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Hand of Fate - Part 9

Rythall's eyes were sore. He had been woken up by Krss in the small hours of the morning with an, "Uncle hasn't returned yet. What will we do?"

He had blinked and rushed out of the house. He hadn't at all expected uncle to go too far away to get the Sword. He had expected him to return in the morning and surprise them.

The forest was silent.

"If only we knew where he left to get the Sword," said Rythall. His headache was killing him. Krss wasn't helping either, she was playing with that Helish metal cup again.

"Can't you track him, or something?"

Rythall laughed, despite the pain. "Track? I haven't tracked since the hunting incident. And that happened when I was five."

"Come oon!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the path. He obeyed with protests.

"Krss, I am telling you, I don't know how to track!"

"Look, Ry! Some footsteps! They must be uncle's!"

"I think those were made by a rabbit."

"And you say you don't know how to track!"

Any non-air-headed being could have known a rabbit from a man.

".. I don't know how to track."

"It's cold. I'm getting my shawl."

A small gust of wind made Rythall shiver. Yes, it was unusually cold for Hevron.

Krss emerged from the hut in agitation. "Ry!! I don't.. I don't have my shawl!" She was crying.

"Calm down. Is it really that important?"

"I lost it.. last night. I lost it there.."

"I see." He sighed. "I see.. We should regain it, then, before they do."

The monastery looked like a fork stuck in the ground. Now the corpse had been taken away the place seemed almost friendly.

"There it is!"

Krss snatched the shawl and did a little happy dance with a tree as partner. She didn't care that she was dancing around the spot where the dead man had lain. But Rythall understood. He would have killed him himself, if only he had had the chance before the murderer.

Sometimes it was lucky she saw everything as a game.

He wondered if he would ever know the truth about the crime and if he would like it. He glanced at Krss again. Her face was sparkling in the sunlight. She had never looked more like a child.

"Oh, that monastery is so spooky! Let's go inside for a bit."

There was a mud puddle in front of the steps with fresh footprints going inside. There were others going out. There was something unnatural about one of the strings of footprints. Rythall stopped to analyse, while Krss ran inside the monastery.

"Ry, this is creepy! Come oon!" she shouted.

The footprints were of bare feet. They were going out.

"Hey, what is this?"

"Krss, wait for me. I have a bad feeling about.."

"Rythall!!!"

He hastened inside. She was just running up the stairs that came from the crypt.

"Krss? What's wrong?"

"There's someone! Behind a coffin!"

He heard footsteps running towards the stairs. He shivered. Who.. What could be in such a haste to escape from the catacombs?

"Stay back, Krss. Stay back. Don't worry." He readied his fist.

Mark Hialdan appeared at the foot of the stairs. "Krss?"

Rythall stepped in front of Krss. "My Lord.."

"Hello.. Rythall? I tried to ressurect him. I couldn't."

"Him?"

Rythall brushed the Hialdan heir aside irreverently and ran down the steps, three at a time. He slipped and nearly fell. He straightened himself and drew a deep breath. The crypt smelled of damp and dust. Rythall shuddered a little at the thought of so many dead, rotten eyes watching the intruder.

The symmetrical pattern of stone coffins was broken by an open lid.

Rythall advanced slowly. Generations over generations of Hialdan remains were left behind, ignored. He almost didn't dare to look inside the open space.

Zargoth was staring up at Rythall. His chest was open and the coffin was full with dried blood.

continue to part 10 >>

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