The Relistar

The Relistar | Ch. 5

With haze in his eyes, Cedric wandered out just as the sun rose behind the smog of Dreslon. The ogres had come out to haul their lumber and rock again, while the human men and women, migrants or not, took their berry baskets and longbows out into the forests surrounding the town.

  Cedric glanced down at his orange-glowing amulet with a hint of nostalgia. His hand felt that sinister gemstone in his pocket again, and his smile faded.

  He soon found his way back to the secluded alley which housed Greslock's shop. Once he was in view, Serkukan grasped at his throat again, reeling him back to attention.

  OVER THERE. THAT BODY.

  Cedric winced. A red haze seemed to guide his eyes up across the road, toward a narrow crevice between the buildings. He groaned, "I had hoped that you were merely a nightmare. I guess I couldn't be so lucky..."

  Through the crowd, he could discern a figure laying prone in that nook. Even from this distance, he knew: a Hunter, his neat ponytail had been sliced open to make a mess of hair all over his head.

  He weaseled his way through the crowd, and crouched beside the wet and bloody corpse. "This is the Hunter I met yesterday, isn't it?"

  CORRECT. ALBION'S PAWN. HE WAS TOLD TO FIND ME.

  "Looks like he succeeded."

  HE WAS SUPPOSED TO RELAY WORD OF MY EXISTENCE HERE TO LLESTREN'VATIS. ALGIRAK WAS NOT MEANT TO KNOW.

  He ran his fingers along the black-stained skin of the man's neck. "But now he does."

  WE'VE LOST OUR UPPER HAND.

  Cedric snuck away the man's coinpurse before he stood and turned back toward the disinterested crowd. He began toward Greslock's shop again.

  Forcing the heavy door open, a seemingly greater amount of dust than even the day before hovered into the air. Cedric scrunched his nose and wandered toward the counter. "Hey, Greslock–"

  "Cedric!" he gasped, suddenly leaping out from his seat behind the counter. He shuffled over beside him and pulled the wooden blinds closed as quickly as he could.

  "Smart. Though, they can't really see through all the dirt anyway."

  "What are you doing here?" he hissed.

  "First customers, and now friends. You spare none from your aggression."

  Greslock growled. "A Hunter is dead, just up the road. Nobody's been in all morning."

  "Had a run-in with the body just now. So what?" he shrugged.

  Greslock hung his head and muttered something.

  "What? What?"

  "I'm praying, Cedric. It wouldn't be a bad idea for you, either."

  "For a dead Hunter?"

  "Not just the Hunter..." he squinted at Cedric.

  "Woah, I didn't kill him!"

  "Tell that to their white-robes! Those damn prophets and psychics!"

  "I will!" he turned.

  "No! You most certainly won't! They already know that you were the last one he spoke to, they scried it this morning. They'll be looking for you, whether you did it or not. Just get out of here for now, go somewhere else for a while! Maybe... maybe back south!"