Symbols

The glow of the fire burning in the distance sent a shiver over a land in pain. The trees felt the devastation in their roots and groaned in sorrow. The crows as wicked as the greedy hearts of men cried their laughter in the night sky. A lone man stood to watch and like the devil’s shadow was dark. The light of the blaze was the only thing that shone on his face, his eyes glinted with satisfaction. If they had known anything they would have told, the man thought. He turned to the darkness after running his blood stained hands through his slick hair. The darkness accepted him as one of its own and he disappeared.
…
“You quite possibly have to be the worst squire I’ve ever known.” Mab smiled uncontrollably as she advanced upon the young Tylan with her wooden staff in hand.
“I’m the only squire you’ve ever known and you’ve known me since you were seven.” He dodged her blow almost too late letting the make shift weapon graze past him. The force sent a gust through his ruffled locks.
“Brayden Ramsey,” she told him smartly with a flash of her grin. They ran across the field behind her Uncle’s tavern in their game of cat and mouse. It was August and the grass was at its greenest, the sky was bluer, and Mother Nature was preparing for the cold to come. She was pleased that her children were taking advantage of her beautiful days. Mab had left cleaning tables at the White Night just for that reason, to bathe in the sunlight of summer’s smile. She had skipped down to the stream walking stick grasped in her hand. It was when the girl had stopped on the bank rest her chin on her staff that Tylan made had made his first move.
“Who?” said the boy as he came around a tree and pegged Mab teasingly in the thigh. The sun flickered on his glasses giving his eyes that familiar sparkle.
“The other squire I know,” in one fluid motion the girl swung full circle low enough to knock the boy onto his back. Standing over him leaning on the staff she gave him the most innocent of smile.
“Summer Festival, early July, you remember,” she told him. Tylan looked at his long time friend her long blonde hair cascading down her slender body her hand reached to help him up. Instead he pulled her down next to him and she fell into a fit of laughter.
“Red brown hair, big eyes, bigger sword, biggest head, he’s no more than a baby foxhound,” Tylan was upset at her reference to him.
“Better a foxhound than a lap dog,” she said with a sigh leaning on her side to look at him.
“Are you calling me a…” the squire saw the change in his friend face immediately. Her soft lips parted slightly, her hypnotic green eyes widen, pupils dilated, and the hand that was on his shoulder stiffened.
“Something’s wrong,” was her only expression as she ran towards the tavern. Tylan picked himself up painfully. At least a golden retriever would always be around and would always protect you. The boy sighed and followed her inside.
…

“What has happened?” Mab demanded winded from the run. Two men were at the main table one was her uncle a small man that everyone liked and trusted, the others name was Rolland. Rolland was the bartender at the White Night and the only father Mab had ever known.
“You always know young one, always,” Rolland remarked smiling in spite of himself. The tension in the room was great and Mab notice every shuffle of feet and every awkward glance of the two men.
“Mab, a village a hundred miles northeast of her was burnt to the ground a family was killed,” her uncle spoke calmly and quietly focusing on her reaction.
“What was interesting was is that this family was his only target, most of the villagers fled and were not pursued. Some buildings where left unburned too. You should take a look at this map,” with a burly arm Rolland handed her a piece of paper the other hand tugging on his red scruffy beard. She recognized the symbol immediately, reaching to the back of her neck.
“Yes the houses were burnt according to the same design as the markings on your neck, the three moons. I think someone is trying to get your attention,” her uncle looked at his feet.
“I must go,” she frantically began gathering her things.
“Like hell you are! Mabaline Rosalind Talon you stop right there,” Rolland’s voice boomed.
Matching his tone and volume she turned on him, “My parents were murdered Rolland, it’s been ten years since I’ve seen that symbol. I’m leaving with or without your help. With that she slammed the door.
I know young one, more than you do.