Death's Path
Prologue
He was dissappointed. Very much, indeed.
And irritated.
Almost bordering at the edge of desperation – but that was something he would never ever admit. One more failure. One more error. And time was running out. How long still?
He turned away from the body lying on the floor. He was no longer interested that only moments ago he had still been talking with the girl, that she had trusted him, even had dared a small crush on him. He did not care he had promised her heaven and given her death. After all, she had not been the right one, just another waste of time. Time he did not have. Not any lobger.
He left the girl lying there – somewhere in the nowhere, some unimportant part of wood. Would she be found? Probably (and if she was very lucky that would happen before the necrophages started gnawing away at her pretty body). In the end, it did not matter. No one would be able to comprehend her death. Certainly, it was clear to see her life was taken by force. But that was already all to see. One would blame bandits to whom she must have fallen victim. And, even if some petty parvenu would suspect something else, something larger behind all of this (and if his unit, village, government – whatever it was he owed his responsibility to – would be remarkably lucky he would guess at a connection with the other incidences), it would not change a thing. Nobody knew he was still around. Nobody knew he was still alive.
Indeed, he had heard whispering more than once (at least, it had been such in the beginning; as time had passed by the exclamations had become louder and more insolent until they died away at some point in the mob's overfed indifference). Stories about his death. Each one more unbelievable than another. One guy had claimed he had become the supper of a pack of wolves and snakes; another that he had seen him on a stormy night being struck by lightning and vanished into thin air.
And these were the creative versions. It really was a pity to think that some time ago he had been the world's greatest fiend. But what was to be expected of dull people?
It was more important he got his satisfaction out of those great hidden villages. As far as he knew not one of the five great powers had him ever erased from their bingo-books. For them he was still a potential threat, even though there had been missing signs of him for years. Still, he haunted their heads like a nightmare. Well, admittedly, that was not exactly what he had aimed for, but, after all, better than nothing.
He jumped up into the boughs of the trees, finally fleeing the place of his crime, but without a certain goal. He needed to find that person, the one suitable partner for what he had planned; otherwise, he would soon be paying his debts to the reaper.