Chapter 2: The Ra'zac

"Move it!" Trevor shouted from the next room over. Morgan rolled his eyes, knowing just what to expect from Trevor's tone. Though the village leader had relented to letting Morgan sleep in his first morning in Daret, it soon became clear that Morgan was not a morning person. Truth be told, he did wake up at the crack of dawn every day, but it was impossible not to when his window shutters stopped light about as well as a sieve stopped water. However, as they both soon discovered, waking up and actually getting out of bed were two very separate things.

Morning became somewhat of a routine for them, and it almost always consisted of Trevor screaming at him. Over the past two months Trevor had actually had the audacity to drag Morgan from his covers and dump him on the floor a couple times. It grated on Morgan to no end, though he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been forced to get up in such a fashion before.

He soon grew accustomed to Trevor's ranting and threats to switch him that were never followed through, though Morgan couldn't figure why that man seemed to lack the gall to just do it. If there was one thing he did understand, he was at Trevor's mercy, but the man seemed uncannily wary of him. Morgan often caught Trevor just looking at him with an odd expression. Normally staring right back would make the man shift his gaze away. In fact, he was almost tempted to say that Trevor was scared of him, and he doubted it was due to his bizarre appearance.

Morgan had just moved to a sitting position when Trevor barged into the room. "I said, get up!"

"I am up."

"Get out of bed. Did you think we didn't have work today, either?" That was another thing about Trevor, he never left Morgan alone and refused to start work without him. The rest of the townsfolk, while not liking him, had grown more or less comfortable with his presence—or in the very least, they trusted he wasn't about to kill them all, though a good number of them still kept their distance for fear he'd spontaneously combust and set fire to the town.

He got dressed and followed Trevor outside. Daret was not a particularly lively town, and the villagers looked as though they were constantly ready for an attack. The few times Urgals or bandits had come by in his short time there, Morgan had been impressed with how quickly the whole community acted to respond to the threat and work together to combat it.

Seeing them fight off Urgals had given him a sense of excitement. Morgan longed to join the fray, no matter how short it might last. And it would certainly be better than patrolling or running errands or whatever mundane task Trevor gave him for the day. Unfortunately, Trevor wouldn't even let him near any weapons and sent him inside with all the women and children the moment danger appeared.

The made their way to one of the buildings at the village's edge and climbed up a rickety ladder to the roof.

"About time," Aled snarled, when they reached the top to relieve him of watch duty. He shot Morgan a nasty glare, to which Morgan gave a cocky smile in return, before stomping off toward the ladder.

"Any news?" Trevor asked Dal the moment Aled had gone. This was the tallest building in Daret, which wasn't saying much, but it presented them a wide view of the surrounding plains.

"We haven't heard anything from Yazuac or other towns for weeks now," Dal said. Daret might not have had the easiest time contacting other towns, but they were by no means completely cut off.

"Maybe the Urgals killed them," Morgan said flatly.

Both Trevor and Dal swerved around to him. "I wouldn't be so flippant, if I were you," Trevor growled. "If Yazuac was unable to survive an Urgal attack, we might not be able to, either."

Morgan shrugged. "I wasn't being flippant"—though he really was—"but it seems to be a big problem around here. Maybe if you'd let me help—"

"No," Trevor said suddenly. "And we're not having this conversation again, so end it."

Morgan slumped down. Life in Daret could be so boring. Was it too much to ask for something to do other than to sit on a roof all day? His pale skin had grown darker in his time here, and that bothered him almost as much as his amnesia did. Trevor had also insisted he grow his hair out to cover his ears and wear gloves to hide the mark on his hand. The rest of the town had already seen them, but Trevor didn't care. He would send Morgan inside whenever travelers passed by, but he didn't want to risk someone noticing the oddities. Morgan had become a town secret. No one spoke to him anymore about his appearance, and there seemed to be an agreement to not tell any outsiders about his existence.

"The others have been complaining about his attitude," he heard Dal whisper.

"I know," Trevor hissed back, "and I'm the one who puts up with it all day."

Morgan balled his hands into fists. He wanted nothing more than to punch someone, but that would get him nowhere. Driven out of town, most definitely, but after that he had no idea.

"I swear," Dal continued, "he acts like he's the king."

Trevor didn't look happy at that statement, but before he could reply, Morgan quickly interjected, "I doubt it. I hear that King Angrenost is a spineless incompetent."

Dal threw back his head and roared with laughter. As soon as he finished, he said, "King Angrenost? You sure are a strange one. First the Dragon Riders! Now this! Tell me, who is King Angrenost, and wherever did you hear that name from?"

"Is he not the King of Alagaësia?"

"The townsfolk are spinning you some stories, boy!"

Even Trevor let out a laugh at that. Normally his demeanor grew dark whenever Morgan said something, as though his words were blasphemous to the sanctity of the town. Unlike the others who found amusement in Morgan's words, Trevor would normally tell him to hush.

Morgan groaned. His lack of knowledge pertaining to Alagaësia—or more accurately, his strange disposition regarding it—had led to well more than a few laughs at his expense. He might not know who he himself was, but he did remember the names of important figureheads and places. It was just that none of the things he could recall fit in with what was actually happening in Alagaësia. As such, recently some of the villagers had taken to making things up about the world to see how badly they could confuse him, and every night Trevor would have to set him straight. Morgan's mouth tightened and he decided then to not tell Trevor that no one had mentioned a King Angrenost to him. King Angrenost was just another name to add to a growing pile of people and places that apparently didn't exist.

"Well, I'll be off," Dal said, heading for the ladder. As he walked by, he gave Morgan a hefty pat on the back which Morgan certainly didn't appreciate.

Morgan's shift watching with Trevor had been over for a couple hours when the alarm sounded. He looked up from tying a net. Gethin used them for fishing in the Ninor, so naturally when one broke it was up to Morgan to fix it. He had fought with Trevor ever since their watch had ended about it. He didn't know anything about nets, and it showed. Gethin had been sitting over him to monitor his work, and every couple seconds he would make Morgan redo the knots he had just tied.

At the sound of the alarm, Morgan raced to the window faster than either Trevor or Gethin could, all too eager to get away from his chore.

The sun had set well over an hour ago, shrouding the surrounding plains in blackness, but Morgan could still make out the shapes of two figures approaching on horseback. The villagers scampered around the streets outside the window. The women hurriedly ushered their children indoors while the men, both young and old, with bows and quivers strapped to their backs, climbed onto the rooftops and stared fearfully at the approaching pair.

Morgan normally sneered at their cowering, but tonight was different. Travelers were an oddity in and of themselves, but they rarely came after dark. As he stared out, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He startled as a hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind, but it was just Trevor.

"Stay here," Trevor growled, pulling him away from the window.

"Oh, please," Morgan hissed. "I can shoot a bow better than any of those sniffling excuses you call men can." As he couldn't recall whether he had ever even used a bow before, it was an empty promise, and they both knew it.

But then again, he couldn't imagine anyone more inept at handling a bow than the men of Daret. They might have been capable of reacting to threats quickly, but without Trevor, they lacked the experience to deal with those threats. They also lacked aim.

Trevor gave him a long stare. "Just stay here," he repeated. "And keep away from the window." He stormed out with Gethin trailing behind him after they had both grabbed bows and quivers. Gethin's wife, Dilwen, rushed to close the shutters. After securing the latches, she moved to put the candles out.

"I would leave those lit," Morgan said, inching back up to window and peeking through the cracks in the wood.

Dilwen gave a loud huff and put them out anyway. The house fell into complete darkness. The two travelers were closer now, swords strapped to their waistbands glinting in the moonlight. All the village men had finally reached their positions, bows strung and drawn, ready to loose their arrows in the general direction of the strangers and hope one hit.

The newcomers rode steadily into town, seemingly unperturbed by the lack of people and the overwhelming silence. They looked about under their hooded cloaks. Morgan could imagine their eyes lingering on every place the villagers hid. One even shot a glance in his direction, and Morgan knew that he had been spotted, despite the dark. Despite the fact that only his eyes were visible through the shutters. He almost shrank back as his uneasiness turned into unwelcome dread, but the need to know what was about to happen kept him firmly rooted. These were no ordinary travelers. Their backs were hunched, their postures menacing, and they bore banners, the likes of which Morgan had never seen before.

"Get away from the window," Dilwen laid a hand on his arm. "It's not safe." She gently tried to pull him toward a darkened corner.

Morgan bristled at the thought. A childish fear filled him, and the urge to run to the nearest bedroom and hide under the covers steadily grew with each passing second. He dug his nails into the windowsill. It was all he could do to keep from bolting. Behind him came Dilwen's panicked breath. After a moment, she retreated to the corner without him. Morgan was secretly glad that he was not the only one affected by the strangers, but that didn't mean much, since the inhabitants of Daret would tremble at just about anything.

No, Morgan was the only one acting differently tonight.

The one cloaked figure continued to stare at him from under its hood as the two passed by the window and went right to the town center. Morgan knew—could feel—the creature's beady eyes boring into him. And that's what they both were: creatures. As it finally broke the contact to glance at where everyone else was hiding, Morgan let loose the breath he had been holding.

While the previous and sporadic Urgal attacks had presented a danger to the village, had even been life-threatening, for the first time that Morgan could recall in his painfully short memory, unavoidable terror actually swelled within him.

He waited with baited breath for Trevor to give the strangers the same customary greeting he gave everyone. Unlike all the Urgal attacks, where Morgan had watched with glee whenever possible as the villagers fought back, he wanted Trevor to stay hiding. It wouldn't do much—the newcomers clearly already knew where everyone was—but Morgan didn't care.

Trevor slowly emerged from one of the rooftops, a line of archers appearing as well, their arrows aimed—well, mostly aimed—at the strangers. "Who are you?" Trevor called to them. "And why have you come?"

The slightly larger of the two creatures pointed up at Trevor. From under its cloak came a foul, hissing voice. "You. Are you the leader of thisss waste of a village?"

Trevor gave no indication that the remark affected him, though that was probably because he had heard far worse from Morgan over the past couple months. "I am, I suppose," Trevor responded. The archers glanced at each other nervously. While Trevor didn't seem to care at the rudeness, a couple of the other men certainly did and had tightened the grips on their bows.

"You dare threaten those bearing the king'sss banner?!"

"You must forgive us," Trevor said calmly. "We have had unfortunate luck with outsiders recently. Thieves and Urgals, to name a few. Tell us whatever it is you want, and we will do our best to accommodate you before sending you on your way."

"They're Ra'zac," Morgan said, not quite sure whether he was speaking to himself or to Dilwen. He supposed it didn't really matter that much. "Well, pupae—"

"Stop that nonsense!" Dilwen shrilled. "And would you get away from that window?"

Morgan chose to ignore her plea, too enraptured by the fact that he knew who—what—the strangers were to listen to any sort of reason or even make insults at her discomfort. He could see himself sitting in a field or meadow of some kind with an unrecognizable child and an equally unrecognizable man, the latter of which was teaching about Lethrblaka and pupae. The specifics eluded him, and he could see neither one's face. He couldn't place the teacher's voice as it flowed right through him and into the oblivion with all his other memories. He tried to cling to the sound. It was… comforting. And as of now, it was all he had.

"Morgan! Please!" Dilwen urged.

"They'll find us in the dark." He shook his head. "It's where you go when you want to get eaten." He flashed her a smile he knew she wouldn't appreciate, though she probably couldn't see it. Then, much more seriously, "You'd be better off making for the river."

She didn't move from where she was, and he honestly hadn't expected her to, so he turned his attention back to what was going on outside. Immediately, he realized that he must have missed some essential part of the conversation Trevor and the strangers—the Ra'zac—were having.

"We have no desire to betray our king," Trevor was saying. "Of course we will gladly comply with whatever he wishes, but you cannot stay here. We cannot trust you at your word."

The Ra'zac looked to each other from under their hoods for a moment. "Then, you won't mind answering some of our questions, yesss?"

Trevor gave a slight nod. "Only if you promise to leave."

The Ra'zac whispered back and forth inaudibly for a moment in low hissing sounds. The taller one looked back at Trevor. "It has come to his majesty'sss attention that thisss town experienced something unusual around two months ago."

"I don't know what that would be," Trevor said easily. Morgan was impressed with how steady the man could keep his voice compared to the blatant uneasiness running through the archers.

"Isss there not an entire field out there burnt and with nothing new growing in it?" the Ra'zac countered. "We will find whatever it isss you are hiding." While the taller one spoke, the smaller one glanced back at plains for but a moment.

"We hide nothing," Trevor said. "Someone set fire to the field and nearly burned the town down with it around two months ago. This is true, and we do not deny that. I hardly see how that is of any importance to the king." The Ra'zac appeared agitated at that, but Trevor went on before they could interject. "The perpetrator was a young man with dark hair."

Morgan tensed. Trevor wouldn't—couldn't—not to them. Not to the Ra'zac. Morgan had long thought about what would happen if someone would come looking for him, but the Ra'zac were an entirely different matter. At that moment, the town's and Trevor's dislike of him remained intense, and they would view this new danger as something Morgan brought, however inadvertently. Even from this distance, Morgan could see Aled's satisfied smirk, and Aled was not alone.

Morgan waited, heart pounding, for Trevor's next words.

"He fled down the Ninor, toward Gil'ead, before any of us could get a good look at him. I assure you, whoever he was, he has never set foot inside Daret."

And just like that, Trevor had once again protected him, much to many people's obvious disagreement. There would be another town meeting after this, that much was certain.

"If you're lying to usss," the smaller Ra'zac said, "there will be consequences."

"As I've said, we would never betray our king."

Both Ra'zac snorted at that. The taller one replied, "We can only hope, for your own sakesss, that you are an honest man. We will be back someday soon."

"We will be expecting you."

The Ra'zac turned around and galloped past the window Morgan stood at and out into the night. As soon as they had gone, shouting broke out among the men, but this time, Trevor did nothing to silence them. He gave a hard look at the window Morgan stood at. He backed away and went to stand next to Dilwen who had yet to move from the corner. Slowly sliding down the wall to sit, he ran his hands through his messy hair and over his pointed ear tips.

The front door slammed open as Trevor walked with more purpose than Morgan had ever seen in him back into the house, Gethin not far behind him.

Before anyone could say anything, Morgan hacked and vomited all over the floor.