Perplexing Peregrination

Eieon, a mist tainted city, shrugged away on the rugged peaks of the Moghrien Mountains. The hushed town lay smothered in the night's shroud, silenced by the storming of the oblivion skies. Fragmented spears, brilliantly lighted, split the graying clouds as piercing rains sliced away at the earth.

Luthaar muttered curses beneath his breath as the taunting wind yanked his cloak's hood off his head. His mud-smothered boots sank deeper within the earth's grasp.

"Burn the man who started these bloody storms!" His thoughts were not spoken, but nonetheless were they present. He slid his quivering hand into a soaking pouch, strung to his belt. His fingers fumbled around momentarily before clenching a journey-worn paper. He approached the wooden gate enclosing the town before him.

"Who comes?!" A cotton-haired man stood high within a fortified structure. He held a bow fiercely in his feeble hands, pointed toward the intruder. Luthaar paused to study the area. A long wooded wall stretched out on both sides of the town then slithered around and disappeared off in the distance. There was but a single entrance. "Speak and tell me whence you came or I will slaughter you briefly!" The bent man's voice trembled.

"I am Luthaar...of Lodicea." He retrieved a rain-coated parchment and lifted it toward the crippled man. "I received a letter, a calling per say, and have been entreated to enter your...your town."

"This sssir is a village!" The wrinkled man hissed. "Not a town!"

Luthaar raised an eyebrow questioningly then continued. "Right then, I received a calling and have been entreated to visit your...village."

The old man's eyes examined him accusingly. "Raise that parchment higher! I can't read the bloody thing if you continue to hold it like that!" Luthaar muttered incoherently. He drew his sword, pierced the parchment, and then raised it toward the nuisance.

"Is that to your liking, or shall I fetch a ladder so that I might fix it to your skull?" Luthaar simply kept that thought to himself.

"Ah ha!" The man stumbled through his exclamation. "It states here that you are a man of Odk...od...Odkea!" His tongue struggled to catch the words.

Luthaar gave an exasperated sigh. "Do you not see heaven's tears falling? The name has been smeared! The parchment is soaking through and through! It states that I am a man of Lodicea."

"Ah...yes...yes, I see." The haggard pest was defeated. He hurriedly rushed to open the gates, hoping to disguise his shame with celerity.

Luthaar dropped his arm and returned the parchment to his belt. "Thank you." The words were emphasized with a sharp and sudden sheathing of the sword.

Eieon's mighty jaws gaped. Just as Luthaar strode through, they snapped shut behind him, now clenching together. Luthaar shrugged off the event and continued through the village. The sky's unremitting tears drenched Luthaar furthermore as he plodded across the condensed settlement. His eyes surveyed his whereabouts.

Rain abused the straw draped houses, which lay scattered about the muddied earth. Several roads fell into different directions, boggling the keenest of minds. Inns loomed over the thatched roofs of insignificant homes. Their stone structure, worn and stained by Time's brush, served to intimidate. Wooden, wind-tormented, signs swung violently from the numerous Inns and markers, beating against frigid stone. Women slipped into the small markets, purchasing fish, 'tatos, and other such ingredients for the dining hour. The men were at pubs and the children sat hushed inside their homes, shrinking away toward the blazing fireplaces.

Luthaar retrieved the parchment anew, and dissected the words as written:

The Panther Inn

Eieon, Sunset

Meet me on the second floor. Request to visit the Raven. Tap thrice. Let none know of your presence save the bartender whom you shall ask for a drink. Complete the directions above thereafter.

"The Panther." Whispered words escaped Luthaar's cold-cracked lips. He was unfamiliar with the place and frowned at the foreign words. "Now where in bloody hell am I supposed to find-" A fragile woman scurried across the hushed streets. Perhaps he might find an answer. "Gentlewoman!" Luthaar attempted to catch her attention, and succeeded. The woman's head whipped around, eyes darting left and right with uneasiness. She was of nine and thirty years with graying ringlets framing her face and faded skirts protecting her spirit from winter's approaching blade. Though young, life had visibly worn her body prematurely. "Gentlewoman, hear me. I am searching for an Inn, The Panther." She stared blankly. "I am not from these parts and would greatly appreciate your services."

The haggard woman turned her head to her left, eyes marking the location.

"Over there I assume?" His wait for a response was in vain. "Alright then. Off I go, thankee kind woman."

She took no time to nod before darting across the streets and disappearing into a darkness-consumed alley.

"What peculiar people." Luthaar tightened the hood protecting him from the mercury rains.

He turned his focus toward the direction he intended to pursue as his feet soon followed. The night grew increasingly darker and a continuous thudding caught Luthaar's attention. His eyes shot upwards and spotted a slab of wood marked with a panther, beating mercilessly against the enclosure. He walked through the building's opening, as it lacked any form of a door.

The Inn was small and cluttered with empty tables and stools, all circular in shape. A panther's head was driven tightly onto a silver disk, mounted on the wall above the bar table. Behind the table stood a short, stout man, with a rag in one hand and a dirty dish in the other. He feverously rubbed the dish clean and spoke.

"What brings you t'Eieon?" His shrub-like beard muffled his speech.

"I am here on...business. My traveling has been long and weary. I am seeking a place of refuge, to rest."

"Bus'ness?" The man put down the dish and dropped the cloth before it. "Eieon is a quie' place, a rur'l vill'ge. There runs no bus'nesses here."

Luthaar dropped his hood, ebony hair sticking to his bristled beard. "I simply want a room. How much would-" The innkeeper interrupted.

"There are no avail'ble rooms here. I sugges' you go t'nother vill'ge." His head tilted upwards, firm clouded eyes settles on Luthaar.

"With all do respect, I will not leave. I have very important business to attend to. I was sent to meet someone here and-" The innkeeper's eyes lit, but his fierce brows smothered any tenderness he might have shown.

"What is your name?" His voice rumbled.

"I respond to Luthaar of Lodicea and am-" He was briefly cut off.

"Di'you say Luthaar?" The innkeeper, commonly known as the bartender, ran his calloused hand over his smooth shaven head. He waited for Luthaar's confirming nod before continuing. "Co'e this way. We hava room for you, up th'stairs."

"But I thought you said you had no available rooms." Luthaar's grin was too small to catch notice.

The bartender grabbed a lit candle from the nearest abandoned table and set it in Luthaar's dirtied palm. "Actu'lly, you ought to go you'self. Once you reach th' top, head straight for about three doors dow'. Then take the near’st one ta your right, it'll be the one wi' a raven engraved into the front o' it."

Luthaar clutched the brass handle in his fingers. The night grew overpowering, and the Panther was soon drowning in darkness. He worked his way to the stairway, shielding the little light he had with his free hand. "Oh this is brilliant. I can't see a bloody thing!" A cold gust of air sent a paralyzing chill through his worn body, snuffing his source of sight. "And it just gets better every bloody time!" He muttered a few profanities before regaining his composure. The paralysis soon wore off as he started forward once again. Once he reached the top of the stairway, he set the useless candle aside. Luthaar's palms were now outstretched, feeling the markings on the wall, in hopes of finding the Raven. He counted three doorways down. "This should be the one I have been searching for." He used his nails to outline the symbol on the door, which lay before him. There was a small circle connected to another much larger one, followed by three indented lines. "Feathers." He whispered. "This must be it." His hand fell to a long curved door handle but he quickly jerked it away. It was cold to the touch. Luthaar made a second attempt; this time forcing himself to ignore the excruciating pain brought on by the dropping temperature, and forced the door open. He quickly shut the door behind him.

"I seek a man I have been sent to meet here." Luthaar spoke to the sitting figure before him. Another candle, quite similar to the first, sat on a small rounded table, which rested beside the shadow of a man.

A silent voice addressed him. “Luthaar, you did not tap thrice.” Luthaar was caught off guard by the man’s keen interest in detail. “We are men of trivialities. None is too small and all are essential.” The man bathed in the obscurity spilling through the window. “You must understand that if you are to continue with your peregrination.” His voice gave off an air of disappointment. “You were given simple directions. Speak to no one, ask for a drink, and tap thrice. You did not complete any of them appropriately.” His pasty palm grasped a silver goblet of spiced wine, raising it to his discolored lips.

Luthaar’s sword dug into his side, itching for release. “I did complete one of the tasks. I have not spoken to a soul since-“ Silver slammed into the table before him, splitting the round wood slightly in the center.

“Do not lie. We do not tolerate a man who lies. My men saw you, and the woman. We see your every move, at every moment, and a single lie will bring you to your destruction.” Luthaar eyed the spilled crimson wine as it slithered its way down the man’s deathly white hands.

“I asked for directions to this place. That is all. We did not converse. The woman did not even speak.” Luthaar barred his teeth.

The shadowfriend rose to his feet, towering a good two heads over Luthaar. “See to it that it does not occur again.” He moved forward, only a breath’s distance from Luthaar, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Tonight, you will rest. Tomorrow, you will take this…” The creature of a man pressed a fresh parchment firmly into Luthaar’s chest. “…to a man who will be waiting for you, just across the street.”

Luthaar clutched the wax sealed parchment within his trembling hand. “What will he look like?” Stern empty eyes gazed into his spirit.

“And take this as well.” A small serpent entwined dagger was slipped into Luthaar’s vacant palm. He grasped the golden snake’s head, admiring the blade as It curved to a deadly point. “Now retire. Remember, speak to no one of this. Not a soul…or I’ll have yours.” The figure’s dust coated hand firmly gripped Luthaar’s shoulder, assisting him out of the room. “This time….take care to follow instructions.” The Raven’s shriek was heard as the door slammed behind Luthaar.

His mind swam in confusion, as his body became far too weak to maintain a standing position. His knees suddenly gave way as the overpowering matter of events drained him of any strength. His skull collided against stone and he was soon drowning in bleakness, his every sense diminished.

~§~

Morning. The sky was smeared in a disarray of gray clouds, smothering any source of light. Luthaar sat up slowly, his head beating cruelly. He rubbed his temples fiercely, trying to rid himself of the pain. A cold sensation washed over him, causing him to momentarily shiver. He cast the warm quilts aside, and rose. His bare feet screamed from the severing agony taken in by the icy stone tiles. Luthaar moved his palms from his temples, to his eyes, clearing away the sleep.

“Another bloody day…another- wait, what is this?” Luthaar had no memory of ever walking into the room. It was small and cluttered, one of the rooms in the Inn he assumed. He had slept in a small, feathered bed, and quite comfortably, but how did he get there? Across the room was a wooden stool, and draped over it, his midnight blue cloak. He frowned in puzzlement, but decided against any further concentration. Briskly swinging the cloak around his shoulders, Luthaar grabbed his boots, which lay beneath the stool. He noticed the mud had been scraped off. “That was a kind gesture.” He assumed it had been the innkeeper, the only man he had seen at the Panther Inn.

Tugging the boots onto his feet, Luthaar left his room, and turned to see its markings. It was yet another bird, a crow, but age had worn away the curves, which traced its head. It was now just the body of an animal.

Luthaar’s stomach called to him. “It claims I should break my fast. Well old friend, I shan’t disappoint you.” He marched down the stairs and toward the bar. “Sir if you please-“ Luthaar’s words trailed off. The bartender was nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was not a creature in the place, not even the rats who had taken a liking to the scraps of food that had fallen onto the earth. “How perplexing.” Luthaar did not know what to make of it.

A horrific gust of wind ripped through the Inn’s entrance. Luthaar quickly turned to face it, eyes squinting to keep the soaring particles out. Across the distance, just outside the Panther, stood a man much like the creature he had met the previous night. “Oh bloody brilliant. Another one? This is wonderful, just wonderful.” He now felt the presence of the dagger strapped to his side. It burned on his thigh, yet was of great comfort.

Luthaar clutched the hilt of his sword, ignoring the dagger for the time being, and started out the doors, against the monstrous gale. The winds blew fiercely, adding tremendous weight to each of his feet. Luthaar approached the man-thing nevertheless. In reaching the creature, Luthaar unpocketed the parchment and held it out. “For you.” The dagger at his side throbbed with anticipation.

The parchment was quickly jerked out of his hands as the cloaked shadow formed words with his thin, coarse, lips. “Now go.” The gale ceased.

Despite the drying winds, Luthaar’s head was beaded in sweat. This infuriated him. Luthaar was a man of no fear, yet he cowered at the thought of defeat. He did not wish to stay near the creature any longer than what he must, and so Luthaar returned to the Panther.

In entering, Luthaar scanned the area. Everything was just as it was the night before, yet something seemed different. Luthaar sighed. His stomach cried out, sending jolts of pain into him. “Well if the innkeeper is not here, then I suppose I have no choice but to search elsewhere.” He turned yet again and exited the Panther.

The dirt streets were mildly populated. The village in general seemed to lack many people. Few women roamed the place-perhaps a grand total of nine-and were scattered here and there. Luthaar had seen no evidence of men after the gatekeeper, save for the existence of children. The little people he did see seemed worn and beaten by time and weather.

Luthaar’s stomach clawed at him now. “Oh I must find something to sup on.” A girl, much like the first he had met, stood aside a small, meager market. She held several baskets with numerous amounts of fruits, some of which Luthaar had never seen the likes of. “Girl, please, how much for an apple?” The ragged girl cleared the greasy hair away from her face. “A coppa.” She replied indignantly. She could not have been any older than seven and ten years.

Luthaar shoved his hand into his pouch and pulled out two oval shaped copper coins. “Another, for your kindness misses.” He gave her the two coins and in return received the apple from her grimy hand. “Thankee.” He uttered the words before leaving and shoving his teeth into the fruit.

Whispers were heard behind him. Several whispers. Luthaar pulled the apple away from his mouth, chewing what he had taken. Whispers again. Luthaar’s jaw paused. He attempted to better focus on the unnerving happenings. “Whispers? Several of them…but…there was but a single girl behind me.” He turned quickly, hoping to find the source, but the girl was gone. The baskets were gone, the fruit, the coppers, gone. There was but an empty market stand. Luthaar swallowed the apple bit. “What is this place?” He whispered.

The dagger at his side grew red and vicious, sending a searing burning sensation. Luthaar let out a shriek as the grabbed the hilt and hurled it aside. “What in bloody hell!?” He looked down at his thigh. His clothes had been flamed through and two black circles marked his freshly burned skin, resembling a serpent’s bite. “What in bloody hell? What in bloody hell? What is happening?!”

The apple had fallen from his hand, but he no longer felt the need to nourish. Luthaar limped his way back to the Panther, finding it the only place of solace. He headed for the stairway, one hand pressed against his thigh. “He tells me to hold the bloody thing, and for what?! He’s trying to bloody roast me alive! I will not stand for that! He’ll face my sword!” The blood at his thigh throbbed. “Where’s the Raven?!” Luthaar searched for the door. “Three down and to the right.” He muttered. It wasn’t there. “I don’t think I find myself very fond of this place.”

A small streak of light crawled through the crevice of the door to the left. It soon caught Luthaar’s attention, as he slowly pushed it open. The room was identical to that of the Raven, but was filled with a dust of several years of absence. “Light! This makes no sense!” Luthaar limped forward toward the small round table. He traced his fingers above it. Toward the center were the very indentions created yesterday by shadow-thing’s bit of rage. He turned his head toward the window. Two full moons shown brightly, pouring their light into the room.

The door slammed shut behind him. Luthaar sighed. “Oh not again. What do you want?” He had grown tired of this game. A breeze whispered into his ear as webbed silky fingers brushed against his face.

“This village is ours.” The faint voice seemed like a multiple of whispers.

“No, this village is cursed!” Luthaar had no time for nonsense. He was tired of being toyed with and would not stand for it any longer.

“Aaaah, well….that too.” The moonlight displayed the creature’s brilliant jagged teeth. “My brothers and I would like to….thank you, for your servicessss.”

“What are you doing to these people?!” Luthaar knew those creatures must have been connected to the low population and haggardness of the village people.

“Why don’t you mind your own and leave!” The shadowthing hissed. “Else I’ll summon my brothers and they aren’t as generous as I am.” Every word seemed uttered by a multitude of voices.

Luthaar glanced down the open window, his eyes disguised in darkness. Below he spotted the dagger, still red with fury. “Who are-what are you?” He needed to get that dagger.

“You assssk too many quessstionsss boy.”

“You’re doing something to the people here. I see them, all haggard and worn. They’re so pale; and the bartender, where is he? This room, it wasn’t here before! I demand an explanation!” There was another chorus of whispers.

“Do you know why you were ssssummoned here?” The creature darted behind Luthaar.

“I was summoned to meet someone, and then to deliver a notice.” Luthaar’s breath grew cold.

“You were ssssummoned becaussssse you…are…a man.” Luthaar’s mind was filled with befuddlement. “My brothersssss are dwindling, assss are the people of this town. Your sssseed is needed, so that we may feassst again.”

“You want me to make children, so that you may feed on them?!” Luthaar’s face grew pale at the thought. “And if I refuse?”

“Every perssson you know, will be ripped out of the threadsss of exisssstence.” Luthaar wanted to believe it was not possible, but constant thoughts of the innkeeper, and the woman with the apples, flooded his mind. “You know it is possssible. Asssss we have shown you before.” The shadowthing now darted in front of the window. Luthaar noticed the dagger’s ever present glow.

“Well I’m afraid-“ He braced himself, bending his knees slightly.

“Yess, I know you are.” The creature mocked his words.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse your offer.” With that he jolted out of the room and rushed down the stairs, ignoring the terrible sensation in his thigh. “I must get that dagger.” A frigid gust and whispered shrieks followed him out of the Panther onto the street. There he spotted the serpentine dagger, still lit with a blazing fire. His hand snatched it up. He could feel the hissing presence behind him. “My children will not be made your supper.” With a swing he threw his entire body’s force into the creature and buried the blade deep within its head.

Luthaar’s hand grew black as the burning continued eating his flesh away. The shadowthing shrieked, clawing at the dagger implanted into his skull. A mist lingered and soon grew into a heavy, dense fog. The dagger’s light was brighter than ever. Luthaar could feel the whispers fading along with his vision as he shut his eyes, trying to look away.

Soon, the whispers subsided, and the fog cleared. Luthaar breathed heavily, clutching his wounded hand in the other. “Two marks… in one day. That’s a record.” He slowly managed to open his eyes, only to find another discomfort. “He took it from me.” Luthaar dropped his head. “He stole my vision.”

Pebbles were rolling, small patches of earth were lightly trampled over. “What’s that? Who is there?!” Luthaar forced himself up, wincing with pain. A small hand ran down his shoulder. He growled at the invisible figures. “Let me be!” Another gentle hand touched his face, ever so softly. He gasped in surprise. “Who are you?” He whispered.

“We’re safe now. That’s all that matters. Come, we’ll clean you up.” The voice of several women hummed in the air. “You must rest. Your journey has just begun.”

Fin