The days passed in a haze. Laborious pulling and watching, the feeling of being watched, and the pain and shame of the last few days haunted Redmun, casting a shadow as deep and forboding as the Great Trees. He did not let that shame bite into him too hard, though. Master had always said that the worst thing for a hard task is to worry about failing.

The nights were spent resting. In one, he noticed that the subtle light erupting from his chest had grown. It was still hard to see save in the dark, but it was definitely larger, and he could almost see the beat of his heart in its throbbing. Redmun did not sleep that night, feeling the Evil's presence keenly in his body, and mind.

Jessa led the way into the tangled roots of the next tree while Redmun struggled with the sled. It wouldn't do for them to lose their supplies to the creatures above, and Jessa could hardly do it. He used the forearm and remaining hand to push aside space while letting the rope pull it along. Jessa's irregular footsteps were light on the sandy earth as she crept further out of view, a lantern held out for light.

Redmun crawled beneath an unmovable root, kicking and shoving them out of the way, pulling all the while. A few curses made the task easier. More footsteps crept up behind him, without light. A hand on his shoulder.

“There's someone here,” Jessa said, barely a whisper.

They crept through the dark, silent and invisible. A fire, and voices. One lively, with quiet responses. Redmun had on him a couple of long daggers, and Jessa had stowed a couple of axes for their use, but they kept their weapons out of hand, for now.

Several voices roared in laughter. The group was slowly becoming clearer as they crept along. Jessa placed one foot after another, even her wounded leg utterly silent.

Hushing. Silence. A few moments passed. The sound of a blade being drawn. “Who goes there?” A grating voice, almost unnatural. Throat-diseased.

“Possessors. You?” Jessa replied.

“Possessor,” that voice said, and there were a few non-mutilated syllables, revealing a man's voice, “and his business. What is yours?”

“Travel.” Nothing seemed amiss, so far. Many a Possessor spent their lives as vagrant protectors of caravans and, well, other vagrants, though usually only the rich could afford a Possessor for the weeks or months it took to travel between cities and towns. Indeed, it was the only truly safe way to travel, or as safe as anything got outside of Khelvorias' walls. Even in the White-Desert or Hollow's Grove, one was always at risk of falling prey to the settlement's pact.

The group under the tree took some time to deliberate. “Come into the light, if you please.”

The Great-Tree bark burned as a healthy campfire, so much so that the smoke stung Redmun's eyes. Four sat at the fire. The only one standing was the owner of the gnarled voice they'd heard – the Possessor. He sheathed a thin, curved blade, a remnant from the lost third Kingdom. At first glance he looked somewhat like Master, at least in the face. Then the cynicism showed through, and the similarity ended. His wisps of grey hair pushed back into a thin ponytail framed that face, covered in a beard that seemed less of a style choice and more of a hygienic compromise. Still, the old man had a stance much like a wolf sitting.

The three others were clearly a family, huddled close on the far side of the flames. The parents glanced between the newcomers and their protector, until the old man nodded to them.

The father, whose expression flashed from blank into a wide grin in an instant, shot up first. He took off his feathered cap, bowed, and offered his hand to Jessa. “A certain pleasure it is, Master Possessors, to meet more of your kind. A certain pleasure indeed. My name is Marwood Liabir.” Though it wasn't especially hastily said, it came out in a jumble all the same. Jessa waited until he was finished speaking before taking his hand, and shaking it, not giving him a chance to kiss it.

“Jessamine Forseth,” Jessa said, and Marwood passed to Redmun. He saw, then, the openness in his eyes.

“Redmun Briandry,” he said, and took the man's hand. His grasp was strong, his shake excited.

“A true pleasure to meet you folks, a true, certain pleasure,” Marwood said. It took a few moments for his grasp to relax. “Here is my beautiful wife, Iona.” The others stood. Iona took hold of her black and white skirt in a meek curtsy. That she had made it this far in a dress was impressive, though at least her boots were practical. Marwood's description of 'beautiful' might have been lovingly overstating, but it wasn't far off. Her bright blonde hair fell over her slim frame in all in curls and layers.

“My deepest greetings, Master Possessors,” she said. Marwood nodded excitedly, then gestured to his son.

“And this is my excellent son, Lloyd.” The boy, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, bowed awkwardly, but his smile was not shy in the slightest. His eyes poured out awe for both of them, though there was also a tinge of wariness, of fear behind it. That stung Redmun a little.

“Speak up, boy,” Marwood said, chuckling.

“Oh, uh. Hello.”

“Pleasure,” Redmun said, nodding. Jessa, arms folded, said nothing. He tried to get her attention with a look, but she was already withdrawing into herself.

The near-bald Possessor approached, and Redmun held out a hand, palm up. “Well met, brother.”

Jessa just nodded. “Brother.”

“Well met, brother, sister,” the man said, holding out the same hand. A Possessor's hand giving, though they never used the greeting with non-Possessors, who took. “Aidrian Godrich. Dren for short, if you don't mind.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“We don't,” Jessa said.

Dren patted his left leg, which produced a dull thud, like rock. “Earth Warden. Yourselves?”

Jessa held out her left arm. “Banshee.”

Having an unknown, strangely powerful Evil Possessing one's heart was not something to tell other Possessors. Redmun held up his right and prepared his usual lie. “Will-o-wisp.” Belatedly he realized that the increased luminosity of his chest might set off the Possessor before them, but luckily the light of the campfire hid it well enough. He'd have to be careful, though.

“Wisp, aye? I hear those're damned hard to catch, 'specially the talking ones.”

Redmun sputtered. Their Evils weren't usually a topic of discussion past their classification. He settled for a modest smile. “Ah, this one was very difficult to catch, my friend.”

“And yours, Jessamine, was it?” Dren asked, folding his arms. Again, no smile, but he seemed to be relaxing.

“Dead-Earth, during the last March. I got her before she could catch me. Isn't that right?” Jessa's eyes went upwards as she listened to the response only she could hear, and she grew a hard grin.

“What about you, Dren?” Redmun asked. The name still rang in his mind. Something to do with old Aldis Archwald, the Possessor in charge of Possessors. “How'd you get a big bastard like an Earth Warden to listen to you?” The boy, Lloyd was inching away from his parents, and towards the three of them, mouth open as if he were watching his hero in action.

“Blew his legs off.”

Jessa nodded, looking impressed. “That'd do it.”

“Aye.” Dren spun to face Lloyd. The boy froze like a rabbit caught in an open field. “Think my business wants to talk more,” he said with a thumb over his shoulder, and bent down to rest against a particularly uncomfortable looking root.

“Come away, Lloyd,” Marwood said, urging his son away. “Ah, won't you join us?” He shuffled along the edge of the fire to sit beside his wife.

“Actually, think I'll go make sure our stuff doesn't get stolen.” Jessa turned, giving Redmun a bland look as she passed. Redmun let it pass that she'd professed only minutes before that she couldn't be burdened with such a task. Redmun took a seat gratefully, sure to keep the light against his chest.

“So, ah,” Marwood began, staring at the fire for a moment. “Ah! What carries you through Howling Pass?”

Redmun pulled out his coin, fiddling with it while he thought. How much should they tell? Most of the truth, he supposed. “Ever heard of the Walking Corruption?”

“Yep,” Dren chimed in.

“I… believe I have,” Marwood said, rubbing his chin in a pondering manner. “Some sort of Evil Lord, is it not?”

“And where would you have learned something of that sort, Marwood?” Iona asked.

“Well talk's got to get around somehow, hasn't it dear?” Marwood said, laughing as though that was an answer.

“Not a Lord-Evil, but an abomination. Is it not?” Dren asked. Redmun wasn't quite sure where to place his accent, it seemed to hop about underneath his grinding voice that was not quite deep but not quite tenor.

“It is.” Redmun said.

“Dangerous prey,” said Dren. “Looks like you've fought it recently.”

“We did, at Potsdoor just a few days past, and Lutmouth not long after.” Redmun looked down at the remains of his hand, hidden beneath his bandages. It would be so easy, just a quick, controlled burst of Light, and he'd have it back. But that was a dangerous thing to be messing with, tempting, just like the Light itself. Besides, the family had seen the wound. It was far too late for healing.

“And, ah, how are Potsdoor and Lutmouth?” Iona asked.

“Lutmouth survived, though its entrance was destroyed. Potsdoor is gone.”

“Oh my word.” Marwood gasped. “How awful. Been chasing it for a while, then?”

“Been chasing it for, about, thirteen years now. Though we only caught up to it a few weeks ago, in Potsdoor.”

“What's an Abomination?” Lloyd asked, his voice uncharacteristically deep for one so young.

Marwood chuckled nervously. “Ah, nothing to worry about, that's what!” He gave his son a slap on the arm. “Isn't that right, Possessors?”

“Absolutely,” Redmun said, giving the boy a smile.

“Mhm,” Dren hummed from beside.

The sounds of struggle came from behind, and Marwood shot up. Jessa huffing her way through the roots. Redmun held out a hand to stall the man. “No, don't. She prefers to do those sorts of things herself. Thank you, though.” Redmun smiled. Jessa ought to appreciate that.

“Oh, ah, certainly!” Marwood nodded.

Redmun turned, and suddenly Lloyd was beside him. “What's yours do?” he asked.

“Now, now, enough of that, son,” Marwood said with large, soothing gestures. “Leave the man alone, I'm sure he's tired, and we shouldn't wear on him with our idle chatter.” Lloyd sulked, and turned fully to the fire, though he stayed near.

A lull appeared in the conversation. Redmun shuffled backwards a little, until his back was against the roots, and started chewing a bit of dry meat from his jacket, closing his eyes. The quiet was deep, and it felt good.

“Lovely weather for the trip, isn't that right?” No-one answered. Redmun slipped open an eye, and found the man looking right at him.

“Uh, yeah,” Redmun said over the mouthful. Dren chuckled quietly enough for only Lloyd and Redmun to hear.

“Lovely weather,” Marwood said, agreeing with himself. “Say, ever been to Hollow's Grove?”