“Ne’er a one tells a story better than the one who stumbles upon the House of Crispen Genn.”


    Cass rested her head on Jarn''s back, she could barely get air into her inflamed lungs. The unnamed, unseen horror that had been chasing them didn''t pursue them out of the woods. Jarn was leaning his head around the corner of the large stone wall they had found before them once they cleared the last tree. She could still feel the unseen claws grabbing at the fringes of her cloak. A quick glance at her boots showed some parts of the bottom of her cloak hanging like streamers.


    “I see what looks like a gate, but no guards.” She barely heard Jarn through the pounding of her heart in her ears. After a few seconds of her not replying he turned and saw her hunched over trying to draw her breath. His eyes sprung wide with concern and he took her by the arms.


    “Cass, its okay now. We''re safe. It didn''t follow us. Here, sit down, have some water.” He gently eased her into a sitting position with her back against the wall. He pulled out his canteen and pulled out the cork and placed it softly to her lips. They opened slightly and he tilted some water into her mouth.


    As usual, his unshakable confidence worked some of the dread from her nerves and slowly her throat relaxed and her chest stopped heaving and she was able to look at him. “Thank you Jarn. What..what do you think it was that was chasing us?”


    He paused before answering. He had looked back once and saw the unnaturally long arms that looked like bones just covered by a thin veil of flesh, the bloated body that seemed to not be able to produce the pace that the creature had been able to keep up, and the eyes, or the lack thereof, thin strips of flesh covering where eyes should have been. The feet were thin and short and looked completely unable to retain the balance of a table, let alone that bloated body. He knew she hadn''t seen it, and even though he hated lying to her, he didn''t want that picture in her head. So, he chose the lesser of the two wrongs, at least in his opinion. “I didn''t see it Cass, but I heard it so close to us. I wonder what made it brake off the pursuit?”


    She looked slowly around. Before them lay the thick wall of trees that they had thought would give them shelter from the heat of the day, instead they had found a horror and become hopelessly lost. She then turned her head to the wall behind her and then looked at Jarn. “It must be this wall, or maybe that large mansion beyond it.” She said nodding to the circular tower with a conical top set neatly into the side of a large house with widows jutting out below a sloping roof.


    Jarn looked up staring at the grey roof tiles and inky black window panes for warning of no


    Light inside, and possibly worse. “We have little choice my love, we will need to shelter inside until we can devise a way to escape without that thing seeing us.”


    “Maybe it has left to go terrorize someone else.” She said her words of hope not being fully represented by the shaky tone of her voice.


    Jarn looked at the woods and sighed. “We dare not risk it Cass, my sword did nothing to it, and your cloak did not resist it. We must go inside.”


    Cass looked down at her torn cloak and sighed. “Your right of course my dear heart. That house just looks so foreboding.”


    He reached his hand down to her. “I’ll be with you Cass, I won’t let anything harm you.” He said as he reached out his hand to help her up.


    She took it with a smile and stood and placed herself just behind him. When he felt that she was ready he drew his sword and stepped out from around the corner. The front of the wall went twenty feet before a large stone archway, twenty feet high, rose over their heads. There was an iron gate, but it lay open. On a brass plate on the right side of the arch there was a name written on it. “The House of Genn.”


    “I thought the wilderwaste was unoccupied?” Cass said, looking more closely at the plate.


    “It is, or supposed to be, ever since the Evisceration came to it two hundred years ago when the ground became unstable and soft and turned up from underneath. The mountains collapsed and the place became a putrid desert. No one was able to survive in it. This is why I had not hoped much for our survival when the Shire banished us to the waste.” He said remembering their first day of wandering through that spongy, yet dry, waste.


    She turned to him and nodded. “I remember. We were at the brink of death when we saw the first trees of the forest. I guess, looking back, a forest being where it ought not to be should have been our first clue not to go in.”


    He laughed and nodded. “You are right, my love. At least for the moment however, we are not dying from the heat or quicksand or that fiend in the woods. We’re alive and with the structure before us, hope of finding some solid ground.”


    She smiled despite the despair that nestled itself deep in her stomach. “You are right, of course my dear, what shall we do now?”


    Jarn looked at the gate in front of them and nodded towards it. “Nowhere else to go but inside, at least right now.” He said as he looked back at her. She took a deep breath and then nodded. She moved in close to him, placing her hands against his back.Stolen story; please report.


    He drew his sword and moved cautiously inside the gate. She held the hem of her cloak tightly, ready to veil shield them if an attack escaped his sword. They moved inside the gate and found themselves in a courtyard with a pathway leading up to two large oak doors banded with iron. Jarn turned and closed the gate. The hinges squealed from lack of use, but the gate eventually closed.


    “Why did you do that? what if we can’t open them again.” Cass said with concern.


    Jarn looked at her and grinned. “Well, that thing won’t be able to open them either.” She thought for a moment and smiled and then nodded.


    On either side of the path were bushes and trees, that while not barren, did not look entirely healthy or vibrant. Halfway up the path, that was made from finely polished cobblestones, two narrow paths of the same cobblestone moved off to the left and the right through the foliage, and curved around the sides of the house.


    Cass watched each tree and bush intently, scanning for any sign of ambush. Her training as Jarn’s shield, which had been provided by the Reeve himself, had honed her senses of sight and hearing and smell to their maximum potential. It was forbidden for a shield to marry her sword, but she had not met anyone like Jarn before. His confidence was not pride, but just a deep understanding of his ability that had been tried time and again. The Reeve had found out about their wedding and banished them.


    Jarn sniffed the air, seeking the odor of sword oil, or the stench of rust. He had not just been trained to attack with a sword, but he knew the weapon as much as anyone can know a thing. Its smell, its weight, its noise as it cuts through the air. The glint it makes when even the smallest light hits it. The places of the body that it will cut the easiest through. It was as much a part of him as his arm. It was what made the swords and shields of the Shire Reeve so deadly. They ate, breathed, and lived out their role as if it was the only thing in the world. That was how Cass had pierced his heart. Her gentle spirit had made him want to know something other than the sword. That was what made him go against generations of loyal service to the Reeve and marry her. That was why they had been cast out and are here right now.


    When they were both convinced that there were no hidden threats they moved together up the steps to the oak doors. Jarn lightly touched the wood of the door. When nothing untoward happened he pushed harder. There was some resistance, but not much. After one more push the hinges creaked and began to inch their way inward. Once the door was finally open before them lay a hallway with fine mahogany paneling. The floor tiles were made of silver and a large gilded chandelier hung from the ceiling directly in front of them. To their left was an oak door that was closed. Next to the door a stairwell hugged the wall and went up to another oak door that was also closed. Ahead of them an oak door was set in the far wall and then to their right was an open door about halfway down the right wall. Pictures hung on the walls but instead of a portrait of people or places there was just black paper with scratches on it. A mirror hung a few feet past the open door on their right.


    “Where should we go?” Cass asked, looking at each option.


    “We follow our training. Head to the closest door and secure it.” He said, already turning to the left. She smiled and nodded and placed a firmer grip on the hem of her cloak. The silky material that was as tough as steel, yet smooth as silk woven from caterpillars found only in the gardens of the Reeve. This was the garb of a Shield. It still shook a deep part of her confidence to know that creatures claws had ripped right through what could stop a lance from tearing through.


    Jarn reached out and tried the knob, but the door did not give. “Locked.” He said, already moving to the stairs. They moved up the stairs as one, matching step by step. The door at the top was also locked. They turned on the landing as one and descended the steps. They tried the door directly across from the entrance, on the other side of the chandelier, but it too was locked. When they turned they found themselves looking at themselves. Jarn had begun to raise his sword, but stopped when he saw it was just their reflection. She let the muscles in her arm relax as she too realized that it was still just them in this room. Their reflection in the mirror seemed abnormal, it seemed blurry, but not from a flaw in the construction of the mirror, their images were clear, but yet at the same time somewhat obscured.


    “Well, only one room left. The fact that this is the only open door just lets us know that it definitely could be a trap. That gives us an advantage, if you know the trap is there you are less likely to be caught in it.” She laughed, and the song of her laughter brought a music to his soul that always lifted it out of the cage rigid training that he had been raised by.


    “ That was our very first lesson on our first day of training.” She said, smiling fondly.


    He winked at her and then turned to look into the open door. On the other side of the doorway was an ornate sitting room. A large fireplace dominated the far wall. It was an ornate stone structure. The images of deer and squirrels and pine trees etched across the stone.  The fire was not lit, but there were logs set inside and they looked like they had been placed there yesterday. Along the left wall was a comfortable looking couch, next to that was a well crafted, ornate rocking chair made out of cherrywood. Along the wall to the right was dominated by a large bay window. There were cushions set up along the base of the window below the window were shelves with a small selection of books set up upon them. In the middle of the room, there was a pedestal . Set up upon the podium was a book which was open and there was a quill in ink set to the right of it.


    Jarn cautiously moved into the room, eyes darting back and forth looking for a threat. He came to the pedestal and looked down at the book. It was open to the first page. He felt Cass look around his shoulder at it. “It’s blank.” She exclaimed.


    He nodded. He looked behind them at the open door, getting ready to move to shut it so that their backs weren’t exposed when Cass screamed. His head whipped around and saw immediately what had caused her to scream. All of a sudden writing appeared in the book.


    “The day of Sevens, 725. I’m just now till a tail that I can no longer keep within. A tale of a most blessed man, the master Crispen Genn. Within his humble abode there is much laughter and rejoicing. It is the mirth of a family deep in love, and expectedly waiting for the glories of each new day. I tell my tail now that’ll be sung again and again, of the blessed house of Crispen Genn.”


    “Jarn, who is writing that?” Cass gasped.


    Jarn kept watching as the writer continued. “I don’t know Cass, but the date of this writing, he dated two hundred and fifty years ago. If this is true, then we’re watching the work of a man that’s been long dead, but yet we’re watching it as if she were here with us right now.”


    The writer kept on writing as if unaware of his audience.