Messenger From The Sky

Chapter Nineteen: Alastor Weiss

According to the sun's positioning, midday has just passed by the time they reached their destination. The rough terrain disappeared and the mountains seemed to shrink back, making way for the tiny village that was Palofel.

Erin didn't think it was even possible, but at first glance Palofel seemed more desolate than Laistenbal. If not for the rundown, feeble-looking houses and workshop establishments, many would have assumed that still had yet to reach the village and carried on with their journey.

She glanced over at Hirst, who was perched in the middle of the driver's box, having succeeded Casius as stagecoach driver. 'Are you sure this is it?' she asked.

The dwarf nodded. 'Yup. Palofel. This is where our guy, what's-his-name, should be.'

'Alastor Weiss.' Erin's gaze wandered about the area as the horses continued along their way, trotting lazily down the sodden, mud-strewn roads with the stagecoach in tow.

Palofel looked like it had been deserted and left to crumble. Many of the houses, which had been constructed using wattle and daub, were damaged beyond repair. The thatched roofs, riddled with holes, were starting to slope down and the white wash coating was slowly peeling away to reveal the woven twigs underneath.

Still, the small number of villagers walking through the streets didn't seem bothered. Instead, they continued with their everyday lives, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the buildings around them were on the verge of collapse.

Erin shook her head. Having spent her entire childhood in Dorafeir, she couldn't help feeling like she had just wandered into another dimension, one which stood worlds apart from the modern day kingdom she was familiar with. 'So, do you know this guy?' she asked at last. 'Alastor Weiss? Are you familiar with him?'

Hirst shrugged. 'I don't know. I've never met him.'

'If he's anything like you, then God help us all.'

The dwarf chuckled. 'Imagine that, huh? Two of me. You definitely wouldn't be able to keep your hands off of us!'

'Trust me, I would.'

Casius chose that moment to raise his hand. 'Might I ask a question?'

Erin looked over Hirst's head and smiled when she the angel's wings twitching beneath the cloak thrown over his shoulders. Her cloak. 'Go ahead,' she said.

'How are we meant to find this particular Mortal if we do not know what he looks like?'

'That's easy. We can just ask someone. See?' She pointed ahead at the plump, middle-aged man traipsing across the road. 'There's someone now. Excuse me, sir! Hirst, stop the coach.'

There was no hesitation. Hirst did as instructed and pulled at the reigns, bringing the stagecoach to a gradual rest beside the man, who stopped where he was and inclined his head up.

'Uh, good morning, sir.' Erin held out her hand at the man, whose brows creased at the sight of her slender fingers. 'We're just passing through Palofel, although I was wondering if you knew someone called Alastor Weiss?'

He stared at her with dull, uncomprehending eyes. His gaze drifted over to Hirst and Casius, then back to her. 'Weiss,' he grunted. 'Ah, Alastor Weiss.'

'Yes, Alastor Weiss. Do you know him?'

'Aye.' He twisted round, stabbing a pudgy, wrinkled finger towards the end of the road. 'Yer gonna want to go up to the edge of the, ah, village. Right to the end. Last house. Big.'

The man's strange accent, coupled with his slurred speech, meant that his words were barely pronounceable. However, Erin could just make them out. She smiled, acknowledging him with a courteous nod. 'Thank you very much,' she said. 'Have a lovely day, sir.'