8 The Strange Mission

Naliam and his men sat around a hastily built bonfire and enjoyed the delicious meat that Ichabod had gifted them earlier that same day. It was the first time that they'd been able to stop to have a bite to eat since setting out at dawn and their stomachs appreciated it. The beer chased down the food perfectly and soon they found themselves laughing and telling stories despite the terror they felt from knowing the perils intrinsic in where they camped.

It had been Naliam's intention to make up for their lost time enjoying themselves with the minstrel by using her wagon. It turned out, however, that it was damaged beyond repair. And they had spent too many hours with their "entertainment" to be able to reach Riam before nightfall. That meant that they would be forced to camp out in the forest for the night.

Jogging all that was left of daylight, they tried to at least reach the end of the forest before night fell. The trees became smaller and with more space between them -signalling the end of their domain- when the sky darkened considerably. Naliam instructed that they stop around an old birch tree with thick branches. There, the group of mercenaries had used the last few minutes of sunlight to set up camp. A few small trenches were dug up and traps were erected around their position. They organised themselves and decided on the turns and order to stand guard.

They finished alongside the appearance of night. The warm crackling of the bonfire had been their only conversation as they gorged on the food. The alcohol loosened up the mood considerably. After dinner some went to sleep whilst two took up their guard duty with a heavy sense of responsibility. One of the two men climbed into the treetop armed with a crossbow. Not only were they to keep vigilant, they also had to make sure the flames of the bonfire were always kindled. It would help ward away the beasts that feared it.

The night progressed without any incidents. Initially each rustle of leaves and snapping of twigs caused everyone to jump to their feet with their weapons at the ready. When the fifth owl had startled them needlessly, they all became much more optimistic. Naliam was almost sure that they were too far from the heart of the forest to attract anything dangerous, or valiant enough, to dare attack them.

The mercenary leader was the first to fall asleep.

A tap on his shoulder broke the spell of slumber hanging over him. Naliam looked up lazily, struggling to put the world into focus. All around him the quiet of night was pervasive, everyone else still in the realm of dreams. The shadows the bonfire flickered and danced all around the campsite.

"Is it my turn for guard duty already? Can't Bael take over for me?" He yawned.

"I'm afraid I don't know if it's your turn, nor do I know this Bael fellow." Said a stranger's voice. "Just passing by and I was wondering whether you'd be kind enough to let me seek shelter by the warmth."

Naliam sprung to his feet instinctively and drew the jewelled dagger he was so proud of as he searched for the source of the voice. Crouching next to where he'd been sleeping seconds earlier was a man that he'd never seen before in his life. He wore a heavy cloak that concealed most of his body, except for a large sword hilt that appeared over his right shoulder. It was too dark to see the colour of his eyes, and Naliam didn't like that.

"Men!" Shouted Naliam, struggling to keep a steadfast voice. "We've got company!"

One man appeared from the edge of the camp with his sword ready and clumsily looking around for signs of an attack. The ones who had been asleep quickly rose to their feet and imitated the guard's confusion. It took them a few seconds to realise that Naliam hadn't been crying out because of a demonic beast, but because of the presence of a human being. The stranger was still crouched beside Naliam's knapsack, completely oblivious to the danger he was in, looking at them in nonchalant awe.

"Who are you, maggot? Start talking!" Vehemently demanded the one on guard duty as he threatened the stranger with his sword. It was evident that he was trying to compensate for his failure to notice the stranger's approach. "Why are you here!?"

"Easy, Des." Spoke another man from behind Naliam. "Look at what he's carrying. Why, that's not cheap at all, no it isn't. A man wakes up to find himself in the company of an armed intruder; where has the world gone to? Then again, I'm pretty sure no one could blame the man for defending himself from the intruder and taking it upon himself to return their belongings to their next of kin."

Naliam understood what it was that the unseen voice had implied. And, he had to admit, he agreed with the conclusion. So did Des, whom looked back at the group with an evil smile on his face. He was waiting for his orders.

"Well, it seems an armed bandit has been trying to get a jump on us." Snorted Naliam. "Thankfully a valiant and prompt intervention by us has stopped the vile delinquent in his tracks. Regrettably, the bandit fought back and we had no other choice but to exercise our Divines-given right to self defense."

The mercenaries all looked at the stranger with a greedy gleam in their eyes. The man had watched the exchange in absolute silence, not even trying to back away from them. Not that an escape would have saved him from his fate; they were going to fleece the foolish stranger.

Naliam had his eyes glued on the large hilt over the stranger's back; trying to figure out whether the man was skilful enough to draw his weapon before they were able to kill him. After weighing different factors, such as his position and how his arms were resting on his knees or whether there was any other weapon concealed under the heavy cloak, Naliam was reasonably satisfied that even if he did manage to react to a sudden attack, there was no way he could fend off five armed attackers and crossbow bolts raining from the sky.

The mercenary leader raised his arm and was about to command his men to strike when Alastor interrupted him.

"Stop right there you short-sighted band of buffoons!" The old cleric screamed as he pushed his way in between Naliam and the stranger.

"What are you trying to pull Alastor? Can't you see we're in our right?" Inquired Naliam, eyeing the old cleric dangerously. He was starting to really have a problem with Alastor's continued disobedience.

"Aye, that may be true, but you'd die before you realised the idiocy of your mistake." Ignoring the dumbfounded looks his statement was met with, Alastor turned to address the stranger. "I apologise for the moronic behaviour displayed by my companions. You must understand, your sudden appearance in the dead of night has startled them. Please, join us around the shelter and warmth of our bonfire."

"Thank you, good man." Said the stranger with a sheepish grin on his face. "That is precisely why I approached your fellowship."

"What?" Exclaimed Des. "You're just gonna allow him to join us like that?! I say we gut the bastard and be done with it."

"Idiot!" Chastised Alastor. "Do not deny the truth of what's right in front of your eyes! This man has crossed the Groam forest by himself after dark, he is clearly the expert we've been instructed to meet!"

Naliam gasped when the full weight of Alastor's deduction sunk in. The stranger had been able to navigate the treacherous forest paths beset by unthinkable evils. And he had done so without sustaining any injury. No ordinary human could accomplish that particular feet. But martial experts weren't ordinary humans...

Still, Des seemed unconvinced or unaware of the implications of this detail. The guard refused to simply stand down and mumbled a curse to Alastor. The old cleric took personal offense at Des' defiance and proceeded to indiscreetly kick him hard in the groin. Des cried out and slumped down on his hunches. A few men called out in outrage and started towards their comrade but were stopped dead in their tracks by Naliam who ordered a general stand down.

"That's enough!" He shouted. "The expert is welcome in our encampment. Somebody bring him a jug of beer."

"But, Naliam, what about Des?" Asked Bael, the one to first suggest robbing the stranger.

"He had it coming. If Alastor hadn't kicked him, I would have. Divines curse him, how in the blazes did he let the expert pass through our perimeter unnoticed?" Truthfully, Naliam still resented his men for not coming to his aid when he needed it at the Wishful Hare; even though he consciously knew how unreasonable he was being.

Des was still hunched over and looking up at Naliam with accusatory eyes. The mercenary leader ignored his hurt companion, thinking that it was his pride that had been injured more than anything else. Naliam turned away and gestured towards the bonfire. Then he walked towards it, closely followed by Alastor. The stranger, however, remained where he was, still crouched above Naliam's things.

"If you wouldn't mind," He said with his eyes fixed on the birch tree somewhere behind Naliam. "Could you tell your man up there to stop aiming at me with his crossbow? It's making me uneasy."

Naliam shrugged and loudly instructed the marksman to keep his eyes out for any approaching beasts rather than on a friend. He probably cussed more than he should have, but he didn't ponder the issue for long. In the back of his mind he was wondering how the expert had known about the marksman. After all, he was almost invisible in the foliage.

Naliam felt a gentle nudge on his shoulder pleading for his immediate attention. It was Alastor. The old cleric was looking at him with knowing eyes. There was a warning in them, telling the mercenary leader to keep a look out for the men and their reckless pride.

"You don't agree with my inviting the expert." Whispered Alastor. Naliam didn't bother to respond and scowled at the old cleric, making the answer evident. "Look at his hand." Continued the cleric, ignoring Naliam's defiant attitude. The mercenary leader didn't like being told what to do. He'd always had a problem with it, especially when it came from self-righteous religious people. Still, he obeyed.

Now that the expert had neared the light of the fire, Naliam noticed what it was the old cleric had been pointing at. The stranger's arm poked out from under his cloak as he reached out to grab a tankard filled with frothy beer that was being handed to him by Bael. What the old cleric wanted Naliam to see were the dark bloodstains covering the expert's gloved hand up to his elbow.

"That's not the blood of men." Whispered an awestruck Naliam.

"Aye, it isn't." Spoke Alastor as he made his way to the hunter. "Brother expert! Let's sit and discuss the mission we find ourselves tasked with. I'm sure the road here wasn't an easy one."

"That much is true." Responded the expert. His voice was harsh and metallic, generally unpleasant to hear. Yet Naliam found something alluring in its deep raspiness. "But how do I know that we're here for the same reason?"

"A reasonable suspicion. But you have been sent by the Duke, is this not true?"

"Yes, it is. But are you?" He asked dryly.

"Good Naliam, please show the brother expert here our decree so that he may be satisfied that we're on the same side." His mind still somewhat clogged by forcefully being woken up in an alien world, Naliam hadn't fully registered Alastor's order when the old cleric repeated it for him. Grunting in displeasure, he proceeded to conjure up the document in question and present it to the hunter.

Up close, the man was even more imposing than at a distance. The stubble underlining his face somehow managed to darken his already serious expression. Coupled with his dark eyes that devoured the contents of the decree in a few seconds, the expert seemed more beast-like than human.

Of course, this expert was, in fact, the hunter hired by Ichabod to trail Naliam and his men. To his fortune, as he'd been following the mercenaries he'd crossed paths with a martial expert at the Earth realm. The hunter fought the expert, killed him, and retrieved his belongings, amongst which a degree by the Duke instructing the expert to join with the mercenaries before they arrived at Yrsogam. The presence of this decree was what pushed the hunter to introduce himself.

"It seems that you are right, mister…?" The hunter handed the decree back to Naliam and followed the gesture by presenting his own document with the exact same broken seal adorning its edges. One look at it and the mercenary leader knew that its contents would indubitably be the same as his own.

"Alastor, envoy and agent for the Church of Divines. Accompanying me on this crucial mission are Naliam and his band of knights." Knights was an appellative that no one had ever used on them before, thought Naliam. Still, he guessed that Alastor didn't want to reveal that the Duke -and by extension, the Church- had stooped so low as to hire an ordinary band of mercenaries for the job. "And now that the unpleasant formalities are out of the way, let us partake in fellowship besides the warm fire."

"Wait a second!" Suddenly interrupted Des. "Even if you are who you say you are, there's no guarantee your intentions aren't evil. Everyone knows experts like you bathe in the blood of good folk and mate with demonic beasts under the full moon. Until I'm not certain you're not going to slice our throats when we're not looking, I'm not letting you any closer!" As the last of his recalcitrant words left his lips, Des menacingly moved his sword into a low stance from where he could swiftly strike at the hunter in an upward slash if the need arose. His threatening demeanour was apparent.

"Quiet." Said the hunter, undeterred by the intimidatory brigand.

"What did you say to me?!" Irately exclaimed Des whilst raising his blade to eye level with the hunter. "Want to lose your head?!"

Naliam was about to intervene when it happened. In a flash, the hunter kicked Des and sent him back a few feet, cracking at least two of his ribs in the process. Simultaneously he drew an elongated dagger from somewhere within his coat, pivoted on the ball of his foot, and struck into the darkness just where Des' head had been but half a second earlier. Just as he did so a sharp cry pierced the night. A dark shape withered and uselessly fought to release itself from the dagger's embrace.

Impaled on the tip of the hunter's blade was a night crow flapping its wings uselessly about as it tried to free itself from the dagger. Night crows were exceptionally dangerous considering their deceptively small size. As their name entailed, they flew out at night in search for prey. Swooping down from immense altitudes, they were known to be able to pierce steel armour and tear a head off its shoulders with their talons; a preferred tactic for this evasive type of beast.

What most surprised Naliam, however, was the fact that the hunter had been able to kill it so effortlessly. Night crows possessed incredibly thick hides which made them near impervious to conventional weapons. To pierce its skin, the hunter had used the night crow's own momentum. Had he been off by even a few inches, he'd have lost his hand, maybe even his head. And yet he seemed completely calm, as if the dying wretch of a creature had nothing to do with him.

After a few tense seconds, the night crow flapped its wings for the last time and fell completely silent. It left ringing in the ears of those present. Des had gone completely pale and was struggling to bring himself to stand upright. Two mercenaries had to come and pull him to his feet. Naliam wasn't aware of this as his eyes were still fixed on the hunter, whose stone-like expression betrayed no emotion.

"This will make for some good meat." Said the hunter nonchalantly. "Or you can use its carcass for some quality materials. Good master Alastor, perhaps you could take it."

Without waiting for a response, the hunter dropped the dead night crow at Alastor's feet before wiping the blood on his blade against his cloak. The old cleric seemed completely at a loss for words -something Naliam would have found incommensurably pleasurable were he not similarly dumbstruck- and only stared at it wide-eyed unable to force his body into moving. Naliam couldn't fault him for it, none of them were truly prepared for the world this 'expert' belonged to.

"Thank you." Softly spoke Alastor after a while. He was the first to break the silence that was enveloping them.

"No need. It's my trade." Explained the hunter. "Sorry about that kick... Des, was it?" He said turning to Des, who was still being supported by his two companions. "I thought I heard something dangerous coming. Just as well, right?"

"Aye, it's true." Finally said Naliam, regaining his composure. "You've saved Des' life!"

If any of Naliam's men held any doubts about the hunter's capabilities as a combatant, they had all dissipated by now. A few whispers were exchanged between them, and they all visibly kept their distance from the hunter. Perhaps he woke certain feelings of helplessness they weren't used to experiencing. Life in the cities could become quite sheltered.

Alastor approached the hunter and handed him a new jug of beverage. The previous one was still on the floor, besides the felled night crow -whom no one had any intention of grabbing. They sat down besides the fire and warmed up a piece of meat. Naliam joined them shortly after chastising the man in the tree for not paying more attention.

"The journey here must have been terrible." Observed Alastor as he pointed towards the hunter's blood-stained hand whilst they waited for the meat to be ready.

"It wasn't supposed to be. But something happened." He explained. "Otherwise I'd be at Riam by now. People around here say that only a fool or a lunatic would find themselves wandering around this forest after nightfall. I wonder which category I fall under."

"What happened?" Asked Naliam.

"You could say I had an unexpected encounter" Explained the hunter without changing his taciturn attitude. "A few miles East from here I came across a torn-up wagon. Just beside the path. Maybe your group came across it." Naliam stifled a gasp as cold sweat appeared on his forehead; he knew perfectly well what wagon he was talking about. "I heard dying laments coming from inside and so stopped to investigate. The driver was still breathing, although his passenger was not. It was only my Divines-ordained duty to stay by the driver's side whilst he passed onto the Abyss."

"You did well, good hunter." Nodded Alastor. Naliam was impressed at how well he feigned ignorance. For half a second, he forgot the cleric had been there when it happened. "Did you find out who he was?"

"I did." Nonchalantly replied the hunter in between bites of his succulent steak. "He and his daughter formed a travelling troupe together. They went from village to village singing songs, basically."

"What else did the man tell you?" Naliam almost jumped to his feet. Des, who'd somehow been eavesdropping on their conversation, had deemed it necessary to blow their secret out into the wind for all to see. The fear was sufficiently clear in his eyes; Naliam could only hope the hunter wouldn't notice. Which, of course, he did.

"Nothing." Explained the hunter, lying through his teeth. The mercenary leader exhaled the air he'd been subconsciously keeping in and felt a sharp jab in his side. Alastor was eyeing him suspiciously. "He only begged me to perform the proper rituals to send both himself and the minstrel to the Abyss. I obliged. The scent of the candles must have lured a pack of ghouls to me and I had to fight them."

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