Jeff Inlo - Nightmare's Shad

Ryson looked over his shoulder at the hilt of the sword now sheathed across his back. He did not draw the blade out of respect for the honesty he was shown.

"It was still shining? All that time?"

"Your eyes saw what the magic wanted you to see, a covering over the light, but to those who know to look beyond the magic, the light will appear as bright as ever."

"Just a trick," the delver allowed, with a slight chuckle.

Then, the swallit grunted.

"Be careful not to dismiss such magic as simple deception. Illusions can be the greatest of powers because they can hide the truth, all truth. Yes, it can deceive you into believing lies, make you imagine peril when no such threat exists, but it also can disguise danger. It can make hazardous ground appear safe, camouflage pitfalls and traps. Think about that the next time you pursue a spell caster who utilizes illusion."

"I will," Ryson conceded.

"As for my second point, if you are determined to seek out what I hope to avoid, do not be surprised if you find nothing on this night. Yes, you are a delver, but the threat is not a danger to you or your kind. Even with your great delver senses, I doubt you will locate the menace I know exists. It does not seek you, even if you seek it. That's all I will say."

The swallit's words did little to diminish the delver's curiosity.

"Good luck to you, Ryson Acumen. If our path's cross again, I do not believe it will be as foes. You have my respect, as I hope I have earned some of yours."

The creature said nothing more. It dropped back down to all fours and bounded off to the east.

Ryson was left with a deeper mystery. The peril that made a swallit flee would elude him, or so the swallit said. These were not words that a delver could simply accept. Even though he did not doubt the swallit, he would not give up so easily.

With the monster on its way, Ryson turned to the opposite direction. He traced the beast's path further back into the forest. He followed it carefully. He kept vigilant for any sign of danger, hoping to gain some new insight to the mystery and the questions in his mind, but he found nothing within the trees.

The swallit's path led further out toward the badlands that separated Dark Spruce from the Lacobian, but Ryson stopped before leaving the forest. It was not for lack of desire, for he very much wanted to solve the mystery. He stood for long moments watching and listening-feeling the winds from the west. He had thought it odd when he earlier sensed a strange desire to flee. He felt it again-along with an emptiness-as if many creatures had already acted on that desire.

Had it been just up to him, he would have ventured onward, would have followed the sensation to its origin, but he was no longer just a delver on a hunt for answers. His obligation as a scout for Burbon outweighed his delver curiosity and he felt it necessary to turn back. In the end, he could do nothing more than return to Burbon and alert the guard to what he had seen and heard.

The magic could not touch Linda, and so, she felt neither aversion nor attraction to the energy. She did, however, have a sense of people. She had it all her life, a natural ability to assess character and perceive intentions. Working in a tavern nourished that gift. She dealt with people from all walks of life and her openness with others often invited them to be more open with her. As she came to discover her initial impression of people usually proved accurate, Linda learned to trust her instincts and her judgment, and although the magic was completely foreign to her, she knew it ran strong in the woman before her.

The young woman was a stranger to the inn, to the entire town of Burbon for that matter. She said she wanted to see Linda, but that wasn't her ultimate goal. Linda could tell that almost immediately. The stranger was happy Linda agreed to speak with her, but it was clear it was only a first step. It was very much like a thirsty soldier waiting at a table. He was pleased when the barmaid approached, but it was whiskey or ale he truly desired.

Linda wanted privacy for this conversation, though she didn't know why-another instinct-but she also didn't want to risk being alone with the stranger. She summoned the woman to the far corner where they could be seen, but not so easily heard over the clamor of the crowd.

"I don't know you," Linda stated as more of a warning than an admission. She wanted the young woman to understand immediately that her trust was not given so freely to strangers, especially to this stranger.

"No, you don't," the woman replied, as if it didn't matter. "I am Heteera."

Linda immediately corrected her.

"That's your assumed name. You're a sorceress."

"I do not hide it."

"You might want to around here."

"Here? In the town of the wizard?The home of Enin?"

"We know Enin. We don't know you."

And that was true. Burbon was not a large city. It was a small town, a town that sat very near DarkSpruceForest, and it thrived on order and control. That's one of the reasons why the people of Burbon survived the return of magic while towns like Pinesway decayed into the mere skeletal remains of abandoned homes and ransacked shops.

"My given name at birth is Heather," the woman admitted, "but I wish to protect the friends and family of my previous life. They shouldn't suffer for my choices, so I would prefer it if you call me Heteera."

"Maybe you shouldn't put them in danger in the first place."

It came out as more of a rebuke than Linda intended, but she did not withdraw the remark.

"It is not my intention," Heteera replied with a solemn tone that indicated she might not have been totally successful in that desire. Regardless, she would not relinquish her aim. "In fact, I've hoped to do the opposite."

Linda didn't sense any true malevolence within the sorceress, but the stranger carried more than danger with her, she carried a sense of concern that clearly weighed upon her request.

"Very well, Heteera, I don't think you're here for a drink or a room for the night. What is it you want from me?"

"You are married to Ryson Acumen. I was hoping you could arrange it so that I might speak to him."

It was not a secret that Linda was the wife of the delver. Others had asked about being married to an individual whose name was becoming part of the legends. Over time, she learned to deal with it.

Still, Linda recoiled at this particular request. The sorceress was not here to offer good news, that much was clear. That fact left Linda more than cautious, it made her unsympathetic.

"It seems many people want to talk to Ryson, but he's rather busy. If you have some kind of concern, you should go talk to the guard. I can direct you to the closest post, or I can even summon them. I can have a handful of soldiers here in a moment."

"Guards and soldiers are of no use to me."

"That may be, but they may have some questions for you. A sorceress comes to town and starts asking to see Ryson. They're going to want to know why."

It was not such a veiled threat. Linda was growing more suspicious, and Heteera noted the animosity.

"Are you always so hostile to strangers?"

"No, but you asked about Ryson, and I know you're a sorceress. That has me concerned. I won't deny it and I won't apologize for it."

"I understand," Heteera nodded. "And I also know you don't fear me. The magic can't touch you, and even if it did, you are under the protection of two legends-your husband and the wizard. It would be foolish to try and harm you in any way."

"I'm not worried about myself, I'm worried about why you want to see Ryson."

Heteera paused, as if to internally debate her next response. When she finally replied, her words suddenly seemed painted with a desire for mercy.