Their final day of traveling, the levity that had temporarily surrounded them faded and tension slowly crept into their shoulders. They all had donned their armor and equipped their weapons on the off chance they entered the fens today. Priscilla had affixed the bat to her belt with an attachment that connected via buttons so she could easily pull it free to attack when needed. The dagger was strapped to her other hip because it had turned out to be handy on more than one occasion, but the damned sword stayed in her pack, out of sight like it belonged.

  Sulaiman checked the tracking stone several times, but it still pulled them in the same direction, so they kept on their course to Aidais’ Lament.

  Priscilla had researched the town briefly during their night of planning. It was the closest settlement near the fens, nestled right on the edge where the ground became more solid. The town got its name from a tragedy from a few hundred years ago, where a young noble’s daughter named Aidais ran away with her knight to hide away in a remote village to escape her overbearing family. But their love was not to be, as the girl’s father tracked them down and slaughtered the knight.

  Aidais chose to hang herself rather than allow herself to be dragged back to a life without her knight.

  It was a tale that left a bitter taste in Priscilla’s mouth, but not every story could have a happy ending.

  Priscilla’s hands tightened on the reins, as she vowed she would make sure that Illnyea’s did.

  It was nearing dusk as they drew near Aidais’ Lament. They had agreed to let the horses travel at a regular speed as they approached so that the townspeople wouldn’t have any reason to view them as peculiar or be tempted to steal the bridles while her party was in the forest.

  The edge of Heinlein Fens was about five hundred feet from the edge of town, the dark trees and marshy terrain cast in deep shadows from the setting sun. Though it was ominous, Priscilla found that she was far more unnerved by Aidais’ Lament itself.

  It was a small town, no more than maybe thirty buildings in total with few streets and no noticeable defenses set up despite the close proximity to the fens and all its monsters.

  The few townsfolk that were walking in the streets watched them approach with pale faces and wary gazes that lingered on their weapons that poked out from beneath their cloaks. Whispers popped up around them as the people scattered, disappearing into homes and ducking behind them. Many of the houses they passed by had wooden planks over their windows and there was a layer of dirt upon the doorsteps, like they hadn’t been used in some time. No lamps fought off the darkness, so the buildings stood against the setting sun like dark masses. In the center of town, there was a broken bronze statue of a man missing its head and a large dark stain at the edge of the empty stone fountain.

  Goosebumps went up Priscilla’s arms as she took in the unpleasant atmosphere of the town. She ignored the strangeness best she could and searched for their destination, spotting what looked to be a stable quickly. Motioning towards it with her head, as Priscilla was wary of speaking and spooking the townsfolk, they made their way to it.

  Priscilla dismounted and knocked on the door.

  The man who opened it was tall and his features were rugged, but there was a brittleness about him that suggested he was meant to be a broader man but either a lack of food or sickness kept his muscle mass low. His face was as pale as the others they had seen and stress hung heavy in the wrinkles around his eyes and in the set of his shoulders, as if the weight of the world had been upon them so long he no longer knew how to stand straight. If Priscilla had to guess, she’d say the man was in his mid-fifties but the stress could have easily added ten years to him.

  Before either Priscilla or the stablemaster could speak, a horse whinnied in distress from within the stable.

  The stablemaster had a pained face as he said, “Bring your beasts inside.”

  As the stablemaster went to comfort what turned out to be the only horse in the entire stable with soft whispers, Priscilla took a brief glance around. With their three horses, the stables would be nearly full. This building wasn’t covered in the same layer of grime that the other houses were, but there was a stark feeling that something was missing though Priscilla couldn’t quite put her finger on what.

  Sulaiman watched the stablemaster with narrowed eyes while he unloaded their things from the horses with Kavil’s help as Priscilla stood near a depleted cart of hay, wondering if they’d return to find that their horses had starved in the meantime.

  They all stood awkwardly for a moment as they finished their tasks before the stablemaster was able to calm down the horse. He shut the stall door behind him, looking drained from the effort it took.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Priscilla didn’t waste time, stepping forward with a charming smile.

  “We hope to be able to stable our horses here for a week,” Priscilla began, gesturing to the beasts, “along with our tent, if that’s possible. We should be back by then and out of your hair, but if not, there will be someone coming from Meadowyar to collect them.”

  The stablemaster chewed on his lip slowly, like a horse chewing on a piece of wheat it wasn’t sure it liked, looking unsure.

  “We’ll pay for everything upfront, of course,” Priscilla said, pulling out her sack of gold and twirling it around her finger. “We can even throw a tip in for the hassle in case the Meadowyar crew takes longer than expected to get here.”

  The man glanced nervously at the horses, but his gaze was drawn back to her money bag. It seemed greed won over whatever had made him hesitant in the first place, and the stablemaster nodded. The price he told her was far lower than Priscilla expected so even with the tip, it came out less than she had budgeted for.

  The stablemaster took Priscilla’s horse into the stall after pointing out a cabinet for the tent to go in. Priscilla watched his movements, noting the careful way he held himself, like he was trying to make himself seem smaller. When he helped the horse settle in, there was a gentleness to his touch even as his brown eyes gained a distant look to them, as if he was lost in memories that pained him. She waited until the stablemaster led Kavil's horse into the stable before deciding she'd learned all she could from just watching.

  “So, what’s the deal with this town?” Priscilla asked bluntly as she leaned against the wall, watching the stablemaster’s hands still as she spoke. “I know it’s called Aidais’ Lament, but I didn’t think things would be so fucking doom and gloom here.”

  The stablemaster didn’t look up from the horse, his head bowed.

  “There isn’t anything wrong with our town,” the stablemaster said in a quiet voice, the words coming out like they had been rehearsed.

  Priscilla’s eyebrows shot up at the obvious lie. “Sure, just like my hair isn’t red.”

  The stablemaster’s head whipped up, the fastest she’d seen him move to far, to fix Priscilla with a glare. But his eyes soon lost their intensity when he saw Priscilla’s surprised expression, and the shadow of despair fell over him once more.

  “If even an outsider…” the man whispered, his shoulders starting to shake as his eyes grew glossy with tears as his mouth clamped shut.

  Priscilla was still processing the sudden mood whiplash when Kavil strode forward, entering the stable to gently lay a hand on the stablemaster’s shoulder.

  “What’s your name?” Kavil asked, his voice soft, personable, and non judgemental in a way that Priscilla could never emulate without it ringing false. “I’m Kavil.”

  The stablemaster’s shoulders were near his ears as he whispered, “Ulric, Ulric Collir.”

  “It’s nice to meet you Ulric,” Kavil said. “I know we’ve only just met, but I can’t help but notice your distress. Is there anything I can do to help to ease your pain, even just a little?”

  Ulric gave a helpless, hopeless laugh. “Th–there’s nothing you can do, I–I shouldn't even be talking to an outsider, if I get–”

  Ulric bit off his words, biting his lip so hard it turned white.

  Priscilla frowned as she made eye contact with Sulaiman. Without a word, Sulaiman stepped closer to the door, cracking it open so he could keep an eye on their surroundings. Priscilla resettled against the wall to watch Kavil work. She was itching to get answers about what the fuck was up with this town, but Ulric obviously needed a delicate touch.

  “It’ll be our little secret,” Kavil promised, squeezing Ulric’s arm. “No one will know that you spoke to us. But, please, let me help you in any way that I can.”

  Ulric finally looked up, looking at Kavil with an expression that boarded on hope but didn’t cross the line as if Ulric had been burned by the emotion too many times before.

  Kavil smiled, confident and kind yet unyielding even in the face of despair.

  “It’s not something you can handle,” Ulric whispered, “no one can stop that beast.”

  “Me and my friends are pretty good at handling monsters,” Kavil said, not undeterred in the slightest. “We’ve even killed two whole packs of Gorelock Toads at the same time by ourselves.”

  “Truly?” Ulric breathed with wide eyes.

  It was a slight exaggeration but Kavil nodded as if it wasn’t, pulling out the claw he had attached to his belt as a last resort weapon. “Took this as a souvenir, though Sulaiman and Priscilla did most of the hard work.”

  Ulric’s gaze briefly went over Priscilla and Sulaiman, but it was clear that Ulric’s focus remained on Kavil.

  “If you could kill them, then maybe you can…” Ulric trailed off, choking up.

  Kavil’s face softened in concern as he squeezed Ulric’s arm. “We can what?”

  “You can save my daughter.”

  “What happened to her?” Kavil asked as Priscilla stiffened.

  Ulric opened his mouth but Sulaiman said sharply, “Someone’s head our way.”

  Ulric’s mouth closed with a loud clack that sounded painful.

  “Who is it?” Priscilla asked.

  “Two men,” Sulaiman said, angling his head to see better. “Both are wearing padded leather armor and neither look friendly.”

  “They know I spoke to you,” Ulric whispered, clutching at his hair and tugging at it.

  “Before they get here,” Kavil said, words tumbling out of him, “tell us where your daughter is.”

  “She went into the fens,” Ulric said, his gaze going haunted, “as a sacrifice to The Starving One.”

  Priscilla’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened as she knew that name, knew that title to be more specific, from the story, though she had never expected to hear it now, not when they were so far from where the party originally encountered her.

  Oh shit, we’re dealing with cannibals.