The Twisted Adventures of Sir Weimar

Ch. 10: The Bleeding Mummies

"Shall we make camp here?"

As they rode on with their mounts through the rocky outcropping in the southern regions of the kingdom's outskirts, both Weimar and Sir Globar halted their steeds and glanced over at Syras. The new stable hand, his dark features only visible under his hood, glanced between both the knight and his new squire. The setting sky, causing the few clouds above to glow a faint peach color, gave Syras's brown eyes an ominous luminescent look. 

"I rather we did not." Sir Globar waved a hand garbed in a brownish gauntlet. "This is outcropping is famous for its highwaymen and bandits. Sometimes, the mountain and valley clans pass through here. If we make camp here, we might as well invite any type of vagabond or rover to prey upon us. Oh, must I mention the shadow prowlers as well? I hear they are nasty up here. The Massedonian knight I squired for told me they like to sneak up on dead or even sleeping forms and b-"

"Alrighty, I get your point. We will not set up camp here. " Syras sighed and glanced at the stone path that lay before them as well as the outcropping. "I must admit, my steed is getting restless. He hasn't had a sip of water since we stopped at that stream this morning. "

"Fear not, we will find a place to rest up and eat. The horses can also do the same once we find stables at a livery, inn, or tavern. Besides, the town of Fjore is a couple miles away from here."

Let us hope that our mounts can make it until then.

As much as his legs hurt from the saddle soreness, the thought of spending the night in the open intimidated young Weimar.  The idea of being easy prey for Mountain Jaguars, Shadow Leopards, or even Loht Wolves was enough to keep the weary young squire to push on. Every few seconds or so, his dark eyes would scour the the dull gray or bronze stones for any hint of a skulking predator or the telltale sign of a bandit lying in wait for an ambush on unwary drifters. Thankfully, it wasn't long until they cleared the hard ground and moved toward grassier plains.

"Any moment now, we will come upon our destination. The town of Fjore started off as a minute village that- Dear Charbald, what took place here?"

Hearing his superior's startled conjecture,  Weimar glanced over at the town that was coming up-or what remained of it. Several inhabitants were huddled together at the edge of the burning remains of what used to be the bustling town of Fjore. Dogs, hares, bucks, and other household pets darted by as the fires raged on, emitting a bright glow underneath the colorful twilight above. Weimar's fists clutched at the reins tightly as he felt a great deal of commiseration for not only the poor people who lost their homes to the disaster, but also for the poor pets who had no idea what was going on and were panicked by the scenes of death and destruction surrounding them. His heart went out for Runeyohn, whom he was already starting to miss dearly.  His Wallouf Shepherd could have easily been one of the pets stuck in this fiasco.

"It looks like our dreams of having warm beds and fowl in our bellies won't be coming true tonight," Sir Globar muttered. "I wonder what could have come down here. Was this a result of negligence or a bandit attack?"

Syras just shook his head. "It must be some accident. It looks as if a Norwikhi Ridgeback or a Fjallhorn Firemander rampaged through the town."

The knight stroked his beard. "You have keen eyes, stable hand. You might be onto something. Let's inquire what transpired here from one of the locals."

As they steered their horses deeper into the city, a woman , draped in a ivory-colored cloak and sporting a wailing infant in one arm, rose from a large building that was only partially immolated, warily glanced up at them. She started to slowly trot backward like a frightened mare after seeing a Mountain Jaguar creeping around, but Sir Globar raised his hand to assuage her of the fear that they were there to bring harm to them. Gradually but with great caution, she approached him. Despite the gravity of the situation, Weimar couldn't help notice that the ruined building, the town treasury as revealed by the contorted sign, slant downward like a tower of blocks. It reminded him of the Veinizhian's Mussole prison tower, a sight drawn by several traveling artists that visited the outer territories of the kingdom before making their way into the capital.