Pentigrast (4 page)

Talen thought on this for a moment before speaking his mind. “The princess I knew and loved is dead; no amount of truth or tale will change that fact or bring her back. For me this tale has finished and I want no more to do with dead bodies or pentagrams.”

“As you wish. I will ready my horse and be on my way then.” Riven walked to an alcove to the right of the cave where the horses were stabled and began saddling his horse. Talen watched him as he buckled the saddle and began packing his supply bag. “Where will you go from here then Riven?” He asked. “I will head into the barrens and make my way to the borderlands of Quinth; along the way I will check out this cave and see if anything else can be learned about this mystery.”  Talen offered the old man the best route through the barrens and told him to keep to the North wall after he comes upon the lake. That way he should find the cave by nightfall. After a rather cold farewell Riven set off down the Western path towards the barrens and Talen hoped he had seen the last of the man.

As Riven threaded his way down the Western pass on horseback leading into the barrens he couldn’t help but think he had gone about his tale to Talen in the wrong way. No matter how the tale was told it was sure to bring up painful memories but if he had just some more time he might have handled it better. Time was indeed against him and that was a small part of the tale that Riven selectively left out. If his research was right then this ritual of death would conclude not on the vernal equinox as the old crone had told him but in 13 days time at the stroke of midnight. The information he gathered was quite vague but it all pointed to the fact that once the ritual deaths of the men began there was only a short window for the ritual user to make use of the collected life force.

As the narrow winding pass began to widen Riven could see the beginnings of the barrens laid out before him, and a cold despairing sight it was. After another hour the pass gave way to the barrens and the despairing sight from above was only more dismal from within. The fresh fallen snow was a blessing to hide the feeling of death that permeated this place. By noon Riven had found his way to the lake and turned his mount North climbing the gradual slope towards the sheer granite cliffs that loomed over the valley. If he was right he should make the cave before nightfall and hopefully find a suitable place to camp for the night.

As he followed the granite wall North he surveyed the land around him. Everything looked much the same and it was easy to see how a man could get lost in this wasteland. It may have been easier to take the longer route around the mountain but he could ill afford to lose those precious days and besides he should witness the dead at the cave for himself, perchance there might be a clue that Talen might have missed. As the shadows grew longer in the afternoon sun Riven stopped for a moment to stretch his legs and feed and water the horse. As well, he snacked upon some hard cheese and washed it down with the wine that the innkeeper had supplied. As he looked around he was surprised that he saw no signs of life within the valley, no birds flying in the sky, no squirrels scampering about the trees, it seemed very odd that Talen could make a living trapping here. As he stowed away the horses feed bag and his own rations of food he found himself wishing he had some pipe tobacco to while away his ride and content his soul for a while.

As dusk approached Riven could see what looked like an opening in the granite face of the North wall ahead of him and he hoped this would be the cave he was looking for. As he neared the opening he sensed it was the place. He dismounted his horse and stretched his legs while looking about for a decent place to set up camp before night overtook him. Not far from the cave was an outcropping of granite that seemed like it would do. He tied off the horse to a nearby tree and removed its bridle and saddle before covering his back with a heavy woolen blanket. Riven then set about finding some good wood for a fire. The outcropping would make a fine camp, its walls jutting out just enough to shelter him from the winds and a small roof of granite to keep him dry if it should snow. Building a fire ring with nearby pieces of granite he filled the ring with kindling and removed the flint and steel from his pack to start a fire. As he struck the flint to steel sparks jumped to the kindling and quickly a small fire was burning. Adding some collected firewood to the ring he was assured at least some warmth for the night.

As night stole dusk from his view the pitch black enclosed around the camp like a heavy woolen veil that showed no signs of what lay beyond. Aside from the fire and his horse all was lost to his sight including the opening to the cave. He pulled the rations from his pack and made himself a meal of dried fish and cheese and he lay the wineskin close to the fire to warm the wine inside for drinking. As he finished his meal and stowed the rations away he couldn’t help but wonder about the caves contents, he would have liked to survey the scene before nightfall but readying camp was the first concern. He could have easily made a torch and looked upon the scene then and there but some things are best seen in the plain light of day and he was tired from a long days ride. He added more wood to the fire to assure some warmth and light during the night and then lay out a heavy wool blanket to sleep on and another to cover himself. As he drifted off t o sleep he thought he heard voices calling to him from the cave, a trick of the mind he thought but he answered softly none the less. “I will pay you a visit on the morrow ladies, for now I surrender to sweet sleep.”

Riven awoke with a start in the pitch black of night, the fire had died out and his horse was not to be seen. He could hear some movement off to his right and quickly pulled his daggers form their sheaths and readied himself for a fight. As the movement came closer Riven squatted low with all his weight on the balls of his feet. He would spring forward on his attacker and before they knew what hit them he would drive the daggers deep into flesh. Just as he readied to pounce the movement stopped somewhere ahead of him and he heard a faint laugh. “The mighty Riven Lannister, man of many legends taken unaware in the middle of the night, who would ever believe me?” Talen said through a thick smile. He struck a match and lit the oil soaked wick inside the lantern in his hand. “You bastard!” said the old man with a grin. “don’t believe the legends boy because if they were true I would be ten feet tall and made of oak,” Talen placed the lit lantern on the ground and added more wood to the fire ring, in no time the fire was once again glowing and giving off much needed warmth.

“I’ve moved your horse with mine to the mouth of the cave and given them both some food, all while you slept I might add.” Well I would thank you but to do that I would have to stand and I would rather keep my stained breeches to myself!” This drew a hearty laugh from Talen as he pulled a leather pouch from his cloak and handed it to the old man. “I thought you might have need of some tobacco and since I had to check my traps anyway…” “Very kind of you Talen.” The old man said as he pulled a similar leather pouch from his cloak and removed his pipe. Packing his pipe full he struck a match and drew deeply to make the leaf glow before letting out a long plume of smoke. “Not the sweet leaf of Downwater but much appreciated just the same.” He said. Talen eyed the old man with a grin and asked if he had found the cave easily enough. “That I did thanks to your directions, again much appreciated.” As Talen settled in by the fire the old man offered him his wineskin and reached for his pack pulling out some hard cheese and dried meat. They sat quietly for a time sipping at wine and eating before the old man spoke up. “Is it traps you are checking or an old man in a barren land?” “Both” Talen said “but to be honest I do want answers and it seems those answers lie in Quinth and while I can guide us through the barrens easily I believe you have the knowledge to guide us better through this perverse mystery.” The old man pulled on his pipe long and deep before exhaling his reply in a cloud of thick smoke “I think we will both get our answers, Talen Morgan, what remains to be seen is will we want to know the answers we receive?”

As Riven finished the last of his pipe and tamped out the ashes on the ring of the fire he suggested that they get some sleep and make an early start in the morning. Talen agreed and before long the two mismatched companions were fast asleep.

As morning dawned Riven awoke with a yawn to find that he was alone in the camp. The fire was well tended and there was tea brewing in the pot, as he reached for his rations he heard Talen coming up the hill. “Save your rations for later old man this morning we will have some fine venison stew and corncakes for breakfast.” True to his word Talen had a haunch of venison in his hands cleanly washed in a nearby stream. He settled in by the fire and pulled a small iron pot and a brown paper package from his pack. Talen made quick work of cutting the venison into small chunks and then pulled an onion, 2 carrots and some dried corn from the bag, before long there was a delicious smell steaming from the pot on the fire and corn cakes browning on the fire ring. They ate their breakfast quietly and afterwards enjoyed some strong red tea. By the time they finished cleaning up after their morning meal it was nearly eight o’clock, time that the old man finally saw the grotesque scene awaiting him.

They entered the mouth of the cave between the horses and Talen lit a torch he had made the night before. “The cave extends well into the cliff face with several small rooms and one large area at the back of the cave, which is where we will find your gallery of the grotesque.” As they walked further into the cave Riven couldn’t help but feel the cold dampness leech into his bones as the smell of old rotting leaves and moss filled his nostrils. Talen had stopped just ahead of him and motioned to an opening in the back wall. As they entered the old man couldn’t help but wonder why Talen would have checked this back room in the first place, he thought to ask that question later. The glow of the torchlight filled the room with light and before them were the remnants of the dark artists work, Just as Talen had described.

Riven walked around the circle of dead women slowly, stopping now and again to inspect a body closer or look at some unseen speck on the floor of the cave that might somehow be a clue. The pentagram was observed closely as well but it offered up no more assistance to the old man than the dead women did. After a half hour had passed Riven and Talen emerged from the cave, both seemingly lost in thought. “Was there anything helpful to you to be found in the cave?” Talen asked. “No, it’s just as I had thought; nothing new would be learned here, our only hope is to find more information in Quinth I fear.” The old man replied. They made their way back to the fire and poured the last of the hot tea into their mugs. “So, we are heading to Quinth then?” Talen said as he sipped his tea. “Yes, Quinth holds answers for us if we know how to find them in time.” the old man said. “In time? We have ample time before the night of the vernal equinox.” Talen offered. “I believe we do not, Talen. What I told you before of the ritual cycle is true from the perspective of the people I interviewed over the years but my own thoughts and feelings tell me that this cycle will conclude thirteen nights hence on the night of the new moon. This is why I told you at the inn we must find the fifth woman within a fortnight.”

Talen considered this information as he sipped his tea for a while. “What you actually said at the inn old man is that you would see that I am made available to the fifth woman a fortnight from now. What did you mean by this?” If I am right, Talen, and that is a big if, then you are the key to this riddle. If what I have learned over the years is truth then only men of a certain age such as yourself are suitable for the ritual, why, I do not understand but I believe that it has to do with the age of the person conducting the ritual. There is also the fact that you are connected to the ritual in some way not known to either of us.  While my research has given me many answers it has also brought with it more questions than I would like. Over the last 100 years I have found only 3 instances of the ritual murders. The first I have spoken of to you and the last we are now involved in.” “And the second”? Talen wondered. “The second instance of the ritual happened not long after the first, about 20 years later. There were no pentagrams spoken of but there were 5 bodies found much like our young ladies in the cave, and of course tales of missing men.” Talen took this information in and then wondered. “Did this second instance you refer to happen in Quinth as well’? “No” the old man said with a sour look on his face. “The second instance took place in Downwater parish.” After offering up this information the old man fell silent and finished his tea.

The next hour was spent breaking the camp and packing the horses for the journey ahead; if they made good time they should reach the borderlands by nightfall and would make camp just outside the grasp of the barrens that night. They mounted their horses and made way, Talen led them down the North slope in a South Westerly direction towards the center of the barrens and as the sheer granite cliffs of the North wall became smaller behind them the heavy snow laden trail became harder to navigate before them. By 2pm they had only made it three leagues deeper into the barrens, it seemed that with every turn the trails disappeared and new trails must be forged forward. Talen drew his large black horse to a stop and turned to the old man. “We won’t make the borderlands this night, the snows are too deep and the horses will soon need rest.” “What do you suggest then?” the old man asked. “I think we should find a suitable camp soon and call it a day.” By chance they had found a small clearing within the hour. Their camp was surrounded by thick heavy pines on one side to shelter them from the winds and a small stream on the other. The horses were allowed to drink freely from the stream before placing their heavy wool blankets on over their saddles for the evening, Talen considered unpacking the horses but with the weather and the uncertainty of the open barrens he thought it best that they remained ready. They found enough dead wood lying about to make a strong fire and settled into their camp before night fell.