Everything the Innkeeper said filled Haydith with dread. Whatever group was chasing her must have been tied to the nobility, and a lord had bought out all the private rooms. Haydith saw danger and the promise of a terrible fate in the eyes of everyone present. Even after she turned away from those watchful red eyes, she could still feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.
“Thank you for your generosity,” Haydith said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the fear out of her voice, “but I think I’ll just camp outside tonight.”
Haydith started backing away from the bar. Though she desperately did not want to be perceived, two of the adults at the bar stared at her intently. In her attempt to look casual, the aura of terror exuding from her body only increased.
One of the men sitting at the bar got up and took a step toward Haydith. The man was huge. He had sandy hair, massive biceps, and a scar on his face. As he approached Haydith, her wide eyes locked on to the large battle axe he carried on his hip. The man with the scar on his face asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” Haydith shouted, backing away from the dangerous mercenary. The shrillness in her voice made it clear to everyone present that her statement could only be a lie.
“We’re not going to use all of our rooms,” the mercenary with a curved sword said with a frightful smile. “You’re free to stay in one of our rooms if you want.”
That must have been the plan, Haydith thought. They planned to grab her once she entered that room, surely.
“No… thank you,” she said, her voice shaking with fear. “I’ll be… fine.”
The man with the scar on his face reached forward to grab Haydith’s shoulder. As his hand moved toward her, he asked, “What happened to…?”
“Don’t touch me!” Haydith cut the mercenary off with three screamed words. Her hunting knife flew to her hand, and she pointed it at the scarred man.
The man with the battle axe raised his hands in a placating gesture. Haydith thought that he must have been mocking her. At such short range, the scarred mercenary could overpower her easily. He was just trying to calm her down so that he could lure her into a trap.
Before anyone else could think of what to say, Haydith ran for the door from which she had just entered. She slammed into the door, forcing it open, and ran toward the stables behind Mitrikov’s Respite.
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“Come here, Sherlock!” Haydith called out as she ran. Her massive, 450-kilogram hound came running at the sound of her voice. Without slowing her stride, Haydith looped her foot into a stirrup and lifted herself onto Sherlock’s saddle.
As Haydith and Sherlock bounded toward the main road, Haydith looked back and saw several of the people standing at the threshold of the inn. Once more, Haydith’s gaze met those crimson eyes. He shouted something, but she didn’t hear him.
Sherlock galloped down the road until the adrenaline and the fear left Haydith’s body, causing her to slump once more against the saddle. She was still exhausted and, now that the fear of death was gone, it returned even stronger.
Haydith ordered Sherlock to leave the road once more. As soon as she spotted a clearing between the trees, she ordered Sherlock to stop. Once more, Haydith stepped out of the saddle and onto the ground. This time, Sherlock caught Haydith with his large neck before she could fall heavily to the ground.
With Sherlock’s help, Haydith lowered herself to the dirt under an old oak tree. The foliage there was so thick that no one further than a few meters away could possibly see her or Sherlock. No one had seen her leave the road, so she was safe, at least for a little while.
The ground was uncomfortable, and her stomach growled in hunger. At least the night was warm, so she would not freeze to death.
Haydith stroked Sherlock’s fur as she slowly fell asleep. She had no food, no money, and no shelter. All of that could wait for the morning. For now, the only thing Haydith could do was sleep.
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Haydith’s respite lasted for a mere moment. A great force grasping her body woke her with a sickening lurch. She awoke to find a leather glove clamped over her mouth. She tried to scream, but the firm hand stopped her voice.
Looking up at her attacker, Haydith saw a sun-bleached skull from which two dark brown antlers sprouted. For a moment, she thought she must have still been dreaming, but then she saw the human eyes peering at her through the holes in the skull. Though the whole image she looked upon was haunting, the eyes were the worst part. The eyes stared back at her with a look of deranged excitement, and Haydith could tell that the man was smiling gleefully under the mask.
The attacker was wearing a hollowed-out deer skull as a mask, Haydith realized. It was different from the skeletal masks people wore on Halloween back on Earth. The people of Ferrum had not mastered industrial machining enough that they could produce realistic masks that look like skulls.
No, the mask a few centimeters away from Haydith’s face was made with the rudimentary tools of a Medieval society. With a knife and pick, someone had gouged out parts of the skull to make such a mask. On top of being uncomfortable, it gave the wearer a ghoulish and unnatural appearance.
Haydith heard Sherlock growling. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two other men in skull masks standing between her and her Caligan Hound.
“Don’t struggle, and we won’t hurt you…” the masked man said as he gave Haydith a look that filled her with an uncomfortable, slimy feeling, “much.”