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He handed it to his mate without complaint as his eyes began to scour the store. They had painstakingly written out translations for each item on the list in his mate’s language so it only made sense to divvy up the work so that they might find what they needed more easily. To his surprise, however, MaryAnne whirled away and headed directly for the counter.
“Hello? Excuse me, sir. Can we get some help?” she called as she jogged toward the strange human.
Raskyuil dropped his basket and charged forward, his instincts roaring through him with the need to protect his mate. Whatever held that male in its grip wasn’t natural—and he didn’t want MaryAnne anywhere near it.
Charging forward, he snatched his mate off her feet, tugging her away from the counter at the last minute. The male’s head turned toward them slowly, and his mouth trembled as streams of blood began to dribble and then rapidly pour from his eyes and nose.
“It calls,” he croaked. “Don’t you hear it? It calls for us. It calls for you. It’s hungry, so very hungry. Its hunger never ends. There is a feast for the crows there on the hill. It calls, it calls.” Blood spurted from his mouth, and the human stumbled back, his head shaking wildly from side to side, his fingers tearing down his cheeks, gouging his wrinkled skin. “It calls. It calls. It CALLS!”
He screamed and surged forward in a frenzy, his limbs flailing as he ran. Raskyuil whipped his mate back further, his eyes widening as the male sailed past them and burst through the door, his screams getting louder and louder before abruptly stopping and falling silent. A crow cawed again, chilling Raskyuil’s blood as he stared at the open door. His arms tensed when the fog shifted, but Nathiel stepped out of the gloom, his head craned back, looking over his shoulder. When he faced forward again, it was with a look of worry as he peered through the door at them.
“Are you two all right?”
Raskyuil nodded stiffly and slowly lowered MaryAnne to her feet. “Well enough. I don’t know what is happening here, but we have a few more things to gather and then I’m taking my mate back to the carnival grounds. The rest of you can do as you like.”
Nathiel grimaced and stepped inside. “It seems that more than one person is of that mind. A few have already left. Sadreen and Alaseia didn’t make it more than a few feet into town before they fled. I thought it an odd reaction for night elves, but that was until I saw an unfamiliar orc stumbling around through the fog, his tusks broken, blood pouring from his eyes and mouth as he clawed away at his flesh.” He shivered. “Now I don’t blame them, nor you. I am planning on leaving myself.”
MaryAnne shivered. “Good plan.” Her nose wrinkled as she held the list up in front of her, turning it toward the candlelight. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a black crystal?”
A startled look crossed the dryad’s face and he slowly nodded. “As a matter of fact, I have one. I found it among many other very fine crystals in an abandoned town we passed through.” He withdrew a large black crystal from a pouch hanging from his belt and hesitated, a reluctant look crossing his face. “I suppose that it wouldn’t hurt to let you have it if I might know what you need it for.”
She waved the list with a heavy sigh. “Elwyn has sent us on a treasure hunt, and unfortunately it’s on the list.” She gave him a tight smile. “Honestly, if you didn’t have it, I’m not sure if we would have been able to find it at all. This place looks like it was built recently, like the outpost was. I don’t think we are going to find a lot of shiny things available to scavenge here.”
Nathiel nodded. “An astute observation. Yes, I think these towns were built out here after the Ravening, from what I recall. The humans were looking to build a place hidden from the wulkwos. Quite successfully too, it seems. Well, if it’s for one of Elwyn’s pet projects, best just to let you have it. He probably needs it to replace the focal crystal of the carnival. He seems to require a new one every few years or so, it seems. Somehow the carnival just burns them up—natural growing pains. This one is much bigger than any of the others he needed so it should last him for decades. Suppose he just got lucky this time,” he observed with a grim chuckle as he stepped forward and gently set the crystal in the basket.
The male paused, his eyes drifting over to the iron shears, his brows rising in surprise.
“Shears are always handy,” he observed pleasantly. “Just be careful with those. And don’t spread it around too much that you have them or there will be someone among the more dramatic who will start insisting that you’re trying to kill everyone.”
Raskyuil’s lips thinned, and he was tempted to tell the dryad that they weren’t his but bit back the sharp reply. What did it matter anyway? He wasn’t planning on advertising his purchases.
“Have you seen Barok come out yet? He was getting some of the grain alcohol on my list.”
The dryad smiled ruefully. “Oh, he’s probably still in the tavern with the others. It seems they haven’t yet noticed a problem with the bartender and one of the barmaids standing about. There are some humans moving around in there, going through the motions of keeping the cups full. Last I saw Barok was busy throwing coins on the bar and tipping back drinks just like the rest of them. But I suspect they won’t be much longer.” His lips thinned, twisting into a grim frown before he managed another small smile in their direction. “I will leave you to your shopping. I have had all of this place that I can stand.”
Raskyuil nodded sympathetically, his eyes following the dryad as the male’s shoulders hunched and he quietly disappeared into the fog. As dryads thrived in verdant woodlands, he could only imagine how sick the male felt there. He couldn’t imagine why he even wanted to stay… unless his grove was somewhere outside of all this mess where the fog and death would provide a barrier to keep his grove from being disturbed.
Regardless, Nathiel had the right of it. He had all he could take as well. They needed to hurry and get the hell out of there. Lightly swatting his mate with his tail, he nudged her back around and further into the store. “What’s next?”
It took some ingenuity, but somehow they found everything on the list, including a package of star seed—anise, MaryAnne called it, which was probably the closest equivalent they were going to find.
Although he hated the idea of stepping back into the fog, he didn’t fight against his impulse to carry his mate this time. MaryAnne squawked with surprise as he plucked her up off her feet, but he gripped her against his chest with an uncompromising strength. Thankfully, she seemed to sense that he needed it and didn’t protest. Instead, she clutched the bag full of their findings between him as he stepped forward and hurtled to the side as a large body suddenly charged right for him.
Leaping away to create more distance between them, Raskyuil growled viciously as he turned on his attacker and lowered MaryAnne to the ground with one arm. With his other hand he pulled his ax free from its harness and pushed his mate firmly behind him, prepared to defend her and block all possible harm with his much larger body if need be.
The male roared and stumbled forward, breaking completely through the fog. He advanced several steps, but Raskyuil quickly realized that the orc wasn’t targeting him specifically. His eyes turning about wildly, Barok clutched a jug in his hand, his body covered in a sheen of sweat as he spun in a circle, his chest heaving with every breath he panted.
“Barok!” he barked and the male startled, his eyes flying wildly to him.
“Raskyuil.”
The orc staggered forward with a wildness in his eyes that made Raskyuil lift his ax in warning, bringing the male to an immediate halt. He shivered in place for a moment but then thrust the jug he held in Raskyuil’s direction.
“Take it,” he rasped. “And pray that you never need more.”
“Why?” MaryAnne whispered, her hand flattening against Raskyuil’s forearm, gently forcing him to lower his ax. “What happened in there?”
Barok shook his head, his shaggy dark hair flying around his shoulders and he took a deep, shuddering breath. “They just attacked. The barmaids. They attacked us with kitchen knives. They were crazed, chanting some nonsense as they killed three goblins and a wood aelf before we were able to get the upper hand on them and get out of there. The barkeep just stared and chanted as he watched. And when we left those barmaids lying in a bloody heap on the floor, only then did we see another face to him—quite literally as he began to scream and gouged out his eyes with his own hands. This entire place has gone insane!”
