"Morningstar!" Elisandrya screamed in rage as she whirled to stand, her blade drawn in one quick pull. Morningstar fell heavily, thrashing in the mud before succumbing to the fatal wounds and releasing a shuddering final breath. Quin was on his feet but had not yet drawn Bedlam. Looking down, he realized the fire made them both open targets for whoever hid in the thick mist between them and the forest. Lacking the time to put it out, he yelled to his new acquaintance. "We must leave! We can't fight them here!" She hesitated, aware of the flame's betrayal but unable to draw her eyes away from the fallen horse. Quin took several long steps out of the light's range, waiting a few heartbeats to see if Elisandrya would join him. There was no time to mourn horses, and he wouldn't get killed awaiting an impromptu funeral. Finally, she turned away, and they sprinted into the dark as more arrows landed in the mud where they'd stood. The damp ground was like a sponge sucking at their boots and forcing them to push on harder. Quin veered toward the dark silhouette of a ruin he spotted, like so many he had seen in the past few tendays. "No," Elisandrya panted as they ran. "Go around it. We'll wait for them on the other side." "We need cover from those arrows! Inside those walls we stand a better chance." "Those are the ruins of Char… they're cursed.
They are… forbidden!" Quin contemplated her words and admitted inwardly that she might know more about the local landmarks. An eerie howling erupted from behind them, quickening their stride and erasing any doubt in Quin's mind. Cursed, haunted, or worse, the ruins were their only option. "Get over it," he growled and pushed on. Elisandrya matched his stride. His survival instinct shut out distrust of this stranger for the time being. He focused on reaching defensible ground, but he could not forget the look on her face when she'd witnessed his eyes. It was not the shock of something horrible that she'd registered. It was as if she'd expected to see them. As the ruins grew closer, Quin rested his hand on Bedlam's pommel and conjured the familiar game in his mind. He could not picture what stone those rusted gates might represent, and he considered the possibilities. An image of the Ghost came to mind-not for death, as many had played the piece, but worse: regret.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nimble, cloven hooves raced across the sodden ground, leaping and gliding on black feathered wings. Elamiz shook his horned head and hissed in glee between needlelike fangs. The exhilaration of the hunt was intoxicating for him, to run wild across the guarded lands of the hunters and seek their blood for new masters. His earrings jingled as he stalked his running prey, surrounded by the sliding and swift shadows of the pack. Jumping into the air, he tucked his furry legs beneath him and flew, raising his bow to harry the two companions as they made for the old ruins. That place his kind had known well once, before the oracles had driven them away and forged new roads, guarding them with their warrior-priests and prognostications, foiling all attempts to reclaim the unhallowed ground. He snarled as he fired more arrows, eager to see them skip and jump at his will, smiling as the dark pack below spread out to surround the ruin's entrance. Landing again, he knelt and absently fingered the curling horns that grew from the sides of his head. He licked his lips with a forked tongue, anxious to make the kill, to make the Order of Twilight happy. Baby blue eyes watched the hunter and his companion slip between the rusted gates of the wall ahead. Long-clawed hands opened and closed, imagining the throats he might soon embrace.
Char was aptly named, as all of it was blackened and crumbling, the victim of some ancient conflagration. Quin and Eli took little time to examine their surroundings, disappearing around hollowed buildings and walls, seeking ground from which to retaliate against their mysterious attackers. "Watch the gate," Quin said, indicating her bow. "I'll look for better ground." Eli nodded and backed into the shadowed corner of what looked like an old tomb. She watched as Quin ran ahead, noticing his lithe and graceful movements. His surefooted stealth was a match for any hunter she'd known. She crouched and listened for movement in the direction of the rusted gate, her limited field of vision revealing little in the dim, dusky morning. The sight of Quin's eyes and the apparent ease with which he navigated the darkness remained fresh in her thoughts. Those eyes! By Savras, those eyes! He must be the man sought after by the patrol in Littlewater, but is he the man I seek? No sound had come from the gate as yet, and she determined to learn more about Quin if she survived the remainder of the morning. At first, she'd suspected that patrols from Littlewater had tracked her, hoping to discover this stranger she'd happened upon, but those chilling howls in the mist convinced her otherwise. Hunting dogs were uncommon in Savrathan towns, even one as cosmopolitan as Littlewater. Their bowmen would not have chosen to kill a fine horse, especially not the trained mount of a hunter. No, but those howls were familiar, she thought. Something of the Qurth prowls the Shandolphyn. Even as close as the Low Road was, it was rare for creatures to venture so far out of the forest. She had heard of such incidents in the south, near Owlhold and even in the west near Ondeeme, but here, the oracles and hunters kept the borders of the Qurth in tight check, anticipating the slightest dangers by favor of the sight of Savras. Which, she thought discouragingly, makes these recent times all the more strange. Her reflexes reacted to nearby movement, clenching the bow in her hand and darting her eyes forward.
She saw nothing-merely a small section of fallen wall before her and more of the same all around. As she studied the blackness, she squinted, certain that the wall in front of her had shifted somehow.
She had almost convinced herself she was imagining things when a low growl came from the same direction. The shadow erupted and flew at her, blazing yellow eyes and ivory fangs rushing toward her face, pulling a rippling mass of darkness behind it. Rolling backward in surprise, she raised her bow and aimed at the center of the nearly invisible mass. The arrow struck something solid, drawing a canine yelp. The weight of the beast landed on Eli before she could draw again. It was heavy on her chest, gurgling a low growl before falling still and shuddering a final breath. Rolling it away and jumping to her feet, she detected the black outline of a massive hound. She backed into the corner again, looking all around, certain that every shadow held similar danger. She wondered where Quin had gone and wished he'd bring his dark-seeing eyes back with him.
Quinsareth was deep in the maze of black-stoned walls and old tombs. He stopped in a small, overgrown courtyard, staring at the only complete building in a mess of what must have been a terrible, unholy site at one time. Multi-winged gargoyles perched at the corners of the squat building, looking down on him with blind eyes. A bent steeple stood atop the structure, bearing a symbol-a circle of wings on feathers, the sign of some unknown or lesser god of ages past. The yawning temple entrance was anything but inviting, but Quin knew his options were limited, especially within the place's aura of festering evil. It repelled his senses, as if focusing its ire on the aasimar standing at its doorstep. He tensed, sensing movement on either side.
Looking down, he casually scanned the peripherals of his vision.
Against the walls closest to him on either side were the skulking forms of two great dogs, barely outlines in the shadows but as visible to him as the walls themselves. Their bodies were short and wide, powerfully built and crouched to attack. He slid his hand to Bedlam beneath the shoulder of his cloak. A tiny stitch of pain lanced across his left side where the bruised ribs were still not completely healed, and he cursed his previous exhaustion. Unable to maintain the shadowalk, he'd made camp and had uncharacteristically hoped for the best. I should have known better, he thought. As if sensing the mental cue, the hounds lunged, growling hideously as they abandoned the obscuring shadows. Quinsareth moved to his right and drew Bedlam's scream into the morning air, slashing as he faced the charge of the lead dog. The beast yelped as the blade sliced its thick jowls, but fell silent as its head was sheared off above the jaw. Spinning, he brought the blade back around to meet the attack of the remaining hound. The shadowy beast sidestepped the shrieking blade and snapped at Quin's extended leg, just missing his ankle. Quin judged the hound's eagerness to gain a hold with its massive jaws and watched for the second bite at his leg as he drew it back, meanwhile raising Bedlam over his shoulder. When the growling beast snapped again, Bedlam howled through its bared back, severing its spine neatly. He finished off the mortally wounded creature before its low cries attracted others. Considering their affinity for the shadows, Quinsareth imagined they were already quite near and just as invisible. Gently favoring his left side and the aching ribs, he made his way back to find Elisandrya, making sure to remember his path from the temple as he ran.