Dark Road to Revelation

[The Whisperer]

Creaking wagon wheels. A steady clack as wood shifted against deep ruts. The night’s stillness parted around the rugged carriage.

 

Jobrai was already fighting to stay awake. The steady sway of his wagon and the sound of its wheels was hypnotic. After dozens of these journeys he was not worried for what he might meet along the way. Kesrick and his guard kept the road safe. So long as he avoided the roving army patrols there was no threat.

 

Cargo dripped off the sides of the coach, but was strapped down fairly tight. Furs, leathers, silks... Jobrai had been responsible for carting the stuff between Miruvhor and Maelbrim for years. It was good, steady, honest work. That was hard to find in Miruvhor these days.

 

The taxes were biting and shady sorts shook him down from time to time, but Jobrai preferred the city by the sea. It was a constant sort of trouble that you could almost count on. Miruvhor tended not to get blown up or swallowed by rifts. Better a light coin purse than a heavy coffin, he often said.

 

Eyelids heavy, the courier leaned back in his perch with the horse’s reigns held lightly in the crook of his arm. Old Ironshods was getting on in years but the mare knew the path better than he did. Trusting his old companion Jobrai let his eyes slip closed.

 

Visions of full tankards and busty women filled his mind. The best part of a job was the end, and while he wouldn’t want to live in Maelbrim he couldn’t deny its charms. Before too long he’d be sitting in the Red Dragon Inn, pinching barmaids and giving Tamara a hard time. She was a tough barkeep, but he liked no nonsense folk like her.

 

A sudden jolt knocked him back to his senses. Eyes’s fluttering open, Jobrai cursed under his breath. The last thing he needed was a broken wheel in the middle of the night.

 

But his concerns were assuaged when instead of pitching as he might expect, the wagon trundled on. It must have been something in the road, but nothing to worry about.

 

Tha-thump, tha-thump.

 

Another one. Jobrai looked back to see if the cargo was still latched tight, and maybe catch a glimpse of what he’d hit. The lanterns strapped to the side of his wagon cast only a small cone of light, so by the time he craned his neck to see it was all wrapped in shadow.

 

He lurched forward as all at once the carriage swayed and bounced. Jobrai grabbed the reigns and pulled, hissing for Ironshods to stop. Damn stupid horse wandered off the road, he cursed in the back of his mind.

 

Jobrai leaped off and immediately yelped in pain. He’d rolled his ankle landing on something unsteady. It’d slipped beneath his feet and caused him to lose his footing. Groaning in pain and growling curses into the dark, he leaned down to see what it was.

 

Dim lantern light glinted off his wide eyes.

 

A body. It was a small body. A faerie adolescent, by the look. Jobrai gulped. Where the other bumps...?

 

He turned back to confirm his suspicious and his foot kicked something else. He wrenched it back, revealing the crunched wing of an elder faerie woman.

 

Panic took him. Had he run these poor creatures down with his wagon? That couldn’t be. He hadn’t heard a yell of pain or warning. Taking the lantern off the side of the coach Jobrai raised the hood to get a better look.

 

The scene it exposed stole his breath. Strewn in front of him were scores of small bodies, stretching into the darkness. Face down in the dirt. Dead.

 

The sound of shattered glass spooked Ironshods. Jobrai’s quivering hand, too weak from fear to hold the lantern, was pressed against his mouth to suppress a gasp.