He was running. Down this corridor, to the left, past ornate pictures and vases, over beautiful rugs. As he ran, the pictures became black with soot, the vases broken and the rugs stained with blood. Ahead of him ran a woman with long, flowing white hair, he tried to catch up; His lungs burned. But, no matter how hard he ran he couldn’t get close. Finally, the woman stopped, the corridor finishing at a blank wall, and turned around. There was a large hole in her chest, but he couldn’t see through it, there was only black space. He looked up; empty eye sockets stared back at him while the building around them collapsed.
Taras woke up, morning light coming through the small attic window of the tavern. He looked next to him where Felton had been the night before, his futon already had been folded, ready to pack at any time.
"For such a lazy bastard, he sure gets up early,’ Taras thought.
There was a knock on the door.
“Hey, we’re down eating breakfast, you’d better come before the old man eats it all.” Minerva poked her head into the room.
“Now who’s the pervert?”
Taras was only in his breechcloth. Minerva’s face turned a bright red, and she quickly shut the door and ran down the stairs.
When Taras finally entered the dining hall, Felton was finishing his last bite of bacon. Of course, the breakfast tray was empty. He sighed.
“Oh, dearie I’m so sorry, he told us you weren’t eating.” The tavern owner came over and smacked Felton upside the head.
“I’ll get you some leftovers from last night,” the woman’s daughter said, laughing.
While Taras ate, Felton took some paper out of his pocket, with a small pen inscribed with a rune.
“What are you writing?” Minerva asked.
“Ah, just writing an old friend from Marschall, the town down the road. He’ll probably let us stay the night.
“Yes! Staying in a real room for two nights in a row!”
“C’mon Minerva, it isn’t that rare. Right, Taras?”
“It’s pretty rare, you’re always getting us run off and we end up having to sleep in the woods.”
“Tch, you kids don’t know the value of camping.”
“We wouldn’t see the value if it’s all we’ve ever known.” Minerva shot back.
Felton was at a loss for words, and turned his back to them, sulking like a child.
“There doesn’t seem to be very many visitors other than us. Has something happened?” Taras asked the women, changing the subject.
“We aren’t sure ourselves; the business has been drying up since the new lord took control over this area, we would want to find out if we could, we are barely holding on as it is.”
“New lord? Like the man we are going to visit?”
“Yes, the former lord was executed for plotting against the king. It’s a shame too, he seemed like such a nice man, and his father was a war hero to boot.”
At this, Felton turned around.
“Lord Craston was? I never thought he would be like that.”
“Oh, you knew him?”
“Knew of him, who’s the new one.”
“Hmmm, I think his family name is Buchwald? He’s only been here about a month and a half. That was around the time the merchants stopped coming.”
“Hmm, it’s no use worrying about it, all’s well that ends well.” Felton said with a stupid grin.
“ITS YOU WE’RE WORRIED ABOUT!” Taras and Minerva yelled.
******
They managed to catch a carriage full of produce headed to the lord’s manor on the outskirts of town.
“For a former walled city in what was probably a contested zone, the nobles sure had confidence in their own protection.” Taras said to himself as they jolted along the road.
“Of course. They’re always haughty bastards, I would rather die than be one.” Minerva said.
“You’d die before you could be one, you don’t have the temperament or manners.” Taras shot back.
Minerva’s fists started glowing.
“You wanna say that again?”
“Nope.” Taras turned away from her, looking ahead past the driver.
They were traveling through a forest. Dark green trees pressed at the small road from all sides, the space between the trees heavily shadowed.
“If you’re wondering why the house is all the way out here, this forest is known to confuse travelers who step off the road, people who enter usually never come out, the only person I can think of died after two days. So, don’t enter the forest unless you want to die.” The driver explained to them from up front.
“Hey Felton, did you know about this?” Taras asked.
The old man looked out the back end of the wagon, whistling.
“You did, didn’t you.”
“Well, I mean it’s not like this is the only road out of the forest.”
“It is!” the driver chimed in again.
Taras hung his head.
“If something goes wrong, it’s your fault we die, old man.” Minerva said.
“Ah, don’t worry so much you two.”
The wagon slowed down. Taras looked outside and saw a large and imposing gate, blackened metal against the overcast sky. As they entered the courtyard a grand and imposing building lay before them.
“Alright, my journey ends here, use that servant’s entrance over there to get in.”
“Shouldn’t there be guards to check us?
“Nope, for some reason they were all fired last month, I don’t know why though. Also, a word of warning. If you do end up meeting the master, which I highly doubt you do, leave her behind.” He pointed at Minerva, “There have been some rumors about what happens to pretty maids if he meets them. It’s just speculation though.”
“Okay, I’ll heed your advice,” said Felton in a suddenly serious tone.
Taras looked at him, surprised, but decided not to press further. Minerva sulked in the corner; they both knew it was useless to argue when Felton became like that. Once, years ago, Minerva had gone to the red-light district in a port city after dark. She had been pretty little, enough so that her magic had not been fully developed at the time. When they had finally found her, she was close to being abducted into a brothel. Felton had flown into a rage, ordering the two outside while he conducted “business” with establishment. They were then kicked out of the city for causing trouble. For weeks afterward, Felton had had that serious look on his face; they hadn’t dared to make him mad. Taras shivered.
They came in through the side-door, noticing the lack of cooks and servants in the room. The door opposite of them opened, and in came a butler.
The butler was tall, and completely bald, Taras noticed quickly. He then looked closer, and a chill ran down his spine. The man’s smile was unnaturally wide, and his eyes slitted closed. He looked around at Felton and Minerva, they calmly looked on, noticing nothing. Taras gulped and tried to whisper to Felton, but was interrupted by the man speaking.
“Hello, Hello, Welcome to the Estate of the esteemed Lord Buchwald, I will now show you to the waiting room. I am his representative during the questioning. If you would follow me.”
They walked through hallways adorned with dusty paintings, the windows casting gloomy light down onto faded rugs. The smell of rosemary and vinegar heavy in the air. Minerva covered her nose, while Taras tried not to breath as much.
He snuck up next to Felton, whispering, “I don’t trust this man, his face is creepy.”
“Hmm, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, I’ll take your word for it.”
They finally came to a small room with two couches separated by a table sitting in the middle.
“Stay here for a moment, I just need to prepare some documents.”
They sat down while the man went back out of the room.
“This is boring, I thought it would be grander, with more servants…. especially the maids.” Minerva sighed.
“Do you have some sort of maid fetish or something?” Taras asked.
“No! It’s just that maids are so clean and neat; Everything you guys aren’t.”
“I’m suddenly hurt you prefer maids over us.” Felton jumped in, back to his usual self.
“Change of plans!” the butler burst in the room, “The lord is to meet you himself.”
The air grew cold.
“Alright, but we are leaving her here.” Felton said, “Taras, you stay here with her, I can handle this alone.”
“Huh? But…”
“No buts, leave it to me and be with Minerva for the time being.”
Ah, it was that aura. The same one Felton had when he had picked Taras up so many years ago. Kind of like a knight, he thought.
“alright…” the butler agreed while backing off. Felton followed him out of the small room.
“What was that?” Minerva asked, sighing in relief.
Taras realized they had both been holding their breath, and breathed out as well.
“I’m not sure. He gave some bandits the same aura when he bought me, but I haven’t seen it since. I’m not sure it’s magic.”
Minerva shrugged.
“Ugh, now its boring. I wonder if I can sneak out and see what they’re talking about.”
“Stay here. You heard what he said. Plus, this mansion is so big you’re going to have trouble finding them anyway.”
“Tch, you’re no fun. Then why don’t you tell me a story, brother*.”
“Geh, don’t call me that.”
“Fine, tell me a story, dumbass. You like that better?”
“Yes, I do actually. Which one do you want to hear- wait, don’t you have enough books in your knapsack?”
“I forgot it. Tell me the story about the mountain bear.”
“That one again?”
******
Once, long ago there lived a tribe of bears deep in the mountains. Once, every 100 years, they would send out one of their young to see the world and report back on what they saw. After a festival, they sent out the daughter of the bear chief in a human disguise. Her form was that of a small girl. Walking down the mountain, unaccustomed to her two small legs she stumbled, falling down into a ravine. At the last moment, she was picked up by a giant eagle, who brought her back to his nest. He fed her and gave her a gift. A compass that would always point home. She continued on down the mountain, coming to a collapsed bridge. A friendly otter came by and gave her a ride across the river, also giving her gift. A map that would always show the next destination. She then came across a tree, an owl sat in its lowest branch. It wordlessly gave her a waterskin that would never go dry. Finally coming to the edge of the forest, she met a snake in the grass, which advised her to turn back, or never trust the humans lest she lose what she holds most dear. “If you must go, I will give you your final gift, it said, giving her a beautiful silver dagger. Use it wisely, when you need it most.”
“That’s the end of it.” Taras shrugged.
“There has to be more, c’mon!”
“This is why I didn’t want to tell it to you, you always complain about the ending.”
“Oh, shut it!”
“Well actually the page I read the story on was ripped.”
“Bullshit, ya couldn’t have found it anywhere else?”
“Well, it was one of Felton’s old books so I don’t know, he got rid of it after I had memorized that part of the story.”
BOOM!! They were interrupted by a loud sound reverberating through the manor.
