World of Zaylyn: Book #3

“I thought I heard something,” he told him. “Non-sense. There’s no one out here but us. Why don’t you just...,” he started to say and then paused. There was the distinct sound of something small falling and trickling down the wall from the rooftop of the building next to them. “What was that?” Kren gasped in panic, “Someone’s on the roof.” “Relax, you idiot. Probably someone’s cat out and about knocking debris from the gutters,” he sighed with irritation, “Would you stop it? Why would someone be on the roof anyways?” “Following us?” his thin companion whispered, and he shone the lantern over towards the wall. He went over to investigate. “Oh, come on,” Bernt grumbled. “Broken shingles,” Kren announced, “You telling me a cat did that?” The burly man sighed, “Would you just come on. I don’t want to be out here all night. No one’s following us. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop? Look at the distance between them, really?” “Yes, alright, I see what you mean,” he realized and started off down the street once more. Suddenly, Kren jumped and spun around, the lantern shaking, clenched tightly in his bony hand. “Did you hear that?” he whispered in fear. “Hear what?” Bernt muttered, “Not again.” “Someone said something,” he told him. “There’s people in the houses; not surprising,” he explained. “Really? Looks like everyone’s asleep,” he said shining the light around, his eyes wide, “Besides, this came from behind us.” “There’s no one there. See for yourself,” Bernt said and then, deciding to humour his friend, asked, “What did they say?” “Shh,” he hissed, “I don’t know; I couldn’t make it out. It was more of a hushed whisper. There... there it is again. You hear that?” “Probably just the wind. I didn’t hear anything,” he answered. The thin man spun around again, shining the light forward. “There!” “Ow, get that light out of my eyes,” Bernt said, shielding his face, “What, it’s in front of us now, you fool, no one passed us. It’s the damn wind. I didn’t hear anything.” “Oh, yeah? What wind? I don’t feel any, do you?” Kren protested, and he opened the glass door of the lantern, “See, where’s the wind? Not a flicker.” “Close that, and stop shining it in my eyes, would ya?” his friend grumbled at him. “Oh... no...” the thin man stammered, “It can’t be,” and he raised a trembling finger to point behind his companion at something farther up the street. The mustached man turned around, staring into the dark of the empty street before him. “There’s nothing there,” he told him and then everything went dark. “Damn it, I told you to leave it closed. Where’s the tinderbox?” He turned around and to his amazement his companion was nowhere to be seen. “Oh, I don’t believe it,” Bernt exclaimed loudly with annoyance, “That bloody coward and his superstitions. What’d he do, run back to the inn and leave me in the dark?” With a heavy sigh, Bernt started back in the direction of the inn. Suddenly, the lantern fell to the ground with the sound of metal and broken glass. “What the…?” he said in confusion, looking at the lantern and then up to the rooftop from where it had fallen. Something wet dripped down onto his forehead from above. He wiped at it, surprised that it felt almost slippery. “This isn’t water,” he thought to himself, “What is this, blood?” He thought he saw a dark shadow slip fluidly down from the rooftop to the street below, but he wasn’t sure. Everything was cast in darkness. A wild panic gripped him and soon he found himself pounding loudly on the door of the house across from him. “Open up!” he called out, his voice wavering, “Open up, damn it! We need some help out here!” Bernt thought he saw someone pull back the curtain slightly in the upper window and then quickly pull it shut again. “There, looks like someone’s coming,” he thought with a bit of relief. An eerie sound echoed down the street, something that sounded halfway between a chuckle and a growl. “Open up!” he shouted again, pounding frantically on the door. “No one’s coming,” his mind screamed at him. He gave the door a mighty kick, but to his surprise it held firm under the force. He began to run blindly through the dark, soon finding that he was coming into the marketplace. “Wide open space,” his mind reasoned, “at least I’ll be able to see what’s coming.” Bernt searched wildly around in the darkness. “What the hell happened to him? Did he run back to the inn? Is he dead? No, just get a grip,” he told himself, “It’s not The Black Shadow. There’s no way. Some sort of vampiric demon, or whatever he’s supposed to be? It’s not possible. Some all powerful evil creature of the night? Able to hear one’s very thoughts?” A deep rumbling laugh filled the air around him, seemingly from every direction. A torch burst into flames to the north, then another. “What is that? Looks like a stage? The storyteller? Rasindell? That undead skeletal wizard? Is this his doing? It can't be, but the stronger magic users were all hunted down or at least forced into hiding, all those that didn’t belong to the wizard’s guild. Who or what is after me?” The hollow sound of boots upon cobblestones came echoing toward him, calmly approaching the marketplace. The many empty stalls and tables that surrounded him offered him no salvation. A dark shadowy figure emerged from the street into the open where the moonlight had improved visibility for the man. He could see that the figure was dressed in black; shirt, pants, gloves, boots. He nervously eyed the black hood and the black flowing cloak. He watched in terror as two dark red eyes began to glow from out of the darkness beneath the hood of the approaching figure.