It turned tail and fled, back into the frozen forest.
None of the luminescent fluid from the slain beast remained on the blade. It had been consumed by the manna within the sword. He positioned it carefully and slid it back home into the scabbard on his baldric, and the blue glow vanished as it clicked home. He flashed the horse a smile, and the beast rolled its eyes and huffed a sigh.
The great gate cracked open behind him. He turned to face it, and saw the wooden barrier beginning to part. From within, a soldier walked forward, his polished steel armor gleaming in the moonlight.
'That was quite the display,' the soldier said amicably.
'It won't soon be returning,' the traveler said, staring off into the forest after the beast. 'Not until it gathers its pack.'
'You're an Arbiter?' the soldier asked, after looking him up and down. 'You won't be much liked in Calessa. There's plenty of evil here… if you go looking for it, you'll find it.'
'I am an Arbiter, not an Inquisitor,' he responded. 'I do not search for the evil of men. I have no care for those who break the laws of men. I have come to Calessa because the manna has drawn me here.
'Look around at the forest. The life force has become corrupted, your trees die, the ground is frozen and yet there is no snow. Great beasts roam the forests. I would be surprised if any trade caravans have made it here in months. The manna has become corrupted here, and I am to set it right.' He gestured widely with his hand, indicating the land about them as he spoke.
'How do you intend to do that?' the soldier asked.
The Arbiter merely smiled at the man. His eyes took on a fervent gaze, and his irises began to glow softly with the blue light of the manna.
The soldier quickly became uncomfortable. 'As I said, you won't be much liked here in Calessa, but since you drove off those fel dogs, I'll allow you inside. Please declare your name and occupation.'
'My name is D'Arden Tal,' the traveler said. 'I am an Arbiter.'
**
The city was quiet in the dark hours of the morning, those few last moments before the first rays of light began to break the horizon. Only a few torches burned outside buildings; most had been extinguished. The square inside the gate he had entered would have normally been crowded with traders and shoppers, he guessed, and it was almost strange and intimate to see the streets so devoid of life.
Across the way he spied a building which was still brightly lit, even in these dark hours. There were lanterns blazing on a small sign near the street that pointed down a small foot path to the building that read 'TAVERN'.
He nodded to himself. Not only were rest and sustenance important, but he also needed a base of operations – somewhere to begin building his investigation.
Giving the horse a sharp tug on its reins, he began to walk towards the low-set building. The roof slanted slightly downward as it traveled from right to left, and the wooden slats looked to be worn, but not worn out. There was a fair-sized stable that was barely visible around the right-hand edges of the main hall.
There would be food and lodging for both of them tonight.
As he approached the sign, a boy stepped out from behind it. D'Arden was momentarily shocked to see such a young lad out so late – or, truly, up so early – but the boy offered out a friendly hand to take the horse's reins.
'Will you be staying with us tonight, master?' the boy asked.
'Indeed I will,' D'Arden said after a moment. He handed the boy the reins with one hand, and with the other, pressed a thick silver coin into the boy's other hand. The lad took a quick glimpse at it, grinned… and then the coin was gone, and the boy was leading the great beast away to the stables where it would be happily brushed and given all the grain it could eat for the day.
He started up the short footpath to the low-lying building and pushed the door open when he reached it. Warm light spilled forth from the threshold, but only a few sounds of life came from within. He stepped quickly inside and closed the door behind him to keep the cold at bay.
All of the tables inside, which in the evening would have been filled with loud, raucous laughter and the banging of glasses and shouting, were silent. There were only a few still awake: one man in the corner near the merrily blazing fireplace who appeared to be nursing a bottle of some kind, and another sitting at a table all the way across the room from the door, his head bowed and appearing to sleep without having made it to his chamber for the night.
'Mornin', master,' came a voice from the counter. A slender, wiry man with thick hair and small, squinted eyes looked over at him from where he stood, polishing a glass with an old rag.
D'Arden favored him with a slow nod. 'Good morning.'
'Travelin' all night, have you been?'
'Indeed I have.'
The publican looked him over slowly, tilting his head with interest. 'How'd you get them guards to let you in before dawn?'
D'Arden fixed one manna-blue eye on the man. 'There were beasts outside. Fel dogs. I killed them.'
The other man nodded appreciatively, bobbing his head a little too far each time. 'That would do it, all right. They always looking for another sword to keep the city safe.'
'Perhaps,' D'Arden said.
'Good then.' The publican nodded once more before turning back to the alcohol behind the bar. 'Looking for a drink this early morning, or just some rest?'
'Neither, actually.' D'Arden stepped more fully into the room and crossed it with a few quick strides to stand next to the counter. The tavern-keeper seemed startled by his sudden approach, but made little external movement. 'I do need to rent a room from you, but then I will be gone for a short time. Tell me, where is this city's closest font?'
The publican's eyes stretched wide, wider than D'Arden would have thought imaginable. 'Why would you want to know a thing like that? Those things is dangerous, you know. We won't have any sorcerers staying at my house!'
D'Arden shook his head. 'Worry not. I am no sorcerer. They are unpredictable and dangerous, working the manna to their own ends, for personal gain and power.'
The other man stared at him with such shock in recognition that D'Arden almost smiled broadly. 'Y…you are…' the man stammered.
'Correct,' D'Arden said, barely managing to contain that same smile.
'We've not seen one of your kind about here in five years! My house is your house, master Arbiter! P… please do not think that my…'
D'Arden held up a soothing hand. 'Worry not. Your conviction was so strong about having no sorcerers under your roof that it nearly echoed in the life-force around you. You and your family are safe.'
'Th…thank you, master Arbiter!' the publican's relief was evident, as was the stench of the sweat that had suddenly come over the man in his nervousness. He leaned in conspiratorially, and it was all D'Arden could do to keep from choking on the man's smell. 'The font's few blocks down. We can't control where they come up, but the soldiers always build them stone chapels around 'em that's locked away from outsiders. If you've got a friend in the garrison, that'll be your ticket inside.'
'And the room?'
'For you, master Arbiter, minimal charge. Two silver a week.'
D'Arden nodded. 'And a third for the good care of my horse.'
'Of course, of course,' the publican said, reaching under the counter to pull free one of the keys from the rack, and then handing it to the Arbiter. 'It be the largest room I have left available tonight.'
'It will suffice,' D'Arden said, tucking the key into one of the pockets of his great black cloak. 'For now, I must go and find the font.'
'Be wary, master Arbiter,' the tavern-keeper said. 'Terrible things walk the streets of Calessa these days. It
