Kestrel
***
Kestrel had all but gotten used to riding in rumbling carriages. Slowly but surely, he started finding them comfortable—a time for rest. But the time for rest was not now. He inspected the people in the carriage. Eyleen's words gnawed at his thoughts: "they always come in pairs". There was yet another assassin who intended to take her life, and by the light he would not let that happen.
In the carriage with them were ten people in total. Cirasso had introduced everyone's names at the head count, and he had made sure to remember everyone from group one. Setting Cirasso, him, and Eyleen aside, there was of course Valger and Cormorant, who had made their presence clear early on. Then there was Urgnar, the man with the eye patch and the burnt ear. His face was wrinkled with experience, and his one eye had seen to much. There was Raghnar, a bearded man square of jaw and bald. He had a mellowness to him that made him approachable, and he spoke softer than the others. Preferring to sit in the back, there was Maddis, a short man broad of shoulder and thick of muscle. Then there was Sameel, a quiet man from the deserts of Omoqar. He wore robes like embroidered mats and had no discerning weapon to speak of. Kestrel reckoned he must be some sort of mage, or healer perhaps. Finally, there was Tullythor. He apparently grew up in Hedgelen and made sure everybody knew that whenever a discussion about Hedgelen would spring up.
Now that everybody had been geared up at the muster, everyone carried weapons with them. Occasionally, the steel ones would clang into each other as the carriage tumbled over debris, which gave the journey a certain edge. Maddis held onto a flail—a spiked ball attached to a chain, and Raghnar was an archer who preferred bows with lighter draw weights. Tullythor gripped an axe similar to the one Valger had, but his was more akin to one a lumberjack would use. Kestel put his hand firmly on Evynzhul's golden pommel. 'I hope we don't have to use these', he thought.
Then arose the question again: could the assassin be here among them? There was about three dozen members on this convoy, and almost a third of them were here with him. To begin with, Kestrel listed up the people he was certain were not the assassins. Without a doubt, Cirasso was out of the question, as he was the captain of Wolfbridge. He couldn't be the assassin. The ice-eyes, Valger, was too honest, brutally so even, to be the assassin. What about Cormorant? He had a reserved feeling surrounding him, and he seemed good at keeping secrets. Although an assassin with a job to do would most likely not start fights with the likes of Valger, Kestrel wasn't ready to set aside Cormorant as innocent just yet. Urgnar was an experienced veteran within Hedgelen, so Kestrel doubted he could be the assassin. The people who left were Raghnar, Maddis, Sameel, and Tullythor. Raghnar seemed too nice a person to be the assassin, but you never knew with these things. Kestrel didn't know a lot about Maddis. He was just, here, hanging along. Perhaps trying to blend in as hard as he could to not be found out. Sameel was mysterious too. He seemed to carry no weapons, but perhaps he had hidden a dagger under those thick robes. Maybe he was some sort of alchemist who used poison to assassinate his targets. Then there was Tullythor. He was born in Hedgelen, and if it were true, Kestrel doubted he was the assassin. But what if he was lying? He had to check with the residents of Hedgelen, those who had been there from the start, but he didn't want to stir up the beehive, as they say. Perhaps he could ask Cirasso if he knew who the Hedgelen locals were among them.
"Hey, Kestrel, was it?" asked Raghnar, who sat opposite him. "Are you doing alright? Ready to swing that sword of yours?"
Kestrel refocused his thoughts on the conversation. "I'm no expert, but I did do some fencing when I was young."
"Well, if you ever feel like it's overwhelming, don't be afraid to take a step back. I'll cover for you. I know how it feels, the overwhelming sense of dread before your battle against the undead. We've all been there," said Raghnar with a warm smile.
Kestrel resonated with what he was saying to a certain degree, but strangely enough, he didn't really feel any sense of 'dread'. He wasn't even nervous.
"Ah, thank you, Raghnar. That's kind of you to say," Kestrel answered.
"There ya go again, Raghnar you sack of flour. Softening up to wimps," spat Valger.
"We're not all thirsty for battle like you, Valger," said Raghnar.
The ice-eyes leaned towards Kestrel and darkened his voice. "If you run with your tail between your legs, I'll embed my axe into your spine, got it?"
Kestrel felt a shiver run down his back, and he did not find the words to answer.
"Not before my knife finds its way between your creepy eyes, you freak," hissed Eyleen.
"Oh, missy, I'd like to see you try," said Valger, laughing a dark laugh.
Kestrel expected Cormorant to say something in retaliation, but he seemed distant in the darkness of the carriage.
"Hey, enough of that!" commanded Cirasso. "You are here to fight draugur, Valger, not your friends. I don't want any more Gregothy's."
Valger grumbled back to silence.
"Kestrel, Kestrel, Kestrel..." muttered Tullythor, his voice like creaking oak. "Haven't I heard that name before?"
"'Tis the name of the prince," noted Urgnar. "I thought it funny you should share name with the prince of house Shebac. As if he himself had come to save the Swarth. Shame he's dead."
"Naw, we don't know that, do we?" said Tullythor. "We don't even know what happened to the king or the queen, or the royal family for that matter."
"They died, clearly," said Urgnar. "The curse started in Highcastle. Do you really think anyone is still alive and well over there?"
"Aw, I don't know. Maybe they're holed up in their castle somehow, away from everything," Tullythor reasoned.
"'Tas been three bloody years. What do you think they've been feeding themselves off of?" said Urgnar, and Tullythor struggled to find an appropriate answer.
Maybe they are holed up in their castle. Kestrel could only hope. Maybe they planted a great garden, high up at the top of the castle. A place so high the curse couldn't reach. Or maybe they fled into the dungeons where the larders are and barred the doors, managing to survive off of biscuits and fat. Or maybe they fled the Swarth and are living somewhere now, hidden away, waiting for the curse to be defeated. Maybe, just maybe.
Eyleen pushed on his shoulder gently. He hadn't noticed it, but his face had warped into an awful frown, tensed up and disturbed.
"Hey, are you okay?" whispered Eyleen into his ear, and he quickly gave an affirmative nod, relaxing his face. Eyleen did not look convinced, but pressed the matter no further.
The carriages began to slow down, and soon they were stopped.
"Our turn has come, my friends," said Cirasso.
"Cold freeze me over, I've been fuckin' waiting for this," said Valger, the first one up. He rushed to the door and barged out into the early evening. The rest of the fellowship spilled out of the carriage, and Kestrel was the last one out.
The air was warm but far from muggy, almost crisp, and daylight still spilled comfortably over the treetops, but not enough to cast shadows. The road continued onwards through the pine forest, as they had stopped in the middle of their journey. It seemed they had to make the rest of their way on foot. They began walking briskly at the command of Cirasso, leaving the convoy behind, but they marched ten men strong and Kestrel felt confident. This was nothing like when it had just been him, Eyleen, and Marquis. Kestrel unlatched his satchel and inspected its contents, making sure he hadn't dropped anything. All in all, the things he had brought with him were, four, now three mugroots, six, now five woestones, a dozen seeds of Iamil, a dozen sorrow petals, and a egg of Dranadyl. Then, there were the ones he had received from Morg: three bellblooms, three devil's peppercorns, one of a type of bone he couldn't identify, and a crystallized piece of fruit. Kestrel smiled, as crystallized fruit was used to conjure sweet things. Such an unfitting ingredient, but a welcome one nonetheless.
Kestrel put his satchel away and looked back to the convoy, now smaller. He saw group two muster up their forces—they were coming too, which meant Ashamar, the graveyard knight, would accompany them. A pair of horse hooves began clamping in front of them, and Kestrel looked to see one of the outriders riding up to their troop.
"Captain Cirasso," began the outrider, his voice muffled by both helmet and distance. "More tracks in front. Be wary."
"Show me to those tracks," said Cirasso, and the outrider rode forth.
Now they marched after the horseman, followed by group two of only half a dozen members a couple of stone tosses behind them. Eventually they made it to the tracks, and Cirasso called back to Eyleen and Kestrel to come forth.
"What do you make of these?" asked Cirasso. "Are these the tracks of the beast that attacked you?"
The tracks were a blend of rough, stirred-up dirt and torn roots, and footprints resembling those of a dog, but wrong, with elongated, cursed digits.
"These are from its spawn," said Eyleen. "The things that we turn into if it bites us."
Murmurs and whispers followed Eyleen's statement. Kestrel caught her flicking a sharp glance at Sameel, who stood almost hidden behind the intrigued men. Was she suspicious of him? Was the Omoqari the second assassin?
"What happens if they bite you?" asked Maddis, gripping his flail tightly.
"Don't know. Never got bit by one. And the only one I know that got bit by one had already contracted the lycanthropy," answered Eyleen.
"Weren't you an expert on werewolves!?" remarked Urgnar. "What happens if a man turned werewolf bites you?"
"Usually lycanthropy isn't spread from a non-werewolf to begin with, so I can't say for certain in this case," said Eyleen, her gaze inspecting the tracks. "There's a risk that they have been following us. These tracks are rather fresh."
Cirasso kneeled down to get a better look. "You are right. We'd better keep our eyes open. And keep up haste. Let us go, sand trickles in the hourglass."
Kestrel looked back at the convoy. "Group three may be in danger if we leave them here."
Cirasso seemed to agree. "Scout, report to group two to send back two strong fighters to the convoy. We must remain well guarded at all times."
"Shouldn't we send more?" Kestrel asked Cirasso, who turned to him with a smirk.
"Do not underestimate the dragonbow, boy. If that beast attacks, he will flee back to where he came from, I'm sure of it." Cirasso turned to group one and spoke. "Make haste, to Trynador! Don't lag behind, we won't wait for you."
Kestrel looked towards the distant road, and above the treetops you could faintly see the outline of a large grey structure. They weren't far.