The wall the Tutelar had smashed through must have been the side of a large warehouse building. Once we'd dived through the gap, we were inside a spacious area filled with crates and barrels. There was sawdust on the floor and the walls were filled with shelves. The warrior monk was already moving towards a door on the adjacent side of the room, weaving between the low crates that littered the floor. Haze was just in front of me; I grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her onward.
"Follow him," I said, and we both set off towards the door that the monk had already reached. He took two kicks before the lock gave way and the door flew open. The cool night air fell in via the open threshold and he disappeared through, with the two of us close behind.
Once we were outside again, we could hear lots of noise from nearby streets, but there was no one actually in sight. It sounded like there were lots of people looking for us, shouting to each other over the rooftops to coordinate their search.
I cursed repeatedly to myself; the damn town guards had organised frustratingly fast. Maybe there was another group on their way to the inn just as the fighting kicked off? Whatever the reason, if the word of the Tutelar could be believed, they had already blocked off the stable. There went the horses! At least me and Haze both had our packs, and I had my purse, but the horses! Damn their loss, it wasn't just that riding is much better than walking, they were worth a lot of silver.
However, I had to focus and forget about what was gone; there was still the threat I could lose a lot more. The Tutelar was already running towards the edge of the town, towards where it was quiet. We seemed to in be some sort of merchant area as the closely packed buildings were dark and locked up for the night. Haze and me raced onward between them, along the small streets, always following the monk and trying to be as quiet as possible.
We came around a corner to see he'd stopped by the edge of the next building. The monk glanced back over his shoulder and he wasn't pleased to see us following. He gestured angrily for us to move against the wall and then turned once more to peer around the edge at the open space beyond. After a few moments he spun back to us and we all knelt down, trying the best we could to hide.
"What are you two doing?" he said. I met his stare, not flinching, while my grip tightened on the knife I'd already drawn. The unwanted prospect of having to fight this stranger jumped back into my head, but I was closer now, and that meant I had a chance.
"We're trying to get out of here," Haze said. "Just like you."
"Listen, whoever you are," he replied, his tone still aggressive. "You better not get in my way. They will string me up if I'm caught. You throwing me my sword does not mean I trust you."
My anger flashed. "And we don't trust you either, Tutelar." I almost called him a banished Tutelar, I almost said that and emphasised the banished part. It was good that I didnt.
For a few seconds we locked glares, and I was plotting where to stick my knife if he made any move towards me.
"First sake boys!" cursed Haze. "You better both get over your fear of each other and fast. We are in this together. You two are the only people in this town I'm currently not scared of. Do you want to fight each other here, in this alley? Is that a good idea? Come on, we have to figure out how to get out of town."
I felt like I'd just been told off by my mother, and I saw Haze's words similarly influence the monk. We both looked away.
"Just beyond is a way out of the town," he said. "But there are four heavily armed guards there. Fighting them would be risky and it is certain to make enough noise to attract others."
"Can't we go around them?" I suggested. "They can't be guarding the entire edge of the town, maybe we can find a quiet spot to slip out?"
"No we won't," he replied, in a tone that suggested I was a fool. "The entire town is ringed by a high stone wall, apart from where the chasm makes the bridge the only route out, and that would be impossible to reach or cross now. I came in this way yesterday, the stone wall has a few archways, they don't have gates but there are guards instead. We need to get past them somehow, a distraction would be best."
I considered this but didn't like my next thought. How were we going to distract four guards into leaving their posts? One of us would have to draw them off. I could see no other way, but bollocks was it going to be me. This was the job of a Tutelar, he could distract the guards while we ran.
"And we best be quick about it," the monk added. "They will have spotted the hole I made in the wall back there and be through after us any minute, we've not gone far and they'll be searching this area soon."
"Leave it to me," said Haze. I was astonished! What was she going to do? "Do not move from this spot, I'll be right back with the distraction." She stood up and started to run off. I reached out to stop her, but she pulled away. "Trust me," she said, and for some unknown reason, I did.
She disappeared back in the direction of the warehouse we'd come from. What the fuck was she going to do? The monk watched her go and then looked at me. I found myself telling him it would be fine and that she knew what she was doing. I hoped I was right. The monk was sceptical but - probably because he had no other options - he accepted my words and went back to peering around the corner at the guards. I stayed crouched there in the dark, worrying intently about how we would get out of here and if Haze would ever come back.
Only those two guards in the alley had seen her with me, and only briefly. The ones from inside the bar might not have noticed. Maybe she was just going to abandon me; she could probably flirt her way out of any accusations. I began to worry more and more.
The town by then was littered with search parties, the noises in the surrounding streets were getting louder.
Was it only five minutes she was gone? Perhaps not even that long, but it felt like hours. She suddenly came back around the corner and knelt down next to me. Her head was down and her hood up, so I couldn't see her face, but she was breathing hard, as if she had been sprinting as fast as she could the entire time she'd been gone. The monk and me both wanted answers. She took a moment to catch her breath, and before she said anything, I noticed that the sounds of the search parties had changed; the shouts had become more frantic and urgent. What had she done? Then I heard one word clearly as someone shouted it a few streets away.
"Fire!"
"Fuck me Haze, you've torched the town?" Haze moved her head up a little and her mischievous grin came into view from beneath the hood.
"The guards and everyone else who live here, well, they've now got something more important to worry about than us." There was no arguing with that. The town might be made of stone but there were still a lot of wooden construction, the warehouse had been made from timber, not to mention all the roofs that were thatched. The people searching for us would be forced to fight the fires for risk of them spreading. We were a small concern compared to that, but I still couldn't believe what she'd done.
The Tutelar gestured to get our attention then; he'd gone back to peering round the corner at the guards. I wondered what his religion said about setting fire to a town as a means of escape, even if it was full of bastards. If they caught him, he would almost certainly be hanged from the nearest beam, so I guessed that must have helped him come to terms with the drastic actions of Haze.
"The guards are moving, here's our chance," he whispered back over his shoulder. "Stay hidden!" We all pressed ourselves into the wall as best we could; the four guards he'd described came running passed heading in the direction where Haze had lit the fire. They didn't spot us crouched in the shadows off to their left.
"Now," stressed the Tutelar, and he was off and we were close on his heels. His description earlier was correct; there in front of us was the stone wall, perhaps twelve feet high and with an open archway. I glanced over my shoulder as we ran, checking for any guards. I saw none, but I was astounded by what else I saw. Flames already flicked high in the night sky over the tops of the nearby buildings; the smoke that must have been pouring upwards was swallowed by the darkness.
How had she started such a blaze so quickly? Maybe the warehouse was full of fuel; those crates and barrels could have been packed with anything. We raced through the archway, out underneath two lanterns hung there on high poles, and down the dark road which ran away from the town. There must have been many guards watching for our flight just a few moments ago, but now all the eyes of the town were turned inward to the raging fires.
Only a few hundred feet down the road, on one side, the trees and bushes thickened, there the Tutelar turned off and disappeared into the cover they provided; we followed. Inside the town there'd been lanterns hanging from jibs to provide light, but outside the town and buried in between trees and bushes, it was pitch black.
I spotted a single Revenant as I followed the Tutelar into the bushes; it was floating along like the Grim Reaper, out by the side of the road. My heart jumped into my throat but I tried to ignore it and just run. Up above in the sky, the half-moon shone through patchy clouds sending silver light down to the earth which reflected off the spectre's horrible ethereal body. When we stopped in the bushes, I lost sight of it, but there could be more, lots more, and I struggled to keep a grip on my panic.
We had no light, no fire, nothing to keep the horrors away!
The Tutelar had stopped, hidden behind two trees surrounded by thick leaved plants, and he whispered for us to stop.
"Wait here," he said. "Our eyes will adjust to the darkness in a moment." He was looking up at the sky, at the level of illumination the moon would provide. "We should just about have enough light to see by, for we will have to travel in darkness away from the road." My fear leapt at the idea of running through the night, Revenant everywhere. Back towards the town, I could still see the fires licking even higher into the night, but much too far away to keep the spirits back.
"You did well Miss," the monk said to Haze. "The perfect distraction indeed, and it will take the entire town hours to calm that fire. How did you start such an inferno so fast?"
Haze whispered back in the darkness. "I'm good at lighting fires."
The monk didn't seem too happy with the lack of details but let the matter drop. I guess he didn't give a shit about that town being burned. Did this mean he was an honour-lacking son of a bastard? Banished for murder or other such horrid crimes; or did it mean he had witnessed the way the town mercilessly ransomed people trying to cross its bridge, forcing ones who couldn't pay to work in the mines. That might have been enough for him to not care about the town. Add to that the fact of the townsfolk attacking him just for being a Tutelar, well, it might be enough for even an honourable man to think, fuck them.
"The fire will prevent a pursuit until at least the morning," said the monk. "In the dark we will be undetectable anyway, but the downside is, they certainly will try track us starting tomorrow. Before the fire, they might have given up if we had escaped the town some other way, but now they will want blood for sure. We must continue away from the road and as far as we can tonight. I do not know the best direction to go but we must put some distance between us and this horrible town. It will be slow going in the darkness and we will struggle to see."
"We must go south," I said, but with a fearful heart. "I was told in the bar that no one travels in that direction, the forest is apparently thick and wild with no roads, and chasms are common. It will be a hard journey but it will also be hardest route for any pursuit. Also, by the description I was given, no horses could help them in that landscape."
The monk considered what I had said. "Evading pursuit is the most important thing. If you are sure that south is the best way to avoid them catching up to us then that is the way we should go, but you had better be right." He was threatening me the fucker, but before I could get too annoyed, I realised I'd do the same in his place.
"South, for sure," I replied. "Listen to me monk, and I'll save you a second time." I could tell he didn't like that, and I smiled.
"I'd rather take my chances in the wild," agreed Haze, "If they can't follow us on horses south, then that's the best way," and there was not even a slight hint in her voice of her questioning my description of the lands to the south. What a girl!
"Then south it is," stated the monk. A cloud moved in front of the moon then and the illumination dimmed to almost nothing. In the darkness, I couldn't see what expression the monk had. Off we were about to head into the wild with this stranger. Again, I was worrying about what I was doing. I shook my head to clear the doubt, for what choice was there at this stage? I was stuck with this Tutelar, in the same way that only recently I'd found myself stuck with Haze. At least that had worked out fine, so far. I wished I believed in Fate so I could trust to it.
"We have come out the west gate of the town," said the monk. He'd stood up to get a better look at the town and to double check his bearings. "I guess we can head straight south from this point."
None of us had any geographical knowledge of the area other than what I'd been told in the bar. The clouds moved on then and the moonlight broke back down through to earth.
"Okay let's go," I said, but very much gripped with fear at the prospect, and not because of any pursuit. "I don't think any of us know the land around here, but I can see well in the dark and will lead. Stay close and keep your eyes and ears open. Watch your footing; it's easy to trip when it's so hard to see. We also must try to leave as little trail as possible so they can't find it to follow." I doubted how well we'd manage that last part when we were about to head off stumbling half-blind in the darkness through a forest, but off we went anyway.
All I could think of was the man at the bar's description of what lay ahead, the Haunted Forest.
The journey through the trees was a horrible, dark, miserable nightmare. The moon kept disappearing behind the clouds making it almost impossible to see. We groped and felt our way forwards, using our outstretched hands to guide us when the darkness robbed us off our sight. I tried my best to spot obstacles and warn the others, but it was difficult. Branches tore at our clothes and Haze and the monk both tripped at different points over roots I'd avoided.
For hours we struggled onward as best we could, keeping the fire of the town to our backs. It helped me to be sure we were going in a straight line for a time, but soon we'd left it behind and the dense trees blocked out most of the skyline and more of the moonlight. There were no paths, no trodden walkways I could find; I searched for animal trails but it was too dark to find any. Occasionally, we'd come to an impassable section, and we'd have to stumble round it, then it was a challenge to keep the directions clear my mind so I could be sure to find south again.
I saw Revenant, out beneath the trees, their glowing ethereal bodies were easy to spot in the darkness; they even radiated a tiny amount of silvery light. Some people say it is the moon and starlight that reflects off them, others say they absorb that light and then emit is slowly. I think it's the evil; shining malevolent evil. Each time I saw one my heart felt like it had been encased in ice and I'd have to detour. The ghosts would watch us as we passed, their empty eye sockets like pools of perfect darkness. I'd shudder and turn away.
Thank the First they all seemed intent on whatever evil business occupies such things and none of them floated towards us as we passed, else I might have really panicked.
Our little group of the living barely spoke; everyone was busy concentrating not to trip over something. I think all we said to each other was a brief introduction, sharing our names, but that was all.
This Tutelar was called Jeyahadin. He didn't offer us a second name, so we didn't tell him ours.
After hours of scrambling half blind in the darkness, we noticed a pale glow through the trees to our left; the sun was rising. Slowly, the level of light grew, illuminating the dark dense forest we were deep inside and, when we could see more, we gasped at the incredible sight of the surrounding wilderness.
The forest was a thick obstacle course of deep green. Different size trees were packed in close together, some with enormous wide trunks, others thinner, but all rose up to form a dense canopy of leaves way above our heads. We struggled on below it, climbing over rocks and under branches, walking through bushes and small plants, everything covered in thick moss. The air smelled alive, of the moss and bark, of the leaves and plants, but it was still and stale, the trees and other vegetation were so thick they didn't let enough wind through to move the air more than a little.
We couldn't see further than a few yards in any direction, even with the new daylight, there was just a wall of green on all sides and I realised how frighteningly easy it would be to become completely lost. Only the direction of the filtered sunlight enabled us to know the way we were going.
I was tired, but worse I was worried that we hadn't travelled very far from Stonebridge as it had been such slow going in the night. Thanks to the sun being up we could travel quicker and easier than before, but still slow. At least the threat of the Revenant was gone while the daylight ruled. However, the sun also made it clear how much of a trail we had left. There was probably a search party of angry guards following us by then and once they picked up our trail - I had to assume they would - they could cover the distance we'd gone in the night quickly, with the sun up.
That meant we only had the shortest of leads, so we all agreed to keep moving through the day. Haze was exhausted, mirroring my fatigue, but we had no choice. Our monk companion seemed much less tired, but he could have been resting at the inn for days, while me and Haze had been travelling for a week.
We did at least have supplies. Haze had grabbed her pack on the way out of the inn and I had held onto mine. In the melee of the bar, the monk had also somehow got back over to his table and grab his pack. I hoped it was jammed full with food. The horses and all of our other possessions were back at the inn, no doubt already rifled through by angry townsfolk and split up between them. It made me furious! Yesterday I had three horses and enough money to stock up on supplies, the reward for risking my neck when I'd jumped in to help Haze, but now I had nothing but my coins, my knives and the meagre amount of possessions in my pack.
I began to fill up with anger, a rage caused by losing all the horses. I'd earned those creatures and the money they were worth, earned them by risking my life in a fight with bandits. Then almost immediately, bad luck and stupid circumstance had robbed me.
Perhaps that was the punishment from Fate for not helping Haze willingly. Maybe I didn't deserve reward when I'd only accidentally got involved.
Such annoying thoughts. Guilt quashed my anger.
Once the sun was fully up the monk called for us to stop so he could address some injuries he had that me and Haze hadn't even noticed.
"We can't afford to stop for long," I said, as the monk sat down on a log and searched for something in his pack.
"I will be quick," he replied, without looking at me.
My first thought was if the Tutelar was injured he'd be easier to take in a fight - if it came to that - but it quickly became apparent that his wounds were not serious. While he saw to them, me and Haze took the chance to look around for water, the little our combined flasks had held when we'd fled Stonebridge had been drunk in the night and the monk certainly could use some to wash his wounds. We split up, heading in different directions and thankfully found a small stream. We all filled our water flasks and any spares we had, so dying of thirst at least stopped being a worry, but food would be a problem.
The monk washed, applied a salve and bandaged his wounds, using stuff from his pack. Haze asked him if he was in a lot of pain, and he looked at her for a moment. I was amazed; she seemed genuinely concerned for the monk, a complete stranger. I still didn't trust him, and had been wondering, maybe even hoping, the injuries were serious. He'd be much less of a threat if so.
Jeyahadin noticed her concern, and he must have believed its sincerity, as he thanked her! Then he explained they were nothing to worry about. One was a scratch from the edge of a sword, but it wasn't deep. The other from an arrow fired at his back, but it had only grazed him as it flew past.
I think I said before that Haze had an uncanny knack of trusting you quickly, seemingly for no reason, and that you couldn't help but trust her back. It was because of things like this. Yes, she could have been pretending to care, but if so, she was a hell of an actor. I had no doubt the monk had initially looked on her with suspicion when she'd asked if he was in pain, but after studying her face he found nothing but sincerity there. Haze's action showed the benefits of being caring, open and honest with people; an almost alien notion to me. I'd always been so mistrusting, so closed off, so scared of others.
I said nothing, just watched the two of them as they talked about the monk's wounds, talking like they were not total strangers. However, I kept turning my fears around in my head. Could the monk be trusted? Tutelars were supposed to be honourable even if they were despised by most people for their Order's uninvolved attitude towards the world.
Of course, this one here, might well be a banished Tutelar, almost certainly was. The monks do not exist outside their fortress these days, maybe a little in some major cities like the Capital, but there were none in these parts. This man here was as the people of Stonebridge said, a disgraced and banished monk. What if he had committed some horrendous and evil crime, and we were alone with him in the middle of a forest! On the other hand, he could have been banished for some sort of religious failing, something stupid like that, which I would not even deem a crime.
Could I trust him?
We were about to set off again when Haze said we all had better take the chance to have something to eat. While anxious about a longer delay, I accepted that we needed to stop and eat. However, Haze then announced she had barely any food. I had even less than her and to my dismay, the monk had nothing! He said his plan was to stock up in the town, just as me and Haze had planned, but he'd not had the chance. We each munched a little of what Haze had in her pack, and then continued our way south. We'd run out of food entirely in less than a day.
We moved on in silence.
The only good news was we could disguise our trail much better with the sun up. That was the only positive I could think off, that and the fact we'd not seen that many Revenant during the night considering I'd been told this place was called the Haunted Forest. However, I was terrified we'd come across more once of the horrors as we pushed deeper in.
We continued to struggle on through the oppressive vegetation and I hoped our pursuers were having as hard and as miserable a time as we were. Evil looking trees constantly blocked our way, anywhere there was a space between them ragged bushes filled the gap. Branches and twigs continued to tear at our clothes and we were all covered in the green crappy moss that grew on every surface. It was a horrible place and I understood why no one came here.
Then it got worse. We came across the other geography I'd been told about in the inn. I was still leading, with Haze in the middle and the monk at the rear. I'd tried to get him to take over the lead, but he'd said south was my plan so I should find the way. He continued at the back, which made me very uneasy. Haze didn't seem to give a shit.
We were going forward, when the ground opened up before me.
The little chasm was only a few feet across but deep. Tree roots and other vegetation had grown through and into the small chasm, half camouflaging it from sight, and that was why I spotted it so late and almost fell in.
We all carefully stepped over it and continued, but we found more and more of them. We came across one that was too big to jump. It was eight feet across and plunged down into complete darkness. It would require a hell of a leap to clear and we decided it was too risky, especially as we could jump the gap, hit the other side and find the ground so lose that it collapsed back into the chasm, taking the jumper with it. Instead, we turned west along the edge, searching for a way over, or at least a narrower point. After half an hour, we found a suitable section and got across, but this was just the first of many such wide chasms, and they became a regular cause of detours.
We walked for the full day. Tired and feet aching, we pressed ever onward into the forest. The land had been flat for most of the day, but as the light in the sky dimmed, we came upon a hill that rose above the level of the rest of the forest. It was still covered in the same miserable trees as the rest of the surrounding land, but from the top it would offer us a vantage point to scout from.
We made camp in a small clearing at the hill's base. As soon as we stopped my two companions collapsed onto the ground, both exhausted. As drained as I felt, I told them to both get some rest, that I would take the first watch. The Tutelar didn't even look concerned at leaving me on guard while he slept. I wondered if it was trust he had in me, or trust in his own ability to awake quickly and defend himself. Much more likely the latter, but either way, he accepted my offer with thanks. Haze was asleep even before I'd finished offering.
It was well into dusk by then, the last light was fading fast but it still lingered in the western sky. We didn't make a fire, the smoke could give our position away. Around us, the trees pressed in, surrounding our little clearing with a darkening wall. I still feared pursuit could be close behind and there was no way to see it coming; we'd never spot anyone or anything approaching us through the dense vegetation.
A Revenant could come floating out at any moment.
I stood up and leaned on a tree.
At the top of the hill, like a candle on a cake, was a huge tree. Its thick branches extended upwards into the sky above the height of the other trees. Once it was fully dark and there was no chance of me being silhouetted against the sky for anyone following us to see, I climbed the hill and inspected the tree close up. I could reach the bottom branch easily and there was a route to the top. Ignoring my protesting and tired muscles, I climbed; soon I was high up, looking out over the forest, the tree tops still lit by the setting sun.
The densely packed trees extended south for as many miles as I could see, with few breaks in the solid green canopy. Back north, I couldn't see the town; we'd covered a good twenty miles I guessed, probably most since daybreak; good considering the terrain. Still, any pursuit could be close behind and I searched for signs; all I could expect to see would be the smoke from a campfire as the trees would hide anyone following us on foot, but if they'd stopped for the night and made a fire, I might have been able to see smoke.
There was nothing.
I couldn't decide if that was a good or bad sign. They could be moving through the night, but I dismissed that thought as being paranoia, it was too unlikely that anyone would try travelling in the dark through this gloomy forest. Maybe no one was following us at all I hoped, but then I remembered the size of the inferno in the town when we'd fled. I was certain they'd pursue.
The fire might bring that Hound back to the town, they'd get a detailed description of us all for certain. It might even bring other Hounds, any in the area would be drawn by the news of the fire, to see if their prey was involved. I tried not to panic.
Looking back south, I tried not to dwell on what might be following us. Instead, best to try to see where we're going before the light faded completely. I stood on a thin branch, with my feet resting where it met the trunk, held onto another branch and leaned out, trying to see as far as possible.
Peering out from my vantage point I realised I could see breaks in the tree canopy, here and there were gaps running in lines. Chasms I released, just as the group at the bar had said, and just like the ones we'd already come across. Looking in all directions, I spotted the same lines cutting the canopy in many places. I looked back north for the big chasm we'd had to go around and, sure enough, about five miles back I could see a long straight gap in the trees. That must have been it.
I searched southward for any gaps in the trees long enough to mean it might be a huge canyon we'd have to go around. There were some signs but nothing that definitely meant a large detour. Then, at almost the limit of my vision, I thought I could see a big curved break in the trees. I didn't know what to make of it, but it was due south, the direction we should probably go. I noted a route to take us towards the edge of whatever it was so we could avoid it if necessary.
As I sat there studying the landscape, I thought by dusk tomorrow - if we found another tall tree - I could plan a route out of the forest, but for now, the deeper in we went, the safer from pursuit we'd be.
More chance of hitting the haunted bit I thought, and my blood chilled at the idea of a densely packed forest also densely packed with ghosts. I climbed back down and sat in our camp with my back against a tree trunk. Trying not to worry about whatever could be following us, or about Revenant that might lie ahead, I watched the surrounding trees. I desperately tried not to think about the chances of the fire in the town bring a Hound back there.
Complete darkness fell; I sat listening to the breathing of Haze and the monk as they slept, and for any noises out in the forest. Fear crept out of the trees and into my bones. I wasn't religious, I never have been, quite the opposite, but there in the darkness, near to my sleeping companions but feeling very much alone, I couldn't help but pray.
There was no need to kill them and the woman wasn't even injured, just scared away. My hands were forced to strike the man.
It was two days since leaving the hill and very early that morning the wilds had given way to a road. My unshod feet were grateful for a path to walk down instead of the uneven landscape; travelling became much easier and only a few more hours passed before my ears heard other people approaching. Hiding, they came round the bend ahead. A man and a woman, walking along together with some possessions tied to a donkey.
Charging out of the bushes when they drew close, they were taken by surprise and easily overcome. The man tried to draw a knife but my fist struck him before he could ready it. The woman, after seeing him fall and after getting a good look at me, screamed and bolted, running off the road and out into the wilderness with such speed the straw hat she wore fell from her head. She didn't turn to retrieve it, fear kept her feet racing away.
The unconscious man was stripped of any useful clothes, his jacket, his boots - which frustratingly were too big for my feet - the money he had in a purse on his belt and a backpack. The donkey was carrying household items; some food supplies, blankets, and to my delight more clothes. The couple were probably returning from a market, which was encouraging, it meant a town somewhere nearby.
My bloodied robe was thrown away, replaced with a pair of trousers, a shirt and the downed man's jacket. My breastplate - which had been made for a man and therefore was rather uncomfortable to wear - was abandoned, leaving it beside the unconscious owner. Maybe they could sell it; some form of compensation.
The straw hat dropped by the fleeing woman was perfect to cover my stubble covered head, and soon my feet were back on the road, but much less conspicuous would people find me now, thanks to the new clothes.
I had found a stream the day before, so the gore had already been washed from my face and skin, as well as the belt, sword and other gear that had come from the decapitated soldier. There had been no getting the bloodstains out of my robe, but that didn't matter now it had been replaced. The only remaining problem was my bare feet. They would attract attention in all but the poorest towns. The woman who'd fled might have had shoes that would have fit me, perhaps she shouldn't have been allowed to get away.
There was already some guilt for robbing the couple. Hopefully, only a headache the man would have when he awoke from my strike, but it was probably better to not have also attacked the woman. My mind was trying to justify my actions, both previous and now. The clothes stolen from the couple were a certain necessity, walking into a town in a blood-stained robe would be very dangerous. That was enough to offset the guilt, but attacking the woman for just her shoes was perhaps a step too far; it would be better to have them, but they could be lived without.
I follow the road for half a day more until my eyes notice the signs of a settlement ahead; multiple strips of smoke hanging in the sky. The road climbs over a small hill and from the top, my gaze looks down on the place. It is only a small village, with no walls or defences other than some scruffy looking guards standing by the road where it enters the settlement. There are perhaps twenty buildings either side of the road but that is all. Smoke from the chimneys drifts up into the blue sky and my eyes pick out a few people walking about. They look poor and all have light to dark brown skin.
My complexion will look out of place here. The new clothes hide all of my strange tattoos, but there is no hiding how white and pale my skin is on my exposed hands and face. It will be obvious I am not from around here, and that by itself might attract a lot of attention. Swearing under my breath, my mind considers skirting the entire place.
From one glance at the ragged village, it is obvious there will never be a magician living here. Heaven magi are rare, and finding one will probably require a large town, or even a city, but my feet walk down the hill towards the buildings. It is probable that someone can at least give me directions to a bigger settlement, or perhaps someone will know where the nearest healer actually lives. Hopefully, no one will care that I have come from far away.
Approaching what passes for the entrance to the village, my eyes watch the guards. Their demeanour is appalling, they are just some locals in a sort of militia, barely armed and lacking any armour, leaning on some crates stacked by the side of the road. There are crates on the opposite site of the road as well; this is the 'gate'. The guards are dirty and lounging about with no evident discipline. One is smoking a ratty old pipe, and another sits on one crate like a child, swinging his feet so that his heels keep banging against the wooden slats of the box.
It had instinctively seemed wise to afford the soldiers who had imprisoned me a certain amount of respect, they had been disciplined and professional after all, and they had turned out to be part of the Tutelar monk order.
There is no way that these rag tag peasants will receive the same courtesy. They are rabble and it feels that no one in this entire pathetic village will be worthy of respect; they are all clearly beneath me.
As my feet walk into the village, my head is held high, perhaps inviting comment, but there will be no skulking into the town, passed this rabble, while hiding under my hat - that feels wrong.
When I am level, two of the shabby excuses for guards push themselves up from their lounging and walk across the road to intercept me.
They block the way so I stop while my eyes gaze at them. My hand rests on the hilt of my sword, my face wears an expression of dismissal and disgust at their presumption to stop me, and my ears barely listen to their gutter speech questioning.
There is a clear difference in my demeanour compared to these obvious peasants. They don't know what to do with me, the way I hold myself, regardless of my poor attire, is like a lord or knight, and they are not used to addressing people of such high class. Am I a member of the aristocracy? My mind has not before thought about my standing in society. When captured by the soldiers, the Tutelar detachment, no such obvious comparison had my thoughts made between myself and them, but when facing the dirty peasant guards, it is obvious they are from a much lower stock than I.
It feels right, that I am upper class.
My body, radiating annoyance, stands there defying the two guards who try to question me, and it doesn't take long for their confidence to drain away. They shuffle their feet and glance at each other, both hoping the other one will take charge and regain the high ground.
My lips remain closed, not offering them a response to most of their questions; a few times my head nods. Growing impatient, my gaze turns directly upon the one who is speaking and it burns into his eyes. He is visibly shaken and takes a small involuntary step backwards, his remaining questions dying in his throat. The other guard already holds his head down, accepting his position beneath me, but then the third member of their squad walks over. They'd not initially approached with the other two.
A woman, not so easily intimidated. Demonstrating that she has more bravado than her two male counterparts, a dirty finger is thrust into my face and she shouts questions in her peasant accent. My nostrils are filled with the stench on her breath and my face is touched by spittle, expelled by her rash screaming.
Trust my instincts my mind says. Do what feels right.
I reach out for the hand that wags its finger at me, seize it, and then fling it aside; step forward, a strike to her face with the back of my palm.
She staggers back, one hand rising to her red check and her mouth open in shock. The others reach out to steady her, but make no move for their weapons, or to comment.
My voice now threatens, "Speak to me in that manner again, and the next time I strike you, the hand will hold my sword. Where I have been and where I am going are no concerns of yours. Get out of my sight." All three guards stand still in shock. Enough time has already been wasted on these fools, so leaving their startled and surprised reactions behind, my feet resume their walk into the village.
My ears listen for any sounds that would indicate the guards are foolish enough to be following, or even charging with weapons drawn, but it is no surprise they have not the stomach to challenge me again. My eyes notice that some other locals, all rotting peasants, have witnessed the scene and look pleased; one group of scruffy children especially, but I ignore them all.
The village is even more woeful close up, nothing more than a collection of shacks built along the dirt road. There is a blacksmith and a hall at least, what passes for an inn, and some other even less interesting buildings. The locals are farmers, trades-people, shop owners, or other such basic society members. The place seems to just be a location for people to come and sell their spare vegetables, with the supporting stores that inevitably spring up where people congregate.
My body suffers no hunger, not for food, but it suffers from thirst. My eyes linger upon the door to the inn while my mind debates if there is any point in entering such a deplorable establishment. There will be no healer here, other than an old person who knows something about local herbs, certainly no Heaven magician who could hope to cure my memory failures, but a drink can at least be had, so into the inn it is.
The door opens and my nose is greeted by the smells of the unwashed. It is early afternoon, outside the sun has not even begun its decent, however in this hovel of a town, now is the time to be in this room getting drunk. There must be thirty odd people crammed into the small common area, clustered at the long bar opposite the door or else sprawled on benches around cheap looking wood tables, littered with cups and bowls. The chatter is loud initially, but plenty of voices go silent as their owners notice the stranger in the doorway.
It feel right to act like a noble, like a lord or princess, to treat these people as my significant underlings, so my feet walk across the room and if someone is in my way, they are expected to get hastily out. Most folks do, some hurling themselves out of my path, much to their benefit.
One old woman stands with her back to me in the middle of the room, swaying in her drunkenness and barking out drivelling words to her companions. She's not seen me enter or approach and is oblivious to the increasing silence that my arrival has created. My elbow moves her aside; she falls onto the people on the bench and my walk carries on to the bar, my eyes giving her companions an icy stare before they dare complain about my actions.
The din of normal conversation is gone, replaced by the murmur of combined whispering. My hand rests on my sword hilt and that, along with the dominating presence I have, keeps everyone in the room in check. At the bar, a space opens for me as the people scurry like rats to get out of the way. Watching my approach with apprehension is a barman.
"Clean water, a clean cup," he looks terrified and scurries away to try to find something clean in the building.
Money, they would expect some. It seems like an odd thing to do, to give over money for things. Had I been rich before my memory was taken? Perhaps with servants who handled such matters?
There is the option to not pay, it is unlikely they would challenge me, but that wasn't necessary and it is wrong. I have to remind myself of that, in an effort to not always act like the monster I fear someone has turned me into. In the last few days, evil things I have done, but only when forced.
Sitting down on a high stool that is hastily vacated by the previous owner, my hand fishes out the purse taken off the couple I'd been forced to rob. Inside, some coins, enough for this smallest of expenses, but not for much more. A guess as there is no memory of the currency here and the drab collection of coins look almost worthless.
The man soon returns with my water in a cup which just about reaches an acceptable level of cleanliness, so one of the dullest coins in the purse is tossed to him as payment. If it is not enough, he does not have the courage to say so.
Sitting there, sipping my drink and ignoring the other people in the room, my mind ponders what benefit this town might provide. Boots they were certainly needed, and a map and directions would be good. However, even without the memory of the currency, the small amount of coins remaining in the purse probably won't go far enough to get a decent pair of boots, let alone a map.
The muttering in the bar continues, there is even some angry sounding speech behind me, probably from the granny elbowed or the group she'd been dropped onto, but unless they find enough courage to approach me it is of no concern. However, just then my ears pick out younger voices, children's voices, telling the story of me striking the guard. It is already embellished; my blow had apparently knocked the woman guard off her feet, sending her flying backwards into, and flooring, the other guards.
My head turns to find these voices, their high pitched words are coming from near the door, and as my gaze sweeps over half the bar it falls silent, everyone finding something terribly interesting to stare at in the bottom of their cup, or on the floor.
The children who'd witnessed my altercation with the guards are at the back of the room, telling an attractive woman in her twenties about what had happened. They see me watching and shrink under my gaze, but less so than the other adult people in the bar, and they continue to talk. My ears pick out a little of what they are saying, something about me being someone who might help? My attention though is on the girl.
She is too pretty to be in a place like this. A long orange dress hugs her figure; her long dark hair is brushed dead straight, and it hangs wrapped around her neck and down her front; she must take great care over it. Unlike most of the people in the room, she has pride in her appearance. Her beautiful hair makes me remember the fast growing stubble on my head, under my hat, and jealously stirs inside. I should have hair like hers, or better.
The girl's dress is tight fitting, it runs down her body against her skin, showing off her wide hips and full chest, and my body feels physical attraction for the first time in my brief remembered life. Thoughts shoot into my head, about how fun it would be to strip that dress off, to kiss her skin and feel her lips against mine. It is surprising; my mind had assumed a monstrous creation of Sakkura would not be interested in such things, but perhaps I am more human than previously thought.
That makes me feel better, and the desire to be more human, less a monster, pulls at me, makes me want the girl even more.
To my surprise, she stands up from the little table where she's been sitting and approaches. As she nears, my eyes see her fear, etched into her handsome face. She holds both her hands in front of her waist, ringing them in trepidation. The children sit down at her now vacant table and watch as she walks over, even waving her forwards when she turns to glance back at them. These children - three of them there are - have a little less fear of me than everyone else.
The children are of no interest, the attractive girl is. The closer she comes the more it is noticeable that there are many imperfections in her beauty; stains and mended tears in her poor quality dress, her hands are dirty, but she is still far and away better to look at than all the other people in the room, most of whom are watching her with interest as she approaches.
When she is close, in a shaking voice she speaks. "Hello Sir, would, would you mind, I mean, could you, could I speak to you? We have a problem in this town, one you might be able, able to help us with?"
There is nothing in the inconsequential town to interest me, including whatever problems ailed it, and there must be many. I am about to turn back around to face the bar when she says something that catches my attention.
"We can pay you, a little."
Payment, a job, employment; the items required can then be bought, no need to take them like a common criminal. Working for money doesn't feel right, taking what is needed seems more usual, but my mind worries that such a feeling is from the monstrous part of me, the evil part, that which must be resisted.
"What task?" The sound of my voice sends ripples out around the room and any remaining conversation from the patrons dies away. Everyone's attention is now on the girl and I, but the combined sum of the focus of the people in this room still means nothing. Only the girl is the slightest bit interesting, and her nervousness is compensating for the imperfections; she is breathing hard, her large chest rising and falling as she takes each breath, and again my thoughts stray to what she would look like without that dress.
"Please, can we speak at a table?" she asks, stepping back and beckoning me over to an empty seat in the corner. She doesn't want to discuss her job offer in full view and earshot of everyone else in the room. There is no need to reply, my body rises from the stool at the bar and follows her to the dirty table in the corner. She is oblivious to the mess left upon it, or so it seems, and she goes to sit down.
My hand points to the opposite seat from the one she had intended. "There," and she quickly obeys and almost dives into the chair indicated. My body sits where she had wanted to, with my back to the wall, facing out to the door and the rest of the room.
My command seems to rob her of the bravery needed to converse, and she sits mute, staring at the table top and the clutter of used crockery and fidgeting with her hands. At least she has enough respect to be nervous, and that pleases me. The others in the room have also been respectful with their fear, which is all that could be expected from such low life people as these.
After giving the girl a moment to find her courage again, which she doesn't, my impatience grows. "What is this task you want me to do?" My words cause her to almost jump out of her chair in fright and another minute is required for the girl to compose herself. When she replies, her voice is weak and her gaze is down.
"Thank you, thank you, for agreeing to talk with me." I wave a hand, indicating she should get on with it. She is however cute in her terrified manner.
"We, I mean, the town, it is, all of us, we are plagued by, by the guards. The ones you met are part of a group. A few months ago, we hired them as sell-swords, they came through the town and we had a problem with a creature in the hills, it was killing livestock. The town hired them, and they did their work, but then they stayed on, as the town guard, demanding more money for it. They are ransoming us. They have been here ever since, doing no work, just harassing people and demanding money. There are ten, and we do not have the will to, I mean no one will join together, to get rid of them."
She leans forward while talking, speaking quietly as if to avoid being overheard, which means my eyes can see down the front of her dress. My ears listen to the story, such a pathetic tale, of such small concern, and it is easy to guess what she wants me to do. The more she speaks the more her courage returns, but still she doesn't look at me directly, and so she doesn't see where my eyes are staring.
She continues. "Little Jack said you stood up to the guards outside. No one has done that for weeks, and no one ever got away with it." She glances up then, panicked, worried that she's offended me, a laughable notion.
"I did not mean. Sorry! I am sure you can handle them. That is why I ask you, please forgive," she is rambling, and my hand rises to stop her as it is getting annoying.
"What do you want me to do with the guards?"
She returns to staring at the table, but leans in again, to whisper, and my body leans in to, finding it exciting to be close to her, our lips only a foot apart.
"You could rid us of them, scare them away. You made the ones outside scared, and you would not even have to fight them I am sure. Just tell them to go, that you have friends meeting you here, or something, they will be too frightened to challenge you, I am sure. The town will be so grateful, we will give you the money they demand for this month, it is not much, but it is all we have left. Also, any other things we have you want, anything we could do."
Does she have any idea that what will be wanted, amongst other things, will be her? My hand reaches out and brushes a strand of fallen hair back away from her face. She freezes, not knowing what is happening but not daring to react the wrong way and displease me. Beneath her fear, is she interested or repulsed? At least flattered, for sure.
My fingers move down to her chin, one of them gently pushes her face up. She is looking directly at me. Our eyes lock for the first time, and for a moment, we stay like that, just looking at each other. I am just about to be convinced that she is interested, but before anything else can happen with the girl, the door to the room bursts open and the town guard come pouring in.
They enter on mass, a battalion coming through the doorway into the already crowded room. Other patrons are already getting out their way, some heading straight out the other door on the adjacent wall. The lead couple of guards reach the centre of the room before one of them spots me, it might be the woman my hand had struck earlier, my mind has of course forgotten her; most of these peasants look alike.
Shouting and pointing this woman. "There!" The rest of the guards have finished entering, eight, almost the full complement according to my pretty girl's earlier account. They all turn and glare, then advance, some already with swords drawn while mine is still in its scabbard on my belt. The remaining locals in between me and the guards jump out the way as quickly as they can. My companion is radiating fear, she bolts up from her seat and backs into the wall, trying her best to become invisible in plain sight; she will be no help at all.
I am cornered.
My heart beats faster; my fear spikes. The confidence I'd felt when facing the three at the gate evaporates. Heavily outnumbered and in the confined space of the bar, there will be little room to manoeuvre in a brawl; one lucky thrust could end me.
My mind cannot remember how much damage Sakkura's vampires can take. Would a sword slash hurt me as much as it would a human? Can my body survive a spear to the heart? My mind does not want to discover the answers to these questions through experimentation with these angry guards.
Panic sets in when, just a moment before, my thoughts had been so immune to anything in this town; the determination of the guards has been misjudged and my brief remembered life is about to end at the hands of a mob of pathetic ruffians.
Fighting in this room is suicide, there is no space to run or dodge, but if we were outside, escape might be possible: how to take it outside?
Hurling tables and chairs out of their way - it seems they do this more for effect than necessity as they could just step around them - the guards come up to me. My body stands, my face defiant, my arms folded across my chest, hand definitely not on my sword hilt.
The girl is dragged away by one man who screams abuse at her, asking her question after question but not waiting for any answers, and he strikes her across the face; a flash of rage! The urge to reach out and throttle that man is almost overwhelming, but it has to be resisted. The rest of the guards form a semi-circle, blocking me in, trying to intimidate. Sword points appear at my throat and my weapon is drawn from its scabbard and taken away.
Think fast or die.
Talking quickly, making a gamble. "Whatever you will do, do it outside. I'll die with the sun on my face."
"Shut your mouth!" shouts one who appears to be the leader, and he steps forward and punches me right in the jaw. My eyes see it coming, my body could have dodged or blocked it, but it had to be allowed to land. The smart thing to do is to let this happen until there is a chance to fight back in a way that won't certainly get me killed.
The blow isn't as painful as it should be. My body is not rushed, not pumping with power like just after feeding on the prisoners in the cage; my hand had caught a swinging sword in that state, a punch or two would be little to me here.
His hands are gloved but only in leather, no chain mail or knuckle-dusters, and it appears it will take many blows like that to injure me. My mind is racing, trying to come up with a way out of this while trying to control my panic at the same time.
Pretend the blow hurts more.
My body falls back to my seat as if his fist has enough strength to knock me down and my voice lets out a groan of intense pain that isn't felt.
Pushing the gamble, hoping to plant a suggestion, I speak. "Outside the town will see." There is a price for saying those words, more screaming to be silent from the leader and two of them hit me. My body takes the blows, my voice crying out with pain not felt.
It is worth it. The idea is planted, and as my hope, the guards have a reason to deal with me where the villagers can see. The leader and another guard have a brief discussion - then the two of them seize my arms and drag me out of the inn, through the door, and hurl me into the street.
Perfect. They need the village, as many people as possible, to witness what they intend to do. Killing me inside the empty common room of the inn will not be seen by anyone else, better to do it outside, to scare the locals, to show there is no hope and that domination and extortion is here to stay.
They'd come on mass, with probably as many of them who are awake. My assumption that the guards were all cowards was wrong, and the girl had been wrong too. Perhaps bleeding the village for protection money these thugs deemed too good a thing to give up on; worth risking a fight over. As my body is dragged outside my eyes spot a few of them exchanging anxious glances with each other; some of them are very nervous about attacking me.
There is no denying that I give off a sense of status, of nobility; it is like armour; only together do the guards have the bravery to pierce it. Judging from the unsure faces, this bravery is wavering on an edge.
My body lies on the ground in the dirt, slumped on one side. My mind tries to keep a grip on my fear and anger; it has to play the defeated fool just a little longer. The blows taken have hurt, tough as my body is, it seems within the ability of these enemies to beat me to death.
If I let them.
All of them come outside and they form a circle around where I lie. From the ground my eyes dart back and forth, many of the villagers are gathering, the patrons from the bar, others hurrying over from other buildings. They look frightened, none will dare help me.
The pretty girl, my would-be employer, comes out of the inn last, hands up to her mouth, eyes filled with tears. She expects to see me die.
My panic drowns in a sea of rage. Lying in the dirt, like a peasant, like an equal to these fools in this rotten little town, it feels so wrong! It feels like a travesty. How dare they!
The lead guard starts in on his speech. You can imagine what is said. This and that about protecting the town from dangerous strangers, the obvious undertones being that, if anyone challenges them, they will meet the fate about to be brutally beaten into me. They have brought me outside to demonstrate to the village what happens to those who dare stand up to them. They do not know they have increased my chances of escape.
As he reels off his little speech, the leader comes over and kicks me in the side. I roll over and scream in exaggerated pain, but suffering many more of these kicks will soon result in proper injury. More anger tries to flood my mind, threatening to destroy my ability to think. I try to stay calm, to control my rage. My wits are needed if there is any chance of escaping this terribly dangerous situation, but the urge to murder these enemies is like a fire within.
It is then that my ears hear a shrill voice cry out. "Bastards! Bastards!"
Behind the watching people, through a gap in the crowd, my eyes spot a shouting boy. He was by the gate when I entered the village and he was one of the group of children who encouraged the girl to talk to me. He is in his early teens, yet he still appears to be the bravest villager, the only one who dares raise his voice against my enemies.
One guard turns towards the boy, his face like thunder, and he screams back. The boy takes off as fast as his legs can carry him. That boy is the only person in this entire town with any courage.
The leader of the guards has not stopped his speech, and it is nearing its end, just another few words, more grandstanding to the crowd and he'd be in to deliver another kick, probably the first in a flood of kicks that would end only with my death.
If I let him.