The silence was broken with the crash of wood on wood.  Old Jordin bustled into the room, followed closely by Laecima.  The door battered against its jamb on its return trajectory, but the sound was overshadowed by the raised voice of the elderly innkeeper.  “It was right there!” he shouted, pointing to an empty table in front of the remnants of the bar.  “I didn’t move it.  Kiki didn’t move it.  It certainly didn’t move itself.  So I want to know, where did you put it?”  Jordin paused with his hand extended towards the offending table, no longer stabbing the air with every other word.

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Comrick Long-traveled had pushed away from the table and laced his fingers over his round stomach minutes before the stranger pushed the inn door open.  This spared him the indignity of spilling stew down his chin and into his beard, unlike the three other men sharing his table.  True, Brother Derle was half-spared, but that was only due to the lack of a beard.  The sight of his friends’ sudden sodden jaws made a kind smile easy to conjure to his apple-cheeked face.  “Welcome, stranger!  Come, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the fine food and hospitality of the Silver Bear!”  Comrick spread both hands expansively around him, as if he were conjuring the rest of the large but mostly empty common area around him.

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The stranger appeared on the edge of town just after sunset.  Mud from the last of the snowmelt clung to his worn boots as he left the skeletal trees that hewed close to the track outside of the small settlement.  A dog of indeterminate breed stayed close to him, nose in the dirt or high in the air, sampling every scent to be found.  Occasionally the animal stopped, ears pricked and eyes roving, before catching up the man once more.  On those occasions the man’s steps would slow, as if waiting for confirmation from the dog that it was safe to proceed.  They moved carefully, although whether it was from the possibly treacherous mud or another reason wasn’t clear. Read the rest of this entry →

A lifelong study of contagion and disease had germinated the idea.  If the ravenous unsleeping guardians could somehow spread their condition to their victims, then Troius would have the unstoppable army he needed to bend the world to his will.  An army that didn’t need supply wagons or camp followers, that found their provender when they met their enemies, that grew with every enemy that fell – this was the tide that would sweep the empires and petty kingdoms of the world under his control.  The mighty would grovel on their knees before him for protection against the Army of Troius.  He finally achieved success, shortly after earning the trust of El Sof’s king and the hand of his daughter, keeping his work from the prying eyes of the king’s pet sorcerers.  At least, until the experiment required its first test subjects. Read the rest of this entry →