Happy Holidays, Greywolfheir! (Part 2)
Aziraphale paced around the village center. The sun had almost finished rising and Crowley was nowhere to be seen. Aziraphale remembered the way Crowley had looked at him after the meeting ended and, although he knew it was unlikely, he still hoped that Crowley would go with him. The two messengers had left, muttering about untrustworthy scoundrels, but Aziraphale was adamant about waiting.
After a while, Aziraphale decided that he would at least make an attempt to find Crowley before he left. He walked around the different village buildings, trying to see if Crowley was nearby. Most of the villagers were either asleep or just getting up, and no one was outside. The morning sun coupled with the silence created a relaxing atmosphere, which helped calm Aziraphale’s jumbled nerves.
All of a sudden, he heard muffled shouts coming from one of the buildings. He followed the sound and found that it was coming from the village tavern. He was wondering what the drunks were getting up to this early in the morning when someone burst out of the front door. Aziraphale was shocked to see that it was Crowley, who looked like he was ready to throttle someone.
Not wanting to be accused of spying, Aziraphale started making his way back to the village center. He didn’t get far, however, before he heard Crowley call, “Angel?”
Aziraphale turned towards Crowley and saw that he had taken on a neutral expression. He was about to ask what was going on in the tavern but decided not to, and instead stated, “I didn’t think that you would come.”
Crowley shrugged in response. “Well, here I am. So where are the other two messengers that are supposed to accompany us?”
Aziraphale looked uneasy at that and said, “Well, I told them that they could go ahead.” He carefully left out the rude comments that they made while riding away.
Crowley reacted to this news with another shrug, as if he was not surprised to hear that. “So we’ll start heading out now. Hopefully we can make it before noon.”
“Hopefully,” Aziraphale repeated, looking at the sun.
Crowley gave an abrupt nod, and the two of them headed out of the village. They didn’t see anyone on the way, but a few windows opened, the people inside taking a look at them.
It wasn’t long before they were outside village limits. They walked along a gravelly trail which, while narrow, was traversable nonetheless. As the sun rose in the sky, it became brighter, and the air had a warmer feel. Since it was still early, they didn’t encounter any travelers. Not much was said. The mood was nice, and neither of them wanted to ruin it by talking excessively.
After a while, Aziraphale looked over at Crowley and said, “Should we take a break? We’ve been walking for a long time.”
Another shrug. “Sure. We can do that.”
On that note, the two of them sat down on the side of the road, setting their bags down next to them. Aziraphale pulled out his book and began to read.
Crowley looked over and asked, “What are you reading?”
Aziraphale lowered his book and said. “A book I brought along. It’s one of my favorites. I’ve had it since I was a child.”
Crowley thought for a moment and said, “Interesting. I don’t think I had any books as a kid. Mostly I just…” He tapered off, not saying anything else.
“What?” Aziraphale asked, wondering if something was wrong.
Crowley shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and said, “It’s nothing, angel. Just memories.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I spend a lot of my time in the tavern, both for work and as a sort of haven, and they don’t exactly have a wide variety of reading material.”
“What do you mean, as a sort of haven?” Aziraphale asked, bewildered. He knew that Crowley worked in the village tavern, but he didn’t think it extended beyond that.
“Yeah,” Crowley said, attempting to sound nonchalant about it. “I have been staying in one of the rooms for years, ever since the tavern owner took me in.”
“But don’t you have a house to live in? Don’t you have parents?”
Crowley didn’t respond for a long time, and Aziraphale wondered if it was something that he’d said. Eventually, Crowley stood up and said, “We should get going. The messengers will think that we got lost or something.”
This statement gave Aziraphale a small jolt. He abruptly stood and said, “You’re right. We should continue on. For all we know, they might have sent a search group after us.”
The two of them grabbed their bags and started walking on the trail again. This time there was a tense atmosphere, and no one said anything until they eventually saw the village limits in the distance. Upon getting closer, they saw the two messengers waiting at the entrance.
When the two approached, one of the messengers looked up and said, “Mr. Ziraphale. So glad that you’re here. We were beginning to worry that something happened to you.”
“No, it’s fine,” Aziraphale said. “We managed to get here just fine.”
The other one looked up and said curtly, “Antonius.”
“It’s Crowley,” Crowley corrected, but the messenger did not appear to be listening.
The first messenger started speaking. “We were just checking up on the sick people. Luckily, no one new has fallen ill. However, none of the ill have shown signs of improvement.”
Aziraphale nodded in understanding and said, “Where are they now?”
“They’re all being kept in the village inn. We’ll show you the way.”
The messengers headed into the village, and Aziraphale and Crowley followed behind. A silence was prevalent, but this one was more oppressing than relaxing. The village people that didn’t have to be outside were not, and the ones that did stayed for as little time as possible before rushing back inside. Occasionally a window board would open a crack so the occupants inside could get a glimpse of the mysterious arrivals.
The four of them came across a large two story building. A wavy haired man that didn’t look much older than Aziraphale rushed out the front door. Upon seeing them, he said, “Thank goodness that you are all back. He’s been getting real impatient since you left. So do you have the helpers?”
“We do,” said one of the messengers, gesturing to Aziraphale and Crowley.
“Excellent,” he said. “You two are dismissed for now.”
The two messengers bowed and left. The man looked at Aziraphale and Crowley. “You are both from the other village, I presume?”
“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “I’m Adrian Ziraphale, assistant of Father Martin, and this is Antonius Crowley.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of Father Martin. An outstanding man, I tell you.” The man said, shaking his hand. He briefly glanced at Crowley before turning and walking back into the inn. The others followed behind. “Anyway, I’m glad that you two are here. There are a lot of sick people, and we need all the help we can get.”
At this, Aziraphale gulped. “How many are we talking about? Ten? Twenty?”
The man said to him, “Well, just take a look for yourself,” and opened the door.
The sight they were met with was unnerving. All of the furniture was pushed to one side, and the room was packed to the brim with people. The sick people were lying down on the ground with a blanket and pillow. There was just enough space between each of them so it was possible to walk between them without tripping or stepping on anyone. Various people were walking around, feeding the ill and dabbing water on their foreheads. Some of them were older than others, and about half were male. Each of them wore a simple brown robe that reached the floor.
Aziraphale slowly stepped through the door, chilled by what he saw. He knew that the situation would be bad from what he had heard, but never thought it would be this bad. Originally, he thought that only ten or twenty citizens had fallen ill. Now it seemed more like there were ten or twenty citizens who were well. He made his way past the people, careful not to accidentally step on anyone.
He walked up to an older brown haired man and asked him, “How did this happen?”
The man looked up at him and said, “No one knows. It all came so suddenly. One or two villagers started getting feverish, and then the sickness spread like mad. I can’t even remember how long ago it was, whether it was days or weeks, or even months. It feels like forever.”
All of a sudden, an old woman that Aziraphale happened to be standing near grabbed his ankle and started screaming frantically, “Help us! Please help us.”
Two dark haired teenagers, one male and one female, hurried over to pry her off and subdue her. The occurrence scared Aziraphale because not only did the woman’s sudden outburst catch him off guard, but it showed him just how bad the people’s conditions really were.
“I’m so sorry,” the first man apologized. “Some of our patients, the fever has...messed with their minds. Some of them can’t think straight anymore.”
“That’s sad,” Aziraphale said, distressed for the poor people.
Meanwhile, Crowley was standing in the corner. He felt out of place in the inn, and he didn’t know what to do. Careful not to tread on anyone, he stepped forward, intending to get to Aziraphale, when something caught his eye. A little girl was lying on the ground shivering, despite her face being flushed from the fever. He slowly made his way over and sat down beside her. Up close, he could hear that she was muttering to herself.
“I want my mommy. I want my mommy. Where is my mommy?”
Crowley’s face softened and he leaned forward, saying quietly, “Hey, kid.”
The girl turned towards him, her baby blue eyes unfocused. “Are you my mommy?”
A dull ache formed in his chest, and he was reaching out for her hand when a voice behind him said, “What are you doing?”
All signs of empathy disappeared from his face as he stood and turned to face the speaker, a man who bore a striking resemblance to him, except for the steely gray eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Crowley said with mock politeness. “Is there a problem, sir?”
“The patients here are very ill,” the man said icily. “We cannot afford to let anyone disturb them.”
Crowley took a step toward him, and would’ve said something if Aziraphale didn’t call out, “Crowley.” The two of them looked over and saw him approaching. “Crowley, this is worse than I thought.” It was then that he noticed to whom Crowley was speaking to. “Er, hello.”
The man raised his eyebrow and asked, “You know this man?”
“Of course, yes. He came with me here so that we may help the villagers.”
He said nothing and walked away instead. Shortly afterwards, the man that first greeted them walked up, saying hurriedly, “Mr. Ziraphale. You must come with me at once.”
“Why, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, turning to look at him.
“It’s Father Francis. He demanded that you come up to his room. He is insistent.”
Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who waved him off and said, “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
He then turned back and asked, “Can Crowley come, too?”
The man seemed put off by the idea. “I’m not sure. He might be bothered if…”
“BASIL!” a voice shouted from above. “Get up here.”
The man, apparently named Basil, jumped and said, “Never mind. Follow me.”
The three of them headed up the staircase that led to the second floor. A balding red headed man was waiting at the top, and the four of them walked down a hallway lined with doors. When they reached the end of the hallway, Basil opened the door on the right.
The room was not very big. There was a chest in the nearby corner and a window on the far wall. A bed was situated in the faraway right corner, and a red faced man lay on it. Strands of brown hair were plastered to his forehead, and his brown eyes were fixated on the ceiling. A short and plump woman was standing next to his bed, murmuring to him.
Basil walked in, followed by Aziraphale, and he said, “Father, I have brought him.”
The woman looked over and said, “He’s not responding. I fear that he may be going under again.”
Aziraphale asked, “How long has he been like this?”
Basil turned to him and said, “He’s been like this since yesterday. One moment, he was talking to the sick people, perfectly fine, then the next moment he was falling over. When we went over to check on him, his forehead was burning hot. We brought him to this room, and he’s been alternating between rest and half consciousness ever since.”
“That sounds awful,” Aziraphale said, voice filled with concern. “Have you given him any herbs to, you know, help keep the sickness at bay?”
“We’ve tried all the usuals: mint, pennyroyal, oregano, vervain, and sage. Unfortunately, none of them have been successful. They have helped stop the disease from getting worse, but barely.”
Suddenly, Father Francis shot up. In a raspy voice, he exclaimed: “The ineffable artifact.”
The four of them froze. Basil approached him and said, “Now, Father, you must -”
But apparently he was on a roll and he raved frantically, “The ineffable artifact is the only thing that can cure us. You must find the ineffable artifact!”
“That is enough from you,” Basil replied.
Aziraphale looked concerned at this, “Wait, what’s going on?”
Basil looked back and said, “It’s nothing, I assure you. He’s just not quite in his right mind because of the fever. Why don’t you two go downstairs? I’ll meet you there later.”
Crowley was about to protest, but Aziraphale said, “Okay then, we shall.”
The two of them left and shut the door. They could hear Father Francis arguing with Basil in Latin while the other two tried to calm him down. They headed down the hall together and Crowley was about to descend the stairs when Aziraphale pulled him into one of the empty rooms and shut the door.
“Angel, what -” was all Crowley got out before he found a hand placed over his mouth.
“Shhh,” Aziraphale hushed. “We can’t let them know we’re here.” He removed his hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Crowley hissed, voice lowered. “We’re not supposed to be in here. After all your talk about staying out of trouble, you go and sneak into places that are off limits.”
“I know, I know,” Aziraphale said, rubbing his forehead. “It’s just that I needed to talk to you without other people overhearing, and I panicked.”
Crowley put his hands up in exasperation before saying, “Okay, we’re alone. What is it?”
Despite that, Aziraphale still looked around before saying. “Did you hear what they were talking about earlier? Did you catch what they said?”
“No. All I caught was a bunch of jumbled nonsense. Why? Did you get anything?”
“A little bit. Father Martin has been teaching me Latin for the past year -”
“Figures,” Crowley said, but Aziraphale ignored the interruption.
“And I’ve gotten pretty good. Unfortunately they were talking too fast, and I was only able to make out bits and pieces, but there was one phrase Father Francis said that stuck out.”
“What?” Crowley asked, getting impatient. “What is it?”
Aziraphale took a breath before saying, “The ineffable artifact. The ineffable artifact.”
Crowley looked confused at that. “The what?”
“I’m not sure,” Aziraphale said, holding his hands up. “But it sounds important. Maybe it can be used in order to help the villagers out. Who knows?”
“But how are we even going to find it? I know nothing about it, and neither do you. That Basil guy isn’t going to talk anytime soon. We don’t even know if the thing exists.”
“Yeah, well, do you have a better idea?”
Crowley hesitated, then said resignedly, “Fine, we’ll go with your plan.”
Aziraphale nodded in finalization. He opened the door a crack so as to make sure no one was outside, and when he saw the coast was clear, he beckoned to Crowley. The two sneaked out of the room and down the stairs. It was a good thing they did, because not too long afterward, Basil walked down the stairs as well and over to the two of them.
“Sorry for that,” Basil said. “He isn’t usually like that.”
“It’s all right. This is a hard time for everyone.” Aziraphale shuffled on his feet before asking, “Crowley and I were planning to go talk with some villagers. Ask for advice. Is that okay with you?”
Basil nodded and said, “That sounds like a good plan. There aren’t many villagers who are still untouched by the sickness, but those that are will be willing to help you.”
“Thank you, sir.” Aziraphale gave a small bow, which Basil reciprocated, before going away. Crowley gave a brief nod, which was again returned, before following after. The two of them stood outside the inn for a while, not saying anything. Then Aziraphale broke the silence and asked, “So where should we start? Do we split up, or stay together?”
Crowley looked around and said, “From what I saw earlier, there weren’t many people, so splitting up may be unnecessary.” A pause, and then he said, “Then again, we would be able to cover more ground in the same amount of time. I’m down for splitting up.”
“Perfect,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll go this way, and you go that way.”
Crowley nodded in agreement and headed off to where Aziraphale pointed. Aziraphale waited for a little bit before heading off to the other side of the village. He thought that this was going to be easy, and they would get an answer in no time.
This was not as easy as he thought it would be. Knocking on door number who knows, he hoped that someone would answer and be able to give some information. A lot of the houses were vacated, and the ones that weren’t contained people who were just as clueless about the artifact as he was, leading him nowhere.
Much to his relief, a woman answered the door. Her hair was streaked with gray, and stains could be seen on her dress. She looked at him confusedly. “Yes?”
“Hello. I am here to ask you some questions about any healing remedies you may have.”
“You’re helping with the church?” He nodded, and she said, “Very good. It is nice to see young men helping the community instead of going about drinking and goofing off.”
“Yeah, it is.” Aziraphale said, glad that Crowley was not present.
“Anyway, I’d recommend mint. Or maybe vervain. Have you tried oregano?”
“We’ve tried all of them without any success.”
“Oh,” the woman said, her face falling.
“Don’t worry, though. We have some ideas for cures. Do you happen to know anything about basil, nutmeg, the ineffable artifact, or ginger?”
The woman frowned upon hearing the list. “I’m sorry, did you say artifact?”
“Yes,” Aziraphale said, deciding to stop beating around the bush. “There’s something called the ineffable artifact, which we think may help cure the people. Do you happen to know anything about it?”
Perhaps being frank was not the best idea, as her gaze sharpened and she said with a suspicious tone, “No, I have not heard of any artifacts of any kind.”
“Okay, then,” Aziraphale said. “Thank you, nonetheless.”
The woman didn’t say anything, instead slamming the door on his face. From inside, he could hear her saying, “He was going on about some artifact. What kind of churchman talks about using witchcraft?”
“You too, huh?” Aziraphale flinched when Crowley appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “One of them called me a wretched warlock. Tell me, do I look like someone who practices magic to you?”
“Not really, but you are asking about an artifact, and that does look suspicious.” Aziraphale sighed and said, “So I’m guessing you didn’t get anything.”
“Nothing. You?”
“Same.”
Crowley rubbed his forehead, walking away from the house. “I just don’t get it. How is it that no one has heard of this artifact before? I mean, not even one person knew what we were talking about.”
“Well you can’t expect everyone to have an extensive knowledge on artifacts,” Aziraphale said, keeping pace with him. “And from the sound if it, the ineffable artifact is an extremely powerful one.”
The two were so wrapped up in their conversation that they didn’t notice when the door of a nearby house opened until a voice from within said, “Hello, dears. Over here.”
Crowley turned to look and saw the slightly ajar door of the house across from them. He alerted Aziraphale, and the two of them walked over. When they looked, they saw an old woman with curly hair standing there, looking up at them. Aziraphale asked, “What is it, ma’am?”
She replied warmly, “I overheard you loves talking about artifacts, and I have some information that could help.”
“Really?” he asked, relieved. “Well, what is it?”
“I have a collection of books on magic and artifacts. Come on in, and we’ll talk.”
Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who shrugged. He then said, “Okay then. Let’s talk.”
The woman smiled warmly and opened the door for them. The inside of the house looked rather homey, with a fireplace and some chairs surrounding a table. The three of them walked in, and the woman closed the door behind them.
After closing the door, she turned around and stuck out her hand. “I should introduce myself. My name’s Madame Thea.” Aziraphale and Crowley both shook her hand, and she said, “I’ve been gathering these books for quite a while. Some of them are older, while others are quite new.” While talking, Madame Thea went to the book shelf and pulled out a book. She opened it, and there were lots of different illustrations within, each one paired with a short description. “So what artifact are you looking for? Healing? Charming?”
“Actually,” Aziraphale said. “The artifact we’re looking for has a name of its own. It is called the ineffable artifact.”
Madame Thea’s head snapped up, and she said, “Oh, you mean that.”
“Yeah,” Crowley said. “Why? Is there a problem?”
“No, none at all,” she replied, although she sounded uncertain. “It’s just that, well, not much information has been gathered on the ineffable artifact. I’ve been involved in this kind of business for many years, and even I don’t anything about it but its name.”
This gave them pause. “So, are you saying there isn’t anything that we can do?”
“There is one resource left. There’s a woman that lives not too far from here. She has more knowledge on this than anyone else in the village, even me. ”
“Ugh, don’t mention that witch in my presence.”
Aziraphale and Crowley turned to see a short old man walk out of one of the rooms. His forehead was high, and he appeared to have a perpetual scowl. Madame Thea simply smiled and said, “Now Stanimir, silly, we don’t use that language here.”
“I’ll not listen to ye, wuman,” Stanimir said grumpily, but his eyes didn’t match the tone. He sat down next to the fireplace and said, “That witch is bad news, I tell ye.”
Aziraphale and Crowley looked at one another, and after a while Crowley walked over to Stanimir and said, “Bad news, you say? What has she done?”
“Oh, I’ll tell ye,” Stanimir said, taking a sip from a cup on the table. “That witch has done many things. Horrible things. Going around flying on her broomstick, casting spells, and bewitching people. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the cause of this whole disease. Why, only yesterday I sent my assistant Norman to check things out, and he hasn’t returned since. I’d go off and get him, but sadly I’m not as agile as I was in my youth.” He looked into the fire reflectively.
Crowley leaned forward and said in his most reassuring voice, “Hey, don’t worry. We can fix it. We’re here to help out.”
Stanimir sniffed and said, “You are?”
“Of course. We were sent here in order to rid the city of the disease, and unless we find the witch, we won’t be able to do that, right?” A nod. “Exactly. But unfortunately we don’t know where she is. Luckily, you do, and with your help, we can defeat her and save the villagers.”
Stanimir appeared almost touched by this. “You’re just like I was when I was a young boy. Why, I wish all lads were as devoted to catching witches as you are.” Crowley nodded, and he said. “Well, I’ll tell you. Her cottage is a couple miles south in the woods. Can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” Crowley said earnestly. “You will be a great help.”
Stanimir nodded, not saying anything, and Crowley returned to Aziraphale. Whispering so as not to be heard, Aziraphale asked, “You don’t actually believe him do you? You don’t actually think that she caused the disease?”
“Nope,” Crowley said. “But sometimes you have to say what people want to hear.” He ignored Aziraphale’s look and said, “The cottage’s only a couple miles away.”
“Splendid,” Aziraphale said. “We can walk there easily.”
The two of them stood up and were about to leave when Madame Thea called to them, wishing them good luck. They thanked her before heading out the door and towards the southward exit of the village. Once outside village limits, they walked on the gravelly path that would lead them to the witch’s cottage, where they would hopefully get some information regarding the mysterious ineffable artifact.
“So do you think we should be discreet or just ask her outright?” Aziraphale asked.
“Hard to say,” Crowley said. “She might get defensive if we outright ask her about the artifact. Then again, she is a witch, and might not be surprised if we ask her.”
“Valid point,” Aziraphale returned. “Besides, we don’t have much time. The villagers need a cure as soon as possible.”
“So direct method it is,” Crowley said. “I like it.”
The two of them walked on, more trees becoming prevalent as they got closer to the woods where the witch lived. The two of them continued their discussion on whether or not the witch would know anything about the ineffable artifact, or if she would act surprised at them asking about it. Unbeknownst to them, not only did she know of their eventual arrival, but she had prepared herself by laying out a table of food and artifact books.
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