Myrkr Manlíkan (Revised)

The night was still young, the festivities still audible in the distance behind Alker. He’d left the wedding simply because events such as those were not of his preference. While he didn’t mind the company of others, such an amassing as the one that had gathered for his cousin’s wedding was an entirely different story. Plus, Alker didn’t go to the event with a date, so he was practically alone as all his other relatives showered his cousin with the attention brought on during a wedding.

It was dark out, even though it seemed as if the sun had just set. Alker didn’t bother bringing a torch with him, he much relished the darkness, it allowed him to attune his vision and be more aware of his surroundings as opposed to carrying a blazing torch and being blind in the darkness. He continued to walk through the darkness, stepping over small puddles and fallen branches, rocks and such. Suddenly the sound of footsteps approaching from behind could be heard.

Alker turned around, startled by the sudden sound filling the air, only the find that it was his squire attempting to catch up to him. The boy was only the age of 12, so he was bound to be afraid of the dark, and everything else in the stories he must have been told as a child. In turn, he bore a torch in his right hand, and in the left was a piece of parchment, rolled and stamped with the wax seal of his brother’s sigil. Alker turn back around and continued his walk through the dense forested area. The young squire, named Sam, finally had reached Alker and was panting up a storm in hopes to regain his breath. He’d been wearing simple black breeches, accompanied by a simple black tunic. A cloak was draped over his shoulders, and on his tunic, Sam bore the sigil of his house, a squirrel.

Sam recovered from his bent over stance and straightened his posture, his breathing had also returned to a normal pace. He extended the rolled piece of parchment to Alker and awaited a reaction and/or response. Alker broke the seal, unrolled the letter and began to scan the letters written before him. At the bottom of the page was his cousin’s signature, Stalhart Dentrill. It was obvious that Stalhart hadn’t written the letter himself, most likely due to not being sober enough to do so. The basic premise of the letter was that Stalhart was apologetic due to Alker feeling left out. It caught Alker by surprise that Stalhart knew he felt out of place, and then he remembered how his cousin had always been skilled in reading the emotions of others: sober or not.

Alker folded the parchment into four, slid it into a pocket of his midnight blue breeches and continued to walk. Sam was confused at first, but he most likely was unaware of the contents of the letter, as Stalhart had a squire of his own to write his letters, if need be.

“My lord? What news did the letter bring?”

“Nothing of any importance. Simply my cousin’s regards that he understands what it’s like not to attend a wedding with a fine maiden,” Alker jested as he continued to walk.

Sam made no reply, obvious he did not catch on that it was simply a joke.

“Boy, it was a jest, you’re supposed to laugh at jests. Remember?”

The squire let out a short, nervous laugh in response. Alker chuckled and continued to walk. He looked up to the sky and at the stars that filled his vision. A brief breeze blew and chilled both Alker and Sam slightly. It was nothing compared to the winds of winter that cut through layers of fur and lining like a hot knife on butter. However, the breeze was unlike any other. Alker had experienced winds of all sorts: winds of spring, summer, autumn, winter, winds of the sea, winds of the deserts, winds of the mountains and valleys, but this wind felt unfamiliar, and it unnerved Alker. The boy paid no heed since he had nowhere near as much experience in different conditions as his lord had.

The two continued to walk, after looping back shortly after the wind blew. Another short breeze came in, but was evidently different than the last. Alker stopped his stride and looked out amongst the darkness of the forest. Sam walked a few paces further before he noticed Alker had stopped walking. He turned around and faced his lord, curious as to the reason for the halt.

“My lord?”

Alker did not look to the boy, he continued to scan the dark distance, the feeling as though he were being watched filling his head.

“Something is awry. I could not place my finger on it if you asked me to, but something is not right.”

Merely moments after Alker spoke, the torch that Sam had been holding burnt out, as though an extremely strong gust of wind blew it out, yet there was no wind in that moment. The very reason Alker did not bring a torch with him was now affecting him. His eyes had grown adjust to the light, so when the torch blew out, he was as blind as a bat. Sam let out a startled gasp and dropped the torch, made evident by the sound of the wood crashing against the foliage that blanketed the forest floor. Alker’s eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness, only when Sam came blindly running to him in hopes of comfort.

He was running blindly of the direction of Alker, and eventually ran into him. The squire let out a high-pitched squeak at the sound of another chill breeze blowing through the leaves. Alker ignored the boy and slowly drew back his cloak, revealing that he had a dagger sheathed in his belt. He took a hold of the hilt and slowly began to draw the blade. Alker was extremely talented with a normal sword, greatsword, bastard sword, you name it. However, when it came to daggers, stilettos or other blades of the small families, Alker was a master and could easily outmatch a man wielding a greatsword, whether it be made of Ulav or not.

In the distance, Alker spotted what he could assume to be another person. Or maybe it was just a tree rid of leaves. Sam was now balled on the floor, in hopes that he would not be attacked, leaving Alker free to move as he please without being restricted by his squire, so he moved. He began to approach the now-presumed dead tree, only to find that it was not a tree, but instead a shadow. The mysterious, dark figure stood monstrously tall, taller than any other average man. He was entirely dark, no facial features could be made out, but shared the structure of a normal man. Long wisps of darkness rolled off of his figure, rolling along the forest floor, almost resembling fog or smoke.

He thought at first his eyes played games, yet Alker rubbed all tiredness from his face to reassure himself that his eyes did not deceive him. Just a silhouette that stood its ground, and while there were no visible eyes, Alker could feel the deathly gaze upon him. He stood frozen in place as the dark being tilted his head, in curiosity, or in intrigue, he could not tell you. Alker’s first instinct was to attack the thing, yet, it was all too terrifying to attack. He was afraid of what might happen if he attempt to drive his dagger into its solid black torso. And then he did.

Alker lunged his blade at the tall being with all his might, only to be greeted by the forest floor. He never saw it move and he never saw it disappear. He’d kept his eyes on the thing the entire time, yet it had managed to vanish before his very eyes. Alker was far too confused to comprehend what had just unfolded. He rose to his feet and slid the dagger he’d once been holding back into a tiny sheath attached to his belt. He turned back around and saw the once blazing torch smouldering on the floor of the forest. Alker burst into a sprint and made his way over to where he’d left his squire. Yet, when Alker reached the area where Sam had been lying down, nothing remained but the burnt silhouette of his squire where the boy had once been lying.