The Whispering Woods: The Companions [Book 1]

[3] Haygen the Wanted

Haygen waded into the tall grass and brush that separated the town of Tamberlain and the Whispering Woods. Though invisible, he left behind a wake the enemy could see in the darkness. He crept as quietly as he could using his moon vision to see in shades of black and white. Before long, he reached the edge of the woods where the grass dissolved into large winding trees. Ancient oaks, maples, and beech trees swayed ever so slightly in the breeze from the north. The scent of rotting earth and acrid moss hung in the air. He slid Icefang from the sheath strapped across his back and gripped it in a two-handed battle guard. Come on, he thought. Let it begin if it must. He crept along the border making very little sound. His leather and hide armor didn't make as much noise as steel. It allowed him to move freely and it didn't rattle or clank like steel. His soft deer leather boots barely left a track as he stepped.

He knelt down and observed moss scraped clean from a rock right at the opening of a game trail. He peered further down the path and spotted a set of footprints. Next to them ran another set of tracks with drag marks between them. Two Men dragging a third, he thought. He had to be sure. Slowly, the Half-orc started down the trail gripping the blue leather wrap of his ax handle tighter and tighter until his green knuckles whitened. Don't go into the woods alone, he remembered. Haygen shook his head. I'll be quick. It's just there. He stared at the first footprint. Disk fissures and debris of the track showed fast forward movement at a run pace. The same pattern on four of the tracks. The drag marks told of heels, ball of foot, and toes-they were struggling.

A boy's soft voice flowed through the wind and slid into his mind, "You haven't been here in a long time, Kragg."

Dag! The Half-orc cursed his curiosity. No. Don't listen. Get out. A slow gust of wind found its way up his back and he shook in a chill.

"Kragg the Man-Killer," said the boy.  Its tone carried a soft echo. "Kragg the Bloody."

"That's not my name," Haygen said to the wind. He looked to find the other end of the trail.  Gone.

How?

It's happening again.

"Have you come to pay your debt, Orc?" the boy in the wind asked.

The woods grew darker and darker. Giving in to his frustration, Haygen swung his ax cutting only the misty air. The moment before his anger boiled over he remembered. He closed his eyes.

It's not real.

He stood there for a moment then opened his eyes. He looked at the tracks, saw the direction they headed and slowly walked in the opposite direction. Soon, he cleared the trees and stood in the high grass. Thank the gods, he thought and loosened the grip on his ax.

"The gods don't want you, Kragg!" shouted the boy. "When you die they don't want you!"

Haygen gripped his ax again. Keep moving...One foot in front of the other. Back to the Fuzzy for a nice Dwarven mead.