Frantic is the flight of the wicked man; the wind behind him is thick yet empty.
The two riders swiftly fled though the foggy night up a path used mostly by hunters and foresters.
The path twisted up into the hills and away from the clinging moisture from the River Gan until the path was more felt than seen. Winding through dense patches of high trees, they finally slowed to a walk as the way became more treacherous.
The lead rider leaned in his saddle and seemed to smell his way forward. He was, in fact, looking closely for a marker only he knew. At last he grunted and turned his horse to the left and up a nearly invisible trail through the undergrowth.
The second rider paused for a few seconds as if unsure if he should follow. What he was sure of is that he did not want to be caught by any pursuers, so he turned his horse and moved after the first rider.
The hidden trail climbed high up the face of a hill and turned left into a small clearing. The first rider dismounted and tied off his horse.
“Here,” he said softly. “If any follow, we can hear them from up here. But only a ranger familiar with these woods would know of this path, so I believe we’re safe for now.”
The second rider dismounted and tied off to another tree. He bent his back, peered into the darkness and listened for any sounds of horses.
The first rider was Malus Jeht Dalan, and he was taller than most from his lands. Some felt that he came from nobler stock and was fortuned with good nutrition and health. He peered through the scant star light at the second rider who felt the look more than he saw it.
Malus was intimidating… not in a physical way… but in a sense that all options good or bad seemed to be on the table for him. Daqathi turned away from the taller man and scratched his thick dark beard.
“Do we make camp here, then?” Daqathi muttered. “Is this a safe place to sleep?”
Malus smirked. “I’m not sleeping tonight, and if you have any sense, you will not either.” He inched forward. “Take the pouch off your horse and put it there.”
Daqathi slowly untied the large pouch and placed it gently on the stump near them. They both sat on the ground near it but not quite in striking distance of each other.
In a little time, Malus pulled a Katashi root from a cloak pocket and began idly chewing it as he gazed off into the darkness. He seemed to be studying something out of his sight.
Daqathi broke the silence. “Tell me what you saw in his bed chamber.”
Malus grunted. “The same as you. Had you not distracted it, it might have enveloped me, and you would not have the pleasure of my company tonight.”
“That was no shadow,” Daqathi whispered with dread in his throat. “It was the absence of anything… everything… and it moved like a man. Or more like flowed like a veil caught in the breeze.”
“Did it not, though?” Malus answered after some seconds. “When I sliced into it, I could feel the cold through my sword.” He suddenly drew his blade and peered at it. Even in the dim light, he wasn’t happy with what he saw. “This sword looks as if it’s a century older than it actually is.”
Daqathi drew his short sword and looked closely at it. “As is mine.”
Both sheathed their weapons and sat quietly for a while. Daqathi sat back against an oak tree. “So we will not sleep tonight?”
“I will not. I prefer to keep that pouch in my sight until we have delivered it.”
“So you do not trust me?”
“Do you trust me?”
Daqathi paused. “No. So I will not sleep either. Could we make more headway toward our employer during this night?”
Malus chuckled. “The main roads probably have patrols right now looking for us.” He spat out one end of the root. “We could have made a quiet departure from the city, had you not…” He shrugged.
Daqathi chuckled in return. “A novice’s mistake. Where was my head?”
“Almost on the floor of the Sorcerer’s bed chambers, and again at his vault.”
“Malus,” Daqathi murmured. “I’ve seen many things. I have stood on the edge of the Great Wastes and saw Lilith’s Children from afar slaughter a column of bandits. Never have I been that close to something that absolutely smelled of death. No,” he paused. “Not smelled… take the essence of death.”
“Toteskinder,” replied Malus. “That’s the name I heard once for such beings from one of the Northerners. The name means ‘Death Children’ in the Trade Tongue, but it would be more accurate to call them ‘Death’s Escorts.’ It is said they appear at the behest of the Death Angel.”
“The Fifth Faynarch?” Daqathi waved his hand in a simple ward.
Malus smirked. “If you believe in such things.”
“You do not believe in the Death Angel?”
“I believe in none of the Nine Unknowns. I have never seen one, nor have I met anyone who claimed to have met any of them. They are fables for the simple minded to keep them in line.”
Daqathi looked away from such unbelief. This Naeja played with heresy too much for his taste, and he wanted to change the subject.
“But I can tell you this,” Malus spoke. “We killed it, yet it won’t stay dead.” He stepped away into the dark to take a piss, one eye on the pouch. “Things like that can be defeated, but they never die.”
Daqathi did not answer, but found his change in subject. “Shall we take a look at our prize?”
Malus pondered, then grunted. He leaned over to the pouch, opened it and pulled it down around its contents.
On the stump sat a cube… perhaps two hand-spans on each face. Their first sight of it earlier that night showed it to be made of some dark green stone, and the corners were capped with silver. On each face were what one might consider to be sigils; each sigil comprised of circles of varying sizes combined with arcs also of varying sizes crossing the perimeter of each circle at different depths. The sigils were arranged on each face in erratic patterns, and they gave a dim glow in the darkness that was better seen from the side of a man’s eyes rather than straight on. Both felt a subtle vibration coming from it that faded whenever they focused on it. It was there, and then not there, like a child animal’s call for help before it hid itself from a predator.
Daqathi didn’t dare voice his one thought: much gold paid to them in order to retrieve this thing of awe, yet it could fetch so much more...
To be continued…