Cain glanced at Leah, who was continuing to stare up at the pile of rock, her face ashen. It would not do to spook her. Even if they were not alone, whatever might be watching could be some kind of animal, or it might be someone perfectly harmless, who simply preferred to remain hidden.
No reason to think it might be something . . . unnatural.
“I’m quite sure we’re alone, Leah.”
The little girl did not seem convinced. She crossed her arms and hugged herself. “Why haven’t we seen more people? And where are we going, anyway?”
“A city called Kurast.”
Leah’s eyes grew wide. “That’s a bad place.”
“Now, Leah—”
“My moth—Gillian told me it was haunted. Why would you want to take me there?” She took a step away from him. “You—you want to sacrifice me to some dark magic, don’t you?! You don’t want to help me at all. You’re . . . you’re a sorcerer who summons demons! Mother told me about people like you!”
Leah’s gaze went from side to side. Cain tried to offer reassurances, but he was at a loss for words; speaking more plainly or offering a logical solution, the way he might when dealing with an adult, did not seem to work with her.
He took a step forward and immediately knew he had made yet another mistake, but it was too late. Leah bolted back down the road for the path like a frightened rabbit, running as fast as her little legs would carry her.
“Wait!” Cain hobbled off the road after her, but the path was steep, and his knees began to protest more loudly. He thought about the long road he had ahead of him, the dangers he would face, and the problems a little girl could cause if she would not obey him. He watched her growing smaller as she continued up the hill, and kept on as quickly as he could, leaning on his staff for support, calling out to her again as she crested the top and disappeared.
Fresh panic washed over him, along with the memory of those lost and never found. The path seemed to widen and change before him, and for a moment he saw, with horrible clarity, an overturned wagon, one wheel still spinning, bright red blood splashed across its spokes as it flicked lazily around in the sunlight.
Cain blinked, wiping away the vision. He swallowed back a shriek of terror; his hand was in his sack again, fingers touching the folded paper in the hidden pocket. He withdrew his hand as if it had been scalded.
The path was empty, a desolate stretch of parched ground. The breath wheezed harshly in his lungs, and his throat grew tight. Why did children never listen, even when it was for their own good?
The day had turned darker by the time he neared the crest. Cain spotted her in the growing gloom. She was sitting on a rock a few feet off the path, head in her hands. At first he thought she was crying, but when she looked up, her face was dry.
“It’s no use,” she said. “I’ve nowhere to go, and nobody to help me.”
Cain stopped, leaning over on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His heart was like a runaway horse galloping through his chest. A wind came up, ruffling Leah’s cloak and bringing a chill deep into Cain’s bones.
Finally he straightened. “I’m trying to help you, Leah,” he said, as he got his wind back. “But you can’t . . . run off like that. You must understand that there are things . . . the road to Kurast is a dangerous one. A child could disappear in an instant, with nobody to witness what happened!”
“Are you trying to frighten me even more?”
Cain gathered himself for a moment, regaining control. “I am simply telling you the truth. It is my way, to speak plainly. There is evil in this world, things you cannot imagine. There are goatmen and demons and creatures even worse than that. It’s best to be cautious and prepared.”
Fresh shock whitened Leah’s face. For a moment he thought she might cry again, but she simply stood up off the rock, and when she looked at him again, her face was full of a child’s righteous anger. “Gillian used to talk like that too,” she said. “You’re strange. I don’t think I like you much.” She pointed down the other side of the hill. “I want to go there. Maybe they could help us.”
A small town seemed to squat in the valley below, ringed with a high stone wall and jungle, heavily fortified and partially hidden by a mist that had arisen suddenly and had begun creeping up the hillside. The town appeared dark and lifeless at first, but then a single light flickered like a beacon through the mist and seemed to dance, as if someone with a lantern was moving through the streets.
In his panic, Cain hadn’t even noticed it. He should have been relieved, but the bouncing light only served to deepen the sense of isolation, and after another moment it flickered again and went out.
He consulted his map again, but the little town did not appear on it. He peered through the gloom at the path they were on, which led down the other side of the hill and through the trees. It wouldn’t take them long to reach the gates. If they hurried, they could be there before the stars became visible.
Something about the entire scene worried him; there was a weight to the air, a sense of foreboding that he had learned over the years not to ignore. But they had little choice, he thought. Without food or water, they would not get much farther.
“Come on then,” Cain said, starting down the hill. “No sense in waiting here any longer. Let’s see if they’re hospitable.”
Another gust of wind swept over them, stronger this time. The wind brought the foul smell of rot along with it, like a stagnant bog, as the mist swallowed the ground below. When he glanced back, Leah was following him, clutching the cloak tightly to her throat.
The muscles of Cain’s thighs trembled with fatigue as he descended the steep path. He had not eaten since the few morsels of fish skin that morning, and although his body had been trained over his many months of wandering to expect this kind of treatment, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he would not be able to take another step.
You are an old man, he thought, as he had dozens of times already during the past few weeks. You should be dozing on a farmer’s porch somewhere with a cup of tea, not out in the wilds searching for demons. As he walked, the boy from his dream the night before stayed with him, but of course it had not really happened that way. The boy had been gone for decades.
By the time they neared the town, night was close. They walked down a wide, gravel road flanked by tall, spindly trees nearly bare of leaves. The iron gates to the town remained shut, but two large men materialized from a well-concealed door in the stone wall. The guards were as tall as Cain and nearly twice as wide. They wore leather-trimmed breastplates and held double-bladed battle-axes.
The deepening gloom bled the color from the air. The mist was thicker here. It clung to the ground and swirled around the guards’ legs, making them appear to be floating apparitions cut off at the knees.
The two guards stepped closer together, blocking the way to the gates. They said nothing, their faces impassive, vaguely threatening.
“We have come many miles, and seek lodging,” Cain said. “We are unarmed and will pay for food and a bed to sleep in. We’ll be on our way in the morning.”
Cain went to his rucksack for a piece of gold, but the guards swung their axes into fighting position and stepped forward, ready to attack.
A shout came from behind the gates, and several figures materialized from the thickening mist. Two more guards released the locks and swung the gates open with a loud, squealing scream of metal as the guards stepped aside, standing at attention.
The man who walked through the gates was tall and cadaverously thin, with long, black hair swept away from his forehead. He wore expensive silk robes and gold jewelry on his fingers, and his smile was wide and friendly. He spread his long arms, as if welcoming home a favorite family member.