Blood's Wake

[Fez_The_Kid]

Dusk had crept in like a cloak; a crescent moon appeared, slicing its way between clouds like a god's scimitar. Other than the few waning torches supported by wooden posts, there was scant light to illuminate Tanmere's boggy roads and alleyways. The sky overhead was lit by its first stars alongside the moon, but on the ground darkness commanded all.

Nonetheless, the hunters managed to discern shapes of scurrying figures retiring to their gloomy homes. A ghost town was nothing short of this trivial hamlet, but settlers were abound. Except they're a tad shy, Anubis thought. No harm done to us anyway, so can't complain. All we want is that house. That's where the truth should unfold.

They strode down the hamlet's main avenue, the boggy ground squelching beneath their feet. It had been pouring heavily the past few days, a rainfall which seemed to have fortunately let up in time with their advent.

Unease was the first thing to grip the Salvarian's spine as he fixed his gaze on the house. Monsters rarely frightened him, an expected attribute with his his being a tracker--and slayer--of even the wildest kinds. But here he knew, something, something else, was underway. And it was associated with Gareth.

Or so he would like to tell himself.

Merka occasionally paused to survey his surroundings with an expressionless gaze. Although the elf was not immune to emotions, he was well trained in hiding them. Perhaps the elf had not noticed the house, Anubis considered, and was still yet to show the worry settle in his features. Regardless, Merka did not so much as much smile as he glanced over at Anubis' sweat-gleamed face. But he was too experienced, at least in human years, to not spot the eerie aura Anubis felt spewing from the peasant house.

They halted as they reached the main door. Merka studied the two grubby windows flanking it, then returned to settle his gaze on the entrance. Blood had stained the woodwork, congealed, its tinge turned dark with time. A few weeks old, at least. The frame was crazed with cracks, a jagged fissure yawning at its top. The depression's raw edges led to a pitch-black gloom within.

Anubis knit his brows in silence as Merka made to open the door.

"Wait."

The elf retrieved his hand, glanced at Anubis. "What?"

The Salvarian drew a shallow breath, then sighed. "Nothing," he muttered, slightly shaking his head, partly to himself. Merka studied him for a moment longer, then turned and nudged the door open. Hinges squeaked.

They crossed the threshold.

The two paces that showed in the moonlight was all they could see, for beyond that the gloom had settled in well. Anubis saw Merka raise a palm, then laid a hand on the elf's shoulder. "That will be unnecessary," the Salvarian said, turned, then walked outside and out of view.

The elf shrugged as he stood in wait. He squinted as he let his eyes adjust to the gloom. Something dangled close to the wall directly ahead, but neither length nor material could he discern, though its faint rattle suggested metal. He swung his gaze to the left, then to the right. It seemed that vacancy was all that awaited Anubis' return, but Merka's nose led him to believe otherwise. Blood, at least as old as the one on the frame, was a strong undercurrent in the damp air.

Anubis stepped inside, scattering from his direction the stark, guttering light of a torch. Guided by the new light source, the elf edged forward, then halted a pace before the main wall. Anubis frowned, eyes on the hanging, blood-stained chain before them. A hand's span was all that remained between its dangling end and the dust-caked floorboards.

"Torture," Anubis said bluntly.

Merka's concurrence was a mere grunt.

The Salvarian half-turned and approached the left wall, then froze. Merka's suspicions were confirmed: A blotch of blood had been sprayed on the wall, nearly an arm span wide and a little less than that high. A heartbeat was all it took them to realize this one was older than the other wounds. Anubis narrowed his gaze on something further to the left, made to approach--

A snoring sound wheezed behind them.

Swords hissed in their sheaths as they both faced the hidden fountainhead. Merka edged forward.

A bead of sweat licked at Anubis' brow as the sound burgeoned, growing clearer with foot covered.

Hugging itself with its back against the wall, a figure lay wrapped in deerskin. A breath of ice literally swept on him as he discerned a tremble in its thin frame. Anubis glanced over at Merka, who shrugged. Then he cursed under his breath and, setting down the torch, cautiously approached. Anubis hesitated, then reached out with his hand.

A screech sounded as a girl's head jerked from under the hide, scrambling in her cover beyond Anubis and scurrying for an escape between Merka's moccasins. The elf bent over and intercepted the motion, clutched the youth by her collar as she squirmed in his grasp. She turned, shoving and punching his thigh. The elf grunted.

"Leave me be!" she squealed.

"Aren't you a wild one!"

Anubis approached, having retrieved his torch. "We won't hurt you," he said, letting his heart subside. "Where are your parents?" he asked.

The girl's efforts faltered as dangled from Merka's grasp. The elf pulled her upright, her head no higher than the elf's waistline. "Answer the question, lass," he said softly.

Most of her featues were sheathed in her overlong, raven hair, but what showed of her face was ghastly and cadaverous. She took note of the elf beside her, then returned her gaze on the ground. "They're dead."

Anubis felt a sting.

"Who killed them?" Merka asked.

The girl was motionless, eerily so, her feet bare over the floorboards. "The monster did it."

"The monster?"

"Yes."

"Can you describe it to us?"

"No."

Anubis's brow furrowed. Then he managed, "Why?"

"Didn't see it," she whispered. "Don't want to."

"Has anyone?" Merka crouched beside the girl, a hand resting gently on one small shoulder. "We want to make the monster pay, but we can only do that if you help us."

The girl seemed to fight tears back, then, "It was midnight, afore sunset. Da told me his brother was paying a visit, that I had to hide in the cabin in the wood 'cause he doesn't like me."

Merka glanced at Anubis, whose armor clanked in a shrug. "Your father told you that?"

She nodded. "He took me, a little bit to the west, deep into the wood. Then he hid me in the cabin." Her face then twisted, in dismay and disbelief. "I was afeared the wolves would find me… He--he left me… Da left me..."

"They didn't, didn't they?" Anubis said in an attempt to reassure her, clearly to no avail. "You're safe now."

There was a long pause, then Merka asked, "What is your uncle's name?"

"Da calls him Gareth."

Merka's jaw bunched. The girl spoke again.

"Da said that he would come back and take me come sunset. It time came and he never showed. I were worried something might have happened…" she broke into sobs, barely managed to utter anything more, but, "Found my way home and saw this." She drew a shallow breath. Merka wiped off the tear that slipped down her gaunt cheek with his thumb. A moment later her face buried into the elf's massive shoulder.

"That's enough," he whispered. "Do you have any relatives close to here?" Merka saw her shake her head, then effortlessly rose with her in his arm. The action was done with so much care that Anubis had to force his gaze away.

"What's your name, lass?"

"Jodis."

"Alright, Jodis. I'll take you someplace safe." Merka studied his friend's robust frame. "Anubis," he called.

The Salvarian nodded after a brief pause, heard as his friend's footfall diminished. He silently studied the blood-etched symbols he had just noticed. A moment later Anubis' stomach sank as the cloak of realization wrapped him in its foul threads.