In the night it had come, by the dawn's first light the only survivor stood staring bleakly into the horizon. Cold and meek the boy ignored the choking of the Ferax cat as it strangled on its own greed. Such creatures are cursed by incurable hunger and eternally stricken with rage. Unlike most beasts who will avoid a fight if they are not confronted, the Ferax cat seeks out this struggle.
-Journal of Tenzo the Traveler
The cawing of the ravens and the crows pierced his aching head. The mud had frozen around him and it cracked as he sat up with a groan. His ribs burned and he could feel the sting of a cut beneath his chest. The first rays of light brought forth a dark grey sky that illuminated the cold town. He looked about and saw the body of a guard laying to his left. His leg was missing and there was a gash across his chest. It was the thin guard. In all the time he had been in the town Izaak had never known the man's name. Not that he cared to though, they were all really the same. Spineless, weak, and pretending they weren't.
Carefully Izaak lifted himself from the ground and found that the rest of the bodies were all there. Including the Ferax Cat, and its head was gone. Cleaved cleanly from its monstrous body and a trail of blood marking where it had been carried away up the road to the keep. Izaak hummed to himself wondering what the strange swordsman was up to. He had allowed the guards to be killed, but Izaak could see why. There was more glory, perhaps a better reward if only one man returned, for it showed the danger of the foe they had faced. Or he had faced.
A very convenient foe. Very conveniently, I helped you. And very conveniently you left me to rot, Izaak thought and grumbled to himself.
Slowly he hobbled up the road using his sword as support. There was no one to be seen as he made his way to the inn. Not surprising though, a dozen men had just been torn to shreds. Yet where were the other guards? Not that he missed them, but shouldn't they have cleaned up this mess by now? Would they though? Clean up this mess? Come to think of it, they really only seemed to collect gold and bring girls up to the keep for lord Riese. Or for themselves. They weren't exactly known for keeping order. Yet he hadn't come here because they were. He dawdled too long and now more threats were popping up.
As he made his way up the hill to the inn he didn't see anyone. The town was completely empty. But he found more bodies. MAny of the people he did not recognize and strangely many of them did not look like they were killed by the beast. Some appeared to had been strangled, burned, or even starved to death. What's more the inn was gone. Instead there was now an open hole.
Izaak peered down into it and he shuddered back. There were hundreds of grey faces staring back at him. All sad and rotten and all young girls. They cried out to him and begged him to help them out, but he only looked at one.
She was stone faced and her throat had been cut. Her hair was still a fine black though and she was wearing the clothes she had left in. His sister was ever composed and she looked at him sorrowfully.
"Izaak," Vorina whispered but he heard her clearly even amongst the wailing of the others. "You have only begun. The despair you find here will in time be nothing to what will come to pass"
"I don't understand," Izaak said.
"I know, but if too much is said, I will be silenced. The walls are always listening. Down Izaak, find them, burn them. Burn me!"
The last words echoed in his ears and then one of the girls had grabbed him and another and another and he was pulled down into the darkness of the pit.
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Every bit of movement brought him discomfort and he collapsed back onto the bed. He was in a small round room with four windows in each corner and grey light showed through each one, hinting at a new morning. In the middle of the room was a small table and upon it were laid his things, except for his sword. He tried to rise again but it was fruitless.
His ribs ached and the pierce of a headache caused him to wretch on the floor. As blood and what very little food escaped from him, he felt a white hot pain shoot across from his belly to his back. He spasmed and ripped his shirt off and found a bright red mark like a scar over his whole body. However his ribs were not broken. It was healing magic, but brutally crude. The healer had mended his injuries but at the cost of more pain. He cursed the healer and pulled from within. He was the blood of Iskali and such pains must be endured.
Still though he could not steady himself against the healing magic. This time he pulled from within with a force even needed to tear it and the pain increased. He kept pulling until he strangled it and used the pain to help him move.
As his teachers had taught him, pain can move oneself. When a person even just brushes against hot steel, the pain will move them instinctively. With the blood of Iskali pain can be used for more than instinct and preservation.
Very soon the pain had become a buzz and his mind quickly cleared as his headache faded. He moved from the bed and looked through his things. His sword as he had seen was gone. His armour was still there. They had even cleaned his mail and shined his leather, along with his other clothes which now smelled of herbs. His gold though was gone too. He cursed them and put on his clothes, including his armour. Even without his sword he knew that there was no one in this town that could stand against him, except maybe that swordsman
He shook his head, he could not think like that right now. As far as they knew, and had maybe seen, he had helped them kill the beast. Or was merely a bystander who had been hurt by it, who happened to have a blade. It was against no law to have a sword afterall. More men in this country carried a blade than those who did not. The problem was very few carried one as fine as his. It would be suspicious to those with a scrupulous nature. He would come to that in time though.
He opened the door to his room slowly, but there was no need for there was no one outside. It opened right out onto a winding staircase that was lined with lanterns and small windows for light. He stepped out cautiously, but held himself with confidence as if he had every right to leave. After all, the door was not locked, but the walls were always watching. So he made sure that should anyone be looking that they would only see an assured man without anything to hide.
Someone else might go down, since they knew they were already on an upper floor, but Izaak had not been in this tower before and he wished to find any clues he could. So he made his way up.
The first room he found was locked, but the door was simple and with even the lightest tug he opened it. Had anyone been watching him it would have looked as if the door had been stuck and he had simply jostled it open. He wondered how disappointed Harwin would be with him for using a power this way. He would probably say something like, "it is better to spill blood in honorable combat than to ever be a petty thief." He was really such a rigid man.
The room was very much like the one he had been in, but there was a small writing desk and on it were a few letters yet to be sent. He looked at them but found them uninteresting. They were the healers it seemed. He requested from someone five pounds of mink root and ten vials of popi extract. They were common alchemical ingredients for healing and reducing pain, none of which the healer had and none which Izaak had gotten. However together they made a tincture that could paralyze. He left the room and proceeded up the staircase.
The next room was already opened and he entered with a soft knock at the door. A man was sitting at a desk very much like in the previous one but this one was cluttered with vials and ingredients. The room was also bigger and on the other side was another door. A window on it's right side looked out onto a bridge that led into the wall, which surrounded the keep.
The man looked up and set down a bottle he had been examining. "Ah you're moving about," he said quite happily. "I really didn't think my abilities were still up to par. You took quite the nasty hit."
Izaak frowned. "They aren't, you've caused me quite a bit of pain. I think I would prefer the broken ribs."
The healer shrugged, "I meant it that way. I never could do it without causing more pain, unfortunately. But I have healed everything I've encountered," he said quite proudly. "Besides, you seem to handle it well. I knew you would."
Izaak's eyes narrowed. "And pray how did you know that?"
The healer grinned and looked at Izaak deviously. "I can just feel things from certain people I guess. It's our job as healers to know people's bodies and what they are capable of afterall."
Izaak hummed. "All the same, I would have very much liked to have had some mink root or popi extract," he said and he lingered on the word or and this time he smiled at the healer. And the healer nodded back in understanding.