“You never told me,” said Sylban. “What exactly was your plan if the denizen(Degreth) had still been here?”


    Did Sylban sound out of breath? At least that meant Henric’s aim was getting better and the trapped soul had to make at least some effort to dodge. Henric took a deep breath, and threw another one at the floating spirit.


    “Bind it and run,” said Henric, splashing in the knee-high river.


    Slyban laughed and Henric’s throw struck him.


    “You never said why that happens,” said Henric, turning to where Sylban reappeared at his side.


    The spirit rolled its pale dead eyes at him, as if it were obvious. “You’re throwing banishings at me. When they hit, where else am I to be banished to but the crystal in your pocket.”


    “I guess that makes sense,” said Henric.


    “Makes sense?” said Sylban. “I shouldn’t even have to explain this to you Lord Aldrimar.”


    Henric frowned. “Why not? Who else is going to?”


    Sylban said nothing, struck by one of Henric’s throws and resetting. Henric shivered, and realized how cold he was. He reached out to feel the beating of his own heart, but it was faint.


    “How long have we been at this?” he asked.


    “No idea,” the spirit shrugged. “Are we done?”


    Henric nodded as he pulled Sylban’s small crystal from his cloak.


    “Good,” said Sylban. “I never thought I’d find something I hated more than being stuck in there.”


    In his mind, Henric drew a loop around the crystal, pulling it tight. He watched Sylban dissipate into a fog, and that fog faded into the rock in his hand. Then, he forced the seal on it, like trying to fit a cork back into a bottle.


    Henric had let it go too far. It was a long walk back to the shallows, and he could hardly feel his heartbeat, which made the trudge that much harder.


    How late is it? Henric wondered. Afternoon? In the shallows he could finally feel his heartbeat well enough begin the chant that would take him back into Life. “Garama thu yalla.”


    Returning to Life from Death was like waking from a nightmare. Henric sucked in a sharp, sudden breath and his head snapped backwards. The sudden movement shifted him off his balance and he fell backwards into the stream. Again. As the water flowed past him, soaking him, he could see the sun above sinking towards the western horizon.


    Henric tried to stand, but his arms and legs felt cold and fought against him. He cursed himself for not asking where the heat came from. It took everything he had to pull himself from the stream onto the dry grass, and slowly. He closed his eyes, and tried to focus on the warmth slowly returning.


    ***


    Kerra was lying face down in the grass, wrapped up in her cloak like a blanket. Rolling onto her side, she saw Niles between blinks, sitting with his back against a tree, sword between his legs and eyes closed, snoring. He wore only his briefs, his other clothes spread out in the grass beside her to dry.


    She had no way of knowing exactly where they were, but if she’d had to guess they were somewhere in the hills south of the city. There was forest in every direction and the only sounds she heard chirping squirrels and birdsong. If not for their clothing being spread out and most of their belongings missing, it was almost like last night and that thing in the sewers had been nothing more than a fading nightmare.


    “Niles,” Kerra whispered, shaking him by the foot. “Niles wake up.”


    His foot twitched away from her. “I am,” he grumbled. “Somebody had to keep guard.”


    Kerra grinned and began running her hands through her long black hair, picking out the blades of grass and bits of leaf. “Then I suppose it’s my turn to watch you sleep?”


    Niles shook his head. “We should try to find the road,” he said, motioning to get up. But when he opened his eyes, he just seemed content to watch her work.


    A warm breeze blew through the budding leaves, and set the forest swaying. The afternoon was warm and the hills quiet. The two of them sat there together in the peace, waiting for the other to stand or move or break the silence.


    It was late into the spring, and leaf buds of green dotted the swaying skeletal branches of the forest. Another day or two and they’d have been sitting in shade instead of sun. Kerra took a deep breath, letting the scents of springtime fill her. She could smell lavender, and something sweet she didn’t recognize.


    “This is nice,” Kerra said. “It’s like last night is a fading dream.”


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    “It wasn’t,” Niles said. “I don’t fight in my dreams.”


    Kerra stopped her brushing and put a hand on his leg. “It’s over now. You killed that thing... That monster.”


    Niles nodded. “But it almost killed me Kerra. I’ve had close calls before, but I’ve never fought anything like that. I’m surprised I’m alive.”


    His eyes were focused on hers as he sat up and leaned close to her, his hand resting on hers. Niles leaned in, and kissed her.


    Normally she''d object to this sort of thing. But before she''d even made her mind up, her lips were kissing back. The last time they had been down this road before, and it had ended with a stupid mistake that nearly cost them their lives. They''d sworn, "Never again." And yet they had been inches from death last night even without romantic tensions in the way.


    Kerra placed her hand on his leg and pulled away. With her other hand she grabbed his shirt and handed it to him. "C''mon." She stood. They quickly grabbed up what things they had left. Most of what they''d owned had to be left behind in the city. With any luck, Milyen and his men hadn''t already ferreted out wherever Bart had hidden Kerra''s lute and Niles'' armor, but it would be best to keep out of the city for a while, to lay low. So when they came to the dirt track, she turned them away from the road back to the city, higher into the forested slopes south of Zaksburg.


    The budding forest was beautiful, and fragrant and quiet. She and Niles walked side by side down the dirt path for a ways, both doing their part not to disturb the forest''s quiet.


    Faintly, Kerra heard the sounds of trickling water and when they turned a long, sloping corner around a ridge, they came to a stream. At the sound of their arrival a horse brayed and stamped impotently at the ground, tied as he was to a tree.


    “Niles, look,” Kerra said, pointing. “There by the bank.”


    A young man lay face down in the dirt. When she knelt down to check for signs of life, she found him barely breathing, his skin cold to the touch in the evening shade. “He’s breathing,” she said.


    What the hell was this kid doing out here? Niles was staring at the boy.


    “Do you know him?” Kerra asked leaning close, eyeing the smudge on the back of the young man’s hand.


    Niles shook his head. “Maybe.”


    “We should make a fire,” said Kerra. “Warm him up.”


    ***


    Henric awoke to the sounds and warmth of a crackling fire. He lay under the Big Sister hanging half full in the starry night sky. A beautiful woman with long dark hair stared at him from across the fire, wrapped up in a long dark cloak.


    “You’re awake,” she said, stirring from her perch on a fallen tree trunk.


    “Who are you?” Henric asked.


    The woman stepped carefully, almost silently past the flames and leaned in close to him. She looked “I could ask the same question of a boy who wears a brand of Xerad on his arm."


    “A what?” Henric asked, too tired to make sense of whatever the woman had said.


    She locked her clear blue eyes on his. “Do you know what that marking on your wrist means?”


    Father had spent seven years teaching him what that mark meant.


    “Of course I do,” Henric said. “It’s my family’s seal. We’ve worn it for six generations.”


    She narrowed her eyes at him. Under the power of her gaze, Henric felt the need to reach for his sword, but it had been taken from his belt, and he didn’t want to break gazes with the woman for fear she might pull the knife from her cloak. Because there had to be something giving off the Scent. “What are you doing out here in the woods by yourself then?”


    Henric carefully chose his next word. “Hunting.”


    “Hunting...?”


    “A beast. A monster, really. It’s been attacking travelers in these hills the past few weeks, leaving them for dead. Then it stopped. I saw it once, near here a few weeks back, and I hoped to find the beast’s lair.”


    The woman looked up, somewhere behind Henric''s head.


    "What exactly are you talking about?" asked a man''s voice. At the sound of it Henric unthinkingly started towards the fire before shrinking back. Behind him stood a tall man, simply dressed with Henric’s naked longsword hanging from his belt, glinting a reflection of the dancing flames, the man’s own sheathed in place beside it. Henric tried to get his feet beneath him, but the woman pressed on his shoulders to keep him down.


    "Let me up," Henric shouted.


    "Answer him," the woman said with as much force as she held him with.


    "Now now," the man said. "Stay calm. You''re not in any danger. I don’t think he’s a... Whatever you think he is."


    “A servant of Death,” she said.


    “Yeah, that,” the man said, stepping over the fire to sit on a large stone rolled nearby. “I don’t think he’s some ‘servant of death’. That looks like one of those clanmarks they wear around here. Lots of families have them in these parts.”


    Henric nodded, then stopped. She thinks I’m a necromancer.


    The man pulled a loaf of bread from inside his pack, and offered it to Henric. "Eat. You were half dead when we found you and cold to the touch. Tell me, what kind of beast is this you were chasing after."


    "Thanks," Henric said after a bite. Until the bread was in his mouth he''d had no idea how hungry he was. He took a few more ravenous bites before his mouth was too full for anything but chewing. The longer he took, the more time he had make up something other than ‘chasing down a malevolent dead spirit’.


    The fair haired woman reached in and pulled the loaf from his grasp. "Don''t eat the whole thing, that''s all we have."


    "Shorry," Henric swallowed. "I didn''t realize..."


    "It''s perfectly alright boy," said the man. "Just tell us what you saw."


    "Thank you," Henric said again. “I only saw flashes of it, no clear glimpses. It came upon me and my uncles when we were out hunting earlier in the year, and we hardly made it out with our lives. But the way it moved.” He shuddered. “It shouldn’t have moved that way... Like it didn’t know how to use its parts correctly...”


    The woman’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “You have seen it! You probably brought it here.”


    The man stood and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I don’t think he did.”


    “He’s a servant of Death Niles.” The way she said it sent shivers down his spine. She knew.


    “I’m not a necromancer,” Henric said.


    “He’s not a necromancer,” the man said over Henric. “He’s an Aldrimar.”


    Henric’s heart stopped in his chest and a thousand questions raced through his mind. But before he could even decide which to ask first, the tense silence was broken, as if on cue, by something rustling through the brush in the woods just beyond the clearing edge. They all turned to look where the sound had come from. Next came the wave of Scent, the same familiar death-scent of the Degreth that haunted his dreams.


    “My sword,” Henric said. “Give me my sword.”


    The brush rustled again, and something emerged into the clearing. For a moment it stood tall like a man, but then it lurched forward, catching itself with the wrong arm turned backward and started into a three limbed lope directly at them.