Untiled Book

Chapter 3: The Shadow

Chapter 3
The Shadow

Dark eyes peered out from under a hood, watching Mathias leave the Inn. The owner of those eyes, shrouded in the blackness of a heavy wool cloak, stood in the growing shadows of night, panic gripping him. What could’ve gone wrong? Why was Mathias leaving? And where was the Doorkeeper? His back was pressed against the outer wall of the book shop across the street from the Gleaming Sword, using its few shadows to hide his presence. He watched Mathias until he turned the corner and headed to the back of the building towards the stables. He quickly glanced in both directions to make sure no one noticed him the figure slid along the building and slipped into the alley next to the book shop. He suddenly sprinted down the narrow space and then leaped. He bounced back and forth between the walls of the two buildings, going higher and higher until he reached the rooftops. Once there he continued running and jumped from rooftop to rooftop, working his way around to the back of the Inn where he could see the stables. He made it just in time to see Mathias mounting his grey horse. His target rode off to the west dodging the many people that filled the streets, still celebrating the end of autumn.
         Overhead, fireworks lit up the sky suddenly, marking the official fall of night. The shadow jumped down off the roof and scramble to find a darkened corner to hide in. He needed to keep hidden; ghosts were not meant to be seen. If he wanted to succeed in his mission, no one must know he was there. He decided to remove his hood and blend in with the revelry. Too many people would notice a hooded figure pushing through the masses. He mimicked the path of his now leaving mark and began winding his way around the crowd. Several vendors shouted him from their booths to buy their many goods. The smell of sweets, roasted meats, ale and human sweat was thick in the crowd and made the man wrinkle his nose. Damned fools all of them! The man raged internally. No matter, it will all be over soon.
         It seemed like an eternity to wade through the crowd. The vendors were easy enough to ignore, unlike the people filling the streets, who kept grabbing him and trying to dance with him. He was spun around several times to a cacophony of multiple musicians playing at once. It was a challenge to remember which direction he had been heading. Finally he burst through the crowd and stumbled out into the outskirts of town. There he saw Mathias on his horse in full gallop still heading west, undoubtedly to Fallmoor. But why? Something has gone terribly wrong. The man thought frantically. The Leader would want to know immediately.
         Turning around he saw the crowd again and thought better of it, nothing could make him go back through that again. He made his way over to a nearby house and snuck around to the back. Gripping the wooden support frames on the outside walls he pulled himself up, slowly, on to the roof top again. The fireworks were finally dying down, making it easier to travel atop the town unnoticed again. He pulled his hood back over his head and nimbly leaped from home to home until he reached an abandoned building. All the windows and doors had been boarded up, but recent heavy rains had caused part of the roof to collapse and thus allowing entry. It was a perfect place for a shadow to hide. The man dropped down onto the dusty floor making little clouds rise around his worn, dark brown boots. He was now standing in an attic filled with plows, buckets, chairs, desks and other random items that had long been discarded by their owners. Dust hung thickly over everything and mold had begun to creep into many parts of the floor and walls. A small area had been cleaned up and one of the desks had been pushed against the wall accompanied by one of the more sturdy looking chairs. Sitting on the desk was a small cage with a few brown pigeons, which were pecking idly at some seed that had been left for them. Near the cage was a stack of papers, an ink pen and an inkwell. The figure whipped off his cloak and hung it on a beam which was jutting out of the wall. He was unremarkable, average height and muscular with dark brown eyes and matching hair, which was cut close to his head. He wore a well trimmed beard on his face, as was the current style in the area. His nose was long and pointed, as if it had been pinched. Tan breeches and a loose white shirt with a dark leather vest completed his look.
         He slumped down in the chair at the desk, heart racing. Grabbing a sheet of paper from the stack he dipped the pen in the well and began to write. He told of all he had seen; from the arrival of his target, to the absence of the Door keeper, and finally ending with the abrupt departure of Mathias on the eve of the Door opening. Folding up the letter he sighed, startling a pigeon slightly. He was all too aware that there may be nothing else that could be done. The situation was potentially beyond all control. Never, since the dawn of time, had the Door failed to open. With the absence of the Door keeper and the Lore keeper, this failure seemed inevitable. It was unknown how long the world would have before the Dirge came and destroyed everything in its icy grip; or if it would even come at all. The shadow had no answers for these questions, but one thing was certain. The world as it was known was going to be changed forever.