Chapter 6

Two years of being the prince-consort had allowed Balthier to practice the skill of knowing when to keep his mouth shut and when to open it. Ashe had received grief for it as though he was her pet, and he in turn got lectured. At the moment he was chewing his lip so ferociously he was surprised it wasn't bleeding.

It had rained continuously the last two days they had traveled. Balthier's only complaint was that Feathers had started to smell like rotting wet leaves, and it seemed no matter what they did the stink would not lift. But even that did not make Balthier want to kill something more than the gangly person standing before them now.

"Let's go, Marskot. I will not pay seven thousand for a guide!" He said, giving the boy a deathly glare. His only response was to continue to smile smugly.

Caught between Balthier's temper and the boy's smugness, Marskot heaved a heavy and weary sigh. They needed a guide and this boy was the only person in the village who was willing to take them through Amaia Forest. They had already been versed several times in the village's superstitions and although Ashe might scold him for being rude, Balthier couldn't help but snort in exasperation. Myths! That is all they are, he grumbled to himself. He and Marskot were haggling with the boy just a field away from it, and it hardly looked foreboding.

It was because of those superstitions that Baron Al-Kur Rossince had decided to build his mansion in it, to prove that it was all a fairytale. So the building had been made without a hitch, but the occupants had only managed to last three nights in it before they were found slaughtered, their remains littering the house. The villagers immediately assumed a monster haunted the woods and stayed out of it. If it was supposed to make them afraid, it had only piqued Balthier's interest. What would have slaughtered a family in such a grisly way? His mind forcibly fell back onto the bounty hunter report Geoffrey had shown him before he had left and he shuddered.

"How about this, boy, we'll pay you half now and the rest of it when you lead us out of the forest," Marskot said. Originally his eyes had been clouded with indecision, but now they were hard and unsympathetic points. If the boy did not take the offer, they would go on alone and he would miss seven thousand Gil.

"Done!" The boy held out his grubby hand which Marskot shook. "The name's Dirk."

The Dorstonian did not answer, but took one of his many coin pouches and started counting Gil before he poured it into the boy's hands. "We are leaving as soon as we replenish our rations. Meet us here at the edge of the field."

The boy was not out of earshot before Balthier said, "Seven thousand for a guide. Absolutely pathetic, Marskot. We've gotten a little side-tracked, but nothing that require us to spend that kind of money for a little boy to show us around."

"Perhaps, but I'd rather not risk getting lost in this forest. I have a bad feeling," Marskot said as he looked at the map in his hands.

"I bet it is simply your imagination. The odds are that nothing will happen," Balthier said with a reassuring smile, though he still ached inside over the loss of gil. At least it wasn't his money. It was stashed elsewhere. And on that note, I'll be keeping a close eye on our packs in case the guide has sticky fingers, Balthier thought. He grimaced at the thought because he did not wish to suffer insomnia for however long they would need the little weasel.

An hour later they were carving a path through the field to the edge of the Amaia Forest that awaited them quietly. Balthier titled his head in curiosity as he brought up the rear once more with Feathers. The chocobo unexpectedly threw no tantrums when they started off, and he plodded along with a steady and easy bobbing. This is the Amaia forest? Hardly worth a fuss. It appears quite peaceful, the prince-consort thought as he entered. He was immediately struck by the almost complete darkness and peered up curiously at the canopy to see only sparkles of light much like stars trickling through. The spectacle had immediately caused memories of the Feywood to bubble to his mind, with its shifting fog and their wobbly appearance reflected back at them as they walked. But there was nothing. A couple of birds chirped, but otherwise all was calm.

"Pathetic," Balthier said under his breath. It did not go unnoticed. The boy had turned to look back at him with strangely solemn eyes until Balthier realized that his smugness had merely been a front. Dirk was utterly terrified. "So far, I must say, I am not impressed."

"You just wait. In a day or two you'll be wishing you never stepped foot in here."

"You can't scare me, boy. I've dealt with far more frightening things than the dark," Balthier said, smirking at him with certainty. He had battled magical dragons, more than three Archadian Judges, and stood against Vayne in his Nethicite-induced state. What more could the world throw at me?

"There is a monster here. He owns this forest. If we are lucky, we may pass unnoticed but we must be quiet. No more talking after this," he said, putting a finger to his lips as though the consort could not understand.

Balthier rolled his eyes, but his previous training on the art of tactful silence arose to his mind and he kept his lips sealed. As the sun was unavailable to gauge time, they could only keep track of it via lantern oil which would need replenished every three hours. When the third lamp was wavering in its last minutes of brightness, Marskot had them break camp. They set it down and staked one tent in the dying light and finally crawled in. It was meant only for two people so they were slightly cramped, but the consort refused to let the boy stay out on his own. Those sticky fingers would go nowhere near the bags if he was stuck between him and Marskot.

He would never let it show, but after several hours in the forest Balthier began to grow increasingly uneasy. It was too quiet, too still. The couple of birds they heard chirping had long fallen behind them, and now it was simply dead silence. It was as if there were no animals in the forest, unlike the day they met a python and were mobbed by mosquitoes. Not even a blade of grass twitched here.

It was as Balthier's head was touching the ground that he suddenly remembered why Amaia sounded so familiar. "Oh shit," he said.

"What is it?" Marskot asked drowsily.

"I knew Amaia was familiar. This is where Ba'Gamnan died," Balthier replied. He threw back the blankets and grabbed his gun, halting only to load it with shot before he stepped outside.

"Wait, where are you going?" Marskot asked.

"I am not letting our tent remain unguarded through the night," Balthier said, his brow furrowed in worry now. He no longer cared if Dirk was smirking knowingly; he was now fully alert to shoot anything that moved. When he settled himself in front of the tent, he was forcibly reminded of the group's nights three years ago but those were for more relaxed. Then there had been six, and now two. He could not count the boy. He had no weapons training and would be utterly useless in a fight.

Crunch. Balthier whirled on the sound with his gun drawn, but then saw the vague out-line of the chocobo scratching around. He relaxed a little more and continued to look around the area, but he could hardly see the nearest tree, the forest was so dark. The hours dragged on as he sat there, waiting for something to happen and when it did not his initial adrenaline began to wear off and he could feel his exhaustion taking over.

Oh please, I've stayed up later than this in my youth. How can I not seem to now? To be fair to himself he had not slept well the past two nights, and every day they would walk about ten miles worth. He certainly had a right—

Feathers suddenly squawked and Balthier leapt to his feet with his gun aimed just beyond the trees. The chocobo scratched the ground and shuffled and ruffled its feathers in irritation. Balthier knew something was here but he could see nothing! "Come out, come out," he growled beneath his breath, straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of something, anything! The leaves rustled above—

Crack! The sound of his shot was sharply loud before the forest muffled its cry, and he stared at the shredded leaves and waited.

"What is it?!" Marskot threw the tent flap back and stumbled out as he hurried to his friend's side. The consort's ears were still ringing from the noise and instead of being reassured, his eyes continued to scan above.

"There's something here," Balthier said. He knew it. He could feel its eyes burning into the back of his head, but every time he turned around there was nothing!

Marskot looked around with him and when he shivered Balthier thought it was because he could feel its presence as well. The consort glanced over at the chocobo and frowned tersely when he saw it had stopped fidgeting anxiously. Whatever it was had left.

"You look pretty tired. Why don't you get some sleep? I'll watch the rest of the night," Marskot said, rubbing at his eyes.

Balthier studied him carefully. It looked like Marskot had not slept well in the few hours that had been granted to him, and now his partner was claiming there was a viable danger outside of the camp. It was testing his nerves. Next time I don't think I'll criticize him so quickly over those bad feelings he was having earlier, Balthier thought. As there was no sign of anything that had been present, he might as well have been hallucinating, too. He stood there considering contending Marskot's suggestion, but then he curtly nodded and turned around to crawl into the tent.

Once inside Balthier met a pair of gleaming eyes that were crinkled in mirth. "I was right. There is a monster here. I warned you," Dirk said.

"Boy, if it is indeed hostile, you are in as much danger as we are. We must tread quietly. Especially you. You're louder than the chocobo," Balthier said and turned his back on the boy. As tired as he was, it was still an hour or so before Balthier managed to fall asleep again. All he could think of was Ba'Gamnan's shredded remains and a huge monster with a mouth wide enough to swallow him whole.

"Sir. Sir, wake up!" Balthier was unhappily brought to consciousness by the grubby boy who was shaking his shoulder vigorously. The boy cowered slightly at his glare before Balthier sighed, and his hand let go of his gun.

"What is it?"

"Sir Remor wants to break camp," Dirk replied.

Balthier stared at him with a bewildered expression for a second before he nodded and said, "I appreciate it. I'll get the blankets." Dirk left and Balthier simply gazed around at the tent canvas in exhaustion. He felt like he hadn't slept at all. I think I am ready to return to my queen and our bed, he mused to himself with a shake of his head, before he finally wrenched the warm blankets off and carefully rolled them.

They had a nice breakfast of dried meat, apples that needed eaten, and a couple slices of bread a piece. Normally Balthier would have argued for rationing, but the stillness of the forest had them uneasy enough he dared not dispute it.

When they began that morning, Dirk led in the front and navigated the forest after looking at a map. "We're here," he said, pointing to the lower southwest corner. "The Sagarif River should only be about half a days walk to our left. The mansion you're looking for is here, a little more than half a day to the east. We continue forward." He folded the map back into his pocket and continued from their camping spot.

"Well, how was your watch last night?" Balthier asked Marskot while dragging the chocobo in a quickened pace.

Marskot blinked slowly and looked at him for a moment, as though he had not quite heard what his friend had said. He didn't bother hiding a gigantic yawn before he said, "It was really strange last night. I can understand why you were leery. The chocobo got edgy about an hour after you had gone to bed, but I couldn't see anything! It did feel like there was something nearby, but why it didn't attack us is beyond me. It certainly didn't feel like a neutral presence."

Balthier nodded with his mouth drawn into a line. He was relieved to hear that he was not losing his mind, but his body was still wound tight from…was it fear? Get a hold of yourself! You're the leading man, and he must not allow any fancy of fear to cow him. Whatever it was that was stalking them, he would deal with it later.

The only hints that the sun had risen were occasional sparkles of light that began twinkling through the impenetrable foliage overhead. While they were walking, Marskot suddenly turned off the lamp he had been carrying and they discovered there was enough natural light to see dim out-lines of trees and roots resting in their path.

For the remainder of the day they were able to walk without any disturbances, although it took some negotiating to find the right path. On two occasions they were forced to double back to find an easier way through the thick brush. Just when Marskot pulled the lamp out to substitute for the failing light, Balthier asked, "I thought this was only half a day's walk."

"I may have underestimated, but I'm sure we're close," Marskot said, looking back at Balthier even as he and the boy consulted the map. "Thrait, if we could walk a straight path, I guarantee we'd be there now."

His tone suggested Balthier should not press further and he obeyed. He switched hands to tug Feathers along and gratefully shook out his left arm. He was about ready to press the boy into service to drag the chocobo when Dirk said, "Look!"

Balthier caught glimpses through the branches, but soon the trees gave away to a smoky clearing and a Manse so great he was reminded of the grandeur of Archades. The Baron Al-Kur had most certainly been bold, for the building rose up three stories and its arms stretched far enough to disappear into the dusk mist.

"Should we break camp and explore it tomorrow?" Balthier asked.

"No." Balthier looked at Marskot with a little surprise. The Dorstonian's cheery façade had fallen away to an expression far grimmer. "I don't like it here. We need to get in and get out."

"Very well. This is your expedition," Balthier replied and walked back to tie feathers to the rusty front gate. He grabbed the lamps and handed one to Marskot.

The prince-consort let out a breath at the grand entrance hall. The ceiling seemed to stretch up beyond his vision, but for all its scale the grandeur of its furnishings had faded away, leaving it a hollow of what it was. The tapestries hung in moth-eaten tatters and the once red carpet had darkened to some hideous color and was now hardened like a rock.

Balthier moved the light along the staircase in front of them to the ceiling. He was surprised to see there were almost no insects residing here in comparison to the first mansion, although it was just as damp. Nothing stirred save for the wispy clouds of fog hovering near the ceiling.

"We'll check upstairs first. You stay here," Marskot said to the boy. He looked about to protest, but a single glare shut his jaws and he stared at them in fury. "Let's go, Thrait."

The stairs gave a loud groan underfoot, but Balthier was glad it appeared far firmer to climb than in the last mansion. He couldn't foresee either of them falling through it. Once upstairs, Balthier looked both ways down the hall and asked, "Should we split up? We can cover ground faster."

"No," Marskot said. "I think we should stick together."

"But—" He gave him a glare, too, and Balthier just shrugged.

Marskot turned to the right and went into the far door with Balthier in tow. The prince-consort looked around, looking at the faded stone of the walls and the scraps of cloth hanging over each piece of furniture. He also noted Marskot's changing expression that ranged from puzzling frowns to hostile ones. Balthier shook his head and swung his light and stopped. Hanging on the wall was a blue tapestry that looked like it might have been quite beautiful at one point in time, but right in the middle were four gashes like a creature had raked its claws through it. He turned to see Marskot had not stopped and he hurried to catch up to him, his unease growing.

"What feel you?"

"Terrible. We're going to search one more room and then I would suggest we get out of here. I don't like this place at all."

Marskot took a left turn and opened a pair of double doors to a large room and both of them drew in stunned breaths at what they saw.

Dirk kicked a stray wooden leg that had been attached to a chair sometime ago. He had been terrified to enter this forest, and the night had done little to allay his fears, but nothing had happened on the walk here. Cruddy Nobles and their wads of gil. The commonfolk deserve it more than they for our hard work. I bet there's nothing here worth getting a fuss over.

Both of the men had been mum on why they were here. Originally the boy thought they were simply interested in defying all of the superstitions surrounding this place and showing what country bumpkins the people in Tuolos were. He was surprised at how weary the pair had become since the strangeness of the night. Whoever they were, they were not simply nobles. They were experienced in the way of dealing with fiends and in camping, almost like soldiers but they hardly appeared it.

Raarwk. Dirk's head shot up to stare out the windows. Night had fallen in just the little time they had been there and he could see nothing. Just the chocobo startled by some noise. Nothing to worry about. The boy brought out a piece of paper and tobacco and began rolling it into a cigarette. A little smoke could do no harm while I wait. They could be searching here for hours. Dirk brought out a match and swiped it against the staircase and lit the cigarette, taking a heavy drag of it as soon as it was lit.

Clonk! He whirled around and stared at the scattered wood near a window on the other side of the room. His heart began to pound in his chest even as he thought, It was just an animal. But his adrenaline increased and the hairs stood on the back of his neck. There was something here and it was watching him.

A whisper of sound caused him to turn his head and he glimpsed a dark shape rushing toward him, before it grabbed his neck. Dirk barely felt the whisper of metal along his skin and when he opened his mouth to scream, he gurgled. Blood ran down his shirt like a waterfall and when the creature let go of him he fell to the floor. The last thing he saw before he died was it raising its nose to sniff the air, its eyes locked onto the double doors just at the top of the stairs.

There were few things in the world that could leave Balthier speechless and one of them just happened to be in that ballroom. Their lanterns shined upon rows and rows of statues in various poses, but there was something about these statues that sent a shiver down Balthier's spine. He couldn't quite place why he was speechless until he saw him.

That old Ba'Gamnan had been so intent on catching Balthier years before. Now his ugly face was forever caught in a vicious snarl, his glazed eyes no longer able to see anyone ever again. "Oh gods…" Balthier wasn't even sure which one of them uttered that phrase as he stepped back at Ba'Gamnan's visage. Once again Geoffrey's report rushed back to him and he looked around at some of the other statues. Geoffrey was right. All those bounty hunter disappearances are connected, Balthier thought. There was the gigantic hume Errix the Two-Sword with said swords in hand, but he was forever trapped in one position, never to use those swords on anyone again. Malus the Violent's tusks were twice as big as a normal Seeq's, but they had not helped save him in the end.

"Marskot, Geoffrey said there was something killing some of the bounty hunters. This must be its home," Balthier said in a hushed voice. He could feel his senses come alive as he tried to keep panic from overtaking him. "We need to get out of here."

"Yes," Marskot replied numbly. Balthier turned toward the door and halted.

There it stood in the weak light of their lanterns. Balthier almost thought it was a statue itself, but he could see its chest slightly rise and fall with each breath. Balthier had never seen a creature quite like it. It glared back at them with pitch black eyes and it wore a fitting jacket of some fine material. Its body, however, was covered from head to toe in thick, long auburn fur and its face was lengthened into the snout of what looked like a wolf but it stood on two feet. Even from this distance Balthier could tell it wasn't any taller than he was, yet when he drew his gun to aim at it he never considered that he would have a chance against it. Then Balthier saw the knife clutched in its left paw and it was dripping with blood.

Crack!

Balthier and Marskot had turned to run out the other side of the room before the shot even made it to the creature, and it gave a terrible roar before they could hear its footsteps heading after them. "Split up," Balthier shouted and they charged in opposite directions from each other after they shut the other pair of doors. The prince-consort heard the doors splinter and crash against the wall as the creature bowled through them, and then he heard its footsteps…following him.

Gods damn it, Balthier thought and tried to push all else outside of his mind as he barreled down the hall. He saw the railing of an inside balcony appear, and he did not hesitate to jump over it onto the floor below. He stumbled a little upon landing and pumped his legs faster to get away from the creature as it landed just behind him. I'm not going to make it. But then he darted through a side door and propped an old chair against the doorknob.

The first crash nearly dislodged the chair from its place and Balthier felt his heart nearly stop in his chest. Close. Too close. He glanced around for the window he had hoped was here and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it. He took a cobwebbed globe from a nearby desk and threw it at the window.

Crash, crunch, crack.

The creature was so powerful the hinges of the door were already splintering apart and Balthier did not hesitate to dive out the window. The prince-consort heard the door finally fall to the floor, and just as he was getting to his feet he felt a vice grab his leg and he could feel blood oozing down it as the creature's claws dug in for a better grip. Then slowly, he felt it pulling him back in.

Balthier left ten gouges into the ground as he clung to it for dear life, but still it was dragging him back inside. Gods damn it! I'm going to become one of those statues in his room! No! "Help! Somebody, help me," Balthier screamed. In the back of his mind he felt foolish for doing so, but it was his only chance to get away.

"Balthier!" The prince-consort felt his heart leap as Marskot tore around the corner, and then bent down to grab his hands, and soon he was in a tug-of-war between the two. The creature attempted to grab his other leg, but Balthier coiled it and then desperately tried to kick it. He heard a crack as his boot met fur and bone, and then the creature's claws fell away. Even as Balthier struggled to his feet, Marskot was pulling him along and explaining everything at the same time.

"I went back down the way we came and found the boy's and the Chocobo's throats slit. Gods damn it, he never made a sound," Marskot said between breaths as they ran along. They heard its roar from afrar and Balthier glanced back to see if it was following them, but he could see only blackness.

"Jump!" He was brought to his senses again when he saw a gleam in the dark and then he fell through the cold, dark rushing water of the Sagarif.