Sir Lyman and the Morning Gate

The Chase

Sir Lyman loped along behind Hoolie, casting anxious glances over his shoulder as he went. At first they pulled away from the ominous figure of the mysterious Brother. Shrouded in a gray cloak, the thin, skeletal figure stood still as stone, seemingly disinclined to offer chase. Just when Sir Lyman thought to relax, his next look to the rear provided a shock that almost sent him stumbling to the ground. Without a hint of movement, the Brother had closed half the distance. With each subsequent look back, the Brother gained in discrete jumps until Sir Lyman was as afraid to check behind as to not. At last the tension was too much.

"Hoolie! He's right behind...," Sir Lyman called out as he spun to a stop, his sword flashing out in a graceful arc, ready to strike. But there was no one there. "He's... gone."

Hoolie had stopped at the knight's call and now scanned the woods. The eerie silence was magnified by the blood pounding in his ears. Got was no where to be seen.

"He was closing on us... I swear he was right there." Sir Lyman pointed emphatically with his sword.

"I believe you," said Hoolie.

"What are these creatures?"

"They are not creatures. Not natural ones anyway."

"What are you!" Sir Lyman shouted, waving a challenge at the empty woods with his sword. "Come out and face me!"

"Do not call them," said Hoolie harshly. "You can not fight them."

"We can not run from ghosts," countered the knight, frustrated by an adversary who denied confrontation.

"You can not fight them," Hoolie chided more gently. He feared the knight was right. They could not run blindly.

"What then?"

Hoolie searched the forest for some answer. The shadows mounted as afternoon gave way to evening. It might have been macabre fancy, but it seemed to Hoolie that the light was failing with a grim finality. It would not do to be caught out at night.

"Follow me," said Hoolie at last. "Hurry."

The little gnome bounded through the trees at a rabbit's pace. His head swung from side to side, eyes darting for a sign of Got. The vigilance was wasted effort and he knew it. The second brother would only appear when and where he was least expected. The knowledge was small comfort. When childhood terrors gained a standing in reality, the voice of reason lost its calming influence.

At last water appeared through the trees, directly in their path. Hoolie stumbled to a halt on the bank of a small lake edged in massive willows.

"Hoarguard!" the gnome called out. "Hoarguard!"

The name hit Sir Lyman like a slap. Did the hermit live nearby? Did he have some defense against the Brothers?

The shifting branches of a great willow cast ominous shadows behind Hoolie. Clawed hands reached through the leafy screen to grab at the unsuspecting gnome.

"Hoolie! Behind you!"