#17 The Mystery of Barfunweltz Manse
Anya and Dieter Liedl clasped hands. Instinctively, unconsciously. As twelve year olds, neither would ever admit to having done so, but the twins knew that they were only going to get through this ordeal together.
“We’re lost, aren’t we.” said Anya. It wasn’t a question, nor an accusation. Just a statement of alarming truth.
Lost in Barfunweltz Cemetery.
The very place where, six winters previously, their own father and his sergeant had mysteriously disappeared while on patrol. Most children of the Glymmsmen ended up loosing a parent and the local culture accepted and accounted for the fact. But the orphans of Shyishian soldiers were notoriously scarred souls nonetheless.
They tried retracing their steps, but the labyrinthine paths among the tombs all looked alike. A few brave cartographers had attempted to map the vast cemetery but it defied geography. It was ever growing too, and some even believed it now spanned a whole continent of the Realm of Death.
Eventually, exhausted, the twins slumped down together against the wall of a sepulchre beneath the sinuous vines of a red rose that clambered over the stonework. Anya was too tired to realise she had rested her elbow on an upturned skull. The mauve light was turning a deeper purple. Suddenly a rumble of thunder shook the ground and without warning, rain poured down.
Anya and Dieter tried desperately not to panic, but their minds were racing with remorse and regrets: Why had they been so stupid? Why had they egged one another on to explore the cemetery? Why had they run from their mother when she called them back? The poor woman had aged beyond recognition since her husband's death, spiralling into a slough of despair even as her children had become more and more wild and reckless. But this experience would surely reign them in somewhat.
They had the sense at least to stay where they were. If they had found it impossible to navigate among the graves in the daylight, then darkness could only make it harder. Drenched to the skin, they started shivering. Terrified, their eyes frantically searched through the dark curtain of rain, for rumours abounded of the terrors of this place.
Chief among these was of course the Baby-Eating Bishop of Barfunweltz. What had once been their favourite bedtime story was now their greatest fear. But they had heard tales of so many other ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties: of the spectral funeral procession of an ancient vampire; of gheists gathered in great congregations or armies; of the dreaded 'Abbess'. And of course the flesh-eaters, the very creatures their father had been sent to investigate the night he disappeared.
For what seemed like hours they crouched there, soaked, tremulous, huddled beneath the blood roses. Suddenly Dieter nudged his sister and pointed a quivering finger. Anya looked up slowly as if the very movement of her eyeballs might give them away. At first she could see nothing, but then, gradually, a shape appeared, although the rain still fell through it, uninterrupted. It was as if a cold blue light was shining on the rain drops, reflecting back to them. Frozen with fear, both children stared.
As children of Shyish they had of course both seen ghosts before. But safe with their mother within the walls of Glymmsforge was a world away from lost in Barfunweltz at night in the pouring rain. And yet, as the image on the rain became more focused they found their fear was not increasing. Rather, both children felt their hearts strangely warmed with some inexplicable recognition. Then the image converged into a face.
It was a skull face with a rictus smile. It looked identical to every other grinning skull, and yet it felt different.
"Father?" whispered both twins in unison.
As swiftly as it had coalesced, the vision shrank again, as if moving further away. Without hesitation, the children lept up and followed it. Neither considered their action for a moment. The draw of the very idea of ‘Daddy’ was enough. The gheist moved away from them, winding in and out gravestones and sepulchres as if showing the twins a path. The children ran on, hearts racing with exertion, and excitement, and fear. Faster and faster the figure led them, driven by some dreadful urgency. Anya had always been the faster runner but hope and desperation gave Dieter speed and he followed close behind.
Suddenly, there loomed out of the darkness a stone wall. The spectre continued straight through and Deiter stumbled into his sister as she came to a sudden halt, having almost run into it. They seemed to be sheltered from the rain here, and looking up they noticed they now stood beneath a structure built out from the wall. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but they appeared to have come upon a large house.
"Where did Daddy go?" asked Anya, her heart pounding, "How do we get in?"
Dieter was already feeling his way along the wall to their left, sheltered by the overhang of the first floor. "There's a window here, but I don't think we can get through it." They followed the stone wall further, rose briars scratching their desperate hands as they felt their way to a corner of the building. A little further on they stopped suddenly. They had come to some sort of porch. In the darkness before them was the unmistakable shape of a door, outlined by flickering green light shining from behind it.
It wasn't a warm or welcoming light, but the lure of their father’s spirit, and the contrast with the torrential darkness behind them was enough. Anya turned the rose-shaped doorknob and gently pushed. The door swung open easily, but with a spine-tingling creak.
"Father?"
Hearts pounding in their ears, they entered the house. They were in a grand room. The stone floor was covered with rich rugs, crimson velvet curtains hung at the windows and the smooth plastered walls were intricately painted with a rose motif. In the centre of the room, a triple candelabrum stood upon a wooden table, its three flickering green flames illuminating the space. Outside, they could hear the rain beating against the windows. There was no sign of their father's ghost, nor of anyone else.
The twins stood still for a moment, the rain dripping off them and forming small puddles on the stone floor. Their minds were racing. Both knew they shouldn't trust this place, yet it was warmer and dryer than outside and that was some comfort. Both knew they should still be terrified, but the vision of their father had to some extent allayed their fear.
"Let's explore!" whispered Dieter. Eyes wide, Anya nodded silently.
Apart from the table and a few chairs this room was mostly empty. Anya took up the ornate candelabrum, which was inlaid with images of roses, and they made their way further into the house, which was apparently very large. Through another door they found a grand staircase. The stairs creaked a little as they climbed but the building was clearly in good repair. It was also gloriously opulent. Rich tapestries covered much of the panelled walls and the wooden banister rail was carved with the same rose motif which seemed to adorn every possible surface. Dieter and Anya had never been inside such a grand residence before and their wonder drove them on. The thought of an inhabitant never occurred to either of them, for although the house was sound, it felt somehow empty.
Upstairs they found themselves on a long landing. They tried different doors but most were locked. The door at one end led out onto a small balcony where the rain still lashed down. Quickly retreating, they discovered a study or library full of ancient books and scrolls but as neither could read, they moved on.
Across the landing they found a great banqueting hall, with a long, dark, carved wood table. It was laid up as if ready for a great feast with silverware and elegant, gilded ceramics, the like of which these poor children had never imagined. Weapons and armour hung upon the walls. In pride of place was a great shield emblazoned with a red rose dripping blood.
Dieter stared up at it, even as he instinctively slipped a silver spoon into his pocket. "I know what this place is," he whispered, "Barfunweltz Manse."
Anya nodded slowly. She had come to the same conclusion although it seemed impossible. Could this really be the one-time residence of the infamous False Apostle? The twins couldn't read but that didn't mean they weren't educated in local history. In fact, since their father's disappearance they'd become obsessed. They'd heard - and told each other - enough stories about Barfunwletz to know all about the leader of the historic cult they called the Society of the Sanguine Rose.
Dieter only caught one word of Anya's strained whisper: "...vampire!"
"Yes, but the Gravewalkers got him didn't they? He's long gone. That was years ago."
"How is his house still here?" murmured Anya. "I thought the Anvils destroyed every important building?"
Dieter shrugged. It certainly seemed strange. The Manse had been infamous, with tales of secret attic prisons and tower rooms. Why had the Anvils of the Heldenhammer left it standing? And for that matter, given how long ago the False Apostle had fallen, how was the building still in such a good state of repair? And why had it not been looted?
Something really wasn't right here. Dieter hastily pulled the silver spoon out of his pocket and slammed it back on the dining table. The bang echoed around the banquet hall.
"Let's get out of here!"
Anya didn't hesitate to run after him. They burst back onto the landing and hurtled down the staircase. Sprinting across the stone floor Dieter grabbed the front door handle and pulled.
It was locked.
A sudden gust of wind through the crack around the door blew all three candles out. The darkness was absolute.
Still gripping the candelabrum with one hand, Anya’s other found her brother’s and they clasped again. Dieter pulled her after him as he desperately searched the darkness for a window or some other means of exit. But it was useless; they might as well have been blind souls searching a dark room for something that wasn’t there. They crumpled into a corner of the chamber, exhausted by terror.
"Daddy..." whimpered Dieter.
* * *
Anya's eyes flickered open. She was cold and wet and stiff and her sleeping brother's head was heavy on her arm. She looked around. They were outside, lying against a pile of stones that might once have formed the junction of two walls. Beneath her, grass and moss and roses grew over smooth stones. Above her, a watery purple sun of Shyish hung in the sky. There was no roof above them and no walls around.
Dieter jerked awake. "Eugh," he croaked, "that was a weird nightmare."
A sonorous voice made them jump. "Those who spend a night in Barfunwletz are lucky if that's they worst they suffer." Towering above them stood a Stormcast Eternal, resplendent in the black and gold of the Anvils of the Heldenhammer. The skull-faced helmet tucked under his arm marked him as a Gravewalker, and seeing his grimly smiling face, relief rushed over both children. "Let's get you miscreants home,” he said, not unkindly.
As Anya pulled herself upright she noticed an object on the ground beside her hand, lying as if it had fallen from her grasp while she slept: a three-stemmed candelabrum, inlaid with a rose motif.
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