Quiet at last…

[Benreeder]

The sun had set, and the silence outside the town was…palpable. For the first time in…how long had it been? Two months? Three? Either way, the sound of the Horde was finally, gloriously…

Absent.

His shoulders still tensed at every sound, and he found himself listening to the silence for the sound of flesh or teeth against stone and wood. When he was aware of the silence, it was glorious. But when he forgot, when it slipped into the background, panic crept at the edges of his thoughts. Jack walked the perimeter of the walls, sending silent prayers for Poet, Kalen, and Verrin as they arried their singular hope beyond Meadowmere, Mab’s power vested in the soul cage. The Horde had followed them out like a hound on the scent. Mab was on her own quest, and try as he might, he couldn’t remember if it was Mab or Poet’s group who was heading toward Ancuram, and the sole glimpse of distant hope.

But, with hope came thoughts of other concerns. The new plans for a crafter’s hall, and the trust the rest of the crafters had placed in him as their voice. They were all good, solid folk, each one as reliable as the day was long when it came to putting tool to project. Despite the hardships of the last two months or so, being part of that circle was one of the best things that had come out of the siege. His thoughts went to the frantic few minutes after Mab’s departure and return through the gates, where they had to repair the damage while the town guard and various volunteers had fought off the opportunistic Horde that had swarmed in at the fleeting opportunity. It had been frustrating to have to simply stand there and hold the shepherd’s crook in front of him while the others worked so frantically to fix the walls. But it had made him even more proud to be called a crafter in those few minutes.

His path through town led him to the gates as he recalled that tense moment, and then, his gaze went to the town jail, where the poor woman whose name escaped his tired brain was still being kept. Questions still lingered in his head about where she was from, and the mystical bottle she carried. It was still missing, and Jack’s thoughts went to Sparrow, the last person who had held it. For all that he seemed earnest, Jack knew the young man was at least as good a liar as he was, and wasn’t afraid to mislead in the service of a cause he believed in…or if it was more convenient. It was hard to tell with Sparrow, sometimes. Even Dalhya had seemed to be at the limits of her patience with the man’s antics recently.

He smiled when he came to the back gate, recalling the brief sally out to collect metal from the wheel of a broken-down wagon. Standing with Bruzog, Dalhya, and Sam in those tense moments, and the last few seconds before they broke ranks to run back to town.Sliding through the shadows with Dalhya while Bruzog and Sam dashed toward the walls, taking the Horde-folk with them. Occasional forays like that reminded Jack of his adventuring days as a younger man, and the easy camaraderie of a party used to working together.

And then there were the questions. Why did the mysterious woman’s magic bottle seem to hold her hunger at bay? Where was it? Would the Beastfolk Lantern provide the same relief to the Horde? If it did, would it last? Or would it only buy a brief respite before the madness set back in? And who did the rest of the townsfolk meet when they chased the last Horde-folk from the walls to help Poet’s group escape?

The questions turned after each other in his head as he stopped at the jail and went inside.

[Author]

Posts