Dark Story – Part 8
(Originally from October 2007)
This is a study in free flow writing. It may not make sense when it’s finished. Oh well.
**Mature content warning**
Time passed. Querin made them both something to eat. When they’d finished, he produced a silver crystal that shimmered in the firelight and bade her hold it while he chanted something in a language she didn’t understand. When he finally stopped she felt better, but looked no different. He studied her before shaking his head and muttering about how strong her aunt’s magic must be.
When they emerged from the small house, the burning sun was sinking into a sea of red fire. As they moved through the village, Querin nodded in greeting to someone here or there, but they remained silent. The Inn was bustling with activity and they entered it and took a table in the dark corner, away from prying eyes.
Querin ordered food for them both, and while they ate they watched their fellow patrons. Eseldra and Torin made no appearance throughout the meal, nor afterwards.
“It seems we shall have to go hunt for them,” Querin said wryly, finishing his mug of ale in one gulp
“And where do we look?” Keena hissed from beneath her hooded cloak, her face hidden from the other customers.
“I’d suggest the site of the ritual,” he answered mater of fact, his voice low. “If that fails I suspect the woods. Tonight is the full moon, is it not?”
She nodded her head in affirmation and then they stood slowly. Querin dropped a few coins on the table and they left the noisy inn and soon the small town. They walked down a narrow tract under a black sky strewn with glittering stars. An owl hooted in the dark trees and Keena shivered at the all too familiar setting. Only the dead babe was missing.
The house came into view just as the moon broke free from the clouds. It stood as imposing and dark as it had the night before. The same eerie feeling of something unnatural clung to the property, and filled the air withl a palpable unease.
Keena lead him through the front door, past dark, empty rooms, and finally down the winding stone stair to the rooms below the house. She showed him the intricate designs painted on the floor with whitewash and crows blood, and the cauldron that had been simmering only the night before, now cold, it’s contents thick and oily looking. But nowhere amongst the shadows did they find a trace of Eseldra or her husband.
To be continued….
(one has to hope it is winding up soon…)