TBC: Chapter Twenty

Later that same night, a single flame from a candle shone in the window of a small, one-bedroom house to the east of Mordán's palace. Inside, Burgis stood over his bed and zipped up a small black bag. He quickly glanced at the front door and froze. After several moments, he sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow. He threw on a black-hooded cloak, grabbed his bag, and blew out the candle before stepping onto his porch.

He drew his cloak around him tighter, quietly cursing the Ice Mountain air that blew through the forest. The shrilling screech of the gawls pierced the air above him, in search of prey and a shiver ran through him. He looked around in caution and hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder before treading north along a small nearby path trailing the edge of the forest. Several hours later, he cut across to another path leading to the mid-northern region of the forest. He drew his hood low and quickened his pace as another screech echoed overhead. Soon, his eyes came to rest on the flickering light of a candle in the window of a cabin ahead of him, barely visible through the density of the trees.

He sighed as he approached the cabin. "Thank you, Marcile," he whispered as he entered the cabin and closed the door behind him. "I was worried I would be seen."

"You should be," a soft voice answered. "Mordán does not favor the dealings of traitors."

Burgis gasped as he took in the hooded stranger standing in the corner shadows of the cabin. "Who are you?" he demanded as he stepped back.

Akila stepped toward Burgis and lowered her hood. Her blue-silver eyes flashed in the candlelight. "Someone who has walked a long way to take out the trash."

"A star witch?" Burgis said. "It cannot be."

Akila laughed wickedly. "That's what they all say."

Burgis swallowed hard and looked around. "Where—what have you done to Marcile?"

Akila stepped closer to Burgis and put a finger to her lips as if in thought. "I think he was delayed due to an injury of some sort. You know you can never be too careful with the gawls flying at night." She smiled. "If they smell blood, they get even more restless."

"You are evil," Burgis said fiercely. "Just like Mordán."

Akila let out a small chuckle. "Oh, there are worse things you can be—like one who betrays his own sire."

"Mordán is a traitor to his kingdom."

"Mmm…perhaps. But, that is not my business," she replied. "My business, however, is to ensure you do not get in his way."

Burgis squeezed his bag to his chest as Akila came closer.

"How is your heart, Burgis, my old friend? It seems to be racing," she asked in mock concern. "I think I should check your pulse."

***

Marcile touched the side of his head where dried blood had crusted the strands of his blonde hair. He leaned against a tree outside his cabin and tried to catch his breath. Rapid white puffs of air materialized in front of his mouth. His face grimaced in pain as he dropped his hand to grasp the top of his left leg, which trickled a stream of blood beneath the arrow protruding from it.

"No!"

Marcile looked up sharply as Burgis's shout reached his ears.

"Burgis?" Marcile whispered. "He's already here!"

He grunted as he pushed himself off the tree and limped as fast as he could to his cabin. He dodged behind another tree as the cabin door opened, and Akila swept out into the night.

She paused and gazed in Marcile's direction before moving further through the trees in the direction of the palace.

Several seconds later, Marcile burst into the cabin and saw Burgis sprawled motionless on the floor. "Burgis!"

Marcile dropped to one knee. He gasped from the pain in his leg. "Burgis!" he said again, shaking the old man's shoulder.

Burgis groaned and opened his eyes. "Marcile…A st—star witch," he whispered.

"Shhh, I know," Marcile said. He reached into a pouch hanging at his hip and pulled out a vile containing violet liquid. He placed a hand behind Burgis's head and tilted it up. "Here, drink this."

Burgis pushed the vile away. "No. Marcile…It's too late." He coughed and took a ragged breath. "You must warn …" a shallow breath escaped his lips, and he swallowed, "…the warriors of…Mordán's plans." He gasped and exhaled as the light left his eyes.

Marcile released Burgis's head gently and placed the vile back into the pouch. He bowed his head and sighed.

"My work is never done," Akila said in irritation from behind Marcile in the doorway. Marcile whipped around and scrambled back against the floor, letting out a shout of pain as the arrow end sticking from his leg snapped off. He tugged frantically at the coat fastenings near his neck.

Akila stepped over Burgis's legs slowly as she approached Marcile. "Not to worry, Marcile. I will make it quick."

"I know who you are, Akila."

Akila stopped in her advance and looked at him curiously. "Now, how would you know that?"

Marcile laughed lightly. "You're not the only one with secrets." He reached into the opening of his coat and grasped a stone amulet hanging from his neck. A single Faborn rune was engraved on the front.