Chapter 3

I really wish that I had brought my cloak now, thought Jurina. The cavern was cold and dank. What had started out as a tunnel, curved and opened into a large chamber. Their footsteps echoed back at them from the cavern's unseen walls, breaking the deathly silence. Even though Jurina had the foresight to bring the necessarily components to make torches, Flint had scavenged some from the guard's camp. Their glow failed to penetrate the blackness that pressed in at them from all sides.

Flint squinted, trying to peer through the curtain of dark. "Be on your guard, I wouldn't trust there not being more of them goons skulking in these shadows."

Tatt, now without his goggle scrutinized his surroundings. "It would be easier to be on guard, if I could see what to be on guard from lad."

Jurina gave a puzzled expression. "I thought your kindred were supposed to have good night vision, Tatt?"

"It helps when you've not got a bloody great torch stuffed in your face." Irritably, he shoved Flint's torch away from him.

"See anything yet?" asked Flint.

"Hold on, give me a sec for my eyes to adjust." First using his large eyes and then raising his snout sniffing the air, he surveyed the cavern. "It's safe."

Jurina gave a sigh of relief.

Tatt crouched low to the floor. Barely disturbing it, he gently brushed across the dirt, raised his soiled fingers to his snout and inhaled deeply. Looking up, he glanced farther into the cavern. “Looks like they went this way.”

They continued a cautious walk through the cavern. At its far end, it closed in, becoming a tunnel once more. For the next half-hour, they walked the dark passage. Tatt led the way, far enough ahead for the torches not to affect his vision. Next was Jurina and two strides behind her followed Flint, who gave periodical glances over his shoulder. The tunnel wasn't straight by any means, curving first one way, then the other.

Tatt stopped and waited for the others to catch him up. “There's a light source ahead of us.” He chuckled, as the other two squinted their eyes in an attempt to see the light. “My eyes are a little more suited to being down here. Trust me there's a light ahead. I'll scout to make sure it’s safe.”

Jurina watched, as Tatt scurried away up the tunnel. Soon he was out of range of the torches.

Flint sat himself down against the tunnel's wall and gave her a questioning look. “What are you hoping to find down here anyway?”

“Don't know.” She shrugged, “Anything would be nice. In all these years searching, I've found nothing. You would think the Talren's would have left some evidence of their passing … books, remains of buildings … anything. A damn belt buckle would be nice.”

“You never thought that maybe you haven't found anything because they are just made up stories? I mean, we have plenty of our own fairy tales, so why not the Muruks?”

She looked at him wondering if he was just trying to rouse her. However, his face showed no sign of witticism. “No. They existed all right. I'm just having a hard time proving it.”

Flint gave her a warm smile. “Well then, let's see if we can catch us some fairies shall we, huh?”

“Let’s.” She returned his smile.

Flint got back to his feet, as Tatt re-entered sight.

“Come on you two.” Tatt waved, beckoning them to him. “You're never going to believe this.”

****

They walked into the large domed chamber. Jurina gasped, as she spotted the writing engraved over the walls. It was in no language she recognized; in fact, even the graphemes used, didn't resemble anything she had ever seen before. She looked higher and even more of the strange script revealed itself. Not a single space was empty. “Astonishing,” she said.

“They were like this when I found them. A right blood bath,” replied Tatt.

“Huh?” Tatt's response made no sense. However, as she noticed the rest of her surroundings, his meaning became clear. A woman-bloodied body lay sprawled, near a pedestal in the center of the room and two other males lay several steps from her.

Flint walked over to the dead men. “Feck! What the hell happened here?”

Jurina fiddled with a lock of her hair thoughtfully. “It looks like they killed one another.”

Flint whistled as he made a closer inspection of one of the bodies. “Bloody hell. Have you seen this man’s face?”

Jurina went to see what Flint had discovered, but was held back by Tatt. He gave her a knowing look. “Maybe you shouldn't lass, it's not pretty”

“Okay,” said Flint standing. “Let's say they did kill one another… Why?”

“I guess they were arguing over that.” Tatt pointed at something that lay upon the pedestal.

Jurina moved over to get a closer look. Sitting there, was an odd stone about the size of a fist. Its surface would have been pure white, except for what looked like black stains clustered across its surface. She leaned closer. The black markings were moving, seeming to float around the surface of the stone like oil on water. As if under an enchantment, she moved her hand closer to touch it.

Flint's voice broke the spell. “Hey! This one's still alive.”

She turned her head and saw Flint kneeling next to one of the men. He carefully lifted the man's head and rested it on his knee. Even though this man had gray hair, Jurina doubted that he hadn't seen more than thirty winters. The front of his light-tanned jerkin was heavily stained with blood.

Tired light blue eyes fixed on her as she approached. Kneeling next to him, she took his hand. “What happened to you?”

“I managed to stop some of them, but there will be more,” he struggled to tell her.

“What is he mumbling about?” asked Flint.

“Shut up Flint. We need to stop this bleeding.” Unrolling the small roll that she carried, she retrieved a folded sack, intending to use it as a makeshift dressing.

“No. It's too late. This body is dying,” he began to cough violently. When the coughing ceased and he had caught his breath, he continued. “You do not have much time. Take the stone, but do not handle it. Keep it away from the shadows…. I will return for it.”

“Keep it away from what?” she said puzzled.

The gray haired man eyes dimmed and his body went limp. Flint lowered him softly to the floor.

Tatt stood over them, shaking his head slowly. “Poor bloke. Sounded like he'd lost his marbles.”

“Yep,” said Flint, gained his feet. “And that could also explain what's happened here.”

Jurina returned to the pedestal. “Maybe.” Her voice trailed off as her thoughts centered themselves on the stone. The strange black marks continued to float across its surface. “But it's also got something to do with this stone, or whatever it is. Can't touch it huh?” she positioned the sack over it.

“Don't touch—” started Tatt, a little too late as Jurina quickly whisked the stone inside the bag.

“It's okay. I never touched it.” She sighed with relief.

“The pedestal might have been booby trapped,” Tatt finished.

A large cracking noise came from ceiling of the chamber, followed by a cloud of dust and small bits of debris began to rain down on them.

Flint caught hold of Jurina's arm. "I think this, might be a good time to leave"

“But the writing…” she cried out looking up at the ceilings, not seeing much through all the dust.

“You're going to get a very close inspection of that writing, if we stay much longer my Lady.”

As if proving his point, a large section of the roof came smashing down, two steps from where they stood.

They raced from the chamber. Behind them huge pieces of rock fell, filling the doorway they had just exited. It wasn't just the chamber collapsing; the tunnel shook wildly, making it hard to stay on their feet. As fast as they could, they retraced their steps through the winding passageway and fled from out of the cave.

Once back in the daylight, they darted away as quickly as they could, until at last the felt it safe enough to turn around. What they saw was astonishing. The rock face crashed in on itself, a huge cloud of dust and debris concealed the whole landscape. The dust began to clear. Now all that remained of the cave was a huge pile of rubble.

"Does anyone know what just happen then?" asked Flint.

Tatt just shrugged.

Jurina only gaped, wordless, as the other two looked at her.

*****

Lengan gazed up through one of the few gaps in the forest's dense canopy of branches. The rain had so far held off, even though the black clouds that ominously floated above, threatened otherwise. It had been a good day's hunt. Lengan had already killed and skinned several wolves, their hides secured on the back of his mule. Not only would he get the coin for selling the hides, he would also get the bonus for culling the wolves. Not that killing a handful of them would make much of an impact, he thought pulling a pipe from his coat made from the hinds of the beasts that he hunted. There's still hundreds of the buggers prowling the around here. And he hoped things stayed that way. The town's office was prepared to pay well for their heads and he was happy to accept the extra coin.

Settling down for a hard-earned break, he pulled a branch from his crackling fire. The clay pipe already filled with dried leaves, he settled down with his back against a tree for a smoke. He blew clouds, as he listened to a red briggit, which sat among the branches of a nearby tree. He tried to whistle a reply. The bird looked at him, then with a flutter of wings, flew away.

He chuckled. “It wasn't that bad was it? Okay, I may need a little practice.”

An agonising howl arose from nearby. Another hunter, Lengan thought. Not a problem, there's still plenty more game to go around.

Three more pained howls sounded. Startled, Lengan jumped to his feet. Soon there was howling all around him. He snatched up his bow that rested against the tree, and readying an arrow. What in the name of the gods is going on?

Something in the distance caught his attention, as a dark shape snaked through the trees. Wolf maybe? However, it didn't move like any wolf he'd known. It travelled through the trees without effort, its speed constant no matter the terrain it passed.

What the hell are you? Lengan drew his bowstring back. As the dark shape neared, Lengan released that it wasn't a beast, but maybe a shadow of one. A bird? With a snap he cast his aim higher, but the skies where empty apart from rustling branches and the floating harbingers of bad weather. With haste, he returned his vision back to the shadow, but it was gone. Glancing around the woodland, there was no sign of the strange shadow.

"I don't like this," he said backing towards to his mule. "Time to leave I think."

The mule began to panic as he fastened equipment to its back.

“Hey you, calm down.” He moved to the head of the animal and stroked its nose with affection, in an effort to calm it. The mule's eyes were wide in panic. Maybe the strange shadow had returned.

With haste, he spun around. There was no shadow, but what was there, looked even more troubling. Six wolves were nearing, their hackles up, and their fangs dripping saliva.

“Hell.” In a rapid movement, he took up his bow. With caution, he backed away from the approaching pack. Over his shoulder, he heard more snarling. He turned. At least half a dozen more wolfs approached from that direction.

There was nothing he could do. Even with his bow readied, he wouldn't stand a chance.

“I wasn't expecting it to end like this,” he whispered.

It does not have to Lengan.

Startled, he turned to locate the voice, but no one was there.

“Who said that?” He training his bow back at the wolves.

That's not important. Let's just say I'm a friend and the only one stopping you from being torn to pieces by the wolves.

The snarling beasts had stopped in their tracks and just looked at him. Hunger shone in their yellow eyes. It was almost as if they were waiting for something. He span around, making sure the other wolves hadn't come closer. They hadn't, some just sat there, growling. While others looked ready to pounce on command.

His heart thundered against his ribs. “Where are you? Why can't I see you?”

You are persistent one. Do you believe in woodland spirits Lengan?

“Spirits? I do now. Can you make them go away?”

No, I can only hold them off and I'm afraid I can't do that for much longer.

“You can't? What do I do then?” The strain of holding the bowstring back, was beginning to take its toll.

Hmm? There might be a way…

“What? Please help me out, whoever you are?” he said, desperation etched in his voice.

Okay…you must do exactly as I say.

Lengan nodded. A bead of sweet trickled down his face.

You'll feel a strange sensation. Whatever you do, do not fight it or all will be lost.

“Okay,” said Lengan, nervously.

A dull sensation pushed at the edge of his mind, becoming gradually sharper. Without thinking, he pushed back at it. One of the wolves snarled and moved a few steps closer to him.

Do not fight it! I cannot help you otherwise.

This time, he let the pushing feeling continue. His head began to ache, as the pressure in his mind built. Numbness, starting in his fingers and toes spread through his body. Everything seemed to spin as he lost control. He fell to the floor, menacing laughter filled his head. Darkness stole him away.

*****

After a short time, the body of Lengan pulled himself to his feet. However, what was inside was no longer Lengan.

“What manner of creatures are these?” it said in disgust as it inspecting the newly gained body. “They have such weak and fragile forms.” The thought of metamorphose did cross its mind. It had already possessed a body similar to this one and that had been destroyed much too easily for its liking. Seething and blood boiled over the last eviction, it had been agonising. Rubbing the skin around its face, it found no blisters. Nevertheless, it could still feel the pain. Who ever had interrupted my plans, will pay! It rubbed the stubble on his chin, a habit it had likely gained from the body's last owner. No, transformation will wait, this body may have unseen uses yet.

Staring around the forest. Two dozen wolves surrounded him. More were turning up as he watched. All of them looked to him, waiting… The sound of a panicked mule fought for its attention.

Turning, it approached the terrified beast. It was turning on the spot, trying its hardest to see an opening in the horde of wolves that it might escape.

It patted the mule's nose that rolled its eyes in fear. "There, there. Can't have you leaving, I have need of you."

With some force, it thrust his arm into the panicked beast's chest. The mule tried to rear, but was held fast by the impaled arm. The moment he freed its bloodied arm, the mule fell to the floor as though its neck had just been broken.

Warm red blood dripped from his hand as he inspected what he had just taken. To the human eye, there was nothing there, but it could see it. An imperfect white globe hovered in its palm, the essence of the now dead mule. Closing its hand around the globe, it absorbed it, adding it to its own.

Freshly infused with power, it turned to face the now huge pack of wolves. Lowly Minions. They are next to useless to me in this form. Let us see if we can do better? Thrusting an arm at them, shadowy tentacles burst from its fingers, encasing the two nearest wolves in a dark mist. The sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh filled the forest, as the beasts transformed. Growing in size the wolves took on humanoid features, while retaining their wolf likeness. Now standing on two legs, the shadow weaver shut off its magic.

The weaver of shadows stared at his creation, with only a little satisfaction. It is a start. It leant against a tree, too weak to support its own weight. The shadow weaver felt empty. It would have to feed again.