They seem to suspect Cal of being a dark-elf magician of some kind, who murdered his mother and friends before fleeing. I don’t bother to stifle my derisive snort- only humans could concoct such an inane fantasy. While this Cal is almost certainly no magician, they may be right about the presence of magic, although I suspect it has more to do with the woman than anyone else.
I turn my focus back to the human woman, unable to resist the urge to see her again. I don’t know what it is about her, but she calls to something deep in my bones, something I’m helpless to defend against. I’m admiring her beauty, the softness of her skin, when she turns and looks directly at me.
I shut down the image as quickly as I can, my heart leaping into my throat. She-lookedat me.
That’s ridiculous,I chide myself as I take a steadying breath, striding back toward the Hooded One’s throne room.No one can see through a scrying spell!
Even knowing that there’s no way she could have seen me, however, I can’t shake the feeling that she knew I was there, knew I was watching her. The thought is as exciting as it is terrifying.
Upon my return to the throne room, and after the proper greeting procedure, I report my findings to the Hooded One.
“Bring her to me.”
I nod, rising from my knee and exiting the throne room, my mind more scrambled than when I arrived. I try to shake off the feeling growing stronger in my gut, telling myself that this is nothing more than just another mission. I’ll send Eth’tak to retrieve her, the Hooded One will have what he wants, and then I can wash my hands of this whole situation.
I just need to pay my old friend a visit.
3
Piper
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and a shiver runs down my back. I twist around, still working on the crops in the dying, but, just like the dozen other times I turned around, no one is there.
I turn back around, trying to focus on my work. I’m nearly done with my chores for the day, and I am grateful. I’ve been nothing but paranoid since yesterday, jumping at my own shadow and trembling at the shifting of the branches.
I’m not normally so edge, but who could blame me? Last night’s events keep replaying in my mind’s eye, and I shudder as I try to piece together what happened.
I couldn’t have killed those guys… could I? What happened to them is outside the realm of possibilities for what a mere human can do- but I’m not sure. Either way, watching their gruesome deaths has stuck with me.
But it’s more than that. I keep feeling eyes on me, and not just in the sense that I’m afraid the villagers are going to find out I was present for their deaths. They already blame me for enough, and I don’t need any more trouble.
It's just that feeling of someone staring when you can’t see them, and I can’t shake it, no matter where I go or what I’m doing. It’s unnerving, and I’m more than ready to finish up with my work for the day and get indoors.
Finishing with the sparse harvesting, I stand, dusting off my pants. WIth a soft sigh, I turn back toward my uncle’s house and get ready to head inside.
Approaching the back door, I unlace my boots and nudge the door open, but I make it one step inside, slipping free of only my left boot, when I hear Oliver’s boots.
“Go to the barn!” he barks from where is lounging in his favorite armchair. He doesn’t even turn around.
“I checked on the livestock this morning,” I assure him, but he snaps around, already turning bright red in the face.
He pushes up to his feet, teetering a bit around his rotund stomach as he storms toward me. “Did I ask what you did this morning? No! I told you to go to the barn! I don’t need to give you more reason than that!” He shoves my shoulder, and I stumble back, biting down on my bottom lip as my right ankle, still firmly planted in my boot, twists painfully.
“Now, get your ass down to that barn before I flay you for disobedience and throw you out on the streets to starve! I don’t need a helper around here that isn’t going to listen.”
Lowering my eyes to the ground, I whisper, “Yes, sir.”
He slams the door in my face, and I let my shoulders slump as I set the basket of harvested crops on the doorstep. Stuffing my left foot back in the boot and lacing them up tightly, I pick up my sapper, a tool too dull and rusted to be useful but sturdy enough to protect myself. I’ve been head butted by a taura one time too many to go to the barn without protection.
It shouldn’t take me long to refresh the water and sweetgrass, and then I’ll be back inside before the sun fully sets. The thought helps me keep my steps light as I charge into the barn.
“Alright, you hungry beasts…”
My words trail off as my eyes adjust to the dimness of the bar in the sinking light. The taura and equus are scattered across the floor, not tethered in their stalls as they should be. Their hides are smearing in blood, large gaping puncture wounds gushing the last remnants of their life onto the wet ground.
The stench of death clings to the air, and nausea roils in my stomach. I can handle death – I’ve grown up on the farm – butthis… this is a slaughter.
As I creep closer, I notice deep claw marks gouging the sides of the massive beasts, and some of their sides are crushed in like a massive weight pressed too hard on its sides.