The road curved away from the rising sun, down between a valley of rising dark trees, leaves shimmering in the morning light. Nathan and Cleo plodded down the dirt road atop their horses. Cool morning mist hung low on the ground as he gripped the damp reins of his horse in one hand.

His horse seemed to be trusting him a bit more after he saved its life multiple times last night from the panther creatures. The strongest bonds are forged through fire, although he wasn’t sure if that also pertained to horses.

Two more of the terrifying Lunar Lynx’s had tried to hunt them during the night, and Nathan had gained two more Echoes. Cleo had been as useful during those fights as she had in the first. Nathan was yet to test out the new Echoes, but he was incredibly excited. Like opening gifts on Christmas, he wasn’t sure what they would give him.

The idea of just Releasing and Ushering them for no other reason than to get another new Ability was enticing – he only needed to Usher two more, but it would be better to save them for when he needed them. Maybe he could do that once he built up a large amount of them.

Killing all three lunar lynx’s had, however, gained him another level, putting him at level eight. Each lynx seemed to give roughly the same amount of experience, although not exactly the same even though they were all the same level.

He decided not to use his current Stat Points for now, as there was no immediate need and he wanted to find out the most optimal way to distribute them. It would be a shame if he had wasted some of his previous level gains, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Plus, his ability to gain percent increases from Ushering Echoes could help remedy that. If he Ushered enough Echoes, those small percent gains could become not quite so small. Although whether or not they compounded on each other or not was not yet known.

Nathan undid a small leather satchel hanging off the hip of his mount, reached in, and pulled out their map. He unfolded it and held it before him, looking down at it and then squinting into the distance, like an old man that had lost his readers. He kind of was.

“If you got us lost–”

“We’re not lost,” Nathan cut Cleo off, giving her a glare. “See that mountain over there?” He pointed forward down the trail. Rising above the treeline was a great pyramid of slate gray stone jutting up into the air, its top painted with white snow. “As long as we head toward that, we can’t miss it.”

“Mhm.” Cleo let her horse fall back so she didn’t have to be beside Nathan.

“We should be seeing the dungeon any minute.”

“I can hardly wait,” muttered Cleo.

***

“Is that it?” Cleo said, dropping off the side of her horse in a single, lithe motion.

Nathan did the same, decidedly less gracefully as his horse tried to nip at him in the process. He muttered a curse at the animal and then turned to face Cleo. “I’m guessing yes. Unless, of course, there are two ancient cathedrals in these woods.”

Cleo scowled at him.

The place was just as Arnold had described – a ghost of a building made of old, cracked stones. It was all pillars and spires, tall and slender, almost more a tower than a building. Its windows were broken or boarded up, and the only resident for the last decade looked to be thick ivy and moss. All as Arnold had described, except for the two dozen tents set up around the place.

“I thought you said it was abandoned,” Cleo hissed, gently pulling her horse off the road before they were spotted.

“That’s what Arnold told me.” Nathan tugged the reins of his stubborn creature, trying to force it off the road. It does not pertain to horses.

“Then why the hell are there so many people here?”

A small town of beige canvas tents were pitched before the building, cooking fires set up and smoking, horses tied down off to the side. Nathan could smell the breakfast, hear the conversation. Whoever they were, they certainly weren’t trying to be stealthy. Whether or not that was a good sign or not was yet to be seen.

“Hell if I know,” said Nathan. “You’re welcome to walk up and ask them if you’d like.”

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Cleo shook her head, ignoring the irony in Nathan’s voice. “No. If they’re here for the same reasons as us, I doubt they would take kindly to us showing up. We should take a closer look. I spotted several groups of guards set up. We’re not going to be able to just sneak in.”

Nathan nodded and clicked his tongue, trying to figure out the best way to go about things. “Agreed. But avoid killing if at all possible. They could be here for entirely different reasons, maybe just a…” Nathan trailed off as he turned to face Cleo. The assassin was gone, her horse tied to a tree, no other sign she’d ever even been there. “Mother fu…”

Dammit, but she’s quiet now.

Nathan tied off his own mount and then crept down through the woods, blade in hand, ears wide open. Stupid woman. She could have at least told me the direction she was going. I swear it's like she’s trying to sabotage us.

Nathan knelt down amongst the foliage, his feet stepping with practiced motion, not making any more noise than the wind. The morning dew and mist had not entirely burned away under the thick canopy and his fingers sank a bit into the damp earth as he squatted.

Ahead of him, out of the trees, were two men in clean, dark blue uniforms. were sitting on a large piece of stone that looked like it had at one point been a part of the building. Clean from discipline, or clean from lack of use? They each had on light jackets, boots, and had swords strapped to their waists. Military men perhaps? Maybe part of the Watch that David had mentioned, or another guild.

Nathan got lower and peered through the mist and branches at the men.

“Wish they’d get on with it already,” the one on the right said. He was a younger man, perhaps mid twenties, and his uniform hung off his shoulders, a size too large. Too long and too few hairs poked out of his chin. Lack of use.

His companion shook his head, stabbing at a piece of egg with a knife and moving it to his mouth. “Why? Gotta learn to enjoy the times like these ones.” He swallowed, spearing another bite, not taking his eyes off his meal. “Getting paid to do nothing. Won’t find a sweeter gig than that I tell you.” Discipline.

“But don’t you crave action? The thrill of a good fight?”

The one eating eggs looked up, wiping at a bristling gray mustache with the back of his hand and smacking his lips. “Once you’ve been in a fight, trust me, it’s the last thing you crave. Everyone has big dreams until they get stabbed.”

A stick snapped behind him.

Nathan froze, his breathing slowing to a crawl, adrenaline suddenly moving into his veins, ready to move. Nathan turned, shifting his feet on the soft ground, drawing a smear in the dirt. A man was standing about twenty paces behind him, hands at his side, a knowing grin on his face, staring right at Nathan. He had long white hair and pale eyes, his face was sharp and angular, and he was wearing a rumpled blue uniform of the same style as the men on the stone. A steel blade hung loosely from his hip.

They stared at each other for several long seconds. Nathan was waiting for the man to yell, to run, to charge, something. But he just stood there, waiting, watching.

Nathan slowly stood up, moving behind a tree so as to not be seen by the other men. How had the man gotten behind him? There was no way Nathan would have missed him, especially not with how careful he had been.

“Hello, friend. You’re one of the two that Arnold sent, aren’t you?” said the stranger. He kept his voice hushed so only Nathan would hear.

Nathan started, opening his mouth to say something, but then quickly closing it. How did he know? Arnold hadn’t informed Nathan that anyone would be waiting for them at the dungeon. He watched the man with narrowed eyes. At this range, he wouldn’t be able to get to the stranger before he could yell. The other men in uniforms would be alerted. That would do no good.

“Who are you?” Nathan asked, lifting the tip of his blade. “How do you know who I am?”

“Woah now. No need for things to get ugly, I’m a friend.” The white haired man raised his hands in front of himself, showing they were empty, and took a single step backward. “I believe we both want the same things here.”

“You don’t know what I want. And answer the questions, friend.”

The man shook his head and drew his blade with a soft hiss. Nathan tensed, ready for a fight, hoping to end it quick. But instead, the stranger just twirled his sword in one hand, then swung it hard into a tree, embedding the steel a solid inch into the thick bark. He clapped his hands together, wiping at invisible dust, then strode forward. “The name’s Saleh. Now that you know I mean no harm, perhaps you can lower that steel, eh?”

“I’ll be the judge of when to lower my weapon, there are more ways to harm than with a blade. Let’s take a walk away from your camp. I wouldn’t want someone to overhear our conversation.”

“Whatever you say,” Saleh said, shrugging his shoulders then turning and starting to walk away. Nathan watched him closely. He was too nonchalant, too calm, knew too much. Something wasn’t right.

They walked for several minutes, deeper into the woods.

“This is far enough,” Nathan said. Ahead of him, Saleh stopped and turned back to face him. “Take a seat there.” He gestured at a moss-covered log with the tip of his blade.

“Very well. Can we talk like civilized people now, or are you going to insist on shoving a sword in my face?”

Nathan didn’t lower his blade. “How do you know who I am?”

“Lots of people know who you are now.”

“That so? How?”

“Do you think people don’t pay attention to what happens in their own city? Thought you could show up, cause a storm on the doorsteps of the Night Hunt, and then walk away with none the wiser?” Saleh chuckled to himself, leaning back on the mossy log. “Strong and bold.”

“So you just decided to post up waiting in the woods for me then, eh? How’d you know I would be here? What is it you want?”

Saleh absentmindedly picked at a piece of moss with his fingernail. He sniffed at it then flicked it away before turning to Nathan and grinning. His eyes reminded Nathan of a hungry fox. “I want to get into the dungeon. Just like you.”