Things Part 2

J. Richard Jacobs

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Five riders, attracted by rude and unrecognizable wailing sounds coming from the stand of trees to their south, silently dismounted at the edge of the Black Wood, took their weapons in hand and ever so cautiously, quietly, moved in on foot. The strange sounds they heard from the road had faded into the darkness of the night, so they followed the almost imperceptible, undulating orange glow of a waning fire in the forest. None of them spoke and their leader motioned to them with his palm down to remain silent and to watch where they stepped. When they arrived at the small clearing, the fire had all but died away and only the dull glow of amber embers revealed that there were two twisted bodies half covered in fallen leaves and undergrowth, the evidence of a recent and violent struggle everywhere about them.

“Stoke that fire,” the leader said, “so that we may see what we have here.”

The four others gathered dried leaves and twigs from the forest floor and teased the coals into a crackling, hot, sap-spitting blaze. As soon as the light of the new flames provided adequate illumination for them to see, their leader broke into a growling, howling laugh, sounding more akin to a wild animal after a fresh kill than a man.

“What we have here, my friends, is the great Verdan Shak in the flesh if not in spirit. I would recognize that shield and curved blade of his anywhere. The other one must be his obedient and ever present pet, Gambol Kam. I will take Shak’s blade as my reward and you men may share whatever is left. You...take off their heads so that we may carry them aloft on our victorious return. I’m sure that, between us, we can come up with a fitting tale of our heroism that will please the Elders and gain us favor in the Master’s eyes, not to mention impressing the women folk. What do you say?”

All of them shouted out their agreement and set to the gruesome task at hand. The men rolled the two bodies, first one way, then the other to free them from the tangle on the forest floor, while their leader strapped on Verdan’s scabbard and slid the huge, gracefully shaped blade into place, then removed it for all to see his prize from a battle not waged. One of the group looked up from the contorted remains and said, “I see no fresh wounds. What do you suppose killed them?”

“I don’t know,” he replied as he admired his new acquisition and how it glinted in the dancing firelight, “but from the startled look on their faces, I would dare say they died from fright.”

“Fright? What is there so dreadful as to take the life of a brave and powerful warrior like Verdan Shak?” one of the men said, while he neatly removed the head of Gambol Kam from his lifeless shoulders with a clean slash of Kam’s own heavy blade. He dropped Gambol Kam’s head unceremoniously into a coarsely woven sack.

“Now, how would I know that? All I can say is, that is not the look of a courageous warrior who died of a mortal wound in honorable combat or of old age, now is it?”

She came into the circle of pulsing yellow light as quietly as a soft breath of wind rattling and rustling blades of long grass before it. She seemed to have appeared out of the air itself. She gave them a beguiling smile.