Northbound
There had been no cries of alarm; there hadn’t been time and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. When the knights discovered the first guard slumped down in a corner at his post, a gaping gash of blood in his chest; they only to look further along the corridor to find another. They followed the bodies of guards like a trail of crumbs until they reached two high ranking guardsmen similarly murdered at their posts outside of Lord Verod’s chambers.
“This one’s not yet dead,” the knightess, Lady Fesia said from where she knealt beside the near-corpse of a guard.
“Do what you can for him but be prepared,” Sir Brakkon told her; “we may need you inside.” He pushed the heavy oaken door open cautiously, creaking the whole way. A wave of heat blasted them in the face, as though a blazing fire had been lit within, but no such fire existed. By the candlelight inside they could see Lord Verod on his knees bleeding from several stab wounds, a trickle of blood came from the corner of his mouth. Behind him were two men, each holding a long dagger in their hands. Verod’s face was pale, his smooth shaven cheeks devoid of any color; he fell forward to the ground below.
“Fesia!” Sir Brakkon called. Perhaps she could do something to help Verod, or perhaps not. The Lord looked moments away from death, but Sir Brakkon knew better than to dismiss Lady Fesia’s abilities. He’d seen her perform things that could only be called miracles.
Sir Dagon and the mercenary charged past the fallen lord in pursuit of the culprits. The reaction of the murderers was more than a little unsettling, they smiled calmly. One of them stepped backward through the wall and shifted through the stones as though they were not there at all. The other jumped more than ten feet in the air to land on his feet on the wall, running upward as though he were on the ground, and climbing out of a window that lead out to the roof.
Sir Dagon ran to the wall and stopped to feel, it was as solid as ever. “What sort of trickery is this?” he asked, a confused visage on his face.
Brakkon’s jaw hung open for some time. “Demons,” he whispered at last.
“No," the mercenary said; "Not demons, just something more than human."
I recognize them both. I know where they are going and who sent them.”
“You must tell us at once,” Sir Brakkon demanded.
“I’ll do better than that,” the mercenary said; “I’ll take you to them.”
A low, bewildered moan sounded from behind them. Lady Fesia knelt over a shallowly breathing Lord Verod. “He is not well,” she said; “But he will recover.”
“You never fail to amaze me, my lady,” Brakkon said.
“Save your chivalry for a lady who wants it, Sir;” she told him, standing.
Sir Dagon pulled his bloodied hand away from his face. “How far will we be travelling, Darkhorne?” he asked of the mercenary.
The mercenary smiled from the corner of his mouth, “It will take two weeks of travel by horse if we ride hard. With luck we’ll manage to cut them off. I know of many seldom travelled roads along the way and doubt they know more than a few.”
“We must leave at once,” Sir Brakkon declared.
“I would caution against doing so,” the mercenary replied. “Night has fallen, travelling with haste through the night is quite dangerous. What little lead our would-be assassins have gained will be made up for in the next few days.”
Sir Brakkon considered his words and nodded in agreement. “Very well,” he said; “we will prepare to set out come sunrise.”
Lady Fesia looked up from the ground. "I will need to stay with Lord Verod tonight to heal him, but I will join you in the morning."
Brakkon nodded. "Good. Sir Dagon and I will gather supplies and men. We will meet at the Noth gate."
“This one’s not yet dead,” the knightess, Lady Fesia said from where she knealt beside the near-corpse of a guard.
“Do what you can for him but be prepared,” Sir Brakkon told her; “we may need you inside.” He pushed the heavy oaken door open cautiously, creaking the whole way. A wave of heat blasted them in the face, as though a blazing fire had been lit within, but no such fire existed. By the candlelight inside they could see Lord Verod on his knees bleeding from several stab wounds, a trickle of blood came from the corner of his mouth. Behind him were two men, each holding a long dagger in their hands. Verod’s face was pale, his smooth shaven cheeks devoid of any color; he fell forward to the ground below.
“Fesia!” Sir Brakkon called. Perhaps she could do something to help Verod, or perhaps not. The Lord looked moments away from death, but Sir Brakkon knew better than to dismiss Lady Fesia’s abilities. He’d seen her perform things that could only be called miracles.
Sir Dagon and the mercenary charged past the fallen lord in pursuit of the culprits. The reaction of the murderers was more than a little unsettling, they smiled calmly. One of them stepped backward through the wall and shifted through the stones as though they were not there at all. The other jumped more than ten feet in the air to land on his feet on the wall, running upward as though he were on the ground, and climbing out of a window that lead out to the roof.
Sir Dagon ran to the wall and stopped to feel, it was as solid as ever. “What sort of trickery is this?” he asked, a confused visage on his face.
Brakkon’s jaw hung open for some time. “Demons,” he whispered at last.
“No," the mercenary said; "Not demons, just something more than human."
I recognize them both. I know where they are going and who sent them.”
“You must tell us at once,” Sir Brakkon demanded.
“I’ll do better than that,” the mercenary said; “I’ll take you to them.”
A low, bewildered moan sounded from behind them. Lady Fesia knelt over a shallowly breathing Lord Verod. “He is not well,” she said; “But he will recover.”
“You never fail to amaze me, my lady,” Brakkon said.
“Save your chivalry for a lady who wants it, Sir;” she told him, standing.
Sir Dagon pulled his bloodied hand away from his face. “How far will we be travelling, Darkhorne?” he asked of the mercenary.
The mercenary smiled from the corner of his mouth, “It will take two weeks of travel by horse if we ride hard. With luck we’ll manage to cut them off. I know of many seldom travelled roads along the way and doubt they know more than a few.”
“We must leave at once,” Sir Brakkon declared.
“I would caution against doing so,” the mercenary replied. “Night has fallen, travelling with haste through the night is quite dangerous. What little lead our would-be assassins have gained will be made up for in the next few days.”
Sir Brakkon considered his words and nodded in agreement. “Very well,” he said; “we will prepare to set out come sunrise.”
Lady Fesia looked up from the ground. "I will need to stay with Lord Verod tonight to heal him, but I will join you in the morning."
Brakkon nodded. "Good. Sir Dagon and I will gather supplies and men. We will meet at the Noth gate."