Cursed Forest [Ongoing]

Chapter 8

Two days later, Aaspaelwin stood and shook his legs after crouching by another stone. This was the fourth marker, and hopefully the last one.

'You done?' Sir Hapow asked.

Aspen ignored him as he rolled up the parchment and placed it in the scroll-holder, then he pulled out the map. Making a map on the go at the same time as you were looking for magical markers was a time-consuming task. He stared at the crude map. It annoyed him that he'd had to rush it. He liked making them as precise as possible. He measured the space between the stone markers on the map. There had to be another one. Gods be damned. Still, it gave him a clue as to its whereabouts. It looked like the last one.

'Hey! I'm talking to you, ghost!'

Aaspaelwin jumped at the tone and looked up, only to meet the angry, bloodshot glare of Sir Hapow.

'Uh, yeah. I'm done,' he mumbled and stuffed the map back down.

'About time. Let's move. How far to the next one?'

About the same as the last one, I assume.'

'Figures. Move it. It will be dark again before we get there.'

Aaspaelwin glanced to the sky, or what little of it he could see, ignoring the man. The trees swayed back and forth, obscuring the pale blue with their dark boughs. The sun had already sunken below the treeline. He shuddered. Still, they hadn't seen or heard anything from the monster the entire time. Maybe it had just been a freak accident that time? He hoped so. Still, he attempted to stay outside of the circle. Just in case. But it was hard when traversing a thick, hilly forest. He shouldered his pack. Better start moving before Sir Hapow decided to help him along. His legs hurt from the intense walking and the dry, dying underbrush's scratching and stinging. Sighing, he pushed some branches out of his way, glancing sideways at the guard.

Descending a small hill, Aaspaelwin spotted a small flat stone, balanced on two others, like an altar. He stopped.

The guards halted right behind him.

'What's that?' Sir Hapow muttered after a while, panting.

Watching their surroundings for a while, Aspen ventured closer to inspect it. Old carvings adorned the sides and flat top of the altar. A few red flakes told him they had once been filled in with paint. Some polished round rocks and a small metal saucer stood to the left side of the flat top. The saucer looked suspiciously clean. Who'd put it there? Was it recently used? Leaning in, he sniffed at it. An odd but pleasant smell lingered by it. Some oil perhaps? With tree sap or some root in it for the scent? Was it an offering of some kind? And in that case, to whom?

Sir Hapow peered suspiciously at it, then at Aaspaelwin. 'I asked you a question, pipsqueak.'

'I don't know. Some altar.' He had to rein in his temper. Retorting wasn't a good strategy against the big guard.

'Could be an offering to Naarg,' Hiaashaqwi unexpectedly pointed out.

Aspen blinked. 'Naa–' He stopped himself. If it was a deity, he shouldn't say the name aloud. At least not before he knew what type of deity it was. 'Who's that?'

Hiaashaqwi shrugged, his scales glinting gold in the fading light. 'Some dark one, I think.' The samandar moved up to the altar and watched the inscriptions, ember eyes narrowed. 'There.' He pointed to some symbols. 'I think that's the god's name. But it's been too long since I read about it.'

'Does this mean there's people living nearby?' Sir Hapow asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.

'It's possible,' Hiaashaqwi said. 'If it's still in use. Some smaller people worship him sometimes.'