Night-Beasts

As the day moved on so did the fellowship; they were in good spirits mostly, with the songs of the Chanticleer rousing them to laughter. Mokad, however, couldn't help but feel that he was being watched. He would look back every now and then and wonder at the sound of falling stone or the absence of twittering birds, he kept his thoughts however to himself for he felt it was only an overexuberant paranoia. 

Finally the sun dipped below the rounded peaks of the Shreken about them. They paused momentarily as if waiting for a monster, but of course it did not come. They continued their way in the night with caution, more due to fallen boulders than fanged beasts, but each held a knife – and Fred his sword. Somewhere between the setting of the sun and the arrival at Batlan, somewhere on the Tumbar in the dark they heard a cry. 

"Wooooooooooooooo!" 

"What the?" whispered the Chanticleer. 

"Woooooooeeeeeeee!" it came louder, and nearer. 

"That be not wind," grumbled Mokad. "And it be coming from ahead and behind!" 

"Shhhh!" commanded Konrad. "Beasts or villains, it matters not, hold steady now." 

The horses were at a slow canter and the sounds did indeed grow louder. Then there was a crack as if from a fallen tree, and Pall began to scream! Amid lantern-light the others saw the form of the merchant on the ground with another larger, darker figure atop him! Then another appeared behind him and two in front of the party. 

"Defend yerselves!" yelled Konrad. "Denom, take the rear –I'll take the front!" 

Fred did as was told knowing it was the most sensible. He pulled his steed away from Rowena while shouting instructions to her and tossing her a knife. From his steed he lashed out at the form at the rear while Mokad grappled with the creature fighting Pall. Konrad had his sword unsheathed and his horse at the ready with Timon –more frightened than not— holding a long knife. Rowena stayed with reigns in one hand and her blade in the other, her one companion being the Chanticleer who held a jug of wine! 

Sword clanged against skins of hardness while knives sliced away at seemingly softer flesh. The merchants were screaming as were the monstrous forms. Konrad's heart pounded as he thrust and swerved upon his horse, Fred too was hardly breathing as the creatures before him seemed to multiply and then scurry just out of his reach. Blow after blow fell and then a blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the pass: Konrad fell as his steed's belly was ripped open seemingly by the long claw of a monster. 

"NO!!!" screamed Fred not knowing if beast and rider were now both fodder. Images of a murdered dwarf, remembrances of a slain friend, these things filled him as if coming from his deepmost recesses; and he did not want to see his own sister join their ranks – he could not live with himself if she did. He turned then and unsheathed his other sword, holding it up high, holding in his sweating hands Nelheth-Mord. The night then seemed to take on a new shape, the very air seemed to coagulate. Part by instinct, part from fear and despair Fred called upon that which he knew could save these people this night. An eerie glow emanated from Fred as his clothing, shredded by the monsters, fell off from his armoured body. The runed metal radiated light even as a fog engulfed all else in total darkness; and then new screams permeated the night. 

Then it was over. 

Fred slumped to the ground and as quickly rose again looking for his sister. She was safely in the arms of the Chanticleer who also held a broken jug of wine: "The juice of a grape be mightier than the steel of a sword," he said only half in jest. Beside them was a form with a distinctively broken cranium and shards of the jug all about. Konrad, too, limped towards the trio, his horse was gone but he had survived. Then Pall came forward from out of the darkness, his face was stained with blood. "He's dead," said the merchant. "Mokad saved me and now he's dead." 

With the few remaining lanterns they tried to assess the scene. It was not easy, but three things became very clear: first, the monsters were no monsters at all, they were men dressed in strange armour and rags; second, these brigands were definitely dead yet not all by the force of knife and sword; and third, Timon was nowhere among the living or the dead. 

"We've got to find Timon," said Pall. "It's only right." The poor merchant was in shock, his body quivered and shook and while the Chanticleer found some mead for him to drink Rowena held and comforted him. 

"We need..." said Fred in a very tired voice. "We need to get you all to safety, we must make it to Batlan. How far more Konrad?" 

The Captain's guard looked at Fred with wide eyes; he had seen most of what had occurred and now he could only stare at the man who wielded the night and glowed as if with fire. He found thinking difficult, thoughts came in fractured and bent. His only words were: "Who are ye?" 

1. Fred wondered that himself. He looked at the soldier and paused. What had he done and was it worth the price? And how could he explain himself now? 

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