By T.S. FESSELN

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The Departure

Part 4 Ghosts In The Rain

      R’tchr trailed his trio of jaggats on foot, gripping the reins of his girl mount and being careful to keep a distance from his hunting cats. The huldra chewed on a reed of sweetweed as he enjoyed the thrill of a dangerous hunt. The rewards were many if he succeeded in killing a Chosen One. His station within his warren would be greatly increased; within striking distance of being Warchief.

      A roll of thunder interrupted his mental revelries and he gave a quick tug on his girl mount’s reins.

      His mount was a beautiful dark haired girl of no more than eighteen summers old and in her prime. Her lithe harnessed body was streaked with olive and black paint to blend into the forest in which they travelled. Though the huldra only came up to the girls hips in height, he commanded her as easily as he commanded his three jaggats.

      He carefully guided his mount through the many branches and brush of the ancient forest, his chameleon-like skin blending in with the foliage as they passed. Many of the arcane beings from the Great Plague still made their home here the woods and could be of grave risk to himself and his mount. Silence was the key. He shunned his armor, however, for the comfort and quiet of his leather clothes, moss colored cloak and wide-brimmed hat. He kept his barbed spear ready in hand, using it push the brush aside.

       There was no gleaming armor on his mount either, just her brown leather harness to keep her arms and hands pinned behind her back and beneath his saddle. Her breasts were small and her caramel-colored nipples were pierced by twin slivers of carved ivory. A bronze ring bit was fitted behind her teeth, holding her mouth open so a leather phallus could be inserted if she needed to be quieted. A simple bronze ring adorned the pearl of her sex.

      Unlike some of his fellow trackers, he preferred to keep his mount intact. He enjoyed how human females reacted to his teasing and touching of their sex, not unlike huldra women. His mount, Blackwind, loved for him to do this to her. He would lie nestled between her warm legs and tickle at her ring, eliciting from her shivers and low moans while harnessed in her nightly bindings. It was a reward for her good behavior the day. Afterward, he would often lay his head on her soft nest of curls, letting her breathing and incense lull him to sleep underneath the night sky.

      R’tchr had commanded his jaggats to circle the inn during the night, knowing that their footprints would be discovered in the meadow in the morning. This would drive his prey from the main road, he hoped. He would wait to see what path they took and to kill the Chosen One when the opportunity arose. There were several old and ill-used trails that his quarry could choose from but he knew it would be easy to tell which one of those trails they took by the telltale prints left in the muddied ground.

      R’rchr would just bide his time while his jaggats patrolled ahead just out of sight. They would all begin their hunt in earnest at midday.

                                                                            -o0o-

      In the stable Gulmon found Tyraal and Gulmon’s stable boy, Pef, readying the Guardians horses. To the left side of Gulmon, a squat toad-like gargoyle of gnarled wooded sat panting like a content hound; its worm-like gray tongue hanging out over its wood splinter teeth.

       “This is Stump,” Gulmon said, “He is my best scout. He will be going with you as well as Flit.”

        Tyraal turned around and looked down at the panting wooden creature, “No, I cannot accept, my friend, I cannot put this poor creature in any danger.”

       “You do not know of Stump,” Gulmon said, “And you do not know of what awaits you out there. Stump will go with you and I cannot stop this too with Flit. She has always had her own mind with things.”

       Tyraal briefly tried to sense the creature sitting just in front of him and, just like the other gargoyle, he sensed no life.

       Gulmon smiled, “Stump does not live and breathe like you and I, My Guardian friend. He was made long, long ago when gnomen lived in the forests here. Stump was birthed with chisel and file by very skilled gnomen hands. Its carver is gone to ghost but Stump is still here.”

      “A golem?”

      “Yes, a golem. They all have come here from the woods to be of use again here at the Horn. They have adopted me and I welcome their eyes and gifts. Stump is to be of service to you if you want it of Stump or do not.”

      “I have no choice in the matter?” Tyraal scoffed, “It will slow us down.”

      “You do not know of Stump.”

       Tyraal shook his head, “Where is this Flit thing?”

      Gulmon grinned, “She is probably with the Chosen One. Flit has taken to liking the girl.”

       “Does it know the Chosen One’s fate, Gulmon? I cannot have some statue getting into the way of the sacred ceremony. I will not have it.”

        “You do not know of Flit. She will not get in the way when the time comes, I think. And I cannot stop her just as you cannot stop Jarial from being your companion. Flit is Flit and Stump is Stump. They will go with you.”

          Tyraal grunted, turning away from the giant to check on a harness strap.

         “Be well, my friend. I will meet you by the gate.”

         Stump did not go with the giant. It just squatted by the doorway looking at Tyraal with eyes the size of small plates and its tongue dangling out of its gapping, grinning mouth. Tyraal hated this. That is why he never had a dog or cat at his hearth. It complicated things too much. He whispered a prayer to the Protector that the giant innkeeper was right and this creature; this golem; would be of some use on the road ahead.

       He glanced over their mounts furniture one last time. He noted a bulging rucksack tied to Jarial’s horse, provisions for road from Gulmon, he suspected. Everything was in place for their ride this morning.

        “Ready, my loved one,” Jarial asked, leading the Chosen One behind her.

        Tyraal turned around and nodded.

        The Chosen One moved behind Jarial as if in slumber; not with the pride of yesterday. Her head was bowed and her steps leaden. Not good, Tyraal thought to himself. He needed her spirit back today. One look at Jarial, she knew what he did; the Chosen One had surrendered to the jaggats before the journey had even begun.

         “I see you have a new friend,” Jarial tried to smile, leading the cuffed and chained Naryla past Stump.

          “Its name is Stump and it will be with us all the way to the Temple apparently,” he grunted.

        “Really,” Jarial puzzled.

        “I had little choice in the matter,” he handed the reins to Jarials horse to her. Normally she would have handed the Chosen One’s lead to Tyraal, but this morning she thought better of it. The Chosen One need a softer hand holding her chain lead and Tyraal did not raise an objection.

         “So that means we have two new travelling companions,” Jarial half smiled again.

         “I have not met this Flit thing yet,” the Guardian grumped as he led his horse out, “‘I do not know of Flit’.”

        “I am sure you will soon enough, my love. She is sticking pretty close to the Chosen One.”

         No sooner than Jarial had said the words, a pixie-like golem emerged from the golden tresses of the Chosen One’s hair and waved at Tyraal.

         “How could THAT protect anything?”

          Jarial laughed lightly, “Gulmon explained not all golems are made to protect. This one was made for a more intimate purpose, or so Gulmon implied.”

         Tyraal shook his head again. This is not the way he envisioned going through the winged gates of the City Of The Temple. Perhaps these two golems would lose interest in them and go back to the Horn where they belonged.

       In the courtyard, he mounted his horse and took his lance in hand, the white banner hanging limply in the light drizzle.

        The procession to the gate was silent and as slow as a dirge. Gulmon had opened the gate and lowered the drawbridge over the gray water moat. He stood by the gate, axe in hand and a somber look on his heavy face. Tyraal had never seen the giant without a smile or mocking frown until this morning. They nodded to each other as Tyraal passed through the spiked portcullis.

        Stump leapt past them and hopped ahead in long, strident leaps onto the road ahead and waited for the Guardians to catch up.

       To Naryla, the wondrous adventure of yesterday had crumbled into the cold reality of today. She did not want to see around the next corner fearing what might lurk there. The only wink of pleasure this morning was when Flit revealed herself to her.

        The guardian Jarial had just turned away from the blonde sacrifice after making sure the leather shield was nested between the chain crupper and Naryla’s sex when Flit uncurled herself from around one of the bedposts and fluttered down to rest of Naryla’s shoulder, giving a mischievous wink. The faery was no larger than a small stoat, with translucent butterfly-like wings that Flit curled around herself like a coat when at rest. She was as slender as a sliver and as light as a song bird.

      Naryla let a laugh out from behind her gag when Jarial let out a small gasp upon seeing Flit but the guardian soon realized that this pixie meant no harm to the Chosen One. Gulmon confirmed that when he knocked on the door looking for Tyraal and introduced Flit to Naryla and Jarial.

        Flit had made her home in Naryla’s long blonde hair, lightly riding on her shoulder. However, the light of that moment soon dissolved in the morning rain as she was led to the stable cuffed, collared and chained as she had been the day before.

         The warmth of the salve kept the cold rain at bay and somehow her hair did not get sodden like everything else around her. Perhaps it was the faery’s magic, she thought. Naryla looked ahead as she walked silently between the two guardians. The rutted road from the inn continued up and over the grassy hill and into a lightly wooded valley.

        Stump kept hopping far ahead only wait for them to catch up. Naryla found herself scanning the tree line just like Tyraal and Jarial did, trying to descry any hazards that may lay in waiting amongst the shadows.

       After crossing a small stream at the bottom of the valley, Stump started to hop towards the forest. Tyraal noted it but kept to the road and to a path he was familiar with ahead. But Stump kept hopping back to the guardians and back then towards the forest again as if trying to lead them there.

       “Perhaps we should follow Stump, Tyraal,” Jarial said cautiously.

        Tyraal pulled his horse to a stop, looking at where the toad was going. It was an unknown part of the forest, at least, unknown to him. Part of him wanted to ignore this ugly creation but Gulmon’s words kept drifting back to him ‘Stump is my best scout’.

        After muttering a silent prayer, Tyraal eased his horse off the trail to follow Stump. The Chosen One and Jarial followed close behind through the tall grass.

       The trees grew dense until grass gave way to low growing ferns and leafy brush clutched around their trunks. Red speckled shelf mushrooms and olive moss grew from the ancient oaks and ironwoods and wych elms. Everything seemed hushed save the trickling of the rain and the growling thunder.

        Stump kept within sight, unlike when it was on the road and would disappear only to hop back and wait. Tyraal was beginning to regret his decision when Stump stopped on what was once a cobbled road now covered in moss and lichen. The canopy of branches and leaves above them kept the falling rain to a few drops as if the trees were wove together. There was no forest litter on the road here either; no sign dead leaves or broken limbs.

        Stump hopped down the road.

        “What is this place?” Tyraal whispered to himself as he guided his mount following Stump.

      The fear that had enshrouded Naryla was slowly fading as she walked, looking in wonder at the primeval woods around them. She imagined the faces of old men and women molded into the knots of the bark. The tickling at her sex by her crupper was also starting to lift her spirits a little as well, sending a twinkle of pleasure sparking through her unbidden but not unwelcome. The leather shield could only stave off the chains intimate caress, not stop it.

Old wooden statues gray and split with age stood by the road at every league or so. Every one of the statues was unique in look, but all of them just crouched as if waiting on someone or something.

       It was midday when they saw the first ruin; a small mill set by a stream. The stone walls were green with moss and ivy and several trees grew from inside, their branches serving as the buildings new roof. The closer they got, Naryla saw that everything was half the size of a normal mill; the vacant doorway, the empty windows, the stairs the lead up to door. It seemed to be built for a child. Stump paid the ruin no attention and continued hopping down the road.

       “Gnomen, I should think,” Jarial said quietly, “Gone from here for hundreds of years.”

       Another creature of tales told to her as a young girl, Naryla thought, just like the jaggats.

Although she had been content in her village, she wanted to see those sights which travelers at her father’s tavern would tell of, at least some of those sights. However, she never envisioned seeing them restrained as she was, being led by chain to a fate she would not come back from.

      The road widened and many more collapsed stone buildings lined the way until it led to a wide open space with a collapsed citadel tower and ringed by the blackened remains of long burnt trees. The road split in front of the tower and encircled it, branching off in three directions.

      Nothing grew around the tower. A few patches of dead grass were around the edge but nothing else. Upon looking closer, Naryla could see that there were piles of broken and splintered wood gargoyles littered around the open space ringing the ruin. All of the statues looked just like the ones that were carved around the Horn. All were gray with age and decay.

       Naryla focused on a single wooden claw clutching empty air. Once again her wonder was eclipsed by fear.

         Stump had stopped briefly before continuing to hop down the road to the right. The guardians and Naryla followed until Stump stopped in front of what used to be an inn not unlike her fathers. It was built for human travelers and the stout stone walls to the tavern and stables were mostly intact. A few trees grew inside and through the broken slate shingles that still made up part of the roof.

       Tyraal knew it was time for a quick break to eat and to get his bearings. Without a word, both guardians dismounted, leading the horses and Naryla into the ancient stable. Jarial found a dry spot to sit and help the Chosen One onto a piece of rubble.

       “Remember, do not speak,” she told Naryla quietly as she loosened the gag.

       The blonde girl’s jaw was stiff but she worked it as Jarial took off her helmet and untied the leather bag Gulmon had pack for them. There was two flagons of sweet wine and a third of water. Jarial laid out between them a loaf of bread filled with nuts and dried fruit, cheese and a ring of dry sausage and fed both the Chosen One and herself while Tyraal kept watch. Stump had hopped back towards where they came to keep watch as well.

       Tyraal could still see the broken tower with its graveyard of golems and skeleton trees. It disturbed him that nothing grew there. Even when he focused keenly at it, there was not one bird or bug or mouse that called it home. It was very much a cursed place and the further away from it they were, the better.

       Jarial was just finishing lunch with the Chosen One when Stump came leaping back as fast as Tyraal had ever seen it do. It screeched hoarsely and looked back.

      It was then that Tyraal heard the loud bellow of a jaggat beckoning its litter mates to join in her in the slaughter.