They had been riding most of the day. Kurt was exhausted and hungry, but did not complain. The apathy that had been his enemy for so long was losing its power over him. He could feel its grip lessen as the hours passed them by. Time dragged, but not because of hunger or boredom, the usual culprits. Now, it was impatience. He had forgotten that such feelings existed. Not since his youth. Not since Sabine.

I’ll find him, he promised to her, and himself. He took out the star stone from under his shirt and squeezed it. I’ll make sure our boy is safe.

The road to Schweigen existed on maps only. The reality was a hollow corridor roughly cut through the trees that filled the land around them. Rocks had not been cleared, and stuck up out of the squelching mud like grey islands in a sea of filth. The way had not been maintained. Trees and shrubs cuts across their path here and there, causing them to slow down, or even abandon the path altogether just to keep going. They passed a cart with a broken wheel at one point, lying abandoned and empty.

“Keep your sword handy,” said Janus, as he set his bow across his lap and checked the arrows in his nearest quiver.

They proceeded on for perhaps another hour, saying little. The land began to rise, and Kurt watched the dirt path before them flowing downhill in the stubborn rain. They moved back into the woods that flanked their path to ascend faster.

“What kind of road is this?” Kurt complained at one point. He was panting, shaking, wet and fed up as he tried to pull his stubborn mount up after him.

“A human one,” Janus said, standing at the crest of the woody hill, looking at some far off point Kurt could not see. “A new road.”

“How the fuck did the Elves do this?”

“They had a road to their home. It goes right by Schweigen, or that’s what Klara once told me,” the runner explained, his eyes narrowing. He shivered visibly, as he went on speaking, his tone lowering as if he were afraid of being heard by someone else. “It’s out there, hidden in the forest, and the forest is welcome to keep it. I’m not going to look for it, Kurt. I don’t care how much faster or easier it could make this. There were old stones deep within our woods that the elders said were put there by the Elves, This was at the height of their power, when their numbers were great, and they had not become what we remember. Things were not right around those stones—are not right around them, like that temple in Eichen. It is the same with their roads, and all they left behind. That temple was enough for me. I never want to see another Elf structure as long as I live.”

They rested in the afternoon—or, at least, what they thought was the afternoon. The leaden sky and ceaseless rain made it hard to tell the time. They abandoned the mire of the road to hide among the trees. The horses gratefully munched on clovers and the contents of their feed pouches while Kurt devoured a hardening loaf of bread. He offered some to Janus, which the runner accepted, taking small bites out of as he stared at the damp path of earth between them.

“There’s two minotaurs left, and some humans,” he said, noting Kurt’s curious stare. “One’s the witch. The other is some kind of archer. He’s the one that nearly killed Theo. They’re travelling by foot. If they’re smart, they’ll stick close to the river, and follow it downstream to the next crossing. That’s near where we are going. We should reach Schweigen before dark at the pace we’re making, even if the road is worthless. They might get there tomorrow. I’m not sure what time.”

“Will they stay in the town?” Kurt asked.

Janus shrugged. “I wouldn’t. But if what the others told me is true, then they’ve lost all their camping gear. That might persuade them to risk going into town. Trying to sleep, especially in weather like this, without so much as a bedroll, would be difficult. I wonder if any of them will get sick?”

“That would be good,” Kurt added, with a nod. He tried to picture some of the faceless monsters that had taken his child away and slaughtered his friends. He hoped for the plague to get them, but there were plenty of other unpleasant ways to die that would do as well.

“Yeah,” Janus said with a yawn. “Especially if it’s those two fucking bulls. When we find them, its best we watch and follow for a bit. I’ll need to wait until some of the humans are keeping watch. I can take them. I haven’t got a prayer against the minotaurs though, even if you don’t want to count in magic.”

“Thank you, Janus,” Kurt blurted out. It was only now, listening to what might happen next did he really appreciate how dangerous this next part would be for Janus.

“Thank me when we’re done and on our way to the sea, Kurt,” the runner answered, looking down at the dirt. “It’s bad luck to thank someone before they do anything for you. It lets the gods know there’s something they have a chance to ruin.”

Kurt had not noticed the outskirts of Schweigen rising out of the mud around them until Janus pointed them out. Like Alte Eichen, Schweigen was a corpse of a city whose periphery had been abandoned to nature. Crumbling, empty houses with trees rising from their sitting rooms were just visible behind screens of lesser greenery. The squelch of their horses hooves in the mud was suddenly punctuated by horseshoes clinking against hidden stone pavement beneath. Kurt had heard something of the town’s reputation and history when he and Sabine had been looking for land to purchase with the King’s grant money. The stories did not do the slow death of this settlement justice. Far more than with the park and abandoned places in Eichen, nature was reclaiming Schweigen, and making ruins of what must have once been proud environs of a fine merchant’s town on the road to the land of the Elves. This place had been great, once. It would have been forgotten already, and Kurt could not repress the almost primal notion that it should be. He had never heard of anyone buying the land, or moving down here, and wondered what kind of men made this fading memory their home.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Signs of civilisation appeared gradually as they rode: trees deliberately cut down, houses with roofs, and pigs. They passed a dozen in a stone-lined pen that looked like a house with the top half of it missing. A human boy soon appeared, carrying rotting scraps in a bucket to feed them. He did not give the pair a second thought as they passed. Janus took the lead. He did not put his weapon away.

What passed for the town centre of Schweigen made Kurt think of the trail that brought them here. The few buildings that were obviously occupied were all stone, and seemed to rise out of the filth and mud like rocks in the sea. They were squat and ugly. The people were few, taciturn, and all visibly armed. The only talkative person was a preacher in what passed for the square. He was one of the scaled, and Kurt thought he was insane, for as they approached, Bauer heard the man screaming about Elves. He stopped only when he saw Kurt and Janus approach, after staring at Kurt with widening eyes.

“Put the damned stone away Kurt,” Janus hissed.

Kurt obeyed, slipping it back under his shirt. “Sorry.”

Janus said nothing for a moment. He was watching in the direction the priest fled. He kicked his horse lightly, and began to follow after the fleeing man. Kurt did likewise, after a moment’s hesitation.

“You’re not going to hurt that man, are you?” he asked quietly, after he was level again with the runner.

They paused before an opening in what might have been the main street of Schweigen. The deep footprints led off into the trees. Janus sighed.

“No, Kurt. I think he’s scared enough.”

“Do you think he was one of those people, the ones back at Eichen?”

“I don’t know,” Janus replied. “He didn’t look like one of the Ashen to me.”

“Should we leave?” asked Kurt.

Janus looked back at the buildings that surrounded them, and then up at the darkening grey sky.

“The horses are tired, and so am I. It’ll be dark soon. My fur’s wet and we’ve barely eaten today at all. I won’t be able to find your son before dark. We’ll see if we can find a place to stay for the night. I’ll ask around and find out where the crossing is down here. You need rest, and an hour or two with your sword tonight. If we’re lucky, we might find your boy tomorrow.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t want to be outside tonight, Kurt. The rain is going to get heavier, and this might be our last chance for a hot meal. This place is bound to have some kind of inn. This town is a mess, but I’m not sure it’s dangerous.”

“King’s Law isn’t supposed to mean anything down here,” Kurt protested, albeit quietly. He did not like this place, for reasons he suspected were the same as why it might appeal to his friend.

“Good,” Janus replied, confirming his fears. “I’m sick of your King’s laws, and all the vermin that enforce them.”

*

Schweigen had virtually nothing to offer its settlers other than trees, pigs and (of course) a place to drink so that one might forget the other two. It seemed like half the population was crammed inside of the squat building that looked like an overturned ship, all huddled by the first burning fire Kurt had seen since leaving camp this morning. The place stunk of damp and there was a woman feeding her babe in full view of the men inside that made him pause and stare. For a second, he could have sworn it was Sabine, as she could have been.

“Are you all right?” Janus asked him.

Kurt lied. Rooms were cheap here. He was curious if the women were too, but dared not ask. He had heard stories about Schweigen.

They settled inside their room. Janus fetched wood for the small hearth, but made no attempt to light it.

“There’ll be time later,” he said.

Kurt followed him out into the claustrophobic main room. They ate badly cooked, greasy bacon with old hunks of bread. Kurt wanted to drink milk, but Janus ordered them a cup of schnapps each. He did not trust the water, or the milk here.

“I shouldn’t,” said Kurt.

“One won’t kill you,” Janus insisted, pushing it back towards him. “But the water might.”

Kurt gave in. No sooner was he finished than he wanted to order another, but the look Janus gave him stayed his tongue. The hankering lingered for a while as they sat by the fire, waiting for their clothes to dry, but it faded eventually. Would Sabine be proud of him? He wondered in silence, ignoring everyone and being ignored in turn. He could hear Janus occasionally talking with the motley collection of people who looked as if they were part of the furniture.

Time dragged. Kurt wanted another drink, but the thought of disappointing Janus loomed over him then. It was a strange direction that his life had taken, as well as cruel. He could not have imagined a time before this, after his wife had passed at least, where Kurt would have found himself fretting over another’s opinion of him. He had come so close at times with Martin, were it not for the melancholy that always followed him about whenever Kurt’s thoughts turned his son. It was not fair, but that was the world they lived in.

It grew late. More people came in. Someone kept feeding the fire, though Kurt was unsure who it was. He wondered if the hunters would make it into town tonight. It was difficult to tell the hour in here. It was dark and looked like it would stay that way regardless of the time outside. There were no windows Kurt could see, at least from where he sat.

Janus rose suddenly. He thanked a few of the less scruffy men that sat beside him. When he gestured to Kurt, the man quickly rose and followed after him.

“The crossing is nearby,” Janus said, only after their door was securely locked behind them. “There’s no bridge, but the rocks in the river make it shallower here than anywhere else along its course for nearly fifty miles. If they’re on foot, then they might get here tomorrow afternoon. We’ll scout it out in the morning, and figure out our plan then.”

“What about the others?” asked Kurt. He felt ill then, and it had nothing to do with his meal, or the stink of this place and its sullen, broken people. This was it. This time tomorrow, people were very probably going to be dead. Give me strength, he prayed then, though who he was asking this of, he could no longer say.

“I don’t know,” Janus sighed, and shrugged. He rubbed his arms before moving to start a fire in their dingy room. “We’ll have to avoid them. I’m not sure the rest will be as accepting of our actions as the old bull was.”

“Are we going to have to fight them?”

Janus stared into the black pit that served as their hearth.

“Janus?”

“I don’t know, Kurt. Are you prepared to?”

Kurt did not answer. Like Janus, his eyes were drawn to the greater darkness hidden in their dead hearth.