, each witch light took on a distinct color.
The shadows from the spiraling flames crawled on the ground like a swarm of angry insects trapping their prey.
On the street before the exorcist, the shade rose up in the shape of a large black dog. Behind it, another barghest formed… then another.
Dozens of shadowy beast rose from the darkness. They moved as one. In vile union, they howled into the night with a singular voice.
Fear seized the exorcist’s heart. He came to village to cast out a single barghest, not to face a horde of the beasts.
In all his studies, he never heard of so many mongrels tormenting one place. No tale provided a model.
“Begone!” he shouted at the spectral hounds. “By the authority given to me by the Dark Lord and power invested in me by the covenant, I revoke your right to inhabit these lands and cast your out into outer darkness.”
As one, the barghests stomped their feet on the pavement and the ground shook. The yowled in mockery of the exorcist, then took a step closer, tightening their circle.
The exorcist reached out to the witch lights around him and forced them to spin faster around him. Their light stretched out into a line of colored light.
Voices like a chorus singing in the depths of a cave broke into the village green.
Frightened faces peered out of the windows around the square.
The barghests charged the exorcist.
One by one the witch lights winked out as they hit the side of the beasts.
The exorcist cried out in terror.
Gnashing teeth and claws sank deep into his flesh.
Blood splattered in the air in a perverse mockery of a macabre fountain as the last of the witch lights died.
The barghests growled and snarled and they tore the flesh from the exorcist’s body. They didn’t consume it, but tossed it away like ravenous children ripping the wrapping from a long awaited present.
Gasps and squeals of fright peeled from the windows as the exorcist succumb to the onslaught.
Under the waining moonlight, the shadowy beasts covered most of their savagery from the witnessing stares.
The barghests howled, then scattered into the city streets leaving nothing bu the skeleton and rent flesh, and blood of the exorcist behind.

When the sun broke over the horizon, an old woman stood alone beside the strewn remains of the exorcist. A single tear ran from her eye down her wizened and skeletal face to drip from her chin onto her black scabbard. Her black veil covered her silver hair and made her resemble a nun, but she was a practitioner of the old ways.
An alderman who fancied himself chief over the council rushed to the scene after he finished his breakfast and tidied himself up to present the proper appearance to the crowds he expected to gather. When he saw the old woman weeping over the carnage, he sneered at her. “What are you doing here?” His voice was almost a growl.
“I heard of the troubles in your fair village, and came to see for myself. I never imagined anything like this.” She waved her palm toward the bloodstained grass and inhaled sharply. “He was one of your priests?”
“Did you kill him?” the alderman said.
The old woman sighed. “Of course not. We signed the same pledge as you. Besides if we had, you know there wouldn’t be so much blood wasted.”
“Unless you wanted to throw us off your trail.” the alderman spat. “Your kind are not welcome in our village. Depart, and we will speak of this no more.”
“I am Mother Soteria of my people, and the covenant grants me the right to travel wherever I see fit. You say my people practice the old ways because our path goes back to Lilith, but you and your kind seem to have forgotten the new covenant that names us equals.”
The alderman grunted as if he were about to wretch. “How dare you invoke the covenant against me. I know the law, and you will show me my proper respect.”
“I though I was.” Mother Soteria said. “Your council has power. You alone are just a little man with a poisoned heart.”
“How dare a beldam like you tell me what I can and cannot do.”
Mother shivered, then leered at him.
The alderman raised his hand, “Keep your evil eye off me.”
“The eye is not evil only what it sees. Do not judge yourself too harshly, that is what the covenant is for.” Mother returned her gaze to the scattered remains of the exorcist on the green. “I am not your enemy here.”
“Unless you called barghest against us.”
Mother sighed. “We don’t work for the son of chaos. If you want, I might be able to help you.”
“How could you? The Rephaim are just necromancers, we don’t need to talk to the dead. We know how they died.”
Mother shook her head. “We have people who specialize in dealing with barghests.”
“Is that convenient? How much will their services cost us?”
“Nothing.” Mother paused to let the word hang in the air for a moment. “I only need your word that you and your people won’t persecute them or drive them from town.”
The alderman lowered his hand. “As you pointed out, I do not have the authority or the power to promise you anything.”
“I only hoped you had enough faith in your people to vouch for them. It would demonstrate a great deal of ingratitude to drive away help that has been freely offered.”
The alderman stood in silence.
Mother raised her head so she could see him clearer. “Whether or not you believe it or not, we are on the same side. I know you think we are nothing put hedge witches at best, and revenants at worse, but you must know we serve the same purpose in the end.”
“Even though your people wouldn’t sign the covenant?”
“We serve no master, no king, but we joined the covenant because out elders and yours saw the darkness rising and knew we could only weather the storm together.”
The alderman nodded. “If you think it your people could help, send them. I am sure the others will agree to taking their assistance, but you have to swear this isn’t a trick. That there isn’t a hidden price.”
Mother crossed her arms over her heart. “In the names of Our Great Mother, I declare firmly and without deceit our desire to help your people and drive off the darkness.” She waited for the alderman to acknowledge her. “Now, give me your word that you will not interfere with our work.”
“You have my word.”

True to her word, Mother Soteria sent a Pardoner and a Confessor to the village of Briar Glen. Before they left, she instructed them to take no weapons with them and to leave the village if the Alderman brakes his word.
The Pardoner and the Confessor agreed. They carried nothing with them but their faith in the Great Mother and their burning desire to break the bonds of darkness from those lost in this world. They dressed in the gray robe and cowl of their orders. The only mark distinguishing them was the medallion they wore around their necks.
On the Confessor’s golden medal, the sword and scales of Themis stood out in white enamel. The Pardoner’s Silver medallion bore the open hand with the shatter manacle chain of Mamma Schiavona.
Like Mother Soteria, their flesh was ashen and weathered. Their cowls kept the sun out of their gray eyes.
As the walked to the village they sang the songs of the Great Mother under her many names. They didn’t talk to one another. This wasn’t the first barghest they banished, and they knew all too well what to expect from the Sith Thyrsa in the village would looked down on the Trivian Way. Their time was best spent raising their spirits to brace themselves for the cold reception that lay before them.
They ended their songs before they could be overheard to prevent accusations of trying to bewitch other with their singing.
A few heads turned as the entered the village, but as they expected, most people turned way from them. The Sith Thyrsa feared the evil eye, or as the Trivians called it, the Eye of Judgement. Both the Pardoner and the Confessor knew that only the wicked need fear their gaze, but rumors persisted about the evil of their kind.
No one talked to them as they made their way into the heart of the village. The blood and amber ichor remained on the green, but the body and flesh had been removed.
The Confessor stretched her hands out toward the green and said, “Mother Themis, reveal to us the shadows that break the peace of this village.”
A sparkling mist precipitated from her fingers, covering the area. As it fell, not all of it reached the ground.
Outlines of twenty barghests could the shimmering dust as rained to the ground, along with strange lines that could mark the trail of others who passed through the field but didn’t linger long enough to leave an impression on the scene.
“So many shades.” The Pardoner said. “I have never seen so many in one place before.”
The Confessor agreed. “They arise from the miasma of the area, but this many shouldn’t exist unless this was a battlefield, and a recent one at that.”
No one stepped forward to talk to them, so they didn’t ask. They came to heal the land, not to probe the secrets of the villagers. Besides, the amount of carnage it would take to raise this many barghests would leave their mark on the buildings and the land.
Skalds accompanied the Vikings on their raid from time to time. They could reveal the hidden towns, but it was so rare. If such a thing had happened here, there would be signs of a recent raid, and there were none.
The Confessor and the Pardoner investigated the area without bothering the locals until the sun began to set.
As the villagers rushed into their homes, the Confessor and the Pardoner drew their protective circles on the road with salt and herbs, and braced themselves for the terrors of night.
The shadows stretched over the hills and down from the trees and building to cloak the land in darkness. One by one, the barghests rose from the night onto the streets of Briar Glen.
They howled into the night, then rushed the circle in search of prey. They stopped before the they reached the edge as if they saw an invisible fence around the Pardoner and the Confessor.
The Pardoner raised his hands into the air and said, “Mamma Schiavona, cleans this land of the the darkness, jealousy, anger, hate, and bitterness that gives rise to such beast of hollow shadow.”
Waves of silver light rippled out from the Pardoner’s hands, stretching out the form of the barghests.
“Enough of that.” A voice said with a snap of his fingers.
The rings of live shattered and fell to the ground like broken glass.

The Confessor called out, “In the Name of Themis, reveal yourself to us.”
The shadow figure drew closer to them as if pulled by a rope. “You have no right to order me around.” The shade said with a smooth, calm voice. “I am not a demon or spirit that you can command.”
“Then what are you?” The Confessor commanded.
“Really, your Mother should have taught you better manners.” The shade snapped his fingers again and the barghests formed up in a semicircle behind him.
“Di Inferi.” The Pardoner said. “No one called you. No one gave your permission to haunt this village.”
The Inferi laughed. “I have every right to haunt this land with all my sister, siblings, and brothers. We possessed this land before the wicked took it from us. They desecrated our ara, and left use lost and weak and powerless for all these years. Is it not just that we use their own strife against them?”
The Pardoner grabbed the Confessors arm and shook his head. “If the Inferi has a grievance with these people, it isn’t our place to stand in their way.”
“Revenge isn’t justice.” The Confessor said.
“The blood of our descendants fertilize their fields and cries out for vengeance.” The Inferi said. “The beat us, killed us, then praised their ancestors for their wisdom and compassion. They pretend we were never here. That is was always their land.”
“They don’t massacre us anymore.” The Confessor said. “They have learned, grown.”
“Do they treat you as equals?”
“Under the covenant…”
“Not what I asked.” The Inferi interrupted the Confessor. “Do they treat you as equals? What have they really learned other than how to cover their history with glory and ours with shame?”
The Confessor couldn’t speak. She stood for a moment, contemplating her next words carefully. “They have learned to ignore the sorrows of the world.”
With a single, unnaturally long step, the Inferi approached them with a long broken smile stretching across his face. “They carried the darkness with them in their hearts. How can they ever hope to defeat it? They delude themselves.”
“It is not our place to tell them what to do.” The Confessor said.
“If not us, then who?” The Pardoner asked.
The Confessor squirmed. “We cannot allow you to kill these people for the sins of their ancestors.”
The Inferi laughed. “I killed no one. Their sins have killed them. I didn’t create the barghests, they did that to themselves. All I am guilt of, my dear Confessor, is reveling in the grief they brought to their own doorsteps. It might not me right to dance to the music of their downfall, but it is no sin on my part.”
“You stopped us from dispelling the barghests.” The Pardoner said.
“True.” The Inferi clicked his tongue. “How naughty of me to keep you from wasting your strength? Go ahead. Dispel them. They will return after you are gone because the rot remains no matter how much lime your cover it with.”
The Pardoner sighed. “He’s right. The barghests are a symptom of a much deeper problem. It isn’t right for us to give them false hope.”
“Good.” The Inferi said. “I am glad you see the truth. Stay in your circle tonight. The barghests will not leave such a tempting target, but they won’t be able to get to you. Then leave in the morning. This village is dying, and there is nothing you can do to save it.”
The Pardoner motioned for the Confessor to hold her peace, then nodded at the Inferi. “We will add your name to our altar of remembrance. What is it?”
The Inferi smiled, turned, then walked away into the gloom.

The Confessor and the Pardoner sat quietly in the circle for the rest of the night, and watched barghests fade out of existence as the first rays of the sun entered the village.
“We cannot leave these people to be killed.” The Confessor said.
“Of course not. Saint Cirice would return to punish us herself.” The Pardoner said. “But the Inferi was right. We have to cut of the barghests from their the source of their power or they will return in greater numbers.”
“How do we do that?” The Confessor said. “The villagers won’t listen to us, let alone believe us.”
The Confessor and the Pardoner did not move from their circle. As the villagers awoke and started their day, they took it in turns to recite the truth in hopes they would be heard and listened to.
“A great darkness lives in the heart of this village.” The Confessor said. “Distrust, worry, and anxiety feed the shadows and give the shades power. Turn your hearts to peace and compassion. Confess your fears so the darkness will starve.”
No one stopped to listen. The villagers carried on with their routines as if nothing was wrong.
“All life is fragile.” The Pardoner said. “Fear, bitterness, and hate arise when the ground of the heart is left untended and allowed to rage. Be at peace. Seek only peace, and this darkness shall pass.”
Still no one listened. The day stretched on and the villagers went on about their daily chores as if their were two mute statues in the center of the road to be passed without thought or notice.
The Confessor and the Pardoner did not give up. They called out to everyone who passed them on the streets, entreating them to forgive themselves and their ancestors for their sins.
Under the heat of the midday sun, a villager stopped at the circle. He crossed his arms and glowered at the Confessor and the Pardoner.
“How dare you accuse us!” The villager said with hate in his eyes. “My great grandparents fought and died to settle this village. Without their sacrifice, none of us would be here.”
The Confessor stood to face the angry villager. “What would you have us do? We came to save you from the terror of the barghests. If we don’t close off the source of their power they will return every night to torment the village.”
“How do we know you didn’t send them to drive us from our land?” The villager said.
The Pardoner stood and joined the Confessor. “If we did, why wouldn’t we just leave and let them have their way with you?”
“Who can understand the mind of the fallen?” The villager said and kicked the salt ring, breaking the circle.
The villager waved his arms and recited the words so a ball of fire kindled in his hands. He threw it at them.
Dodging out of the way, the Pardoner twisted in the air and steepled his fingers. He fell lightly to the ground.
The villager stomped his foot on the ground and thunder cracked over head.
“What are you doing?” Someone shouted with such authority everyone froze.
Light coalesced into a whip in the hands of the Alderman. Shock and disgust etched server lines into his face. “How dare you attack our guests? The council of Brian Glen invited them here to help us at great risk to their own lives and you have the audacity to assault them in the street in broad daylight.”
“They insulted our ancestors and our way of life.” The villager said.
“Did you hear what they said?” The alderman asked.

“They insulted us.” The villager said.
“They said our anger and bitterness brought the barghest, and you proved them right.”
The villager stammered.
“Our apologies.” The Alderman said with a bow. “What can we do to break the power of these barghests?”
The Pardoner stood up and shook the dust off his robes. “Barghests come and go, but these are different. An inferi restrained them until their power reached the peak it is at now. I am afraid there is no simple answer to that question.”
“All our magic is fueled by our emotions, passions, and oaths. A barghest is no different, but it is born from the words left unspoken, the desires repressed, or the seething anger of the heart.” The Confessor said. “One person cannot make one. They arise from the collective miasma of the community.”
“They are the wounds of the village given life to haunt and torment the villagers.” The Pardoner said.
The villager scoffed. “So we brought this upon ourselves?”
“Not on purpose.” The Confessor said. “And before you say it, you don’t deserve it. The shadows of our past actions haunt us all, and go on to torment future generations if we are not careful. If a wound is not healed, it festers. The barghest is a fever trying to heal the community in the only way it knows, by lashing out.”
“What can we do?” The alderman asked.
“Call for a day of atonement, and begin to heal these wounds.” The Confessor said.

The Confessor and the Pardoner repaired the circled and sat there waiting for the alderman to take their recommendation to the village council.
On the first night, the barghest returned, pacing around the circle gnashing their teeth and howling in rage that they were denied their prey.
The second night, they charged the circle, scraping their teeth and claws on the invisible barrier between them.
As the sun set on the third night, the barghests rose from the shadows and ignored the Confessor and the Pardoner. They walked from door to door sniffing at the thresholds.
The Confessor prayed the people lit their candles and performed the rite they recommended, but since no one bothered to tell them the results of the council’s deliberations, if there were any, all she could do was pray.
To her left, the Pardoner recited incantations to summon power into his body should he need it.
The horde of barghests stopped at the sixth house on the left and howled in rage. One leapt up and clawed at the door, one on either side of it dug at the corners of the door.
Without a thought, the Confessor sprang from the protective circle at the beasts. As she incanted the hex of force, a swarm of luminous speck rose from her body and formed a shell around her.
She rammed into the pack. The spell knocked the barghests from before her.
Reaching the door, she pressed her back into the wood and sang the song of release to scatter the power of the barghest. “Children of shadow, gone before me, join your voices with mine. Hold our truth as your guide, united as one vine. Shatter the darkness in our wake. Give light to the brightness we shall make.”
Fire erupted from her heart and spun into a ball over the heads of the barghests.
The creatures jumped free from the tongues of flame stretching toward them.
“Breaker of chains, mother of freedom, join us in our fight.” The Pardoner sang the second verse. “Tower of strength, cover us in your wings, defend us with your might. Grant that we might see the unconquerable light.”
Wings of light broke from the Pardoner’s back.
The barghests looked away from it in pain.
“Stop this!” The Inferi shouted as he emerged from the shadows.
The Confessor raised her hand over her head and said, “Mother Themis, grant me you sword of justice.”
Light flared from her palm, stretching through the air like a vine. With a thunderous flash, a luminous golden blade appeared in her hand.
“In the name of justice, and for the cause of truth, may no falsehood stand before our blade.” The Confessor flourished the blade and leapt into the air.

The Pardoner lunged toward her, and with a flap of his wings, reached her at the height of her arc. He grabbed her free hand and carried her over the horde of barghests who snapped furiously at her feet.
Arching his back at the downbeat of his wings, the Pardoner threw her toward the Inferi.
With a cry like a bird of prey, the Confessor landed on the ground before the Inferi and sprang to her feet.
The Pardoner landed on the street behind her and stretched his wings out to shield her from the angry pack of barghests clawing and biting at the barrier.
Sneering, the Inferi said, “I am already dead, you cannot kill me again.”
“No.” The Confessor pointed the tip of her sword at him, “But I can sever your links with the land of the living.”
Fear drew the Inferi’s face flat. “You would do that for them?”
“No. I would do it for all of us. You are here to serve the needs of the living, not to impose your will upon us.” The Confessor flexed her muscles as if she were about to charge, but stood her ground.
The Inferi stepped back.
“Do you yield?” The Confessor demanded.
“Even if I do, you won’t save this village. They are already lost.”
“My heart is heavy, and burdens tight,” The voice of the Alderman filled the air. “I break these chains by mercy’s light. There is not word or deed worth losing my might.”
The Inferi staggered back.
Behind him, a door flew open, and a family emerged and sang the song of forgiveness, “My heart is heavy…”
More doors opened and others added their voice to the song.
The freshness of spring flowers filled the air.
“They listened.” The Confessor said. “Do you yield?”
The Inferi stood silent. He pressed his hands over his chest and steepled his fingers. “My heart is heavy…” He joined the song of forgiveness.
Lightness filled the air, carried on the voices of village as the joined in the song.
The barghest howled against the villagers.
Slowly, their howls harmonized with the song, and then joined the melody as the dissolved back into the shadows of the night.
The villagers wept as they sang as the accepted the harm their ancestors had done. They held each other and apologized for the slights and pain they caused one another.
One by one, the villager fell on their knees before the Inferi and apologized for harm their ancestors committed against the Trivian People.
The next day, the village council invited the Confessor and the Pardoner to stay with them and build an ara for the Di Inferi.

They stayed and taught the village how to make amends for the sins of their past.

The tale of the Confessor and the Pardoner spread far and wide throughout Aernadael. Over time the county councils added a Trivian Confessor and Pardoner to their numbers to intercede between the world of the spirits and the land of the living so the sins of each generation could not live beyond them.