The assassin picked up his pace as he found firmer footing under a path of trampled Ice Reeds. He made a mental note of these Muckhog paths every winter. Most people avoided such paths since Muckhogs had developed a reputation for overeating and wallowing in the mud. But living among these creatures, Shade understood them far better. In the summer food was plentiful and the wild pigs only ambled to the next muddy puddle, so the logic made sense. But Shade had noted that Muckhogs ran almost constantly to keep warm and to forge for food during the harsh winter months. In fact, Muckhogs had an almost uncanny sixth sense for staying out of the hypothermic waters and so the paths could be trusted at least for now.
He shook his head at the pretentious citizens of Doljinaar. They never appreciated these swamps or these fine paths that granted the assassin swift passage through the supposedly impassible Ice Marshes, but it was just as well. The Faelin understood that if more humans were interested in Jile, or in the marshlands for that matter, there would be keener interest in keeping him out.
Shade never regretted his choice to leave the Dark Elven forests. A hedge of fear surrounded Jui-Sae, fear of its Unseen Guardians and the grisly testament of its bone-littered landscape sent Men running from its borders. But Shade knew the shadowy murders were nothing but a grim warning to keep other races out of Jui-Sae, for his people sheltered many secrets. In truth Jui-Sae was a land of dark and inviting beauty, a land of rich black trees lit up by fields of midnight flowers and starlit glades…a breathtaking night kingdom where magnificent moonstone cities glowed majestically in the moonlight.
The assassin wondered how he had ever grown so attached to this stink hole. He could not even see the light of the three moons through the constant fog. He had lived a stranger in a world of men for decades, but oddly, he now felt more at home than he ever had in his own black country. Here he would not play pawn to the black and twisted will of a sociopath bent upon senseless torture. Here he could reign supreme. Jile was his palace and the Ice Marshes his own dark kingdom.
Shade quickened his pace. He watched as the crack of dawn crested over the murky horizon. He could not see the sun through the fog, but the glare reflected off the haze. He squinted fiercely. He had grown used to the sun, but the glare blinded him. He would be wise to find some breakfast and set up camp. He thought of his life, all the reasons he left Jui-Sae and what had led him up to this point. He continued on…a silent killer among silent killers. Soon, Lewd, very soon…
Shade crouched in the shadows of a small grove of trees watching as an eerie fog rolled over the empty streets of Graystone. He had put the Ice Marshes at his back, passing secretly through sparse groves that had once been part of Fogrim Forest. He had not seen any guards out on patrol, at least not yet. Graystone was a bleak and superstitious town that lay along the great northwestern road between old Fogrim and the Ruins of Garrlohan. He could hear the quiet rush of the south fork of the Shardenile River, the locals called Southfork. The assassin made his way down the foggy streets with studious care. He kept his eyes peeled for guards.
The light of the three marred moons of Covent danced across the dull gray buildings painting ghastly silhouettes. The buildings were old, constructed of Durnish brickwork and slate roofs. Roughshod half-timbered buildings also dotted the streets, but even the wood had grayed to an ash gray with age. Windows of old shops and homes were boarded up, but here and there a loose shutter creaked and banged in the wind. Oil lanterns swung from doorposts. Firelight peaked through shutters and cracks in the woodwork, but there would be no sign of townsfolk, not until daybreak tomorrow morning.
Shade ducked between alleyways, melting from shadow to shadow. This was not Jile. Most of the locals who had laid eyes on Shade had worse fears than one lone Dark Elf. He was permitted to walk their streets, but never to go in any buildings and that was the feeling of the local populace, not the local garrison. Jile was the only town that allowed Shade to frequent its establishments, due to a good word put in by Gordwin, a few good bribes, but mostly because the soldiers enjoyed drinking at The Dragon’s Den.
Shade overheard a few inconvenienced travelers grumbling about the overly superstitious townsfolk of Graystone who closed up shop at dusk. The travelers did not stay long however, but set out east along the safer roads to Kurn. The general behavior among men was to pass through Graystone quickly, only to replenish supplies and never to stay the night. A few more travelers galloped into town on horseback, paused and shook their heads in unmasked disgust and then they too ventured onto the next town.
Shade pulled his cloak tighter about him. He watched as the men thundered past him. He never knew just who might be passing through Graystone. He watched as the horses kicked up clouds of snow dust as they dropped from sight. Then all went quiet once again.
The assassin trudged through the gray slush until he reached the northern edge of town. Southfork cut a quiet passage across the landscape just north of the Great West Road. No boat or barrel barge chanced the fork, not this late in the night. The fog was thin enough tonight he could see over the river and into the eerie ruins. He looked out across a barren snow swept plain eerie and lifeless. The people had right to fear this land, for the plains encompassed the haunted Ruins of Garrlohan. The old Mino lands.
The entrance was marked by a pair of massive thirty-foot monolithic stone markers, roughhewn and wrought by crude stone hammers far too heavy to be the work of human hands. An ancient crumbled bridge comprised of huge stone slabs lay over the river. Shade studied the ruins. The bones of men and the curved horns of Minotaur skulls lay scattered across the snow-covered plain. The assassin watched them with an acute wariness as finely sharpened as his daggers. ‘Those bones have moved recently,’ he told himself, ‘the snowdrift on them looks but hours old.’ This was his road. The haunt of Garrlohan.
It was no secret that the most direct approach to Kurn was to pass through the Ruins of Garrlohan. Many considered it, but few dared risk the venture. Instead, travelers were forced to take a giant detour eastward to Stallway Vale and then double back west to Kurn, but Shade was not a man that he should reason like one. To him the greatest danger lay under the sun and the heavily guarded western passes. Night races were killed on sight in Doljinaar, being both hated and feared. There was a saying among night mortals, ‘Better to be caught by the dead than the living in Doljinaar.’
Shade was anxious to reach Kurn, but he knew better than to risk entering the Ruins of Garrlohan after nightfall. Those bones were probably lying in wait, watching him even now, begging him to cross the river. He had passed through the ruins many times before and he knew his only chance to get through. He would set up camp just outside town and wait until daybreak. Then not even the haunted ruins would separate him from his prey.
“You fool!” he heard an old raspy voice say.
Shade turned around to see an old Terramothian widow sitting on her porch glaring at him with baggy haunted, icy blue eyes. She rocked on a rickety old rocking chair. She pointed a long wrinkled finger at him. Her bleach-like skin hung from her cheekbones and her stark white hair had been tied back into a bun. She did not rise, but glowered at him with such festering hatred that even the unshakable assassin was momentarily unnerved.
“Dead fool!” she scolded again, “I can see it in your eyes. You seek the passage of the dead! You mean to take the cursed road of Garrlohan!”
Shade shook off his daze. He frowned. He had completely forgotten about this spooky old hag. She was the only citizen of Graystone whoever dared show her face at night. She had proclaimed his death a hundred times over again, but never seemed to remember him.