Midnight Market

The sound of fine china rattled as it was placed on the smooth stone surface illuminated by the bright light of the moon. A delicate hand patted the carved granite and a pleasant, mellow voice broke the still air. “Thank you for sharing your place. It’s perfect for our visits.”
The woman that spoke was about to start setting the places for a midnight teatime when her attention was drawn away by the grumbling argument of at least two people drawing closer. There was urgency to their tone, and it was enough to pull the woman’s curiosity toward them and delay arranging her tea set. Two men were hunched over, trying to carry a third. By their gear and clothing, they must have been some sort of adventurers or mercenaries. The woman watched them for a while as they made their way up the road. The road veered off toward a chapel not far from where the mysterious woman had been preparing her evening. One of them began pounding on the door. Waiting several minutes without a response, they pounded again, longer and louder than before.
“Open up! Please! It’s an emergency!”
“No one lives here. After hours, the church is deserted.”
The velvety voice seemingly carried by the wind startled the two men and they dropped the body, reaching for weapons and frantically looking around for the source. One of them nudged the other as they saw two glowing eyes against the darkness. They blinked curiously at the two men. With a fluid movement, the figure that owned those bright, moonlit eyes almost seemed to materialize in the lamplight. The woman had skin almost as black as obsidian with a dusky umber color hair that went past her trim waist. A plum colored cloak with a collar of feathers adorned her shoulders. The hood was up, but not pulled all the way forward. Two feather tufts stuck up high from her head, serving as her ears. The dark purple plumage matched those on her cloak. The only part of her that didn’t seem to fade into the darkness as they looked at her besides the bright, gleaming eyes, was the lavender dress she wore.
“Wh-what are you?” one of them stammered.
The other, looking more experienced, cut in over the question, clearing his throat. “We’ve come to resurrect our friend. Do you know where we could find the priest?”
He eyed his friend, the stern gaze more than enough to tell him to keep quiet.
The woman’s eyes shifted down to the fallen man, lingering for a moment before looking back at the other two. “I’m sorry, but even if I did, that body is far too gone.”
The second man nodded his understanding. “I was afraid of that. We’ll wait for the Father to return and give him last rights.”
The woman’s eyes flashed in the flickering light of the lantern attached to his hip as she turned. “In that case, you should join us for tea. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
Despite the friendly tone, the two men got the eerie feeling that declining wouldn’t be an option. They followed her beckoning hand. With her back safely to them, they raised the lamp to try and get a better look and her, but somehow she always seemed to be just barely within the reaching light and so without the piercing glow of her eyes her silhouette seemed to bleed into the darkness and obscure her. They quickly and guiltily lowered the lantern as her head turned and the gleaming eyes bore into them again.
“Don’t forget your friend. I’m sure he would enjoy some too.”
Perplexed, the two looked at each other, then back at the body they had carried. The woman stood patiently, waiting for them to heed her. With a shrug, the more composed of the two nodded to the body and they shuffled behind her again once lifting their fallen comrade. Stepping around to the side of the chapel, they entered the graveyard. The lantern danced and unsteady light across the headstones, dozens upon dozens of graves as they weaved through until they reached the center where a raised stone casket, overlooked by a carved angel statue, rested with a tea set on top of it. There were a few chairs set around it and the woman pulled one of them out so that the two men could prop up their felled friend. She finished setting the places while they tentatively sat. Holding out an ebony hand, she indicated the lantern and hung it up above them using the outstretched hands of the angel statue. Much more illuminated now, her eyes didn’t have the eerie glow as she smiled and began pouring tea for her guests.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had living guests. I am Saretta. I hope you enjoy. This is my own blend.”
“Is it poison-?” the more jittery of the two blurted.

His companion gave him a sideways kick and a glare before seeing Saretta giving them a dusky smile. “H-he likes to joke. A little tactless sometimes, but he meant no offense. This is very kind of you. I am Basil and this is Reggie.”
“It is a pleasure, Basil. We’ll be joined by a few of my friends shortly. They’re just pulling themselves together a bit.”
“S-sure,” Basil nodded. “The more the merrier.”
Saretta beamed before finally pouring herself a cup. “Normally I prefer smaller gatherings, but I couldn’t put anyone out or uninvite them, so we might be a little crowded.”
An ominous purple and black light poured from her hand. Little wisps of it trailed through the graveyard, sinking into the earth. Despite the unsettling illumination, what drew the attention of the men was how overgrown and unkempt the graveyard was. The headstones and tombs were in need of washing, weeds had taken over most of the plots.
“It’s a little sad, isn’t it?” Saretta sighed. “This chapel hasn’t had the money to maintain this place of rest, and so it’s been abandoned. The residents get so lonely without visitors.”
“What residents?” Reggie stammered. “You said no one stays at the chapel.”
The answer to his question came in the form of a skeletal hand reaching out between him and Basil. The scream rising in his lungs choked in his throat as several others also reached past. Some were merely skeletons, some seemed to have varying amounts of flesh, but everything was without a doubt supposed to be dead and buried. Basil looked around, his body tense. It looked like they had been. The graves that had been touched by the purple light coming from Saretta had all been disturbed and it wasn’t a far guess to say that they had risen from them. His unease had him reaching for his shortsword, but he paused with a perplexed expression. They all reached for the teacups and biscuits laid out by Saretta and casually leaned on the fences or sat on the headstones. The gestures and motions they made implied they were having an idle conversation, but no sounds were made beyond the rattle of the cups on their saucers and the shifting in seats.
“These are my friends. Many of them were great heroes in their time, but like this chapel, they’ve been mostly forgotten,” Saretta smiled as she poured a refill for one of the raised. “Why is it so important you bring your friend back to life?”
Basil followed her indication and remembered that he had a dead man sitting next to him. At this point he was surprised that the corpse hadn’t lurched forward and taken a crumpet. “I guess I wouldn’t say he was really our friend, but we had hired him to protect our town from a brigand crew that’s coming to collect on us in a few days. Unfortunately, a jaded lover poisoned his drink and we don’t have anyone willing to fill his place.”
“Hmm,” Saretta mused. “Well I don’t think he would have been much help.”
“Well, he is dead,” Reggie rasped, visibly going pale in the darkness as a hulking skeleton tipped a decaying hat to him.
“He claimed that he was a great duelist and that he would challenge the leader,” Basil uncomfortably, but politely offered the plate of biscuits to a reaching skeleton. “It seems you are… capable of bringing the dead back to life. We could pay you, if you’d be willing?”
“Oh I couldn’t take your money to raise that,” Saretta said dismissively. “That wouldn’t do you any good. Plus, I don’t think my magic is really what you’re seeking. Unless…”
Basil watched her face light up in a way that brought the reflective glow back into her eyes. “Unless what?”
She waved for the attention of a massive skeleton that looked like a fair amount of its flesh had been mummified to its body rather than decomposing. “Grunoch, would you be willing to go with these gentlemen? Grunoch here was a champion of the gladiator’s arena in Two Ports, but he was buried here since his hometown is just a few miles down the road. You’ve been longing for a fight, right?”
The unspeaking undead more than six feet tall nodded slowly, the sinew in the muscle tissue returning as Saretta bathed him in more of the purple and black magic. The holes and rust in the armor closed and looked almost restored to about the same extent as the dead man’s body.
“Why don’t you take him with you?” Saretta offered.
The name rang a tiny bell in the back of Basil’s mind, but would have been from old stories. “You’d… you’d let us bring him to protect our town?”

“Sure! Can’t you tell he’s itching to stretch his limbs?” Saretta asked. “You have to bring him back though. My spells only last so long and he’ll need to rest.”
Basil could hardly believe his ears. “Of course! By all means!”
“What?” Reggie spat. “Are you insane? You’re going to trust some necromancer creature to just present us with a death knight and expect nothing bad to happen?”
“Our gracious host has been nothing but kind,” Basil snapped back. “Please, take the gold we were going to give the church. You will have him back in three days time!”
The two men got up, bickering as they headed out with Basil beckoning the undead warrior to follow. Saretta smiled and shook her head. With a sigh she finished her tea before making the rounds to top off the rest.
“Such lively company. And they forgot their lantern.”
She cleaned up once everything was finished and wished her friends goodnight, disappearing into the surrounding woods as the sun rose, not letting a single ray of light touch her as she disappeared. The following evening she was back, enjoying the company of her passed friends when she realized she was still carrying the pouch full of coins from her guests. Removing it from her cloak, she perched herself on a tombstone as she considered what to do with it. Saretta had no use for it and hadn’t intended to keep it, but they had left in such a hurry that she hadn’t had a chance to refuse it. Looking out over the graveyard, her nocturnal eyes captured the moonlight to make it so she didn’t need any other light source. She knew that only the priest was still at the church, and she also knew that there were only a few that showed up to the sermons. Funds were nearly completely dried up and her favorite spot suffered for it. With that in mind, Saretta shrugged to herself and walked inside, dropping the coin pouch into the donation box.
A few nights later, heavy footsteps lurching through the grounds caused Saretta to look up from her book. The lantern that had been left behind was lit, the moonlight not quite enough to light the pages for her. “Grunoch! You’re back! How was your adventure?”
The hulking gladiator didn’t say anything vocally, but she nodded and responded as though in an exciting conversation. Saretta gave him a quick examination before embracing the undead warrior and helping cover his plot once he was back inside for rest.
It was nearly a week later when she got another unexpected visitor. Someone who claimed she needed someone to hunt a monstrous beast that was terrorizing her ranch. Saretta raised a huntsman that had once served the king. Another heartfelt thanks and a purse of coins was thrust upon her. Before her friend had returned, another came seeking a bodyguard while visiting a nearby city. Eventually her visits would become more frequent, sometimes getting several people visiting her graveyard in the same night. All the coin went to the church and as such, Saretta saw that a new groundskeeper must have been hired. The plots were gradually weeded, the stones cleaned and even fresh flowers were planted or placed out. Still the visitors came, though gradually slowing as the church gained more renown. Saretta heard enough to know that her dealings had brought enough attention that had created some sort of myth surrounding the church.
Enough time had passed where many had talked about the church resurrecting heroes to aid them, but as the church was regaining its following, the stories began to change. It was said that the priest could pull one back from death and they would have the abilities of the heroes of old. Since this was not true, they gradually changed more, stating that while the priest could still bring people back, only those who were worthy would get these new powers. The chapel thrived because of these stories, restored to its former self. Much to Saretta’s relief, this meant that less and less were her midnight tea times interrupted. Every once in a while, one would hear the true stories of the strange woman who would raise the dead in exchange for gold, but under the condition they be returned in the same condition they left, lest they get charged an additional fee.
Lighting the lantern and slumping in her favorite spot in the grave, Saretta opened her book for the first time in months. “I’m sorry everyone. I was too exhausted to get the tea set up. I know it’s been a long time, but I think we could all use a rest for a while.”
The stillness in the air was comforting as her friends continued their rest beneath the ground. Saretta gave a sigh of relief, grateful they were understanding and not upset with her. It had been nearly a month since she’d had someone come calling for her or her friends, but she hadn’t had a chance to stock up on her tea leaves or baked any of her treats. Her home had been in disarray because of how busy she’d been, so she was happy for the breather.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” a man’s voice politely cut in.
“Basil!” Saretta greeted him with a happy but weary smile.
“You remember me,” he smiled. “I’m flattered.”
She looked him over. The once healthy man in his prime seemed so old now. Far older than she had last seen him. “Of course I remember. I didn’t often deal with the living until you showed up.”
He chuckled. “A single meeting from nearly twenty years ago. I see time hasn’t touched you in the slightest.”
“What are you doing here?” Saretta smiled back. “You don’t seem to be in need of my help.”
“I wanted to apologize, actually,” he bowed. “I didn’t mean to send so many people your way. It must have been quite a change.”
“I did miss having tea and my peace and quiet, but I do quite enjoy the visitors, and my friends were happy to get out more. We’re not complaining that things have slowed down, but I think we’ll keep doing it as long as people ask.”
“Well I’m glad you don’t hold it against me,” Basil bowed again. “I’ve felt pretty guilty about it seeing so many people here.”
Saretta smiled. “Would you care to stay? I don’t have tea this time, but a visit for the sake of visiting sounds nice.”
“I wish I could, but I need to get back tonight. I might stop by from time to time to chat as friends though. Probably not often just so I don’t attract another crowd,” Basil said before waving his farewell.
Saretta smiled and waved as he left, musing to herself. “What a kind man. Would it be better for me to wish him a short or long time before I see him again? I should pick out a spot for him. Maybe next to Alistair, they would get along well.”
With a relaxed sigh, Saretta sat down to continue her book. She was there for almost a whole chapter before the lantern began to sway as if blown by a strong wind. Looking around, the air was still very quiet. It barely gave more than a faint breeze but still the light shook. As she gazed up, two large, solid black eyes gleamed back at her. A hand was reaching out and tapping the glass, three more steadied their owner as they clung to the angel statue. A face of awe and wonder plastered on its expression gaped as the light flickered in the eyes of this strange creature obscured in the darkness.
“Well hello there. Who are you?”