The tent was ablaze a few minutes later, Mikolas having piled all within into a pile before applying his lighter to it. The spectacle had drawn people out of their homes and from their tasks, though none ventured too close. Brother Lamark consecrated the area once the flames had taken hold of the structure. Aristarchus excused himself again as they watched it burn, his condition having failed to improve, and retired to the Clotta to rest himself. A sleepless night combined with whatever effect the murder scene had on him was clearly taking it's tool. Once the blaze had begun to burn itself out the acolytes departed, Brother Lamark leading them to the North gate, stopping briefly at the Priory to pick them up some water flasks and a stout walking staff, and then up into the hills.
---
The midday sun blazed overhead, scorching those of fairer skin and working each of the acolytes up a sweat. The black attire that Crisis and Xerxes wore made it all the worse for them. The long uphill stretches didn't help either, though Lamark took them in his stride, deriving some simple pleasure from roaming the hills. The priest had regained part of his jovial nature, grinning once again. The wind was merciful, at least, the frequent gusts cooling them for moments at a time.
They were high up now, Stern Hope and the black stone Cathedral clearly visible from above. Cryvus rubbed his neck. He'd spent most of the journey gazing skywards, scanning the skies for the crows that seemed to haunt their every step. Any who'd followed his gaze would notice that there was always one in sight, passing overhead on resting on an outcrop rock nearby, watching sightlessly. As they crested a hill Lamark stopped, turning to regard the group as he did.
"Well, this is about where we've been seeing the light. Bodies of those bandits weren't too far from here either." announced Lamark. "Don't see anything out of sorts, though-"
A sudden wind picked up, carrying a sweet yet unpleasant smell with it. A shrill cawing erupted overhead as a worryingly large number of birds wheeled and fluttered frenziedly overhead.
"What the..." the cleric muttered, looking up quizzically.
Cryvus:
Crisis:
Mithras: