Dreams of the Oracle

Chapter 8

Bordertown was the most pathetic pinprick of a town Jack Linch had ever seen. He wasn't sure if he should be pleased that his hated enemy was trapped here, eking out an existence in such squalor, or disappointed that when he killed the man it would be a release from this miserable hamlet.

It was still dark; the sun wouldn't rise for some time yet. He had set a quick pace, so he could get there as soon as possible. His magic burned and twisted within him, begging to be set free through the ruby in his hand. He looked around at the weather-beaten structures that passed for houses and shops in this backwater village. Red fire flickered at his fingertips and his ruby began to glow. A fierce pleasure clouded his face as he selected his first target. Suddenly, one of the Rashakas stood beside him. He had no idea where the creature had come from. It placed a hand on Jack's shoulder.

It was wearing its human guise wrapped in a black cloak. This one did not wear the uniform of a Tasuran soldier, as had the ones with Milady, but it had the same green eyes; they glowed faintly in the darkness.

"It's not wise to alert the prey. Not yet." Its voice was hard and quivering, like a starving man, desperate for a meal. Its glowing eyes were the same way. Jack wanted to kill it just to make it stop looking at him like pig on a spit.

The Rashaka turned and walked towards the barn Jack had noticed earlier. As he followed the creature, its brethren began to appear around him, materializing out of the darkness. He followed the first Rashaka into an alleyway. All the Rashakas surrounded him. They were all in human guises, some were shorter, some were taller, but all had the same burning green eyes.

The first of the Rashakas knelt to the ground and sniffed. As it knelt, its cloak rode up its arm slightly and, in the dim moonlight, Jack saw a scar on its arm, a scar exactly like the sunburst he now carried on his own arm. Swearing knife. Jack had heard legends of the swearing knives, that they were created by ancient demons to bind their servants to them. Legend said that if one broke an oath made under the magic of the swearing knife, his own body would devour itself. The legend brought no fear to Jack Linch. He would keep his oath.

"Her blood was spilled here, in conflict with another child," murmured the Rashaka standing up, "I have the scent. Follow, sorcerer."

The Rashakas spread out in front of him and disappeared into the shadows. He saw only the one he followed. They did not take the road; instead they traveled next to it, in the woods. The Rashakas passed through the forest without making a sound. Jack walked behind, casually gripping his ruby. His magic crackled around him and inside him, constantly trying to concentrate into the gemstone.

The air grew colder; perhaps sunrise would be even later today than it normally was. Burning anticipation coursed through him as he followed the leading Rashaka ever deeper into the woods. He was so close. He could feel it.

The forest was deathly silent, but he didn't notice or care. He had left the horse tied up in town, so he could better walk through the trees. Riding the blasted animal had worn his legs and rear terribly. He was chaffed and sore and walking wasn't helping a lot. He would kill the animal when they came back to town. One of Bordertown's friendly citizens would be happy to give him a new horse and maybe a carriage of some kind. He was sure of it; red fire glittered in his eyes.

They stepped out of the trees and into a clearing where a small house stood. It was well built compared to the bent over structures in the town, Abdiel's lair. Jack Linch summoned his magic to him. Angry red flames, poured through his ruby and crashed into the door, exploding it into burning splinters. Jack walked inside, shivering with anticipation. His heart burned like an inferno, threatening to tear out of his chest.

The house was empty.

He knew it immediately after walking inside. Abdiel and his daughter's few possessions were strewn across the floor; the floor itself partially torn up. He walked back outside, his mind twisting in frustration.