Chapter 2

The Dark Mirror

The horse was growing tired as the two did their best to wind through the darkness of the Forest of Shadows. Their journey was only aided by the light of the stars and the moon shining through the branches of the forest canopy above. Occasionally stopping to use some flint and tinder from Carsten's pack to light one of his pipe tapers, the two stopped and read the map and did their best to judge their position from the village and toward their destination. Carsten's ice blue eye flickered as he held the taper up to the parchment, careful that it did not catch alight, and did his best to read the map as Isolde pointed out the landmarks.

She held on tightly. being unused to riding, Isolde was soon sore and aching. She pointed out the landmarks as best she could in the darkness. Directing him to a old road she thought was the correct one.

They remounted and followed the thin, but overgrown trail into the woods until they came to a dead end in a thicket, surrounded by trees and thick underbrush.

"Damn." Carsten cursed as he dismounted and looked around, once more striking flint and tinder with Isolde holding a taper to catch it alight. It took a while for them to get the paper lit, and Carsten's face screwed up in anger as he looked over the map again. "We're lost..." He said with a grumble as he let Isolde look over the map to confirm it. Wherever they were, there were no noticeable landmarks and the road did not continue.

Isolde's face fell. "I'm sorry, sir. I got lost in the dark. I can guide you to the right place when the sun comes up in the morning. It's just too dark for me to see where we are going." she said, rubbing her aching butt.

"This is as good a place to set up camp as any... It is not your fault girl... Do not blame yourself. We were foolish to ride into the Forest of Shadows in the middle of the night." Carsten replied. "Put that ax of yours to good use. Chop up some brush for a proper fire." He instructed.

Nodding, Isolde turned to cut some wood; trimming the dead branches from several nearby trees and clearing some brush for a place to lie down and build a fire pit. The wood she piled up near Carsten.

When the wood was cut, and he'd unpacked a blanket and rolled up bedroll from his saddle, he sighed, setting to work starting a fire. It might not be the best option, chasing after the remnants of a cult and setting a campfire in the middle of the Forest of Shadows, but Carsten had to admit that the light in and of itself would provide a benefit if something happened. He set to work, finally lighting the wood and getting a fire started, his horse nibbling on some bits of greenery. When the animal was tended to and the fire was going, Carsten finally sat back on the bedroll and sighed. The exhaustion of the entire ordeal hit him like a wave, and all he wanted to do was sleep, but he forced his eyes to stay open, looking out away from the fire, despite moving a bit closer to let its warmth seep into his tired frame.

She helped build the fire, digging the pit deep in the soil. On a flat rock, she set out some of the bread and impaled some of her sausages on a stick to cook, then set out a tin pot with some water to heat. "What will we do now?" she asked, glancing at him as she tended the food. Wincing as her sore legs and rump twinged.

"We wait. We rest. In the morning we try to pick up our trail and find our way back to wherever it was that we were when we went off the trail of the map. We can afford no less." The Witch Hunter spoke as he pulled the brim of his hat back a bit, taking his hat off and running his fingers through his graying hair. Carsten sighed as he sat by the fire and did his best to ward off drowsiness by taking out his pistol and ensuring that it was properly reloaded.

Isolde nodded, handing him some of the food. She ate her portion quickly, washing it down with some hot tea before unrolling the blanket she'd taken with her. "Is it safe to sleep?" The young woman asked, yawning. The day's events clearly having tired her out.

Carsten swallowed and sighed a little bit, taking the food in a small handkerchief as he picked and ate it. "Yes. You get some sleep. If I feel myself dozing off I'll wake you so you can stay up and watch for a bit." He said with a grunt and a nod toward her. "You need the rest more than I do I'd wager." He spoke to her.

Isolde nodded. yawning. Pulling a blanket over her, she lay on the bedroll and quickly fell into an exhausted sleep.

The night moved on. The stars danced their slow purposeful pageant in the sky above, and Carsten kept a vigil, nodding off only occasionally, and cursing himself whenever he felt his head lowering. He'd done enough to Isolde von Kessel and didn't need to do more. The least he could afford her was a night's rest. Each time he felt his eyes droop however, he wondered if he had just woken up or if he'd fallen asleep for a while. There was no way for him to tell. He occasionally tossed another log onto the fire, keeping it burning as he stared out into the darkness around them, doing his best to stay alert. He was certain that his fatigue was catching up to him, since he heard voices in hushed whispers just out of his vision. Three, four maybe, all speaking in a guttural language. He was about to dismiss it when a twig snapped and brought him out of the half-sleep and half awake state of his watch. Carefully he grabbed his pistol and lay down. There was no denying it. There was something out there and there was no way he could warn Isolde without springing the trap. The best that Carsten could hope for was that they were just passing through the night and that they would leave the camp alone and be on their way, whoever they happened to be.

She slept soundly. A long day of smithing and then the happenings after the Witch Hunter arrived and the long ride afterward had taken their toll on Isolde. Every so often, she moved in her sleep, rolling from one side to the other, sometimes murmuring something before falling into a deeper sleep.

Carsten laid near enough that he could reach over with his boot and poke her with the toe, pushing it into her back as he laid there, doing his best to wake her.

She rolled over, muttering something. Sprawled on her left side, her arm thrown out, draped across the handle of the ax, one finger extending outward.

The Witch Hunter grunted and snorted a bit softly as he lay by the fire. He waited and listened. Silence was all that came from the Forest of Shadows. Carsten thought about that and realized it meant one of two things. Either they had moved on, whomever they were, or they were about to -

He couldn't finish his thought as four Beastmen burst through the trees and underbrush with a loud crash, charging into their camp.

"UP!" Carsten shouted to make sure Isolde was awake. The man's wakefulness took their ambushers aback and he had time to level his pistol and fire, blasting a hole into the chest of one Beastman, felling him with a grunt.

Isolde's hand closed around the ax handle and she sat up, swinging the ax in a wide circle at knee height. She used the momentum to lurch to her knees, swinging the ax around her in broad strokes. Using the strength that years of blacksmithing had given her.

The three remaining Beastmen attacked, two on Carsten and one against Isolde, wielding a large mace. It spat at her in a foul guttural tongue that set her skin to crawling. It brought the mace down to smash into Isolde even as she was standing.

Carsten squared off against the other two, reversing his grip on the pistol and holding it by the barrel as his rapier flashed and collided against an ax swung in his direction by one of the two Beastmen. Bringing the pistol butt down like a mallet against one of the abomination's wrists, he was rewarded with a satisfying crack and a yowl of pain. He lashed out with one foot, kicking at the leg of the other Beastman, sending it skittering backwards to avoid being tripped. As it left, Carsten was free to plunge his rapier into its fellow, killing the creature as it dropped to the earth, freeing Carsten to deal with his remaining assailant.

Screaming in fear, Isolde leaped to the side. Spinning to raise her ax to strike at the Beastman. Seeing it charging her, she stepped forward and swung with all of her strength at it's head. A fool's move, but if she struck...

Her bold action was rewarded as the head of the ax buried itself into the skull of the creature, making it twitch as its skull bled and bits of its brain came out with the vital fluid. The creature twitched as it fell, dead.

She yanked the ax out, spinning to see if anything more was going to attack. Her eyes wide in the darkness.

Carsten fought against the remaining Beastman, parrying the ax blows and stepping to the side when he couldn't, lashing out with the pistol, he was slowly being forced back. The Beastman's attacks pushing the Witch Hunter back closer and closer to the fire.

Silently, Isolde stepped up behind the last Beastman and swung at it's back. "Die!"

The ax-head buried itself in the Beastman's spine with a crunch, its eyes going wide before the life faded from them and it pitched forward, collapsing and driving Carsten back to avoid being pinned underneath.

Snarling silently, she yanked the ax out, the head dark with matted air and blood. Isolde's eyes were wide in her pale face as she spun to see if there were more attackers.

The small clearing that was home to their camp was empty save for the bodies of the slain, the two of them, and Carsten's horse which was spooked with the intensity of the skirmish. Carsten walked about to each, plunging his rapier into each one of the beasts to ensure that they were dead before he began to search their bodies. Turning over the one that had fallen first to his pistol shot, he gasped.

She sat down suddenly. The adrenaline rush of combat fading and the shock of what had happened weighed upon her like a heavy yoke. She looked at the Witch Hunter when he gasped. "What?"

"We may be lost... But we're closer than we thought we were." Carsten said, snapping the leather thong around the Beastman's neck and holding up a small charm in the light of the fire for her to see. The dangling piece of bronze jewelry matched the symbol from her uncle's papers.