Stilskin, Stilskin

Chapter Eighteen

I glared at them. The forest grew thicker as I stared, appalled at what had happened.
"You couldn't hear the crow's scream?"

"Aw, now! Don't be so hard on yourself. You don't look that bad." Filtworth chuckled.

"I've heard them screech in the distance more often in the past few days but this- this was nothing like I've ever even he- . . .never mind."

"Never mind? Never mind, Olathe, you can't just blame this on yourself. Don't you remember the roof? The only crow I recall was Sorcerer Erwin. Then the crows crying around the castle and before Uncle Oliver died, now this! Erwin is after you Olathe. He has no reason to torture you like this- unless. . . has anything happened I don't know about?"

I looked at him, tears welling up in my eyes.

"Yes. At the grave, I followed you, and you lead me down a dark and foggy pathway, and when you turned around, it was him, and he. . ." I shuddered. My words were shaky. "Stilskin turned to a dastardly animal and he, or something of his doing, chased me, it was biting and drooling on my ankles as he forced me to run. I ran so fast I couldn't feel my feet and my lungs went numb. I fell and, then you were there. I wrapped my arms around you, and when I pulled away you were making fun of me, guilting me, then you turned into Stilskin. But I couldn't recognize him. He was evil and raw, he wasn't hidden by that mask, the charming mask he wore when he visited me, but a bare face, the face of death."

"No more secrets, Olathe! We agreed! Do you not understand how importantly crucial this bit of information is?" Warric said.

"If I didn't know better, this Sorcerer sounds more like a Warlock." Filtworth huffed.

I looked up in confusion.
"What's the difference?"

"Warlocks want one thing. Heirs. They don't have to be biological heirs, no no, just a child to raise and train to be a new Dark Witch or Warlock. They get close to a woman, create friendly bonds then either trick them into marriage or steal that woman's children. Warlocks are the supporters of the young Blood Goblins. They take young and even injured Goblins and nurse them to grow up strong. Then they perform curses on the weakest Goblins, coming up with with new ways to make a kill, and as an effect, the goblins that survive the death curses grow to adulthood, become more adaptive and harder for human to destroy. Filtworth said grimly.

"Your level of dark knowledge is somewhat disturbing." Warric urged.

"Thank you, I try." He flinched his eyes.

"He told me he was a highly ranked wizard and sorcerer." I said shocked.

"How are you sure he isn't one, now?" Warric asked.

"In the castle, he mentioned being locked up and punished for helping a young Blood Goblin. That cad! How could he of dreamt of deceiving me like this?" I was infuriated.

"Liars, those blokes are, and nothing more. The only ones crazier than magic folk are royalty. " Warric huffed halfway sarcastically, yet truth gleamed in his words.

"Tell me about it." Filtworth sighed. He scrunched his fidgety face and turned away.

Silence for a moment.

"Curiosity kills, but nevertheless, may I inquire why you have these thoughts on Royals?"

"And if I were to say no?"

"Then I wouldn't bother you."

"Then that sounds like an excellent deal." He said, face in a full-fledge fit. I noticed he twitched more when he got angry or upset. I couldn't tell which was which. "We're almost into the Shrieks. We need to quieten down."

Warric and I crouched in the back silently. Filtworth fastened his hood around him. We drove off down the woodland path through the mountains. I heard ramblings in the shrubbery and began to question how many of the stirrings were human waiting to attack. The carriage shook and a brief snap was heard. A bump, nothing more. Trillium and Matilda whinnied with pride as they trampled through the steep hills of the forest path. Warric and I crouched down, all we could see was the Emerald and Golden light glistening through the canopy and into the barred windows. The shining light shone into the cabin in patchy splotches of green ember, and occasionally dimmed by the overpass one of a large branch; looking up to the sky was Warric and I's only form of entertainment for hours. Nevertheless, it kept our minds from drifting off to the screams we could hear in the distance- and the vicious thought of the highwaymen waiting to abduct any woman they came across. I gazed over to him, his light eyes gently pondering the cab ceiling. They bounced back and fourth, to and fro, glistening as if he were almost listening with his own eyes, and they would help him sense anything that would put us in danger. Screams echoed in the distance. Howls and moans jaded my thoughts about the skylight or Warric's eyes. I thought to myself.

"It's the safe place, the safe place you'll hide until you can return to Olivian. . ."

And as the time went, it grew darker, as if the sky, 'twas lit by a million coals simmering down to dimmed and darkened embers. Only then the screams of The Shrieks grew louder. Names could be heard calling in agony. A mother calling for her child. A child for his life. A life calling for his death. Everything terrible you could imagine a human screaming for pierced the night like a dagger through our ears. I heard a wail near the window and clinched my eyes shut. I gripped Warric's hand. He was awake in the darkness. Who could sleep? I grabbed his attention. He spoke softly, barely above a whisper. In a voice faint, every tree's rustling in the land must stop to be heard.
"I love you, Olathe."

I smiled sadly.

I caught I mere glimpse of Filtworth sitting stiff outside, straight and tense. Just then, I looked up at a scream that stood aside from the others. It bellowed in howl- a human. I bolted up and looked outside, gripped to Warric's arm. He struggled to yank me back down. I yelped as he tried to wrestle me to the floor out of the sight of enemies. I needed to see what happened. Has Filtworth been hurt? The Cabin shook. Just like before, but not. I heard a thud on top of the roof. Matilda and Trillium whinnied in fear. The thud ascended to the driver's seat. It climbed in with us, the black figure did. A masked man grinned an empty mouth of teeth and hollered to others. He looked dead at me.

"A live one, men!"