They were silent for a few minutes then Richard spoke. “Go and get together a couple of travel packs with warm clothing and I’ll get some food together, we need to get moving as something big is happening and I don’t know what it is or how much time we have. We can go through the north gate as the guards should be frozen, that should save us some time.”
With that they went about their tasks and met in the kitchen twenty minutes later. Mark handed Richard a belt with a knife, a quiver of arrows and a bow.
The exquisitely carved bow was made from wood from the sacred yeoman tree, said to have been planted by the gods in the days before memory and tended by the silver monks in the high valleys of the east, an order that spent years purifying their minds and bodies before venturing forth into the tainted world to do good. As such they were untouched by any save the monks until the wood was hewn from the tree and de-sanctified for the making of bows.
The bows made from this wood were so fine that they could shoot an arrow through a boat at ten paces and thus were highly prized and priced. How Mark had come across them Richard never asked, but he supposed he ‘found them under a tree’ as was his want sometimes to Richard’s dismay.
“We might need these as we have a long way to go and we have no idea what we will encounter,” Mark said.
“Good idea,” replied Richard as he handed Mark a parcel of food and packing his own into his pack.
Then they secured their packs and weapons about their person and going to the front door took a deep breath. Richard eased the door open and glanced outside. All seemed clear and the magic he could detect was coming from other parts of the city.
They quietly slipped into the shadows and headed for the north gate, avoiding the main streets that led to the centre of town, keeping to the shadows as had become the habit.
***
When they had left the watch house and passed some distance down the street, the cowed Shadow silently detached itself from a doorway opposite.
The figure appeared thoughtful, in that it paused and stared at the departing men, and then it followed again at a distance blending into the night.
***
With the departure of the men and the Shadow another shadow detached itself from the rooftops where it had remained unseen. This Shadow was different; it was smaller, being about the size of an eight year old boy that moved with the fluid grace of a cat and consisted more of shades of green-grey rather than black.
It watched as the two brothers slid silently into the darkness followed by the Shadow, and then it slipped into the open watch house. Several seconds later it slipped back into the darkness and darted off in the direction that the others had taken, its sleek outline now distorted by several lumps.
***
It took them a couple of hours to traverse the dark dead city and reach the north gate, for they had to skirt around its centre, and in doing so avoid the Shadows and their armed guards.
For the first time since they had disposed of the Voldiner’s body they began to encounter groups of frozen people, the majority of who were staring and pointing towards the sky and the column of light in apparent terror.
As they approached the manned gate they could see that the guards here were frozen in their task, their backs to the light, leaning on their spears and talking to a couple of travellers wanting access to the city.
Mark noticed that one of the travellers was holding his cloak tightly to his side as if trying to hide something, which started alarm bells ringing in his head, as he had seen to many men like these over the years in the dark, dangerous streets and alleys. Added to this was the fact that over the last few days groups of men numbering no more than four had been seen moving around the city and leaving at odd hours. This had been noted by the guard but nothing was done as they had broken no law that they knew of.
If only someone had stopped them maybe all this could have been avoided, Mark thought darkly.
Richard’s attention on the other hand was on the guards slit throats, only the slightest red giving any indication that anything was wrong. He knew that there was nothing that they could do, save find Benedict, so the two men passed the gate and the barrier beyond and broke into a trot, so as to cover the distance to the shelter of the foothills in as quickly a time as possible to avoid detection.
When they reached the cover offered by the foothills, they stopped and turned back to look at the city gates, scanning the area for signs of pursuit. The city gates, which were dark and menacing as was befitting city gates, silently stared back at them as nothing in the city moved, or appeared to move, so turning north they headed into fertile volcanic farmlands.
***
The shadow stayed hidden in the darkness of the gates and watched as the two men faded into the night. It had watched as they had gathered their supplies and headed across the city. Even when faced with such events as were around them, the men had kept their heads and remained cautious.
That is what made these two dangerous, that and the fact they were still able to move when no others could.
For half an hour it stood there motionless watching the men travel the foothills, until they disappeared from view, then it lifted its head and let forth a cry of such anger and hate, that if anyone had been near they would have been in fear of their lives.
The cry was answered by two more, different from the first, from somewhere in the city. Then all was silent, and the shadow headed after the two men tracking their scent on the wind.
***
The sleek green-grey shadow watched as those that it had been tracking disappeared into the hills; they would have to fend for themselves.
The cry from the Shadow had taken it by surprise, causing it to almost reveal itself. It had only lasted a mere moment, but in that fraction of a second it knew that it was the most dangerous thing that it had come across. At the thought an image of the fully armoured Benedict flashed before its eyes.
The second most dangerous it amended.
It flicked its wrists and two long sleek daggers appeared in its shadowed hands.
It wasn’t happy; they had taken away its trade.
Someone needed to pay.
It knew exactly who that would be.
It would keep a tally and the city would pay later in coin.
It slipped into the shadows and headed for the centre of the city where the Shadows were mainly gathered, the warm glow from the pendent around its neck comforting in the cold, dark, windless night, ready to ply its deadly trade.
Chapter Six
Dire Dreams
Richard and Mark had been travelling hard so as to get some distance between them and the city, when they were brought up short by the horrifying screech behind them. They both turned to face the sound, their swords whipping clear of their scabbards and stood staring, their faces ashen white. Then came the equally terrifying answering cry’s, which drove the blood from their weary bones still further.
“What was that?” Mark whispered.
“I don’t know I’ve never heard anything like it before,” was Richard’s whispered reply.
For several moments they stood there in silence, listening to the now silent night their hearts beating loudly in their ears. Slowly the sounds of the insects and night creatures returned, calming, somewhat, the two men.
“Whatever that was it came from the direction of the city, we should push on and put more distance between it and us,” said Richard, anxiety lacing every word.
Mark just nodded, as without another word they set off again with no let-up in their pace, and a renewed vigour in their step.
It was midnight when fatigue finally forced them to a standstill, their legs refusing to take another step. Both men were exhausted having not slept in two days, so making a cold camp, which would draw no attention; they sat down and ate a cold meal
of cheese and bread, absorbed in their own thoughts.
Their little camp was nestled amongst the shrubs and grasses that covered everything around them with only the occasional tree visible, for although the ground was extremely fertile, which made for excellent farming, the volcanic landscape would not allow the roots of all but the determined of trees to penetrate deep enough to anchor them against the strong winds that swept the region in the winter months.
“I’ll take the first watch Richard,” said Mark removing his bow and notching an arrow.
“OK,” said Richard without argument, “wake me in a couple of hours, as we can’t afford to stay here to long,”
“Will do,” said Mark through a huge yawn as he moved off into the night to find a good vantage point where he could see anyone approaching, leaving Richard alone.
Finishing his meal in silence Richard settled his blankets over himself, rolled onto his left side with his left arm tucked up under his head, and closed his eyes.
***
Someone was moving in the distance, he could hear them franticly searching, every movement almost panicked in its urgency.
From somewhere nearby loomed a menacing shadow without any distinguishable feature or definition, but from it emanated a definite malice, a malevolence that seemed to seep into the core of his being, causing his limbs to become heavy and the fight within his soul to waste away.
Then when all appeared lost, in his chest there began to glow a light that soothed and nurtured the fading embers of his soul, and reignited the life within them.
As the warming, soothing light flowed through his body flooding every fibre with renewed vigour, it seemed to him to be somehow familiar, its touch a memory long forgotten, but as he felt that he was about to resolve what was so familiar it slipped from his grasp.
Panic began to settle on him, a sense of impending doom that came from within him, from the glowing light at his centre.
His heart began to beat faster and his palms began to sweat.
He could feel the danger at his back, but could do nothing.
It was upon him...
He needed to act...
It was too late...
***
Richard woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat despite the cold spring air, a feeling of dread and imminent danger causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise up. He cast his eyes about him taking in the makeshift camp and the flickering shadows caused by the red tinged first rays of the morning sun, as it crested the volcanic landscape, but could see nothing that justified the feeling.
How long had he been asleep? Where was Mark?
Rolling the blanket to one side and raising himself into a crouch he headed in the direction Mark had taken to post guard the feeling intensifying with every step. Several meters later he found him propped against an outcrop of lava, fast asleep, with his sword across his lap and his breathing slow and even.
Richard placed his hand over Marks mouth, waking him with a start and raised his finger to his lips for silence.
Mark froze and Richard removed his hand, gesturing for Mark to follow him.
In silence they reached the camp and gathered their packs together then with a gesture from Richard they crept into the dew soaked undergrowth where they waited watching the camp they had just vacated.
They remained deep within the dew damp foliage for what seemed to the brothers to be an age, but really was only a few minutes, their damp, cold, dew soaked clothing leaching the warmth from their bodies.
Into the clearing, as if out of thin air and on unbelievably silent feet appeared two men. They were dressed in leather that was stained with a black, grey and green pattern that made them all but invisible amongst the vegetation and backdrop of volcanic lava. They were armed to the teeth with weapons Richard had never seen before, many of them with serrated edges that were designed for nothing other than to cause pain and death. These were men that dealt daily in death and destruction and enjoyed it to the exclusion of almost everything else, for they handled the weapons as if they were an extension of their gracefully deadly bodies.
The two men stood speaking together in a low guttural whisper, then gesturing to their surroundings they were joined by four more, all dressed in the same manner and equally well armed.
They spoke to each other a while longer gesticulating at the ground where one of them crouched, then pointing south towards where Mark had stood guard, they slipped into the shadows.
The brothers stayed where they were, fighting the cold that had penetrated to their bones, until they were as certain as they could be that the others had gone and the feeling of dread had lifted from Richard’s soul, and then creeping further into the brush they came out into a hidden ravine along which they continued their journey north.
“Who were they?” asked Richard, breaking the silence after they had been travelling for about half a mile.
“I don’t know, I think they were Prith,” replied Mark, “at least that was what their tongue sounded like to me for we weren’t close enough to hear what was said.”
“What are they doing here?” asked Richard, not expecting an answer, “they are not the traders we normally see.”
“It must have something to do with the magic domes and those shadows,” put in Mark, “do you think we are being invaded?”
“It sure looks that way. We need to find Benedict for certain now, he’s the only one who knows what is going on and we need him to gather the army,” replied Richard, glancing towards the peaks of Volar and the ice wastes that lay beyond.
They lapsed into silence, and continued their trudge north.
***
Benedict relaxed and opened his eyes, weary age worn eyes that had seen too much. It had taken a huge amount of effort and power to influence Richard’s dreams from such a distance, not to mention covering their tracks. Although he had the means to transport the two men to his side, he knew that the future depended on them getting there under their own steam, for they had to set their own events in motion, but this did not prevent him intervening to assure that they could do so.
Besides, he could find them easily enough if the need arose, for the Amulets he had given them all those years ago allowed him to locate them wherever they were.
He rose from the floor where he had sat crossed legged, and with swords in hand he left the cave to face the shadow he knew had just appeared outside. This was to be the second attack he would face, but by no means the last, for before these days were done he knew many more shadows would join the dead one that lay half hidden in the undergrowth outside.
Chapter Seven
Rescue
On that first day they encountered another three enemy patrols that consisted of no more than six heavily armed men, who appeared to be combing the countryside for anyone not trapped by the magic of the domes.
On each occasion a warmness in Richard’s chest gave them warning and they managed to either skirt around them or hide as they passed them by, and as night began to fall they stumbled across a small village, only four small, squat homes gathered in a clearing at the base of an old weather eroded lava flume with no sign of a dome in sight.
Silently they approached the village, creeping amongst the brush at the edge of the clearing, where they waited, observing the homes before them.
In the nearest of the three single storey buildings a fire could be seen flickering in the window, its yellow flames casting their light across the walls, causing the shadows within to move and dance. In contrast the other three homes were in complete darkness, their dark windows like eyes watching the night, and behind them stretched several cultivated fields of crops that had begun to sprout in response to the bitter winter releasing its grip on the thin volcanic topsoil.
As they lay there listening to the sounds of the night, echoes of laught
er rang out across the clearing that had their origin in the lit building. At the sound the brothers began to relax as the realisation that those inside the building were a normal family enjoying a spring night together began to settle in their minds, and the hope that they could get some help began to bloom.
The air was split by a sudden scream, a scream of pain and anguish from a woman inside the house.
Silence...
The scream stopped as soon as it had started and the following silence lasted but a mere second or two, being replaced by the coarse laughter of men that grew louder and louder with every bout.
Wrapped up in their hope of finding someone from whom they could seek help they had missed it, the laughter was and had been coming from men only and it now sounded almost manic.
Mark made as if to move, but was stopped in his tracks by Richard’s firm grip as he placed his hand on his arm and pointed with his other. From within the deep shadows on the other side of the clearing a man, dressed as the ones they had been encountering all day and unseen by Richard and Mark, stepped silently into view and headed for the house. At the sight of the man Mark relaxed and Richard removed his restraining hand from his arm.
The new arrival reached the house, kicked open the door, entered the building and shouting in the same language they had been hearing all day, commanded the men within. There were a couple of coarse replies that generated more laughter and then the noise settled down.
A couple of minutes later the door re-opened and the man who had previously entered left, strolling nonchalantly back to the shadowed rocks where he had been keeping watch before, unseen by Richard and Mark.
Safely within the shadows where his oddly patterned clothing made him all but invisible, he took a wistful glance back at the house, sat down on an ancient petrified tree trunk and started chuckling to himself, all the while stroking the thick black moustaches that hung down past his jaw line to his chest.
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