The Chronicles of Outsider: Humble Beginnings

By Justin Wayne

Outsider; a mixed heritage bounty hunter, finds himself caught in the middle of a much bigger plot between two ruling rival forces: the Guard and the Warriors, when he captures a wanted thief named Thom who stole a magic dagger from them. Together they must fight to survive not only the rival factions, a mysterious supernatural force, and a tribe of orcs, but the harsh weather of the wild northern tundra; all the while battling enemies both outside and within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justin Wayne
• Release date: Aug 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476233918

Justin Wayne

Writing is what I want to do and I am currently working on the sequel to Humble Beginnings (as well as several other stories) and have planned the series to be a 4-Part Saga. Hoping to get this series, and eventually several others, to take off and published.

Book preview

Chapter One: Allow me to introduce myself

Rusk’s marketplace was booming with business that morning. The weather was fair and the chill at bay, allowing the people of the quickly expanding trading town a reprieve in which to gather supplies for the fast approaching winter months. So far north as they were, the cold season lasted twice as long as the warm and twice as harsh. It was not uncommon for people to die during the blizzards or move away just before and after they hit. However, those used to it, such as the Northern Dwarves and Bear Tribe of Warriors, made the most of the time to prepare and survive the grueling months to come.

In fact, they relished it. To them, it was a matter of pride and natural selection. Those who remained and had been there the longest proved themselves strong and worthy of business, and as such, the Nordic men and dwarves with the most ancient lines and homes held the power within the town.

Divided into two main factions, Rusk was ran by the dwarf-backed Froststone Clan; with control of the mines and smithing, meanwhile the Warrior-fueled Heavywinter Clan maintained a steady lumberjacking operation so that the town always had enough wood to keep their homes and business running, without depleting their forests, and the general goods stores ran from their human cousins to the west who brought them supplies in bulk for a discounted price. Under their combined control Rusk ran smoothly and efficiently with only the occasional hiccup when one group considered a new business setup by the other to overstep their boundaries. Luckily, the arguments never lead to anything more severe, with the last brawl having been over a generation ago and ending in a draw.

Those not within the factions were able to live comfortably under their influence without having to commit to anything more than non-member prices. However, this did lead to the occasional raising of prices meant to force them into joining. Yet there were those who resisted and found other ways of getting by..

Stop, thief! the burly shop owner roared over the bustle of the crowd. He couldn’t leave his stall alone, especially on such a busy day, and cursed as he watched the hobbit disappear into the crowd, easily evading the guard. That damn, man-child had better hope he never crosses paths with me again! That was my most prized possession. he told the guard who was investigating the report.

And what exactly was it he took?

The shop owner stared into his eyes with a look of hate. The dagger they used to kill the last dark elf in this town a hundred years ago.

***

The hobbit raced past the sea of legs, ducking under crates being carried and weapons slung on belts, as he ditched the guards pursuing him. His large feet padded noiselessly on the cobblestone among the roar of the crowd, his breathing still steady and grip firm on his latest treasure. He couldn’t believe his luck.

Who would’ve thought that, Thomulus, a meager pickpocket, would find such a wonder? He laughed aloud as he turned suddenly into an alley and ducked inside a small apothecary on a street parallel to the one he had just come from, the alley connecting the two like the middle of an H. Thomulus stood against the door and watched from the window for any guards to pass by.

Can I help you? A woman asked from behind the counter. Thomulus jumped in surprise and darted out the door before she could get a good look at him, bumping into someone he didn’t even glance at before taking off again. This time he heard footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder.

A single guard was fast approaching with his sword drawn, the steel glinting in the early morning light. The hobbit knew he couldn’t outrun him for long, and his nimble mind began to search for a way out. Up ahead was another street that curved around in a bend that lead back to the first street that ended with the marketplace he had robbed.

He couldn’t go back that way.

Just give it up, thief! You’re found out! the guard cried from behind, closer now. Thomulus began to panic. He couldn’t go to prison again. Too many people would be able to find him there. Those he had wronged in the past that could add on charges or just pay his bail to kill him themselves. He shuddered at the thought. He spun around the curve and began to swerve in and out of groups of people, gaining ground away from the full sized man giving chase.

At last he broke line of sight and dove headfirst into a hay bale, praying the guard wouldn’t notice his left foot poking out. Luck was on the halfling’s side yet again however and he remained unnoticed for several minutes until he deemed the area safe. He cautiously slipped out and brushed away the strands of hay and dust from his clothes.

Ah, Thom, you old genius. You’ve done it again! he applauded himself as he strode through town with a bounce in his step; a bounce that was quickly cut short as he saw the detail of guards on post at every alleyway entrance and conjoining streets. The thief’s mind quickly sought an alternate route to his fence. He turned on his heel and hurried through the crowds until the part of town still under construction surrounded him. He clambered up the wooden boards that made up the frame of a soon-to-be house until he was even with the shop beside it, and leaped onto it. His thick feet absorbed the impact and caught great traction on the thatched rooftops as he made his way from building to building.

His fence’s hideout was in sight; a small hut constructed between three chimneys that were less than a man’s height apart in the shape of a triangle, often hidden by smoke, when a voice called out his name from behind.

He turned slowly and faced a hooded figure who wore such a cloak as to conceal his face and whether or not he was armed. But by the man’s steady gait as he leaped from house to house with ease and without a sound convinced Thomulus that he was no man to be trifled with regardless of weapon.

I’m here for you, Thomulus of Cain Sander, son of Thomein, on charges of larceny, burglary, grand theft, minor assault, and trespassing. Will you come quietly? the confident voice announced smoothly. He was well versed and obviously had done this before. Thomulus tried to get a look at his face but only saw darkness with the sun at his back. He eyed the man’s clothing instead, noting the studded leather armor and leggings tanned a dark gray like smoke. Even the stranger’s cloak was like night and seemed to absorb the light around him, concealing his form in shadow.

How did you find me? the hobbit asked as he tried to gain the advantage of knowing his enemy.

You ran into me outside the apothecary shop in your haste. the man said with a touch of humor. I didn’t even get an apology.

Thomulus noted the man was constantly edging closer, step by step, now on the same rooftop. Thom drew his small blade and waved it about threateningly. Stay back, stranger, unless you’d like a new mouth where your throat is! The concealed man continued his approach without hesitation.

Put that away before you get hurt. the voice said, a hard edge grown into it.

This is a cold man, the thief realized. No more than twenty feet separated them now, and Thomulus was running out of ideas. This man was something new. He had dealt with guards, angry shop keeps, and irate husbands, but this foe was something new.

Who are you stranger? And why are you after me?

The man stopped and with a flourish, bowed low. Allow me to introduce myself. He stood straight again. The name is Outsider, and I am here to bring you in to the law of Cain Sander to receive my reward for your imprisonment.

You’re a bounty hunter!

The man nodded once. Indeed, and I aim to claim that bounty one way or the other. You should keep in mind; the price on your head is the same with or without the aforementioned head.

Cornered, and out of options, the small thief turned and took a single step when he was thrown off his feet and down below. His scream only lasted a second before he hit.

Chapter Two: Going South

Hay was still stuck in Thomulus’ hair when he was strapped onto the back of Outsider’s horse. His hands were tied behind his back and his middle lashed onto the saddle just like the bags, in case he should fall.

Comfortable back there, Thom? Outsider asked as he walked the gelding to the gate of the stables.

Thomulus rolled his eyes. Oh yeah, it’s just fantastic back here! I get a free ride on a horse, the offer of free shelter and food for a number of years, oh, and let’s not forget the joy of being tossed off a roof into a bale of hay. He spat off the side of the horse. Best day of my life.

Outsider smiled beneath his hood and mounted. Well, I’m glad. Ol’ Jiff here has been aching for some company. he said scratching the gray horse between the ears. Jiff knickered in pleasure and began his trot as his rider’s heels pressed in his sides lightly. You two play nice now.

They turned for the main gate to leave the bustling town of Rusk.

Hey, wait a minute! Aren’t you going to return that dagger I stole?

Outsider turned around in his saddle and stared from the darkness of his cloak into his prisoner’s eyes. Now why would I want to go and do something like that?

Because it’s stolen! And you’re supposed to return it! That’s the right thing to do, eh? In actuality, Thom just wanted to bide time to escape before getting too close to those who knew of him and his actions. Not to mention the thought of his captor getting such a fine blade from him made bile rise in his throat.

See, now, right there is your problem. I’m no guard nor have I sworn any oaths. I take what I can by my own means. I haven’t stolen anything. You have. I merely confiscated it from a criminal and in the rush of apprehending you, out of the goodness of my heart mind you, forgot to return it to the shop owner, which I would’ve had to neglect protecting the helpless and the innocent just to identify. So by not returning this fine blade, I did a service to the good people of Rusk and made the town a more wholesome and safe place for all to live and raise their children without fear. He looked up to the town behind them and did a small dip of his head. No thanks are necessary. You are welcome. He turned back in the saddle without a word and suppressed a chuckle at the incredulous look Thom was unable to repress from his face.

After that, the ride was a long quiet one in which Outsider took shifts from riding to walking in two hour intervals as to avoid tiring Jiff. With this plan, they were able to ride well into the night until the east began to turn purple with the morning sun just beyond the horizon. Outsider slid from the saddle, loosened the girth strap on Jiff and rubbed him down with a reward of an apple before letting a drowsy Thom down.

What time is it? he croaked. Outsider pulled his head back and poured a mouthful of water down his throat. Thom nodded his thanks and wiped his chin on his shoulder as his hands were still bound.

Almost seven. The sun has nearly risen.

Thom blinked a few times and looked back the way they had come. Nothing but mountains and the hilly plains of the wild north stared back at him. They had come farther than he had anticipated in such a short amount of time.

I’ve got to get away from him. A chill wind blew past and he shivered. And away from here.

How’d you manage to ride through the night? Most would never risk breaking a horse’s ankle or coming upon something. he asked as he stretched out his stubby legs.

Outsider shrugged as he prepared their camp by laying out bedrolls and placing a tarp of rough cloth between two spindly trees that formed the back wall of their little site. A few small shrubs acted as a screen to the opposite side so that their camp was hidden from view in a valley that kept them low.

And why do you wear your hood at all times? Ya’ ugly under there or just bald and shy? the hobbit pressed in an attempt to goad him into action: the perfect opportunity for him to slip the knife from his boot.

Do you want to keep asking questions? Or do you want to eat? Cause either way I’m not going to fall for your pathetic excuses at provoking me. He struck a small rock against a shard of steel, casting sparks into a small pile of tinder he pulled from one of his bags, and blew until the embers caught the kindling. Besides, that knife in your boot is already gone. Then he held up the metal piece he started the fire with in his hand.

Damn you, hunter! Who are you to interfere in the affairs of others that do not concern you? You think yourself a protector of man who shields the weak and helpless from the likes of me? Do not be a fool; no one is innocent. Thom spat and rose to his feet.

He kicked sodden soil at his captor and bellowed as he was grabbed from behind before the dirt even hit the ground. Now why would you want to get me dirty? If you like being filthy so much that you want to share it, He lifted the little man off his feet. Then don’t let me hinder you. And with that, he tossed Thom on his face in the dirt, hands still bound behind his back.

He leaned down close, his mouth near the hobbit’s ear, and whispered as quietly as the wind. If I were you, I would watch my tongue. For I am not you. And I am not the protector of man. I am the taker.

The little thief made no move to get up and instead slept exactly where he fell. His only movement was when Outsider bound his feet and attached the rope to the saddle with threat of being dragged to death at a single command. Afterwards, the bounty hunter enjoyed a small meal of venison rations and cheese before laying down on his bedroll against a tree with his cloak about him.

The sun rose soon afterward and continued its climb as they rested. The shadows slowly grew longer and longer until they elongated into larger than life phantoms of themselves. Together, the pair missed the stunning view of the sun’s scintillating glow across the vast waves of rolling hills in the frozen tundra. Even the Mountain Fang emanated a magnificent aura of power that soaked those who watched its splendor with a fulfilling sense of energy.

Invigorated by this, the roaming band of orcs decided to press on into the day rather than retire at morning as was their custom. They followed their leader, an orc Elder who stood over a head taller than the largest in his band, which looked more dirge than anything, and carried a battleaxe renowned for its impregnable edge that was impossible to dull. Whoever wielded the legendary weapon assumed its persona and shared its feared name of Cleave Rend.

As such, Cleave Rend was the first to notice the scent in the air. He held up a gray fist the size of a hobbit’s head and the troop came to a stop. His gruff voice soon graveled out a few words. Tagvik, scout out the area ahead. I smell woodsmoke.

As soon as his name was mentioned, a small goblin wearing the lightest of armor with green skin stepped forward and took off full sprint. They watched him go for several minutes before he descended down the side of a valley and disappeared from view. Cleave Rend turned to his second in command, a large orc who stood shorter than most but as broad as his leader. His muscles were tensed in anticipation of what was to come. He too thought he could smell smoke, but without the heightened senses of such a weapon as his commander, he couldn’t be sure.

Ulgvhen, I expect we shall soon be spilling blood. Cleave Rend said excitedly, his beady black eyes glinting like flint. His jaw clenched so tight his yellow fangs that stood up above his lips actually framed the sides of his nose. I thirst for it.

Ulgvhen was uncertain as to whether he was referring to the axe or not. He had found over the last few years since his brother had ‘inherited’ the axe by slitting their father’s throat in his sleep, the weapon had a personality of its own that often melded with its wielder’s. This led to sudden and extreme mood swings that left him oblivious to most of his brother’s decisions until they were made.

I remember when your name was Uvrikh, he thought as he listened to Cleave Rend paint a picture of slaughter and the shades of blood different races spilled.

Dwarf blood is darker than human, with hobbits’ a bright scarlet. The elves have the most options, from the wood elves’ rich rose color to the dark elves' almost purple red. Ooh, I can’t wait. Tagvik had best hurry if he wishes to see the light of tomorrow.

Half an hour passed as Cleave Rend grew more and more impatient. A cry from one of the band caught his attention immediately. Alas. He returns. And not a moment too soon. he said as he greedily rubbed the blade of his black axe. Everyone gather ‘round. We shall soon march into battle and I don’t want any of you to scare ‘em off before I get my blood! They converged on his position and waited obediently and silent until Tagvik returned.

Speak. Cleave Rend ordered the goblin. Despite being severely out of breath with lungs that felt on fire, he responded at once as clear as possible.

Just two of them, master. A man. And a hobbit. They have one horse between them. he said staring at the ground, not daring to meet his leader’s eyes.

The giant orc turned from the scout and rubbed his chin deep in thought. He silently debated with himself before coming to a decision.

I need the red. I shall go with Ulgvhen so that he can witness my triumph in the name of our family, four more of you to dress the horse and carry the meat back, and our newest addition so that he may prove his mettle. he growled, eyeing a young orc in the back of the group with wide black eyes and a bent mace. We move out at once! The rest of you march back home to prepare for the feast. This horse will be the perfect addition to the flock of sheep we culled.

The two groups split apart, one headed south to the camp, the other west to their caves. As they walked, Cleave Rend clapped the young orc on the shoulder and pulled him under his arm.

Do well, boy, and kill the hobbit. The man is mine. Otherwise it is you who shall give me my red and be left behind. The young orc paled under his leader’s grip and swallowed hard at the thought of facing the orc and the axe that are Cleave Rend.

Chapter Three: Faceoff

Outsider sensed the approach in his rest and without stirring, opened his eyes. Slowly, adjusting to the bright light of day, his eyes found the small goblin watching them from the crest of the valley. He tensed, knowing no goblin was foolish enough to attack a group, even of only two, on its own. Which could only mean there was a larger force somewhere nearby.

A scout.

As soon as the goblin had vanished over the peak of the hill atop the valley, Outsider bounded to his feet and lifted the hobbit onto Jiff, who was already standing and ready to go as soon as his master was. Thom stirred and looked around quickly, fear obvious in his eyes.

We’re leaving already? he said with difficulty. His nose was curved to the side, probably broken, and his lips had busted between his teeth and the cold, solid ground. It can’t be past nine!

Outsider tightened the girth strap on Jiff so the saddle wouldn’t slide and knelt beside the fire for a few moments before jumping up and mounting the gelding and taking off at a fast trot.

What’s going on, Outsider? I’ve had my fair share of dealings to know when something is wrong.

Outsider decided to tell him in the hopes it would make him more cooperative. We’ve been spotted. A goblin scout found our camp, so I can only assume it’s a nomadic group of goblins or orcs. Possibly both. He looked behind them and decided to keep to the slick grass rather than the dirt. It was slower going as the horse had to work to maintain traction but would leave a more difficult trail to follow.

So why aren’t we fleeing at top speed then? Let’s get out of here! Thom tried to reason. But Outsider simply shook his head.

If they hunt out here in the plains they’ll need horses. Meaning they could follow us if we leave a dust trail from a full gallop. Too risky. This way we have time to get far enough away to leave direct sight, without giving them a way after.

Thom couldn’t argue with the bounty hunter’s logic and had to admit he lacked the knowledge and experience his captor had in such a circumstance. He himself had only been in towns and cities, always paying a carriage or merchant caravan to take him through the roads and wilderness as fast as possible. He wasn’t cut out for such a life out here. Sleeping on the ground, eating over a fire made by wood that hasn’t been cleansed, going days without washing. It was barbaric and filthy and he would prefer prison to this he soon thought as the stiffness in his muscles from sleeping was replaced with a sore ache from riding.

They rode on for a half hour or so when Outsider decided it would be about time to witness. Watch and see. he said when Thom asked why they were sitting still.

***

Cleave Rend, Ulgvhen, the young orc named Toric, and four of the hardiest orcs rode up to the base of the hill that preceded the valley that held the campsite, and dismounted. They crouched low and drew their weapons, a myriad of axes, maces and a single spear, as they ascended the rise. When the war party reached the peak, they looked down at the little site and could see the glow of the fire on the opposite side of the tarp that hid the actual camp itself.

The group descended the slope and spread out around the tarp in two groups, Cleave Rend on his own in the center, and as they ran around the sides, he tore through the tarp and straight into the middle of a bedroll. They stabbed into the empty rolls and quickly looked all about the small valley before deciding they were gone. The giant orc threw his axe into one of the small trees that held the tarp aloft and completely split it with a resounding crack.

Where are they! he roared and turned on his men, the axe back in his hand. How did they know we were coming!? His wild eyes tore into each orc around him, causing them to flinch when he stepped toward them, only to brush them aside and walk toward the little source of heat. What’s this?

He stared down at a small pouch that sat beside the fire, so close it was cinged and picked it up. As he did, the contents, a black dust, poured out through a small hole cut in the bottom corner facing the fire. It hit the flames, and with a sizzling noise like melting fat off a steak, the fire travelled up the dust and into the pouch that Cleave Rend held where it exploded into a massive fireball that engulfed the entire campsite.

***

What the devil was that!? Thom bellowed from the ground after falling off Jiff in surprise. It was like Hell itself had been unleashed.

Outsider heaved the hobbit back onto the horse and sped off into a gallop. A special concoction I made that as you saw is extremely volatile.

Thom’s eyebrow raised in an arc. What’s in it?

Outsider laughed and shook his head. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to tell you. You would use the knowledge to blow your way out of prison.

The thief laughed in spite of himself and smiled deviously. Well. Maybe a little.

Outsider sped Jiff on to separate themselves from the destruction before anyone came to inspect what had transpired. After all, it was still in view from Rusk’s highest towers. And though he was sure the fires would be extinguished by the weather and much of the ground was too wet to burn, the smoke was already rather high now and coiled off into the sky like a titanic black serpent.

They left the scene quickly; content the orcs were dealt with, but ready to move on. It was only a day’s ride to Journ where he could stock up on supplies before heading out for a tenday to Cain Sander, keen to receive his pay and be rid of the thief before the little one could wile some way out of capture. He had been a bounty hunter long enough to know better than underestimating someone. Especially by size.

This one is going to give me trouble. I just know it.

***

The sheer force of the eruption threw Ulgvhen off his feet and away from the roiling flames that decimated the four meant to carry the meat. Through the pain of what he knew was a broken arm and leg, he opened his eyes and tried to stand. Over the roaring drone of the flames that had spread up the trees and grass he could hear a wailing, the likes of which that gripped his heart. He looked down with his blurred vision and saw Toric, crawling away from the campsite on all four, completely ablaze. He screamed and writhed about in agony in an attempt at extinguishing the flames, but the muscles in his arms and legs were already melting away and he could no longer move. Instead he lay still and cried out until that too was taken away from him.

So badly Ulgvhen wanted to jump to his feet and save his young comrade, but his arm and leg wouldn’t obey him and the shock of it made his good arm and leg shivering limbs with a mind of their own. He hollered over the whooshing of the flames and the crackling of his men’s corpses for Toric, but no reply came from the charred black form across from him. He cried out again and after a moment of silence came an answer.

DEATH AND DESTRUCTION IS MY NAME, AND I SHALL BRING THEM TO THOSE RESPONSIBLE! FOR I AM UNLEASHED! AWAKENED AM I, AND RIGHTLY SO! FOR REVENGE SHALL BE MINE!

Swallowed in fire and disfigured beyond recognition, face missing with a blackened skull where it once was, gripping his axe which glowed orange from the heat, Cleave Rend stepped out of the inferno.

Chapter Four: A Stop along the Way

Riding the powerful northern winds, the eagle soared overhead in a majestic sweep of its wings. Staring down at the two riding along below it, the eagle found its interest piqued. Who were these two land-walkers to think they could ever outpace one such as her? For none had claws as shined or feathers as superbly colored. She would show those foolish two-legs that wings were far superior.

Diving down with a screech, the bird of prey hurtled straight at them at an alarming speed. She shrieked a piercing cry of challenge and fully extended her razor sharp talons, imagining the feeling of stabbing them into their o so fragile eyeballs.

The wind couldn’t carry her fast enough.

The ringing call from above gave the bounty hunter below plenty of time to prepare for the inevitable incursion. Reaching into his cloak, he felt for the mahogany handle that gave him a self assured sense of relief and gripped it tightly with his long, gloved fingers. With a deep breath sucked in between his lips, he slowed the beat of his heart until it was well below average.

Thom turned his head, as his body was still strapped to the saddle, and looked down from the great shadow looming over them then up to its owner.

We’ve got a visitor! he cried and struggled to free himself in vain. He looked back from the eagle, now close enough to identify, and back to the motionless form of the man beside him. Outsider! He screamed in anxiety, eyes wide with fear.

Faster than the hobbit’s eye could follow, Outsider’s hand shot out of his cloak with knife in hand. He spun it around on his palm and caught the tip of the blade between his thumb and forefinger before sending it spinning blade over hilt into the sky. He watched it go until it was nearly lost in the light of day, when the eagle descended straight into its path and went limp.

It dropped like a stone for several seconds then hit the ground with a crack. The mysterious rider turned his horse about and rode over to the feathered form crumpled in the grass. He leapt down from the saddle and turned the bird over to retrieve his knife. "Such a waste. I hate to kill when it isn’t necessary.

Thom marveled at the beast’s size. The eagle’s wingspan was over three times his height and nearly as long as a man from beak to tail. That’s the biggest eagle I’ve ever seen. Could I have a feather from its wing? I do so enjoy writing with a good quill in my down time.

Outsider shrugged and slid the blade back into the concealed sheath on his side just below his shoulder. Well you’ll sure have plenty of that down time you’re so fond of. Stooping down low he plucked a single mottled color feather and handed it to the little waiting hand behind him. Well let’s be off. We’re nearly to Journ now and I’d like to be there before nightfall.

Pressing Jiff on to full gallop, they thundered across the hills for several leagues, oblivious to the passage of time until the sun had set. Thom laughed and nudged Outsider with his elbow. Well, looks like we’ll have to settle in for the night eh? Wouldn’t want to push Jiff on through both the day and night. His mind began to forge a plan immediately. If he could get away before reaching a town it would leave fewer witnesses with his appearance to sell him out to any who may be searching for him. All this was cut short at his captor’s next words.

No need. Journ lies just there between those two thickets of forest. We’ll arrive within the hour just in time for supper. He rubbed his chin in thought. Though it is strange there are no lights..

In a foul mood, Thom spat and tried to wriggle out of the ropes for the nth time that day. Who gives a fig about the lights! Beneath his hood, Outsider smiled at the remark and tried to imagine how his little ‘guest’ must feel.

Surely riding into a town separated from the one your highest bounty hangs in by several hundred leagues hasn’t put you in such an unruly temper?

What do you mean ‘highest’ bounty?

Well you must know you have several bounties on your head in varying towns and cities? I simply picked the one with the highest price: Cain Sander.

Thom smiled smugly, a crease rising up his cheek. That popular am I? Must be getting famous.

Perhaps all this will be worth it in the end. I escape, feign my death, and word will spread that the infamous Thomulus, son of Thomein, had finally met his end. I could start all over without risk of men such as this Outsider. He rubbed his stubby fingers together greedily and imagined the gold coins and gems they would soon be counting.

These happy thoughts carried him the next hour in silence until they had passed under the awning of Journ and entered the little town. The sixth sense that had kept him alive for so long was aflame now, something telling him to leave before whatever was here found him, buzzing in the back of Outsider’s mind until he could hardly focus. He blinked several times, gradually clearing his vision until all that rang in his ears was the echo of the howling wind.

Where are the lights? The fires to show someone is home?

His eyes easily found the inn’s sign in the dim moonlight that shone through the trees in brilliant rays of silver against a midnight backdrop. The forest swayed around the desolate town on either side with the wind and seemed to press in on them, surrounding the buildings to guard any escape. Thom shook beside him, whether from the cold or fear he didn’t ask.

Something’s wrong. Stay here. Jiff will know if anything approaches long before you will so I wouldn’t try to take off if I were you. He swung out of the saddle and whispered into the near-invisible gelding’s ear before disappearing into the night. Instantly the bound thief clumsily pulled the feather from his pocket and stuck the bone of it between the ropes around his wrists in a back-and-forth motion. He grinned as the threads began to split.

To the Nine Hells with you, Outsider. I’ll be long gone with your horse to leave you with your ghost town. Keep the dagger. he whispered under his breath. Jiff whinnied as if to tell him:

I heard that.

***

A rider? Who would come this way anymore? Everyone goes out of their way to avoid this accursed place. Up to no good I wager. Well let them try and harm me already abandoned home. I’ll show ‘em just how terrible this place really is.

A figure crept from the bushes nearby and made its way to the pub, setting down the water bucket it carried. It slipped through the door quickly and having memorized the room’s arrangement since making it their home, was outside again within ten seconds. A small axe appeared in its hand now as it eyed the prone man atop the horse.

That damn steed will hear me coming long fore I can get there.

Crouching low, the figure moved around the side of the building and as swiftly as it could go with one free hand, scaled the ladder propped up against it. It stealthed across the low roof, going extra slow to choose its footing carefully, and tested the balance of the axe for throwing.

Beautiful. it whispered and prepared to throw. Something pressed into its back, a slight pinprick, just between its ribs.

It is a nice spot isn’t it? a smooth voice whispered from behind. The figure stiffened and began to turn. I really wouldn’t. Outsider said and pressed a bit firmer. Drop the axe and you’ll get to see the sun rise.

The axe clattered and slowly slid down