The scream had all the vexations one would expect from a child, but with a low rumble that moved through the gut and seemed to vibrate every limb. My damaged ear seared once more in fresh agony, accompanied by a churning queasiness that dulled my eyes. The pain grew so intense that I let out a shameful obscenity-laden cry; no doubt my weariness had finally gotten the better of me. Arphenion, now more attentive, grew fleet of foot as he shot back down the stairs to find the damned druid and his insufferable drama. For a moment, I could feel the pull of curiosity on me, but the siege mentality had not fully set in. No matter how many countless shambling corpses poured through the door, I’d have a much better chance of survival staying on the top floor. And, of course, my momentary slip up would no doubt have alarmed whatever hid inside the closed off room.
I felt for my belt in the darkness, just beneath my loose shirt tail. There, hidden amongst tight folds of white cloth, was a newly found trinket courtesy of the room I’d just searched. Although not in eyesight, I could picture the new knife in the darkness in front of me. With a hilt carved from elk bone and decorated in scrawled Raiaeran, it curved in such a tantalizing way that I had to own it. Searching through the musty hides had been a trial. The windowless hunter’s station had only the faint hope of light from the druid’s ball downstairs. But the allure of steel had always called out to me, and it would make such a nice new surprise.
With wait and wary, I slowly pushed the door open in front of me. Like everything else in the damned cabin, it was coated in pollen that stuck to my hands from touching it; thankfully, it coated the door hinges too. There was no expected creak to be heard as I moved swiftly into the room, but maybe I should have found that odder. Perhaps if I had heeded the auspices more clearly; the sounds outside suddenly ceased, and an eerily pale, blue moonlight soaked every surface in sight.
There were three beds on each wall opposite, draped in ragged fur but almost freshly made. Nightstands and stools lay toppled over on the floor, and beneath them the planks seemed almost to sink like sand. Shingles from holes in the roof littered the ground, mingling with chunks of splintered wood and gravel once packed tight. But behind it all, near a lonely little window, knelt a strange black figure. It didn’t stir on my entry, it didn’t even seem to breathe, but somehow I still felt that unease one gets when an unknown pair of eyes focuses on them. Positioned as if in some long forgotten prayer, I knew I could try to take it unawares.
I was careful, so careful, as I slipped forward on spider’s feet. Though grayed, cracked, and foreboding, the floorboards and I seemed to have some silent agreement, and they did not betray my presence. After nimbly tip-toing over the debris and shuffling passed the upturned furniture, I stood within a foot of my target. Heavy though my eyes were, I felt a strange tingle in them. There was something all too familiar about this scene; but hesitation is the devil’s trick, and I knew I must act quickly. My new knife in hand, I stretched out my free fingers to attempt to grab a tuft of greasy-wet hair, when I sudden movement chilled me to the bone.
The figure’s head flung back with some unnatural force. I caught a pair of two milky white, dead eyes staring back at me. It was the youth from earlier, though obviously a bit worse for wear. The slit I’d given him on his pale neck had certainly approved his flexibility, and his disposition. That sweetly savored look of shock was long forgotten. Instead, a smile played on his twisted lips as he looked me dead in the eye. His mouth moved without so much as a sound, and his pupils danced back and forth, before stopped just to my left. As a cold sweat left my body dripping, I could see him attempt to speak, but not to me. From behind, two forceful hands gripped me with such strength that I damn near screamed in a fearful fury. I tried to move, but my captor would not hear of it. Sightless though they were, I could see them clear as day in my mind’s eye. The boy’s sister held me hostage, her iron fingers digging into my flesh. The moment I could break free, could speak again, I let loose a frenzied curse and wild swings of the knife.
Though only seconds long, the hellish eternity I felt had finally ended. The boy was gone, and when I shifted around, his sister was nowhere to be seen. The sounds of the horde outside began as if they never ceased, that harmonious discord that had haunted us since we entered; and with them, the sounds of Arphenion’s sharp boots rushing towards me.
“What is it? What did you see?” His face was grave, sterner still than normal of his dour race.
“Nothing,” I whispered, “nothing but some delirium, I hope. The druid?” He shook his head.
“The same or worse.”
“There’s a hearth downstairs. We have time before they manage to break in. Maybe we should rest, and warm ourselves by the fire.”
Comfort. Something I rarely sought; something I desperately needed.
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