A Wicked Radiance

Suddenly the talisman began to glow with an eerie blue light and Keck nearly dropped it. He'd been admiring it since he had stolen it from a young wayfarer in the pub the night before. He had thought it beautiful then, but now it exuded a loathsome energy as if a million fingers pointed at him in the dark and called him thief.

An abrupt rustle and that wicked radiance vanished amongst the folds of a crude leather sack. Somebody grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along in the shadows.

"C'mon, then. We can't let them see us."

"Who are you?! What the hell are you talking about?"

Keck was unceremoniously shoved into a dark doorway. A masked face lurched from darkness just inches from his own.

"For Frith's sake, you're just a boy! And a very stupid one, at that!" His assailant held the sack up, balled in his fist. "You don't have any idea, do you?"

"That's mine! Who are you?"

A sarcastic chuckle, a furtive glance and the stranger continued. "It's yours in as much as you can hold on to it and you've done a fine job of that, haven't you? I know you stole this!"

Keck had no answer.

"It doesn't matter now. They'll be coming soon."

"Who?"

"Idiot! The harpies. It calls to them."

"Harpies?!"

A sharp pain exploded from his abdomen and Keck realized he'd been stabbed. From above there came the beating of dark wings and hideous shrieks.

"Sorry, Mate, I don't have to be faster than them. Just faster than you."