The trusted servant

The noon sun burned brightly down through the canopy of the forest. Oshar crouched within the shadow of a gnarled oak, his hands resting lightly upon his daggers. It had been a swift ride through the hill country of Fang, he knew the hidden trails and passes that allowed for swift travel through this mountainous land. He had passed through Fort Amarat barely a day ago to pick up the trail of his quarry.

The the silence of the forest was broken only by the soft crackle of a nearby camp fire and wheezing breath of the old woman who sat before it. Oshar held his own breath, anticipating what would come next.

The crones black shawl covered her hair and much of her face, but Oshar knew with a grim certainty that this was his quarry. She sat there staring deep into the embers of her fire and for the briefest of moments Oshar saw the flickering red dance of flame reflected in her hooded eyes. The assassin noted with interest several small vials sitting open and empty on the ground next to her.

Oshar tensed himself ready to strike and a broad grin spread across her face. He paused.

"There is no need for such haste." her voice cracked with old age called out in his direction, "Come join me Oshar, Herald of the coming storm."

She gestured toward the ground on the opposite side of her fire.

Oshar hesitated for a moment. She knew his name and seemingly his purpose. Did she have informants equal to his own or was she informed by powers beyond the mortal realm. Either was possible, either just as likely. He glanced around to assure himself that they were alone. He had already scouted the area thoroughly before making his approach.

"How do you know me?" Oshar called back, tensing himself against the springing of some unseen trap. The only response was her laughter.

She looked up then, staring directly at him, concealed as he was. Her milky eyes met his own from beneath the shadows of her shawl.

"You have travelled swiftly from your work in Aquilo." she spoke softly and cocked her head to one side as if listening to some distant sound, "You have not sleapt Oshar, have you come to fear the dream?"

She beckoned him to sit once more and reluctantly he stepped out from between the trees and approached, though he did not sit. He could feel the heat from the fire now, it was stronger than it should have been and sweat began to bead upon his furrowed brow.

“I am here for you." he clutched his dagger and she waved away the gesture impatiently. "No need for that!" she chided.

He moved closer to the woman, standing beside her now with his face to the fire.

“What was in those?” He gestured casually to the vials keeping a steady eye on her.

She ignored his question. "I pity you Oshar" She whispered. "You will carry them with you forever, the souls you have stolen. His Tusks will defend them in their hour of need and you will burn. Spring comes and with it, War. Blood and death..."

Oshar growled with anger, he drew his blade but did not strike. “I am Oshar, trusted servant of the Sister Locust and I am chosen above all others. I come for you Merille”

"The Great Desert cares not for you Oshar." she murmured, her eyes becoming glazed as if seeing distant vision. "You travel through a sandstorm of lies and at its end awaits an Oasis of blood and regret."

She looked up at him then. "I see so much blood and death." tears were welling up in her eyes. Her hands were shaking and her skin had grown deathly pale. He looked to the vials one more, realising what she had done. How she had denied him his kill. Poison!

The old woman smiled knowingly. "I have done all Slivikhi has commanded of me and now a long road awaits. I choose my own path assassin."

The campfire suddenly blazed up with an angry roar forcing Oshar to leap backward to avoid its touch.

"I will see you within the dream." She cackled, looking at him one last time. Then with a hacking cough her eyes grew wide and she clawed at her wrinkled neck. She collapsed forward into the fire, the flames leaping up about her clothes. She did not move.