The Omens of a Crow [COMPLETE] (Watty 2018 Award-Winner)

Chapter 10

Sunlight was just creeping over the tops of the trees when Rawlings appeared. His shaved head and grim countenance brought to mind a specter riding from the mist. The mercenary was alone.

"You ride the south road," the swordsman said by way of greeting. "But to what end? Do you ride for fairer lands than Bliss? Or is your destination the house of the damned, to safeguard the plagued ones from crazed villagers?" They were both silent, traversing the road together. Krow did not supply an answer, and Rawlings did not seem to expect one. "The swords stay sheathed," the mercenary continued after a time. "Such is what you said to me. Keep it so. I have no wish to kill you."

"And I no wish to die."

"You may, in time. Men like you and I, we witness much death, and one day we will find that we crave it ourselves."

Krow nodded, understanding the truth in his words. "But not today, I think."

"Not today," Rawlings agreed. They rode, and the sun shined above the trees by the time he spoke again. They could see the road fork in the distance. Directly south, the lands of the Great Rubrem Empire. To the east, the cottage and his patients. "This is where I leave you, for I do not wish to spoil an ending before the conclusion." The mercenary paused for a moment. "Cruel men are a haypenny a dozen, but men like you are hard to find."

"I thank you," Krow said, and he meant it. "Whatever my choice, I wish you good fortune, Rawlings."

"And I you." The famed swordsman turned his horse about and headed back toward Bliss at a canter. Krow clucked Namtar on to the fork. He had been trained by the Order of the Silver Tear and raised in the light of the Burning Tree, but if there was something in which he'd never believe, it was destiny.