Grey stepped aside as the two Speakers entered the inn, closing and locking the door behind them. Grey directed them to a table and quickly prepared two tankards of mead for the visitors as they sat down. “What brings two of the eight speakers to my humble little inn?” inquired Grey, a hint of nervousness in his voice. Alder, Eve, Clara, and Dendrik sat down at a table far from the two, but still within earshot.

“We require two rooms. Your best and cleanest rooms.” The speaker of war said proudly, as if looking down on Grey. “Gahh!” The Speaker of Grace elbowed him in the stomach. “What the hell is the matter with you, woman?!”

“Don’t be rude now, Gregory.” She smiled cheerfully at Grey. “Thank you for accepting us so late at night, innkeeper. You have a lovely tavern here.”

“Ahhh, Ms. Speaker, you words are too kind. Please, call me Grey, and stay as long as you need.” Grey said.

“I’m pleased to meet you Grey. I am Trisha, Speaker of the God of Grace. This is my companion, Gregory, Speaker of the God of War. Gregory?” She attempted to get Gregory’s attention, but he was staring intently at the group across the room.

“I can feel a powerful energy…” he thought, “It feels… wrong almost…” Trisha flicked him on the cheek, and he immediately snapped to attention.

“What!?” he squawked.

“Pay attention Gregory. Thank the innkeeper.” She snapped, still sporting a smile.

“Tsk. Like I would thank him for making someone like me sleep in a pig pen.” He sneered. Trisha quickly covered his mouth.  

“Pay no attention to this idiot.” She said, “He’s still young.” Gregory pushed her away, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

“You needn’t worry ma’am, but what brings two Speakers to a place like this?” Grey asked.

“We felt a massive surge of power in this area. Normally, we would leave matters such as these to the Royal Guard but…” she paused, “this time it felt a bit… different…” Grey nodded.

“Good a reason as any. Ill prepare your rooms.” Grey said, and retreated to the floors above. The Speakers turned to one another and began to speak in hushed tones. Alder and the three casually watched from a distance. As they could no longer interpret their words, they began a conversation of their own.

“Clara, Eve, chat about something girly.” Dendrik whispered. Clara nodded, and began boasting about her new formal dress. Whether or not this dress actually existed was another matter. Dendrik then turned to Alder. “Keep an eye on the red one, lad. He looks a bit suspicious.”

“Got it.” He replied. From where Alder sat, he had a clear view of the two speakers. Ten minutes had passed before Grey returned. At that point, Eve was giving Clara a recipe for an herbal bath to make her skin as soft as silk. For some odd reason, Dendrik was captivated by the conversation. The speakers stood, and followed the dwarf. The Speaker of War hadn’t looked in Alder’s direction at all in that time. The three made their way across the tavern, toward the stairs at the back of the room. Alder continued to watch out of the corner of his eye. As the Speaker of War, who walked at the tail of the three, stopped at the corner, and locked eyes with Alder. After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, Gregory’s face changed from his cool, natural demeanor, to that of discomfort and anxiety. He then broke contact and proceeded.

“What the hell was that?” Gregory thought as he climbed the stairs. “Just looking at that freak made me feel… colder almost.” As the speakers arrived at their rooms, they immediately turned in for the night. Given the time, it was reasonable.

“Anythin’?” Dendrik asked.

“Not really.” Alder replied. “Although…”

“Although?” Clara chimed in.

“It felt strange. Almost like he was extremely angry.” He said.

“If he was angry enough for you to feel it, I should have as well. He must have tried to conceal it.” Eva said.

“I don’t think it was emotional. It was almost as if the air around him emitted this anger.” Alder added.

“You felt his aura?!” Eve questioned. “Only high level human magicians can sense auras. Not including elves, of course. I didn’t feel anything from the man, but the woman…”

“What did you get from her? Is she hostile?” Clara asked.

“No, I felt… curiosity…” She replied. “Seems she has taken an interest in us. We should leave at dawn and put the Red Forest far behind us.

“I just realized I never asked, where were you guys headed when you found me?” Alder asked.

“We were on our way back to the farm from Rookheim.” Dendrik replied.

“Rookheim?” Alder asked.

“It’s the trade capital of Varen, and Varen is this continent. One of three in the world. Grandpa and I travel to Rookheim twice a year to sell grain and vegetables and stock up on tools.” Clara explained.

“By gods it’s late. Maybe 5 hours till dawn. We ought to at least get a bit of rest for the trek tomorrow.” Dendrik said.

“You’re right but, where are we headed?” Alder asked.

“The farm o’course!” Dendrik said. “I’ll put ya to work in the fields to pay back me cart!” He then laughed and gave Alder a firm smack on the back. “By the way, Eve, you don’t have to come with us.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I’d like to keep an eye on the boy a bit longer.” Eve said with a smile. Clara turned away pouted, puffing her cheeks like a little girl. Alder smiled weakly. Even though he had slept most of the time here, his body felt heavy and his muscles ached. The four then climbed the stairs and entered their individual rooms on the first floor.

******* 

Alder’s eyes shot open. He sat up on his pallet, terrified. He peered around the room. Darkness filled every corner. He had only been asleep a few hours. The wooden shutters of the window at the back of his room flapped and knocked against the wall. “That scared the shit out of me…” he muttered. “I’m not goin back to sleep any time soon…” Alder stood and dressed. He still wore his black, faded jeans and dark red t-shirt he had arrived in when he came to this world. As he zipped his pants and fastened the button, he thought of home. It was mid-summer last he could remember. “I bet it’d be 115 degrees in Vegas right now.” He thought. He felt his chest tighten. “I guess this is what home sickness feels like. Better not to think about it. Guess I’ll head down stairs.”

Alder rounded the corner from the stairs and stepped into the empty tavern. “Grey must have passed out too.” He walked to the bar and sat in one of the high chairs. His mind began to wander. He pondered his encounter with the bandits, the word that randomly appeared in his mind, and finally, the voice. The voice was so deep and rough. Almost like the voices of demons in movies. Cold and filled with evil.

“GAHHHH!”

Alder felt a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, the tip of a crimson blade of seemingly pure energy protruded from his breast. He fell from the chair, the sword shattering into slivers of red light as he landed. A gaping hole was left in his chest. Blood poured from the wound. Alder laid on his side, and spotted a man in a black robe with red armor. Near the stairs stood Gregory, the Speaker of War. He smiled wildly.

“I thought it best to take care trash like you now! It really cuts back on travel time!” He laughed.

“You…” was all Alder could muster. His strength quickly faded. His eyelids felt heavy. He could see Clara and Dendrik rounding the corner and running towards him. Clara was weeping heavily, calling out to him. He couldn’t hear her words as the world around him began to darken. He no longer felt the searing pain in his chest. Only a powerful cold was left behind. His eyelids closed. “I’ll just… sleep… for a little while…” he though.

“What the hell did you do?!” Dendrik howled, pushing Gregory against the wall, hands at his neck.

“I know evil power when I feel it! He’s a demon, and I kill Demons! It’s my job!” Gregory retorted, pushing Dendrik away. “I’ll have you executed for putting your hand on me you dirty old man!”

*******

“It seems… you have fallen…”

The deep voice echoed in the darkness.

Alder awoke, once again floating in the abyss.

“This won’t do…”

The winged silhouette appeared before him.

“That’s what happens when you’re stabbed…” Alder laughed sadly.

“It’s not your time… human… I’ll send you back… for a small price…”

“What price?” he asked.

“In due time… I shall give you more power… In death, I absorb all knowledge of the dead… I shall give you the knowledge… to fight… A master of death, you shall be… in time…”

Alder’s vision blurred, and began to spin. He felt as if his entire body had been yanked back to reality. His eyes opened to see the tavern around him. Clara’s eyes widened. His head rested on her lap. She then collapsed upon him. Sobbing tears of relief.

“I-I thought you were…” She cried, burying her face on his stomach. Alder sat up and raised his hand to his chest. The gaping hole had healed. A large scar was in its place. He stood, and turned to Gregory who, at the time, seemed as though he would do the same to Dendrik and Eve, who had come down on account of the yelling.

 “How… are you… alive?” Gregory questioned, stunned. “Never mind. Looks like this isn’t over yet. I underestimated you but, what can I say? Trash is trash.” Gregory stepped closer. “Sleesen!” A voice shadowed his own. It was the voice of a man, no, not just a man, a General who had seen, and won, countless battles. Two crimson sword of energy appeared out of thin air, floating near his shoulders. “The word for blades in the old language. I’ll give you a chance. Choose your weapon.” Gregory grinned.

Alder glared silently, and turned to face him. This time, the word appeared, but painlessly. He felt a rush of energy throughout his entire body, and he spoke. “Thoonkess.” A horrible, terrible voice spoke with him. Two long black blades grew from his forearms, extending almost two feet past his hands and curving slightly.

“The old word… for fangs…”

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A/N  Thanks for reading this chapter! Ill try to update this story as soon as I can if you guys enjoy it! Please let me know if u do.  Suggestions are always welcome. Follow and favorite and all that jazz!