tall as the monolith. Not the best of cover, barely wide enough to conceal his girth. But it would have to do. He poked half of his horned head around the stone.
The townsfolk were assembled beneath a bell tower. No one spoke. No one moved. Did they yet breathe? At the crowd’s heart were six men in black armor. The Wakeful. The Beast’s guttural mumble rolled though fangs on a plume of steam. “Wakeful filth. I should have known.”
A somber air blanketed the town, sadness plainly written on the sullen faces of men and women alike. He pitied them. Despite his being a cast off he harbored Sensheeri no ill will. But this was not his battle. Facing the Wakeful on the road would have been in defense of his home. He had no such place here. The Beast shouldered his pack. He would leave behind the Wakeful and their grim business.
The cairn beneath his paw vibrated. He stepped away, crouching low. A familiar voice distorted by the sound of ancient stone whispered to him. “Did I not tell you to go to Sensheeri, Beast of Briarburn? Hmm? Did Urda not say there was someone for you to meet?”
“The Wakeful are not my concern.”
“They are your biggest concern, my boy. They stand between you and what you prize most.” The vibration stopped and Urda’s essence fled the cairn. The Beast’s head drooped as he considered the task at hand. Urda had neglected to name the person he was to meet, saying only that his path would be brightly lit. He would have to trust her words.
Movement flickered in the paralyzed mass of villagers. A little girl broke free of a muscular man with a bushy moustache. She charged the Wakeful, piercing the crowd like a javelin. The brazen act shocked all. The crowd widened and the soldiers in black readied their weapons. The Beast found his curiosity piqued. What could stir such raw emotion in a child?
The riders cleared the Beast’s line of sight, falling back to their mounts. The wailing girl knelt over the bloodied body of an old man cradling a broken lute. She wailed into his tattered cloak, muffling the cries and giving the Beast his answer.
Murder.
The muscular man who had been holding her called out. “Lia!”
For a moment all was still. And then Lia finally lifted her head. The Beast’s eyes twitched wide. Hovering over the deceased was the child from Urda’s sky sketch. There was no mistaking it. Every detail of her round face had been etched into his mind the night before. It was the amber reflection of her eyes that drew his stare above all else. Instead of the rage he expected, rage that would’ve claimed him like an angry storm, there was stillness. Where there should have been hot painful tears, there were none.
Something very foreign stared at Malachai and his men. Something beautiful and painfully absent from the world he knew. Innocence . The Beast was suddenly very ashamed for his near departure. Lia’s eyes were free of fear, narrowed and focused. They were the calm gaze of a spirit perfectly centered. He was fascinated by the spectacle, thinking it impossible to be so steady in the face of such brutality.
Lia brushed the snowy hair from the man’s eyes and kissed his forehead. The big man lumbered over and dropped to his knees. His beefy arms tried pulling her into a bear hug. Lia resisted with the push of a tiny hand and whispered into the breeze.
Eyes widened throughout the village. Lia’s delicate hands glowed a delicate white shine. She chanted ancient words and the speechless wind answered with a mighty gust. The light spread, wrapping her like a luminous shroud. Linens blew from lines and hats from heads. Adults stumbled and children were blown into muddy snow. The light intensified and with a final chant, Lia lowered her hands to the dead man’s chest.
The enchantment spread from Lia’s hands to the deceased. Wind ripped through the village, rattling shutters and bumping rows of Sensheeri’s boats against docks with wooden clunks. The lake’s tide surged,
The townsfolk were assembled beneath a bell tower. No one spoke. No one moved. Did they yet breathe? At the crowd’s heart were six men in black armor. The Wakeful. The Beast’s guttural mumble rolled though fangs on a plume of steam. “Wakeful filth. I should have known.”
A somber air blanketed the town, sadness plainly written on the sullen faces of men and women alike. He pitied them. Despite his being a cast off he harbored Sensheeri no ill will. But this was not his battle. Facing the Wakeful on the road would have been in defense of his home. He had no such place here. The Beast shouldered his pack. He would leave behind the Wakeful and their grim business.
The cairn beneath his paw vibrated. He stepped away, crouching low. A familiar voice distorted by the sound of ancient stone whispered to him. “Did I not tell you to go to Sensheeri, Beast of Briarburn? Hmm? Did Urda not say there was someone for you to meet?”
“The Wakeful are not my concern.”
“They are your biggest concern, my boy. They stand between you and what you prize most.” The vibration stopped and Urda’s essence fled the cairn. The Beast’s head drooped as he considered the task at hand. Urda had neglected to name the person he was to meet, saying only that his path would be brightly lit. He would have to trust her words.
Movement flickered in the paralyzed mass of villagers. A little girl broke free of a muscular man with a bushy moustache. She charged the Wakeful, piercing the crowd like a javelin. The brazen act shocked all. The crowd widened and the soldiers in black readied their weapons. The Beast found his curiosity piqued. What could stir such raw emotion in a child?
The riders cleared the Beast’s line of sight, falling back to their mounts. The wailing girl knelt over the bloodied body of an old man cradling a broken lute. She wailed into his tattered cloak, muffling the cries and giving the Beast his answer.
Murder.
The muscular man who had been holding her called out. “Lia!”
For a moment all was still. And then Lia finally lifted her head. The Beast’s eyes twitched wide. Hovering over the deceased was the child from Urda’s sky sketch. There was no mistaking it. Every detail of her round face had been etched into his mind the night before. It was the amber reflection of her eyes that drew his stare above all else. Instead of the rage he expected, rage that would’ve claimed him like an angry storm, there was stillness. Where there should have been hot painful tears, there were none.
Something very foreign stared at Malachai and his men. Something beautiful and painfully absent from the world he knew. Innocence . The Beast was suddenly very ashamed for his near departure. Lia’s eyes were free of fear, narrowed and focused. They were the calm gaze of a spirit perfectly centered. He was fascinated by the spectacle, thinking it impossible to be so steady in the face of such brutality.
Lia brushed the snowy hair from the man’s eyes and kissed his forehead. The big man lumbered over and dropped to his knees. His beefy arms tried pulling her into a bear hug. Lia resisted with the push of a tiny hand and whispered into the breeze.
Eyes widened throughout the village. Lia’s delicate hands glowed a delicate white shine. She chanted ancient words and the speechless wind answered with a mighty gust. The light spread, wrapping her like a luminous shroud. Linens blew from lines and hats from heads. Adults stumbled and children were blown into muddy snow. The light intensified and with a final chant, Lia lowered her hands to the dead man’s chest.
The enchantment spread from Lia’s hands to the deceased. Wind ripped through the village, rattling shutters and bumping rows of Sensheeri’s boats against docks with wooden clunks. The lake’s tide surged,
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