Feast of the Dead

By John Houlihan

"An epic, swashbuckling Napoleonic adventure expertly blended with chilling Lovecraftian horror" - Sci-fi and Fantasy Reviewer

It is 1810 and as autumn turns to winter, Napoleon's Armee Iberian settles down to its winter siege of Wellington's "accursed earthworks" at Torres Vedras. After his exploits in the adventure of the Crystal Void, dashing French Lieutenant, Gaston d'Bois, returns to the XIIIth Imperial Death's Head Hussars and given his first independent command: leading a detachment of these "thieves on horseback" into the Spanish interior, in search of intelligence, supplies and plunder.

After a bloody skirmish, d'Bois and his troopers are forced to take refuge to the Monasterio de St Cloud, an ancient ruin standing at the crossroads of this war-ravaged land, which now serves as a field hospital to soldiers of all nations. There, he encounters the unworldly Doctor Malfeas and the beautiful but fierce nurse, Mademoiselle Brockenhurst, who seem to offer temporary respite from the harsh realities of war.

Yet this former house of the holy holds many outré secrets and d'Bois faces fresh battles on all fronts. In his own ranks against the surly, disgraced Sergeant Sacleaux, his resentful second-in-command, and externally, by a hostile countryside where every hand is turned against him.

Yet most sinister of all is the malevolent mystery which lies at the heart of the Monasterio itself, an ancient and terrible enigma which threatens both the lives and souls of all who encounter it.

Alone, deep behind enemy lines and beset on all sides, can d'Bois survive his first real command and prevent the horrible unravelling of the feast of the dead

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Houlihan
• Release date: Jun 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463788837

John Houlihan

John Houlihan has been a writer, journalist and broadcaster for over twenty five years, working in news, sport and videogames. He has been employed by The Times, Sunday Times and Cricinfo and is the former Editor-in-Chief of Computer and Video Games.com. He currently works for Modiphius Entertainment as a narrative designer and editor, as well being a video game consultant and script writer.His first novel was Tom or The Peepers’ and Voyeurs’ Handbook and he has also written The Trellborg Monstrosities, The Crystal Void, Tomb of the Aeons and Before the Flood in his Seraph Chronicles series (also collected in Tales of the White Witchman: Volume One). The Trellborg Monstrosities is also a game scenario for Call of Cthulhu and Savage Worlds which is published by Modiphius. He is also the writer of the Achtung! Cthulhu: Tactics videogame.He has published The Cricket Dictionary, a modern guide to the words, phrases and sayings of the greatest of games and has also edited a collection of short stories called Dark Tales from the Secret War which is set in the Achtung! Cthulhu universe. Other work includes contributions to sci-fi anthologies like The Hotwells Horror & Other Stories and Flash - A Celebration of Short Fiction.Away from the written word he has an unnatural fondness for cricket, football, snowboarding, cycling, music, playing guitar and all forms of sci-fi, fantasy and horror. He has an unnatural dread about writing about himself in the third person and currently lives in his home town of Watford in the UK, because, well frankly, someone has to.For latest news and information see http://www.John-Houlihan.net or follow @johnh259 on Twitter

Book preview

Feast of the Dead is copyright © 2018 JOHN HOULIHAN

The Mon Dieu Cthulhu! universe © 2018 JOHN HOULIHAN

Published by Jolly Big Publishing

All rights reserved.

First edition September 2018

All rights reserved, no reproduction in any form or media without written permission please (it’ll usually be forthcoming for polite requests via the website). Remember copyright and digital theft robs artists of a chance to earn their livelihood, support them by being proud to buy! Especially if you want to read any sequels.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to anyone living or dead is entirely coincidental. John Houlihan asserts the moral right to be recognised as the author of the work according to the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Any unauthorised use of copyrighted material is illegal. Any trademarked names are used in a historical or fictional manner; no infringement is intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity with actual people and events, past or present, is purely coincidental and unintentional except for those people and events described in historical context.

John Houlihan has been a writer, journalist and broadcaster for over twenty five years, working in news, sport and videogames. He has been employed by The Times, Sunday Times and Cricinfo and is the former Editor-in-Chief of Computer and Video Games.com. He currently works for Modiphius Entertainment as a narrative designer and editor, as well being a video game consultant and script writer.

His first novel was Tom or The Peepers’ and Voyeurs’ Handbook and he has also written The Trellborg Monstrosities, The Crystal Void, Tomb of the Aeons and Before the Flood in his Seraph Chronicles series (also collected in Tales of the White Witchman: Volume One). The Trellborg Monstrosities is also a game scenario for Call of Cthulhu and Savage Worlds which is published by Modiphius. He is also the writer of the Achtung! Cthulhu: Tactics videogame.

He has published The Cricket Dictionary, a modern guide to the words, phrases and sayings of the greatest of games and has also edited a collection of short stories called Dark Tales from the Secret War which is set in the Achtung! Cthulhu universe. Other work includes contributions to sci-fi anthologies like The Hotwells Horror & Other Stories and Flash - A Celebration of Short Fiction.

Away from the written word he has an unnatural fondness for cricket, football, snowboarding, cycling, music, playing guitar and all forms of sci-fi, fantasy and horror. He has an unnatural dread about writing about himself in the third person and currently lives in his home town of Watford in the UK, because, well frankly, someone has to.

For latest news and information see http://www.John-Houlihan.net or follow @johnh259 on Twitter

Cover Illustration is by Dimitri Martin

Design and layout by Richard Gale

Logo: Mike Poole

ALSO BY JOHN HOULIHAN

The Seraph Chronicles

The Trellborg Monstrosities

The Crystal Void

Tomb of the Aeons

Before The Flood

The Seraph Chronicles Volume One: Tales of the White Witchman

Mon Dieu Cthulhu! The d'Bois Escapades

The Crystal Void Illustrated Edition

Feast of the Dead

Other Works

Tom or the Peepers’ and Voyeurs’ Handbook

The Cricket Dictionary

Dark Tales from the Secret War (as editor)

THANKS

Special thanks to Martin Korda and Richard Gale for their eagle eyes and expert advice

Thanks as always to my panel of preview readers, especially Adam Selby-Martin.

For

David J Rodger

A much missed friend, colleague and fellow adventurer

in the League of Cthulhu

Feast of the Dead

John Houlihan

The second Mon Dieu Cthulhu! adventure

Contents

Chapter One: A horsewhipping at the inn of the Golden Chicken is narrowly averted

Chapter Two: At the Chargez!

Chapter Three: An Accommodation at the Monasterio de St Cloud

Chapter four: The Long Watch of the Night

Chapter five: The Peasant and the Priest

Chapter six: The Thing on the Patient

Chapter Seven: Cathedral of Hate

Chapter Eight: The Battles of the Monasterio de St Cloud

Chapter Nine: A Feast in the Hollow Hill

Chapter Ten: A Rendezvous Beneath the Stars

Chapter One:

A horsewhipping at the inn of the Golden Chicken is narrowly averted

'Ah, sweet vin rouge, the very heart's blood of la vie, the strong yet subtle grape that soothes the blood and settles the mind of this tired old campaigner. Oui, pass me a little of that delightful fromage and a morsel of pain, Monsieur, for even though the night draws in, the clock has not reached the hour when my rebellious indigestion will sound the trumpet and go to war over a petit ruban de brie which so compliments this magnificent Bordeaux.

It is good to see you again so soon, Monsieur, an old soldier has few such visitors during these, the dark days of his dotage.

What? You wish to hear more of the formidable career and strange misadventures of Lieutenant Colonel Gaston d'Bois (retired) who remains, as ever, at your service? Ah, I have little doubt that cognac will be required before too long then, to lubricate these poor, failing vocal chords.

You consent? Magnifique, Pierre! A bottle of your finest and set two glasses before the brave Monsieur and I, for it is never good to drink alone. You will buy? Oh, you are too kind, Monsieur, but it is meet, for it is in the throes of that fiery spirit that I am best able to recall the blood and glory of the field of honour, and to recollect the many dark and sinistre adventures that I encountered away from it.

You will recall that when we last met, I regaled you with the strange and outré tale of the Crystal Void, when the brave and noble British galloper and sorcerer fantastique, Major Seraph, accompanied d'Bois in rescuing the love of his life, the incomparable Odette. Oh, it was a noble time and bravely done as a deux we stood against that black hearted villain, the Marquis Da Foz, and his loathsome underwater allies.

Mon Dieu! What a struggle catastrophique that was! But believe me when I tell you that it was merely the first of many bizarre and unusual supernatural encounters which seemed to dog d'Bois' glittering military career thereafter, padding alongside 'im like the remorseless 'ounds of 'ell.

Ah la bouteille c'est arrive and non, Monsieur, allow me to fill your glass and let us drink to the memory of the Major and my own dear sweet amour — and after much peril and 'ardship — the 'appy conclusion to that sorry tale.

Confusion to the forces of shadow and obscurité Monsieur! Salut!

Ah, that is a little better — I begin to feel the warmth of the liquor trickle into these old bones and my memory improves and my recollection grows as the spirit begins its fine work.

Maintenant, to business... yet first you say there is something you wish to confess, Monsieur? Why, please, you are amongst friends here, we have drunk together, are fellows of the bouteille and nothing you could say would ever cause d'Bois to think otherwise.

What!? You are a journaliste? One of those scribbling jackals who prey on the unwary and disseminate lies and untruths to the ignorant and gullible?

Pierre! Fetch the grande fouet! For I intend to horsewhip you from the Poulet d’or, this very instant, Sir! Believe me when I say these infirm old hands retain enough strength to leave sufficient stripes on your back to remind you that you are the lowest form of scoundrel for perpetuity ! Très fort!

Quoi! What is that you say? After reading of my first great adventure, your éditeur was so moved, so enthralled, so 'orrified, he wishes you to solicit further exploits from my glittering career, those to form an 'istoric record, a memoir incomparable, so that they may be placed before the wider public and gain the recognition they deserve?

Well... I see… j’compris... that is quite a different matter entirely, Monsieur and I believe I may have judged you and your intentions prematurely.

Forgive an ‘asty old soldier, for though mon corps is wracked by the indignities of age and grey threads my moustache like a spring frost, an 'ot 'ussars blood still surges through these veins and is capable of rising to the surface with only the very slightest provocation — as the widow will no doubt attest if she ever lowers her defences enough for me to sound the charge once again! Hah!

Très bien, you are as gallant and forgiving as the best of foes should always be, worthy of my steel, but magnanimous in victory or defeat, ignoring the vicissitudes of Madame Destinée. Now, let me slake my thirst once more, so that my mind may be sharp and my tongue loose and the veils of 'istory and of your beautiful tongue — second only to nonpareil Francais but still somewhat of a struggle for this seasoned campaigner — part a little easier. Bon, now I will light my cigar and if you wish, I will tell you of the strange sequel to the affair of the Crystal Void that befell me during that latter part of that most curious year of 1810, when my eyes were first fully opened to the supernatural 'orrors which lurk behind the curtained fringes of this world.

As the year began its inevitable change from l'automne to hiver, pardon, from autumn to winter, Milor' Wellington and 'is Portugais allies still skulked like chiens... pardon Monsieur... 'eld their discipline behind those accursed earthworks at Torres Verdas. Marshal Masséna, our own dear sweet Victory’s Child, had chased milor' half way across Spain and Portugal and now found himself confounded by these vast, and it must be conceded, rather unsporting fortifications, which Le Fer Duc had cunningly constructed to protect his retreat (although if you recall, 'e was a mere viscount at that time). Facing such an immovable object, Masséna had dug in to plot his counterthrust and as the cold began to settle upon the land, our two forces stared uneasily at each other across the lines, in that most dishonourable and unsatisfactory condition known as a stalemate.

Naturally a bold 'ussar's spirit chafes at such inaction, but after the perils we 'ad faced in Da Foz’s lair in the affair of the Crystal Void, it was a relief, at first, to rest and recuperate from the ordeal. Upon the insistence of her father, the redoubtable Colonel d'Hiver, mon amour Odette, had, amidst a flurry of kisses and ‘dear 'earts', departed for the safety of la belle France ahead of our proposed marriage. Those nuptials were a saga worthy of inscribing upon the Roll of Honour itself Monsieur, but the tale of those battle honours, which d'Bois earned with much blood and sweat, must be preserved for another day, for now we must not be diverted from our course.

d'Bois for his part and with the Colonel’s accompanying recommendation for ‘is valiant conduct — which could of course not be widely disclosed, or indeed possibly believed — had been transferred to the seventh squadron of His Imperial Majesty's XIIIth Death's 'ead 'ussars. It was a newly formed regiment, and despite its rather ill-omened prénom, it no doubt felt its reputation suitably enhanced by the presence of such a redoubtable chevalier. While a worthy addition to the Empereur's ranks in many ways, the XIIIth, like so many in those days, was comprised of many bits and pieces, spare parts and odds and ends which had been reformed and reconstituted into a new whole. It was both fashion and necessite in those days, but it meant new shavers with scarcely a scraping of fluff upon their cheeks, rode alongside grizzled veterans and wizened warriors. Having won no distinctions of its own, the XIIIth, with its deep blue jackets, pink breeches and death's 'ead cap badge, was a regiment in search of glory, 'onour and an identity of its own.

However, it is no fanfaronnade, no idle boast, to say at this time, d'Bois, like our beloved Empereur 'imself, was at the very 'eight of his powers. Despite many acts of bold and daring valour, he was miraculously untroubled by his many wounds (for the main part), strong of arm, noble of mien and with moustaches and cadenettes that set the gentler sex’s ‘earts a flutter. No doubt, he would have made a statue fair blush to be'old 'im, unlike the sad old specimen he has now become. He can say with no fear of contradiction or false modesty — and there is no ‘igher praise — d'Bois was the very epitome of a model 'ussar.

But once he had recovered from the shock of his travails at the 'ands of the Marquis da Foz and 'is unnatural allies, this state of affairs before Milor’s unnatural earthworks began to chafe at 'im like new boots on a ride through the Russian steppe. Although there was a little occasional light skirmishing to enliven the ennui, there was no immediate prospect of bringing milor's Redcoats to battle, the environment which is d'Bois' naturelle habitat.

In truth, it was an ‘ard time, made ‘arder by the cooling of the climate, the poor state of the Portugais roads and a scarcity of food, supplies, and the luxuries and nécessité the 'ussar requires upon campaign. The Iron Duke had attempted to scour the land of food, fodder and resources to limit our ability to stay in the field and prosecute the siege and by doing so, eventually force our ignominious retreat. Of course, 'e had not counted on the inborn ingéniosité of the French cavalryman who is able to sniff out a scrap of food and more importantly a drop of wine and a choice cigar, as the stoat sniffs out the lark’s egg.

There was little honest fighting for 'ussars in such a protracted siege and with little prospect of winning the renown which would establish our name and reputation in open battle, d’Bois, and elements of the XIIIth were charged with the equally vital work of foraging.

Now you may scoff when d'Bois terms this ‘vital work’, but it is an important aspect of war and the ‘ussar is its natural practitioner, able to scout deep behind enemy lines, sift the wind for intelligence, disrupt enemy troop movements and ferret out additional food and weapons squirreled away by the most cunning of foes.

So it was that d'Bois found himself in the command post, where the grizzled visage and single beady eye of Monsieur Colonel La Garde ran their rule over him as he stood rigidly at attention. Le Garde was renowned as a rather candid and dyspeptic old fire breather, but he was a brave man and a fine commanding officer for all his gruffness. Yet this was our first proper encounter and 'e had not yet ascertained the full measure of d'Bois, so with an unpleasant — and to d'Bois' ears rather unnecessary snort — Monsieur le Colonel began.

'Pff, I can spare no proper officers for this undertaking d'Bois, so you must suffice.'

'Oui, Mon Colonel.'

'You will range to the north east and become our eyes and ears in that territory. Discover what you can, and keep an especial look out for any caches of arms or food which might be recovered. But act with caution and try to keep that foolish head upon your shoulders, for there is some talk of one of Wellesley's Eyes being active in the area. I have appointed Sergeant Sacleaux to act as your NCO. God help me,