Chapter Two

Skif leaned against the wall and massaged his forehead, wondering why he'd wound up out here in the backwoods of Valdemar, instead of back in a nice cushioned bed in Haven. ::Remind me again why I had to be all noble and volunteer to swap circuits with Griffin, love?:: He felt the unmistakable mental laughter of his companion, Cymry, a moment before she responded.

::Because you're a wonderful person, of course, like all Heralds. Besides, Griffin needed to be home right now, with his gifts at Selenay's disposal.:: That thought brought a grim moment with it. It had been years since the Mage Storms had devastated the lands surrounding Valdemar, but new trouble seemed to be springing up from somewhere lately. There had been two assassination attempts on Selenay's life, and three on King Tremane's.

Skif could hear Cymry walking around outside in the courtyard of the small inn. They had ridden hard to reach the small village by dawn after the young boy had practically fallen into their laps the night before. Something was going on, but he couldn't tell what. The people seemed perfectly normal, but there was something under the surface he couldn't put a finger on, and no one seemed eager to talk to a stranger, even a Herald.

Sighing, he straightened and walked back into the common room, where a few men sat, talking quietly. The innkeep glanced in his direction from the door to the kitchen, but looked away quickly. ::I think it's time for the Herald to head to sleep.::

Cymry snickered. ::And the thief to come out and play? I agree, this doesn't seem like a situation where Herald Skif will learn anything useful. Luckily, I'm a good choice of character and made sure your other skills were useful as well.::

Skif smiled and then raised his normal voice. "Thank you for the early meal, innkeep. I need to turn in, it's been a long night." He watched the man's face carefully, and sure enough the man smiled, his first genuine smile of the night, Skif judged.

"Of course, Herald. Sleep well, I'm sure you'll need your rest to be moving on when you wake." The man nodded as though his statement was an immutable fact.

Skif nodded amiably and took the stairs, bringing out his key and unlocking the door to his room, then locking it again behind him. He wasted no time, but changed from his whites into a set of dark gray clothes provided to him by another Herald, who also shared Skif's affinity for this sort of work. ::Of course, if Alberich were to come to this town, he'd be noticed regardless of his clothing.:: Cymry shared a mental image of Alberich in his mercenary persona. ::This doesn't seem like a place toughs would frequent.::

And of course she was right. One street urchin keeping to the shadows, however, might be overlooked if he was foolish enough to be seen, which Skif had no plans on. He checked the door again to make sure it was firmly locked, then propped a chair under the handle to keep anyone with another key from getting in easily. Then, turning to the window, he silently opened it, and threw a leg over the sill. The light was still dim in the early morning, and the only smoke in the sky was from a single building, likely a baker's.

Reaching up, he caught the edge of the roof and gently pulled himself up, twisting to lie flat along the thatch. Luckily, this inn was well tended and the roof was fresh and firm. He rose to a crouch and edged his way to the end, then stepped across to the next roof. This was no large city like Haven, but the buildings were close enough to let him get where he wanted, and soon enough he was laying along the roof of the town hall.

Slipping a set of tools from his belt pouch, he cut a small hole in the roof and laid his ear to it. Nothing. ::Perfect, guess I'm early.::

Cymry had remained in the courtyard, ostensibly working off her run from the night, but ready to run to Skif in a heartbeat if his cover was blown. A groom had brought her a small bag of oats she had eaten earlier, barely enough that Skif couldn't complain too loudly about the charge. ::If anyone will talk about it, even. We have no idea what we're dealing with here. Just a vague unease and the near murder of one boy.::

Skif thought about it. ::No. I can't believe this all happened and they'll just act like nothing happened. Someone will talk. I just have to hope it's done here, and that it hasn't passed already.:: He stretched and settled in to wait.

::Skif!!:: He woke with a start, freezing out of habit. He felt his face flush and realized he had fallen asleep. ::Three men just walked into the hall.:: Cymry's voice was serious, and he silently thanked her for not teasing him about his brief nap.

The sound of footsteps was the first thing he heard, followed by the scraping of chairs on a wooden floor. He held his breath and focused on listening. The first man to speak had a high pitched voice, nasal and whiny, but he was speaking quietly, and Skif had to strain to hear his words. "We have to do something. The brat got away, and now there's a new Herald in town. He's sleeping, but we have to assume he's here for—"

He was cut off by another man, with a deep gravelly voice. "We don't assume anything. We proceed as planned. The Herald will be removed, someone is taking care of that right now. The archers will bring the demon horse down afterwards, and we'll continue with the spell."

"It's too risky! If this 'herald' manages to send a message with their blasted mind magic, the entire operation could be compromised. I say we should move to a new town, and find a new pet." The first man was more whiny, clearly unhappy about the situation.

The third man spoke now, his voice a rich deep timbre with a melodious tone to it. "Friends, we're here to finish our mission, and finish our mission we shall. The Herald is no threat, we've already set up a spell to block their witch magic, and in a few days we will be ready to proceed to the next step."

The second man laughed softly. "Good. The sooner we can get out of this barbaric land the better. I want to head back and deal with the traitor." His next words froze Skif's heart in his throat. "We will teach these barbarians that they should never have forgotten about the Empire."

Cymry had been quiet through all of this, though she heard clearly through Skif. Now, though, she spoke, her mindspeech full of anger and fear. ::Skif! Three men just went into the inn, they look like mercs, possibly assassins! I don't see archers, but they have to be close!::

Skif didn't hesitate. ::Run! Get out of here, I'll try to meet up with you out in the forest, but someone has to get out and warn Selenay!::

Down the street, he saw Cymry suddenly burst into motion, stretched out into a full gallop almost instantly, startling the groom. She was nearly to the edges of the town when arrows began sailing through the air. She neighed and twisted, dodging, and the arrows missed by a hair's width. Then she was gone, nothing more than a flash of white among the trees.

Skif listened as the men inside cursed and the footsteps told him they were running for the door, then sprang to a crouch and began edging his way towards the woods. With any luck he could make it most of the way there before anyone realized he wasn't in his room. The pack he had taken there had nothing but a few rations and his Whites in them, nothing he would miss, but the sooner they found it the sooner he would have trouble looking for him.

He had made it halfway to the woods when an arrow tore into the roof a foot to his left. So much for stealth, he thought, and jumped to his feet, running across rooftops as quickly as he could. Behind him, he heard yells and shouts as he ran. Glancing back he saw a few guards chasing him, but the most curious thing to him was the villagers, just standing there as though they were oblivious, eyes glazed. Then he reached the edge of the last house and had no choice but to jump. As he did, he felt a burst of pain and looked down to see an arrow through his left arm. Tears flooded his eyes, but he blinked them back and rolled as he hit the ground, coming up and running for the trees again. More arrows fell, but he got lucky and reached the forest without another hit.

He was still wondering what to do next when he heard hoofbeats and looked up to see Cymry racing towards him. He jumped and grabbed her mane in mid-gallop, legs closing in the saddle as he apologized for the yank. ::You're hurt!::

He hung on grimly, and glanced behind them again, watching the town fade from view. He turned back and closed his eyes, focusing on the smooth beat of Cymry's gait. ::I'll live. Ride, love. Get us back to Haven.::

They rode. Skif lost track of time, and places as they galloped full speed through forest and villages, startling townsfolk. Suddenly Skif jerked and realized he was falling asleep again, then glanced down at the arrow in his arm and realized it wasn't sleep. He reached down and snapped off the tail of the arrow, then squeezed his eyes shut and pulled on the head, giving a shout as the pain tore through him. He saw stars, and barely managed to drop the arrow into a saddlebag, before he felt a wave of blackness wash over him, and he wondered if he had waited too long. Just before he faded into unconsciousness, he heard Cymry shout.

::ROLAN!!!!::

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