Beneath the Path of Grey

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"Oh, my goodness!" cried Sylvala, who stumbled over to the soldier, whom was lying limp and dead on the porch.

But what she saw afterwards had her backing away in horror. "No, it... it can't be."

"They're attacking the village!" Sir Hoffman thundered. "Summon the troops! Get them out!"

William, Merek, and Sir Hoffman ran to the front door, gingerly stepping over the dead man. Screams followed not later, cries of agony and pain.

Adallion gasped in horror, and grabbed William's sleeve desperately. "Please, William! Stay here! Oh, please don't tell me you're leaving! They'll rip your heart! William!"

"I have to, Adallion." William placed a rushed hand on her cheek. "Please, stay here. Lock your doors! Lock everything! Don't go out!"

William removed his hand, and ran in the direction of the cries. Adallion could only stare after him in fear. He'll be killed! The beasts won't even hesitate to drag him into the woods and devour his soul.

Adallion could only hope that William was as good as he said he was in training. If he really did touche all those knights in one on one combat, she hoped he could the beasts. The heartless monsters!

Sylvala had shut the door and bolted it tightly. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed Adallion by the arms.

"Bolt all the windows! Make sure nothing is opened or unlocked! Go now," Sylvala told her.

Adallion rushed through the entire cottage, sweeping through any possible openings. She closed all the windows, and double checked every weak latch. Was she missing something? Adallion had that feeling... did she forget to do something?

She reviewed what she had done only seconds before: windows? Locked and tight. Doors? Locked.

Adallion's heart suddenly sped. She could feel herself descend in a deep, dark hole. She was definitely missing something.

Bedroom... she thought frantically. Her bedroom window had a broken latch. The handle could easily be tampered with. Adallion rarely even kept it closed.

She stumbled over her own legs, running frantically to her bedroom door. Her heart dropped at the sight before her.

Her window was open. Wide open.

____________

The Voldecav surrounded the wooden table, staring at the map before them. Only one pair of eyes was not studying the map, and that pair of eyes belonged to Krytanne, man as black and as evil as the operation itself. His dark eyes scanned his followers closely, for any sign of suspicion. He did this every day, for he never did trust the men who had faithfully devoted themselves to the Voldecav.

Men were men. Betrayal and trust were on a very awkward balance, one easily trembled or toppled. No matter how devoted they are to one master, bribery would force them elsewhere. No matter how much courage they possess, fear overpowers them in the end.

No matter how strong... men are easily shattered. Whether it's the luminous face of gold, or the beautiful face of a woman.

That is why Krytanne is so skeptical. If his men were hiding something, he'd know. He'd smell the lie off of them. Even the slighest lack of eye contact, the slightest trickle of sweat on the brow, doesn't go unnoticed.

Krytanne didn't trust humans. He lied, too.

The room was dark, illuminated only by a small lamp on the table. Thick fog enclosed the men in a tight circle of clausterphobia, and the only furniture in the entire room was the sturdy wooden table. The rest of the territory's furniture was unknown, hidden behind the thick misty veil of fog.