Death's Shadow

XII: The Stranger

Raven stumbled through the sparse forest, weaving through thick-trunked oaks like they were a crowd of people. He was tired, hadn't slept the previous night, and moved slowly. Even so, his heart raced like there were a million of Salatar's followers, of Mo'ordoni, chasing after him.

He hadn't seen so many trees in one place for years, and it showed. It seemed every few paces he tripped over a ground root—there was dirt smudged on his face to prove it.

He was antsy, sleep deprived, and likely a little delirious—not the right state of mind to meet strangers in.

He first spotted the stranger when he crested a small hill and immediately dropped to his stomach. It was a young man around his age—if Raven could call himself a man—walking below him at the bottom of the hill. In the split second he'd seen the stranger he couldn't make out much detail, but he caught a glimpse of the sheathed sword at his waist.

Did he hear me? Probably. Winter was coming, and Raven had practically belly-flopped into a pile of dead leaves. He strained his ears, listening for movement from the stranger. Nothing. Even the wind seemed to quiet in the few moments of silence. Then he heard the sliding of metal on metal, the sound of a blade being drawn, and a voice.

"I know you're there," the voice said. It was indeed a man's voice, though not as deep as his own. It quivered and cracked with fear. "Come out over the hill. You better not be holding any weapons."

Raven contemplated what to do. His first instinct was to run, but he was incredibly slow in this terrain, especially in his current state of mind. If the man had grown up in a forested area, as most people had, he'd easily be able to catch up.

He certainly couldn't fight. His ankle ached and his abdomen was still wounded. Reluctantly, he took a deep breath and sheathed Theli's knife. He stood with his hands up in surrender.

The man below the hill eyed him curiously, then with horror. "Oh, you're not... What the—oh! You're... what's happened to you?"

What is he talking about? Raven thought, then he remembered what he must look like. He'd touched enormous amounts of the Shadow—had it forced at him—and hadn't gotten enough sun for it to wear off, since the Sickness faded in sunlight. He forced back a bitter laugh. Every vein and artery in his body must be black—if his skin wasn't as well.

"Sa—The Lord of Shadow. I was attacked. Make sure you don't head directly... uh..." he spotted the sun ahead of him, setting behind the man and outlining him in a dark silhouette. "East. Directly east there's a Mo'ordoni stronghold. Steer clear of it."

"Mo'ordoni," the stranger scowled, then spat in the dirt. "Death worshipers. I'm sorry—you must feel terrible." To Raven's surprise, he sheathed the sword. "I thought you might be a Saduuli scout. Look at you. You need to rest. Come down here and let's talk—I haven't spoken to someone for days."

Saduuli scout? Wait—am I in Turidia? War was only declared a month ago. He lowered his hands and reluctantly complied, carefully stepping down the slope. This guy's crazy. Putting his sword away in front of a stranger—and one wearing a gray cloak, no less. He chewed his lip nervously. But then again, if I am as far south as Turidia, he may never have heard of the Guild or their gray cloaks.

"What's your name?" The stranger seemed curious, not apprehensive or guarded as anyone from Raven's home would be. But Raven, still, was guarded—he at first frantically tried to come up with a fake name, then sighed and gave up. It's not like I'm wanted, he thought. My name won't give away where I'm from.

"Raven."

The man abruptly grinned. "Raven! Like the bird!"

Raven rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "Yes, like the bird."