He sipped his hot tea, far from the others. By this point in the journey he'd taken great care to establish himself as a man who wished to be avoided in no uncertain terms. After a few lame attempts at persuading him otherwise, he was now left alone whenever they stopped. It gave him plenty of space to clear his mind of the racket.
This night was not to be so peaceful it seemed, as he heard the footsteps approach him in the loose rock scattered around the area. “Fools and their needs for togetherness,” he spat to himself as the steps came closer.
A figure circled around him and took a seat just beyond the firelight. In the poor light, it was impossible to see if it was man or woman, old or young. They were wrapped in a loose blanket that hung over their shoulders like a shroud and wore what looked to be a pack of some kind underneath it.
“Be gone, ya stupid fool. I don't care a shit about the things you have to say and why you have to say ’em. If you don't leave me now, I’ll teach you a lesson in personal space you won’t forget!”
The figure didn't move an inch. More surprisingly, the blanketed head rose slightly, showing a youthful mouth that had the wickedest smile the old man had ever seen. It was a smile the man knew very well. It was the smile he was so desperate to run away from back to his shanty home as quickly as he could.
”Now now,” the newcomer said in a pleasant, yet disturbing voice. “I had heard you were a man who enjoyed the art of conversation. Did you not just have a whole bar close down to host one such moment?”
It was the stranger that had made the deal with the old man weeks ago: the one who promised the lands he came from would not be touched in return for the favor of delivering the demon-thing into their apparent waiting hands in the south.
“I was hoping we wouldn't meet again. What business do you have with me?” The thing across from the old man scared him beyond belief, but he held his ground. The fire-demon had intimidated him with its sheer power and presence. This thing was worse. It was disgustingly pleasant and far more ruthless.
“I wanted to talk to you about what I asked you to do. More to the point, I was hoping you could explain why you failed.”
“Failed! Bah, I put that godless beast right into your hands! If you failed in doing what you had to when he got there, that's none of my business. I did my part.”
“Your part, sir, was to send him south to the village where he was to be apprehended or dispatched, depending on the situation. Tell me then why neither of those things happened?”
The old man laughed a dry, mirthless laugh. “I tell you, I did as you said and I did it perfectly. The demon was sent south and that is that. Judging by the activity everyone saw there, you got what you wanted.”
The teeth of the creature under the blanket were white as pearls, straight as a razor, and perfect in every way. “That was nothing more than a test of his durability. Some in my ranks believed it would outright destroy him. I knew otherwise. He was badly damaged, but he lived. However, this does not change your failure, sir. You were to send him south, to the home of the winged boy, where we could take them each and complete our business in this land.”
“Winged boy? What winged boy? Look, all you told me to do, I did. I don't know a lick about a kid with wings or some such nonsense.”
The smile, in all its perfection, faded. “You don't know anything about a boy with wings from Tan Torna Qu-ay?”
“That's what I said, isn't it? No wings. No boy. I haven't got a clue what you're talking about.”
The old man knew a little, but nothing about wings. He suspected now that it may have something to do with that depressed young man he saw at Ollie's bar a few days back, on the night before he left with the caravan. The same caravan the old man had taken up with now. An amused, gap-toothed grin came to his face. He remembered who he was and what he possessed.
When the thing across from him had threatened him into conversation with the beast, they hadn't been specific on the how, leaving the details in the old man’s hands. When the old man saw the fire beast enter, talk to Ollie, then produce the terrifying blade for all to see, the old man jumped at the sight of it; the terrible and glorious aura it emitted telling him instantly it shared a bond with the knife he'd given to the village, and thusly, the boy from Tan Torna Qu-ay.
It was that connection that gave him the chance to talk to him, telling him where he must go. By the gods, the fire beast had wanted to go south. It was the easiest deal the old man could have made.
Now, sitting with his cooling tea across a fire from a smiling fool, he realized two separate and very important things. The first was that they had no idea the weapon the boy had in his possession and the kinds of damage it could do if used properly. The second was that he would never live to enjoy this thing’s misery when it found out. If they were here, asking the question it had, there wasn't much hope for the old man. The smiling creature was
