Ghosts of the Five Realms: The Rabbit and the Dryke

Prologue

Blood dripped from the razor-sharp point of his blade. It ran slowly and thick, an unnatural shade of deep, dark red. He recovered his nerve, caught his breath and used his bare hand to wipe the gore from the otherwise glimmering weapon. He flicked the steamy mess from his fingertips, indiscriminately onto the forest floor. The creature's lifeless body relaxed. It's large, double mandible twitched defensively as the remaining signals from its brain fired for the last time. Steam rose from the deep, bloody sword wounds in its hide. The ranger couldn't help but to admire its muscular form and armored scales, which blended perfectly into this environment. It was evidence to him an all-knowing God must have intelligently designed everything in nature. However, this perfect killer was also evidence of a great, dark, evil force capable of corrupting anything it touched. A kisch isn't a terrible threat to a ranger, but they are agile and highly intelligent. They are clever problem solvers. They behave in a manner which would suggest they understand reason, in their own primal way. The hunter needs proper planning, patience and endurance.

The ranger's armor was easily identifiable by the multiple layers of leather and silvery, though tarnished, mail. It was well worn and had suffered many marks and gashes from battle. Those gashes matched faded scars on the ranger's face and neck. On his tunic were the dingy colors of his empire and the tarnished, silver broach which clipped his green cloak around his neck bore the emblem of his home region. He adjusted the green cloak back into its correct position. Five black encircled stars set, embroidered in the center of it on his back.

He untangled himself and the animal from the snare used to trap her. Dirt and blood caked his clothing, which he refused to dust from himself. He plucked two blue fletched arrows whose shafts were remarkably still intact after impacting the kisch's rigid hide. He carefully inspected the steel, armor piercing bodkins at their points, wiped them clean and replaced them in his leather quiver, neatly.

"I should find the nest and inspect it for eggs." he thought, scanning the area as he wound his snare around the length of his forearm. "I can also get a clue as to what else it has been eating. It may tell me what brought this foul thing to this level of altitude this time of year. It seems awfully dry here for this sub-species." Then again, he could say that about most of the dark creatures who had cursed the realms in recent years. They did not belong here, not anymore.

This kisch had itself recently hunted far less challenging prey; two children from a nearby Shire. He took the time to harvest the animal's more valuable parts and wrapped them neatly in canvas sheets. His hands moved efficiently, like an experienced hunter dressing a deer. The family of the victims could make some coin from the oil of its liver or the shimmering proto and meso-thorax. Kisch eggs themselves would be quite valuable to the right buyer. Butchering it wasn't a pleasant chore, but this creature owed those children a debt this knight intended to deliver.

He noticed what appeared to be life returning to the forest. It seemed a bit greener. Small animals chirped and scurried from their hiding places. Everything in life needed balance and it seemed to have returned here, suddenly, with the death of this creature. This subtle change wasn't something most folk in the realm could perceive. After all, it had always been this way. Few who live remember where creatures like this came from. Ancient stories were all which remained. This ranger not only had experience in the wild, but he above most had a connection to the darker parts of it. The old parts which had long since left these lands. The ones time had forgotten, but lingered faintly, like a shadow at dusk. His childhood had been filled with nightmarish creatures such as this. That seemed like such a long time ago, however. He wondered if he could ever go back. "No. I have so much work to do," he thought, wearily. "But I so miss the capital."

He cleaned his equipment in a nearby stream and carefully packed it onto his saddle. He walked slowly. His muscles ached from the hunt and the subsequent fight with the kisch. He draped his cloak over his mare's shoulder, adjusted the billets of his saddle and lingered for a moment, taking a heavy, tired breath. He turned, dropped to his knees and closed his eyes. The fading light of the setting sun was replaced by a yellow glow emitting from, the knight. He sat for a moment, basking in it. He slowly opened his eyes, lowered his shoulders and sighed deeply. Home was south, but the burden and responsibility of this magic compelled him north and he had a responsibility to fulfill.

He leaned on his sword with the weariness of a man twice his age. He had been out here for what seemed like a lifetime and there was no end in sight "Get up." He grunted to himself, rising to his feet.