Book One: Fate
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CHAPTER EIGHT: The Hunter
The morning was not as welcoming on this new day as it had been for Tylor. It was, however, a step up from waking up on the mucky floor of the Sparda (if sheets laid out on the sand could be considered better, that is). The sky was dull and dark, a foreboding area of cloud was blowing in northward from the sea and rain looked imminent. Cleaning themselves up and changing shirts, the group sat and prepared their next steps.
It seemed, as usual, that Karen had things all thought out. Tylor remained silent during the description of what she thought they should do next and noticed she now wore her armor again, instead of leaving it dropped over her back pack. His mind was not on current matters or what she wanted them to do, he was once again lost in his own thoughts about the vivid dreams that plagued him at night.
New terms and new orders had been given by the mysterious female voice. He had no idea what a Destined or Center Point was. They could be common terms on the main land, but he did not feel like asking anything else to Karen. He was getting sick of the lies and being pushed along. Was this what fate was? If it was he did not like it. The life he led was his own and he did not want it governed by any mystical voice, but the situation everything had created meant he had no choice. The flow was too strong to battle against, so perhaps it was better to shut up and go with it. He could fight against the currents no longer.
“We need to get some armor for you; some basic plate, whatever, but you need it. Something similar to mine would suffice,” she began, gently rapping her knuckle off her armor. “To get the money for it I’ll sell my wind spheres, I have no reason to use them and it should fetch a reasonable amount, judging by their crafter. After that, if we have enough, we get a cart to Wex. It’s a checkpoint similar to the inn we met in. Then we go straight onto Tentra, the capital city, agreed?”
Tylor nodded and Joel agreed.
Climbing back up onto the rocky area, the trio found a small path leading down towards Cattra. The horizon stretched far out into the land displaying tall hills, swaying grass, and lonely trees. It was quite beautiful, but nothing different from the island they had ventured from. Abruptly, Karen stopped in the path in front of them. Twisting on the spot, she explained that she had to tell them something first.
“What’s a Siran? Lis?” she questioned.
Blank expressions were her answer. Sighing and telling them to sit down, they moved off the path and sat in a semi circle in a grassy patch of land. The cold air did not exactly make it pleasant, but it seemed whatever she was talking about was important.
“I was afraid of this. Neither of you have ever seen another race except your own? I saw some Siran in Wrathe, but I guess they do not visit the island much…”
Exchanged glances only confirmed confusion and bewilderment. Another race meant something similar to them, but different in some way. He had never thought about it, but he supposed it had to be pretty obvious they would not be the only sentient kind in the land. Samilo and Wrathe had only those of the race of man populating it. This was a chance to finally see something different to their island, the first taste of the real main land. It raised their spirits slightly. It might be exciting and informative, as long as they did not mess up, which was probably what Karen was worrying about.
“There are those who are not man or woman like us, but can be just as nice or bad. Treat them like you would any other person and they will do the same, just do not give them funny looks or something stupid like that.”
They felt like children being scolded, again. Yet again Samilo’s ignorance of the world around them had caused them problems. In his studies, Tylor had learned of other cultures, of beliefs, and the royal family, but none of the books given to him or anyone else in the village that he knew of spoke of other races. It was as if the island had deliberately cut themselves off from the world around them, but for what reasons such measures were warranted escaped him. Neither of the boys knew enough about their islands past to be able to explain it. Sighing again, Karen stood up and returned to the path. The boys followed.
It seemed like all he did now was follow paths. Ever since he left Samilo with Joel he had been following paths, traveling the lines from location-to-location on a course set by someone else. He was tired, tired of being led, and tired of walking along the constant predetermined paths. The sooner he could speak to his mother the better and then the paths would end.
“Cattra looks nice,” Joel said, pointing to the growing image of the town ahead of them.
Cattra did look like a glorious, bustling, town. Compared to how Tylor perceived the size of a town to be (based on the size of Wrathe) this town seemed more like a city. From the docks end, which met with sea, it spread east, deep into the land by around five miles, with many large buildings and structures stretching up the sky line. The buildings seemed to keep to a theme of grays and whites, with the rare completely wooden roof separating patches of stone slating. To the furthest eastern point that was visible sat a steeple casting a pointed shadow across homes below and ringing out as the bell tower sounded the coming of a new hour.
Its parameter was protected by large, gray scale, brick walls which reached two meters in height with a similar layout to Wrathe’s wooden defenses. The fact that the walls were constructed of stone and not wood may have meant that protection from native wild life probably was not the main reason for its construction. Compared to Cattra, Wrathe was but a small boating town. This place had no doubt more than twice the population and certainly felt more alive and on a grander scale.
Two men in heavy, tainted silver, armor stood at the main gate to the large town which was located at the western most point facing them. Tylor presumed these to be the knights that Karen had mentioned. It was obvious when looking at them to see how they differed to the militia back on the island. They looked less rugged and more professional and their weapons glistened bright silver when light struck them. They looked similar to the drawing in Joel’s book and almost regal.
Without a word, one of the knights bowed (a traditional welcoming to travelers) and then moved and twisted a pulley on the side of the wall. With a clunk, this made his side of the gate begin to slowly swing open. Within, the group beheld the glories of the stupendous town. The dank weather did not seem to deter many people wandering around, the town was very busy. Groups of people walked to and fro in all directions talking and were generally being quite lively. It was then that Tylor and Joel saw there first non-man creature.
A short person walking out in front of them, heading across the width of the gate to some houses to the right, had strange ridged marks down the side of the ear and round the lower chin that were not scars or marks, they were natural. Their body was arched over and their eyebrows seemed to be covered in a hard, scale like growths. In comparison to their skin, it was much paler. Trying not to stare, the boys looked back to the main street in front of them. Looking around, Karen pointed down the side of the main street they walked along and explained that a pub that they could rest at while she went to sell the spare spheres was at the end of the street.
The architecture of Cattra was similar to Wrathe, but everything seemed a little brighter and of better condition. The color of houses was a pleasant light gray and white, with some cream as well. The people in the streets did not seem too different either, most dressed as casually as Tylor and Joel did, but there were a fair few people who also wore some sort of armor. Those that did wear armor did not look like they lived in the town and most cradled packs on their back. The odd person who had the ridged sides and chin shocked them, but they did not say anything, especially now that quite a few were visible in the crowd they stood in. Tylor was sure that they would get used to seeing them, in time.
The pub Karen was talking about was just a short distance from the main gate, sitting within some houses with only a small wooden sign out front to indicate it was a bar. Inside, it was a little busier. People sat round small tables which sat about four people maximum, drinking from tall glass tumblers and talking loudly. The floor was nicely paved with smooth gray stone, though it showed stains caused by dropped wine and beer in some areas. Across the far end of the room was a nicely made wooden bar with a whole host of bottles and jars lining shelves behind it. It looked a lot nicer than Old Man Copper’s bar that was for sure and no doubt the wines all had even more exotic names.
An empty table with some chairs in the corner to the left of the door seated the group. Asking how Tylor’s wound felt, he explained to Karen that he no longer felt pain unless he pushed his side, so it would be okay to leave it as it was. Telling them to wait there and not let go of their bags, Karen left the pub, explaining she would return soon.
Joel and Tylor sat in silence for a few minutes before they were joined by an uninvited old man announcing himself to be the barkeeper. The man wore dirty brown clothes, which stank of ale, and he carried a few empty jugs he had collected from tables under his arm. He did not have enough hired help to help take all the orders, apparently. Asking Tylor if he wanted to order anything, he added that he could serve a variety of wines, ale, and some water for his young companion. Saying neither wanted anything until their companion returned; the barkeeper began asking some questions to the two (ignoring patrons in the bar yelling out orders angrily at him). He seemed interested in their journey and reason for coming to Cattra. It was probably just a ruse to get them to buy something from him, but Tylor did not want to try and shoo him away.
Regardless of the reason, they chatted with the owner for quite some time. Meanwhile, a bar assistant dashed around in the background between tables, the bar, and the cellar. He seemed shocked to learn that they were not from around there. Questioning whether or not they took the Wex road to get to the town, they explained that they had come from Wrathe. Tylor made sure to say that they had arrived from the sea some time ago since word about the Sparda had no doubt got around. The questions carried on as he found out that they wanted to go to the capital.
“Going to Tentra are ye, that may not be a good idea, my lads,” he said, his tone suddenly turning darker.
The barkeeper mentioned that there had been trouble on the Wex road, so they should not travel out there for at least a few days. Tylor knew that it would prove a problem since Karen would no doubt want them to leave immediately plus, if they stayed in Cattra for too long, they ran the risk of running into Tai. Just then, Karen returned and asked who the person was talking to them. Tylor explained that they were just chatting with the owner of the bar and then mentioned the problems on the road. Straight away seeming very disgruntled, Karen questioned what was wrong with traveling on the road.
“People have been disappearing, turning up later - dead, lass. Rumor has it that there’s some kind of monster out there, burning bodies and leaving remains. Did ya not wonder why the towns got more knights than normal? They have been drafted in to find out what’s happening!” he exclaimed. “Oh, but you’re not from around here, so it’s a good job I warned you.”
Thanking him for the information, Karen briskly asked him to leave them alone. Quite annoyed, the barkeeper complied and joined another table of three drunks and began chatting to the people at it (still ignoring the angry assistant’s requests to help take orders). Asking how the sale of the spheres went, she produced a full pouch of coins in reply.
“If what the old man was babbling about is true, I doubt any carts will be running from here to Wex. That is a problem,” Karen muttered.
It was yet another problem facing them in their trip to see his mother. Tylor was becoming sick of such things. It was like everything was against them, blowing them back a step for every two they struggled to take.
“Never mind, we will walk if need be,” Karen said, calmly.
“…Isn’t that dangerous?” Joel stuttered, nervously.
Karen’s bluntness had shocked Tylor also. She may have thought it was just a tall tale that the owner had told them, but it would be safer to talk to a knight about it rather than just ignore the possible dangers on the road altogether.
Someone behind Karen cleared his throat. The group looked round to see a tall man dressed differently from all the others in the bar. He wore padded brown leather armor covering most of his body, with a large brown strap which went diagonally around his chest, buckling round his back. His wrists had thick leather gloves wrapped round them with only his fingers showing at the tips of each hand. Padded trousers covered his lower half with knee pads and a large belt. Strapped to the side of his leg at a number of positions were small clips and pouches. His face was slightly dirty, but very rounded with a proud and dignified look. He had dark red hair dangling over his fringe and round the sides of his head in quite a scruffy manner. He had rested blue eyes which centered on Tylor, staring right at him. The man certainly looked like some kind of warrior, but did not wear the full silver plate like it seemed all the knights did.
“I am sorry if I am interrupting anything, but did I hear correctly that you still intend to travel to Wex despite the rumors of a monster?” the man asked.
Immediately and without any answer to the stranger’s question, Karen demanded to know who he was. Introducing himself, he explained he was known as Leon Sansec and was in the employment of the Atra military.
“You’re no knight,” Karen retorted.
Nodding, Leon agreed, and explained that he was a Demon Hunter in direct employment with the leader of the military of Atra, a man named Xeno. Asking to join them, he pulled a seat up from a table next to them and sat down. Although people around them still went about their business, many looked out the corner of their eyes and fell silent while looking at Leon. A quick glance from the self proclaimed Demon Hunter made them all avert their gaze and strike up their unfinished conversations. Karen remained standing and stood next to Tylor, facing Leon. Repeating his question, Karen answered that they would travel on the road.
“I see and I also see by your armor and weapon that you can handle yourself, but what of your two traveling companions here?”
Startled, Karen placed her hand over the hilt of her dagger and pushed it under her breast plate where it had been before but must have slid out. Tylor watched silently at their exchange of words, trying fruitlessly to work out why Karen seemed so aggressive towards Leon.
“I need to travel back to the capital and Wex is on the way there. I can safe guard you if you wish and maybe I’ll put a stop to these rumors on the way,” he said, calmly, and with a slight smirk.
To Tylor, the man seemed genuinely friendly and caring, but also very strange. He could probably tell that Joel and he were not from the main land and did not know how to properly conduct themselves. He also noticed Karen’s weapon, which had been partly hidden under her armor. The offer for help had convinced him that the main land was not as dangerous and foreboding as he had been led to believe.
“Sorry,” Karen said, sharply, “but we travel alone and I will make sure these two are kept safe while we journey along the road, but thank you anyway.”
With that she moved away from the table, grabbing her back pack in the process, and signaling to the boys to follow her. Stuttering a rushed farewell, Tylor and Joel ran out of the bar with her and headed away from the bar, deeper into Cattra.
Leon looked over to the bar out of the corner of his eye and watched as the barkeeper quickly passed a note via underhand to a hooded character in the darkest corner of the room. The man was not there to drink that much was certain, as a full glass of ale still sat in front of the shady figure. Without a word, the cloaked man accepted the hidden note, stood up, and walked out, taking a long look at Leon as he went by.
“Time to go to work,” Leon said out loud.
Karen was walking in quick pace far in front of the boys, not giving them time to take in anymore of the beautiful architecture of the first main land town they had ever visited. People and shops became a blur as they had to go to a running pace to keep up with her. Calling to her to slow down, she turned and sternly told them to keep up. Eventually stopping outside a large building, she told them that she could buy them some armor there.
The building was two stories of hard rock and covered in thick cream paint. A smooth varnished wooden sign hanging from the side of the building next to a box filled with flowers sat upon a window ledge read ‘Proprietor to Atra’s Forces’. Inside, a host of materials, armors, and clothes sat lined up in wooden cupboards and shelves. The far end of the shop, nearest the counter where a woman sat drinking from a glass, was some armor’s of a wide variety of colors and sizes placed on mannequins. It seemed the front of the store was for more domestic needs, for children and the like, which only required fabric, whereas the back of the store was for people in the situation they were in – people who needed protection.
“Karen, why did you not accept Leon’s offer for help?” Tylor asked as they wandered through the store.
“They are all the same; knights, Hunters, I will not associate myself with any of them. They make me sick. We will be fine alone, trust me,” she answered, bitterly and very angry.
She had said it with such resentment that it made Tylor question why. Not only that, but he still cringed slightly whenever she spoke the words trust me. It was not that easy anymore, but either way, if brining Leon with them would cause her so much anguish, then it was better they did not.
Walking over to the woman behind the counter Karen announced she was there to pick out some wears for Tylor and Joel. Nodding, the woman asked if she required fitting or measuring help. Karen turned it down and took a measuring tape from the counter. It was a thin strap with lines and measuring numbers inked onto it and it was used to find the best fitting clothes. Karen walked from cabinet to cupboard and back again, looking over the selection the shop had. She selected a few amours, most crafted in thin leather hide with the shape of the abdomen and muscles in the middle. They were placed over the head and brought down over the chest and then straps on the sides were tightened to hold it in place. It did not look very comfortable to Tylor.
Moving Tylor to the back of the store, Karen pushed him and lifted up his shirt. Looking at the bruise once again, she asked if it was okay to measure. Tylor agreed, but asked she be gentle when touching that area. Wincing as the strap was placed around his chest in order to get a measurement, Karen read the number the straps crossed at and then let it drop to the floor. Looking over the selection of armor she had picked, she compared sizes. Picking a large dark brown leather one, she passed it to Tylor and told him to put it on. It felt smooth to the touch, despite what it was made of, and tapping it made a hollow, but thick, noise, suggesting it was reinforced beneath the outer layer.
Placing it over his head and slowly bringing it down over his sides, while trying not to put to much pressure on his injured side, Tylor finished adjusting the armor. Pulling the straps round his sides, on top of the armor, Karen tightened them and stuck them in place. It did not hurt his side that much, but the occasional movement (like twisting on that side) did cause a surge of pain and there was nothing they could do about that. It was just a bruise which would disappear over time and then the armor would be perfect.
Damn Tai, he hissed to himself as he felt pain along his side.
Next, Karen selected two matching gauntlets; these looked to be made of the same reinforced leather fabric which reached over his knuckles and hand, covering it all and the length of the wrist. Taking his right hand in hers, Karen placed the first glove over it and pulled the strap in place. Before taking the second glove and placing it on his left hand, she noticed Tylor was wearing an old red band round his wrist.
“Take that off or it will irritate the skin once the gauntlet is on,” she ordered.
Tylor looked over to Joel, who was openly shocked and in dismay over the suggestion. It was the gift from him for his birthday and something that meant a lot to both of them. Explaining that he could not take the band off as it was important to him he pointed to Joel and told Karen to give the left glove to him. Sighing, she tossed it to him and told him to try it on. Slipping it over his left hand and pulling it down to his wrist, Joel wrapped the strap around the base, tightening it to keep it in place. Testing the ability he had to form a tight grasp with his hand, he complained it was a little tight. Tylor did the same and found it quite hard to form a full fist as well.
There was no armor that would fit over Joel’s smaller body, so they had no choice but to forget getting him any real protection. The thick leather gauntlet would be all he would get, but the fact it matched Tylor’s seemed to keep him happy enough.
“Why don’t you get yourself some gauntlets as well Karen, you have none,” Joel said, pointing to her bear hands.
Explaining they were not her style and made it too clumsy to use her weapon of choice, she stood up and called the shop owner round. Her answer made Tylor question her real reason for buying the armor for them. He was grateful and it certainly would make him more protected, but she had not made any real effort to find armor suitable for Joel, as if she did not care about protecting him. The two had never seemed to communicate openly and friendly, perhaps it was something to do with that.
After paying the shop keeper, the group left the store with their new wears and headed back towards the entrance to the town. As they walked back up the long streets towards the gates to the town, Tylor noticed a small and strange looking shop. Its front walls were draped in purple silk and strange inscribed lettering of a language he did not understand. Asking what kind of place that was, Karen informed him that it was where a mystic told you your fortune by the color of the iris. Tylor remembered her mentioning it before and expressed an interest in hearing about it. Sighing, Karen stopped walking forward and turned to him. Tossing him a single silver coin she pointed at the door and said she would wait outside. Joel asked to come along and followed closely behind as they entered the strange looking house.
Inside, there was a strong smell of something similar to burning wood or some kind of incense. There was a small table and stools within, surrounded by more dangling silks or various dark colors and a thick smoke hung in the air. Behind the small table an old woman sat, hands clasped in front of her, holding up her wrinkled weary chin. She was wrapped in purple and red silk cloth which also bore strange markings. Upon noticing the boys, her lips cracked open into a smile as she moved her weary hands into a beckoning motion for them to sit down. Sitting down onto the stools, Tylor passed the coin over to the woman saying that he wanted to know about the legend behind a person’s iris color. Slowly nodding, the woman looked closely at them and muttered the boy’s iris colors before finally speaking. Telling them to relax and listen to her tale the old women lit a candle at her side and chanted in song for a moment.
The tale began at the beginning of time when an omnipotent being, be it God or some other unearthly force, created life. This almighty being, God, in its wisdom wished to direct the newly formed races of his world, but not to dominate them. The world was theirs to do with what they pleased, destroy or nurture, it was up to them. God wished to leave a hint, a symbol of what he hoped would be achieved from each individual life. To do this, it gave every person a unique iris color. It was the soul showing through the eyes, which were said to reflect the heart. This was known as God’s Mark and it is the branding for the type of life it hoped would be led by each person.
Though two people might have similar colors they all differ in some small fashion, for God laid out a path for each and every person. This path was that of fate, a projected purpose that was theirs to aim for, and to reach by however they wanted. And the God would watch them all, from atop His mighty throne, longing that one day each of them would live up to the purpose they were created for.
She turned to Tylor, “A shade of blue as clear as the sky is a mark of someone who is the hope of others. The innocent life which can be anything they want. The mix of the clear, pure white, shade confirms this. The blue is tranquil, calm, and always thinking. It is a branding of one longing for a peaceful happy life, who is never seeking fame or fortune. They simply want peace. As calm as the ocean and light as the sky. The person with this mix will often change paths and purpose, like the changing of night to day or rain to sun.”
Then, she turned to Joel, “Soft green reflects an envious person, but also quiet and humble. A person with this branding will lead an eventful life, even though they are more often than not more of an observer than a doer. They are like a warm field on a peaceful day, happy to embrace the wind and be carried with it wherever it may lead. The tint of blue welcomes change, and a longing to soar, like the powerful birds in the sky towering over head. The person with this mark wishes to be the best they can be, to be more than what is expected of them, to conquer their fears, and strive towards the future.”
And so, the old lady finished her tale. Bowing to them she asked them to leave and meditate on her words. Not wanting to intrude further, they left without a word. As they did, the old lady lent forward and slowly blew out the candle closest to her.
A cold wind blew in from behind the old woman, a figure forming silently. Twisting her around and pulling her up by the throat, the attacker pushed her against the wall to the small house. The frail old woman tried desperately to fight back and call for help, but the grip was too strong.
“Tell me, woman,” the man said with a sneer, “what does your God have planned for me?”
She could do nothing but peer into the cold, dark, eyes of her attacker. They were pure black, the color of death.
Rejoining Karen outside the house, they continued on their way. They were all silent once again while the people of Cattra walked past and spoke around them. Tylor could not help wondering what plan or branding each of them had. According to the words of the old woman each persons was unique in some way and each had a purpose, a fate, a goal, to achieve. He could not help but wonder whose path he now walked, his own, or the voices.
Fate, it all seems to be connected to that. A plan and a purpose, forming a path for me to walk on… Am I on my path now? Or am I on hers? Are we just puppets?
Before exiting the town, Karen used some more of the money she got from selling some spheres to purchase some fresh food to eat and some fruit to last them the trip to Tentra. It looked as though the spheres had sold for quite a bit of money, which led Tylor to believe that the wind spheres must have been in high demand for whatever reason they were mainly used. He considered asking Karen more about the magical spheres later, but for now he did not want to speak to anyone. There was too much was on his mind.
Leaving Cattra behind, Tylor did not know how to feel. They once again walked along a road. They were going deeper into lands that he had never visited, but neither anxiety nor interest currently occupied him. Seeing a different race was a startling occurrence, but that was about it. Architecture, people, lives, and all other things which he should of (and would have, had things been different) been interested in no longer held such attraction. As each day went on, a new revelation about his father, Karen, or Tai and their lives seemed to get discovered and with each of these findings he began to lose the faith he previously had in what he was doing.
Am I right to do this… why am I doing this? Who am I doing this for? What will talking to my mother achieve?
Leon Sansec looked out of the northern town gate to the traveling trio just disappearing over the first mound on the way to Wex, the road everyone else had been scared to tread as of late. Be it ignorance, bravery, or stubbornness, their head strong attitude of getting to the capital interested him. The girl of the group looked native to the land, but the others seemed out of place somehow. They were not from one of the other kingdoms, of that he was sure, but there was still something different.
Could they have come from the island I wonder… but the only ship that’s carried people from there in the last few weeks was the Sparda and that…
“Hunter Sansec,” a knight said from behind him. “Aren’t you going to stop them from traveling? There are no knights patrolling…not since this operation was passed onto you,” he asked.
Even though the operation to discover what was happening to travelers on the road to Wex had been passed to him, he technically did not out rank the knight who stood before him. However, most knights did always seem to address him as a superior officer regardless of that fact. It was slightly humbling, but was inconsequential to the completion of the operation. Demon Hunters as a title did command respect from people, but it was an over glorified name. There were few occasions when Leon could actually say he had slain something classed as a demon, more often than not it would be thieves, bandits, and other scum.
“We cannot force people not to travel; it is of their own choice. However, I think I may have discovered the origin of the so called Beast of Wex and will have it handled shortly,” he replied to the knight. “Once I have, I will travel directly to the castle and have Xeno send word to you, alright?”
The knight nodded, saluted, and returned to his post (a small office enclave in the wall to the right which had a desk, chair, weaponry and some food in it). Following him in, Leon reached behind the wooden door and retrieved some belongings he had left there when he first arrived in Cattra a few days earlier.
Suddenly, another knight ran over to Leon and the knight he had been previously speaking to. In a panic stricken voice he explained that the owner of the seer’s shop had been murdered. Cursing, the other knight exited the cabin calling to Leon as he went, asking if he could help them secure the scene.
“Humph,” he mumbled. “First the Beast of Wex appears then the Sparda sinks and now a murder. Something is going on. I will need to catch up to that group of travelers later. I hope they can handle themselves.”
With that, Leon ran out of the cabin following after the two knights down the street, while at the same time swinging his weapon of choice around his back and attaching it to the strap which ran the course of his breastplate.
It had been silent for a while. Even the world around them seemed to stay quiet. There was not even a bird in the sky. It was not an uncomfortable silence, at least it did not feel that way to Tylor, and he was content with it for now. They had spoken for a short time just after they had left Cattra (Karen was making sure that they were clear on the traveling plan over the next few days which would take them to Wex and then to the capital city, Tentra).
The capital city may be something magnificent to behold and his mind boggled at what it might look like. The constant dirt roads, wheat fields, trees, and flowers were bland to look at now, even with the reasonably bright color of some flora and only made him think of home.
Joel had sneezed a few times and it looked as though he was coming down with the cold. It was probably all the camping out they had done since the day they left Samilo. The only good night’s sleep he must have had was at Coppers and in the inn at Wrathe. Other than that, it was thin sheets on hard ground - and the disgusting floor of the Sparda, of course. Hopefully, once they were with Tylor’s mother, there would be decent sleeping facilities. Anything was better than constantly sleeping out doors. They had been lucky with the weather so far, but that was not likely to stay constant.
“Hey, what’s that?” Joel asked, pointing forward.
Beyond a mound before them thick black smoke was bellowing upwards from something, polluting the sky above. Karen told them to be careful as she took point and slowly walked towards to the top of the mound to investigate.
“What the…” she stuttered, as she reached the top.
The smoke was emitting from the burnt out remains of what looked like a large cart. Charred wood lay scattered all over the road along with broken wheels and crisp fabric. The middle of the cart was still alight, strong amber flames were bursting out of the sides and top of the main compartment. What was more shocking was that people lay injured on the ground.
Directly in front of them were at least four bodies, possibly more past the burning cart as well. All of them were injured, possibly dead. One of them was a woman whose dress was in tatters. She slowly stood up grasping a bloodied shoulder and screamed to them to help her and her friends.
Dropping her backpack and rushing down the mound, Karen caught the woman as she fell to her side. The boys also dropped their things and then Tylor ran past to a man laying face down near her. A puddle of dark red ooze surrounding his bloody leg shocked him. Joel went behind the cart and called back that there were a couple more people who were hurt, but alive.
“What happened?” Tylor asked, as he helped the man up.
The woman whom Karen had grabbed was crying and still screaming. She said something about a monster attacking the cart after they had left from Cattra. It had tried to kill them, but when the cart crashed it set it alight with mighty flames which gushed from its large mouth and left them to die. She went on to say that they had luckily managed to pull themselves from the wreckage, but not before sustaining injuries.
“You have to help us!” the woman said, over and over.
Letting the man lay back down, he mumbled to Tylor, telling him to help his friends. He heard a muffled cry from somewhere behind the cart. Picking himself up, he ran round the back of the cart.
Karen pulled up the sleeve of the crying woman. She began to wipe some of the blood off and was preparing to wrap the wound in something to protect it from infection and prevent more blood loss. As it rubbed onto her hand the woman did not seem to react to the pain of touching her wound at all. Rubbing harder and getting more blood stained onto her palm, she pulled it up to her nose and sniffed it.
“You’re not…”
Tylor looked in amazement. Before him, Joel lay on the floor, unconscious and in a sprawled out position. A small smooth white cloth was sitting next to his face. Around him the other survivors from the disaster had all stood up, brushing themselves down and ignoring the wounds they seemed to have. Turning to see Tylor, they all began walking towards him.
“What the hell - what did you do to Joel!?” he exclaimed.
Rushing back round the cart he was shocked to see that Karen, too, was sprawled out on the floor like Joel had been. Standing above her, the woman she had been helping was also gripping a white cloth in her hand. From behind, the other group of people cornered him next to the burnt remains of the cart.
Two men walked towards Tylor, one grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt which was poking out of the top of his new armor. Pushing his fist up between the attackers hand and the shirt it loosened his grip enough for Tylor to spin on the spot and strike with the knuckle of his other hand. The man fell back holding his cheek and began swearing violently. Another man reached out for Tylor, but he had already ducked to the side and connected a punch directly into the stomach of that attacker. He too fell to the ground in a kneeling position, grasping his stomach and gasping for air, heavily winded from the blow.
A hand reached for Tylor’s shoulder. Twisting on the spot, he prepared himself to connect another punch, but stopped when he realized it was the woman who Karen had been caring for. Dropping his fist he stood still, staring into her dark blue eyes. Without warning the woman struck out with her hand, punching Tylor across the face and making him stumble backwards a few steps. Readying himself, he grabbed her hands as she tried once again to hit him and begged her to stop. From his side he was struck again, by one of the men he had knocked down before. Then the other joined in smacking him and others from the group of people soon began helping as well.
The immense pain from each powerful kick and punch to his stomach and side soon subsided as a damp, stinking, cloth was placed over his mouth and nose. Everything went dark then, but the pain remained till the very last second of consciousness.
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