Through the darkness and the shimmering spectres, Rilan saw Tomas. His face was a spiralling mess of hundreds of teeth and open flesh, like the horrifying mouth of a parasitic lamprey.
Rilan awoke from his rough sleep to an elbow in the ribs from Tomas.
“Curse you, Tomas,” Rilan complained. “I was sleeping.” Sweat was dripping down his face as he came to, remembering where he was, and the horrific visuals that were conjured in his subconscious.
“Rilan, the Captain is coming our way,” Tomas muttered. “He’s been talking to other recruits, now he’s coming over here to talk to us, I think.”
Rilan rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and through the gap in their tent’s opening saw Captain Gharland making his way towards the pair’s campsite with a procession of bodyguards following him.
“We’re not in trouble, are we?” Tomas asked.
Rilan shrugged. “We’ve done nothing wrong, right?”
The boys raced to stand up out the front of their tent, tripping over themselves and their bedding in the process.
“Ser!” Rilan saluted with Tomas standing at attention beside him.
Gharland ignored the formalities. His moustache was neatly combed and he carried a riding helmet under his arm.
“What are your names, lads?” Gharland asked.
“I’m Rilan, this is Tomas.” Rilan swallowed a gulp of saliva to clear his throat.
“And which division are you with?”
“Vanguard, m’lord,” Tomas replied. Rilan could hear the nerves in his friend’s voice.
“Hm.” Gharland tapped the pommel of his sheathed longsword. “Where are you boys from?”
“Brittlepeak, m’lord. A small village in the Creator’s Fist.”
Gharland raised an eyebrow. “By chance is this village is near Mooncrest Mountain?”
The boys nodded. “Aye, m’lord. Right under its shadow, actually.”
Gharland rubbed his chin. “I am looking for men who know their way to Mooncrest Mountain. Men who can lead me to the Grand Repository.”
Rilan scoffed. “The Repository? You want to find the Magister’s Imperium? What do you want with those diseased old freaks?”
Gharland winced at Rilan’s unprofessional comment, but continued. “We received word from a rider during the night that the Imperium has come under attack by unknown assailants at the Grand Repository, possibly an Imperial attack. I’ve been ordered to form a small company to go and investigate.”
“They probably killed themselves on accident, doing some wicked experiment,” Rilan joked, but Gharland grimaced. He did not seem impressed. “Pardon, m’lord.”
“Hm,” Gharland sneered. “I take it the Magisters are not fondly thought of from where you are from.”
Tomas nodded. “They steal children, my lord. That’s what our parents told us growing up. And we hear that they spend all their time poisoning their own bodies.”
“Well from where I come from, the Magisters are renowned for their knowledge and teaching abilities. They are the memory of Alyria, the records of our kingdoms and help push the boundaries of medicine. I will not have them insulted,” Gharland spat.
The boys nodded nervously. Whoops.
“Alas, that does not matter right now,” Gharland said, shaking his head. “Have either of you ever actually been to the Repository?”
“Not quite, m’lord,” Rilan replied.
“But we know the way,” Tomas added.
“Good. As I said, I need guides to lead me to the Repository.”
“We can do that, m’lord,” Tomas said.
“Pardon me for asking, m’lord, but is there no one closer who could take on the task?” Rilan said. “We aren’t exactly near the Fist.”
“Lord Jonys Iaran has requested I lead the investigation on behalf of the king. Given the potential seriousness of the situation, and our recent success on the battlefield, I suspect. All our other battalions are preoccupied- setting up defences along the coast or engaging with the Akurai armies. We have reports of attacks at Port Denarim and Mesterkeep.”
Rilan and Tomas turned and looked at each other. This could be the opportunity they were looking for to escape this horrid place, and Rilan was sure that Tomas was thinking the same as he.
“That won’t be a problem, will it?” Gharland asked, glancing at the bloody bandage around Rilan’s injured hand.
“No, m’lord,” Rilan assured. “Just a little injury.”
“We can lead you, m’lord!” Tomas said.
“Very good.” That was the first time Rilan had seen the man smile. “We leave within the hour. Gather any necessary equipment and supplies you will need and meet us at the Barrowtown stables.”
Gharland left as speedily as he had arrived with his guards in tow.
Rilan and Tomas smirked at each other and began to pack up their belongings.
“Thank the Creator, a way out of this awful place!” Tomas said.
“Since when are you so keen to return homeward?” Rilan asked. “This job doesn’t sound all flowers and rainbows either, Tommy. Magisters are dangerous.”
Tomas shrugged. “I thought I wanted to run away all my life. Ever since mother passed, I wanted to run and never return. But now that I’m here…”
“Like home sickness?”
Tomas shrugged. “I don’t know. But this is not what I had imagined.”
Rilan appeared confused; Tomas looked away. “This doesn’t have to do with your father, does it?” Rilan asked directly. Tomas made sure to avoid eye contact.
“N-no.”
Rilan said nothing more about it after seeing his discomfort. He did not want to push Tomas on the matter. He knew he had a very complex relationship with his father. Sometimes he seemed to hate his father, other times he feared him.
Who can blame him?
“Maybe you’re right. This might be dangerous,” Tomas said nervously. “Mooncrest Mountain is a week’s ride away, and chances are we aren’t out of the thick of it, yet. The kingdom is at war. Not to mention that,” Tomas pointed at the bodies of the hanging traitors.
Clouds of black flies were engulfing the corpses. Wriggling maggots fell from the eye sockets, and crows pecked the flesh from their discoloured faces.
“We will be spending who knows how long with the
