He sped with all his might across the woodlands, battling against the elements that contradicted him in his path. Behind him he could hear their continuous pursuit, drawing nearer with every passing second. He was quick, but he knew not the path. The hounds behind him however merely trailed his scent regardless of each unexpected turn. They merely took to his essence. Every brush against a tree’s bark, every touch of a leaf, every footfall upon leaf and twig left hints of his presence regardless if the wind had swept across the forest like a broom.

Soon the sky had begun to darken, the woodlands began to thicken as the canopy above began to form into what would seem like an impenetrable dome. Few beams of light penetrated unto his figure below that remained at a constant motion towards a world that was as unfamiliar to him as it was to those who had come for his head. Nonetheless, he swallowed his fear, one that is quite surprisingly in existence for one who has already stared death in the eye ages before. Valec was left without a choice. He must delve into the unknown else he face the wrath of the mortals who sought justice for his acts of wickedness.

Little did he realize, however that in this darkness, nature itself came alive. It was as if within trees dwelled souls that were equally marked with wickedness. They were enchanted by an otherworldly power. He escaped into a realm that was entirely within Curin’s control, it was a realm of manipulative and illusionary enchantment.

The blaze of a hunting party’s torches lit from afar causing a faint illumination that caught the demon’s attention. It was the very act that stopped him in his tracks and prompted him to listen.

Like a statue, he stood amongst vines and fallen branches, dependent upon the dark shade they had provided like a black cloak against dusk. All this while however, his grasp crept to the hilt that lay in dormancy upon his side. He would kill without mercy should the chance be provided. Thus he vigilantly watched them as the fires grew in their nearing proximity. He lowered himself to were the bushes cast the heaviest of shadows, touching the ground with his gloved hand for the sake of stability. Never once did his gaze move elsewhere until…

A dark blurred figure sped before him like a trickery of the mind.

What malice?

He questioned, inwardly stricken by the event that had just transpired.

Valec could have sworn that what he had seen was indeed real, but was it truly? Not a trace could be found as he panned his vision in furious search.

The mind feasts upon mortals who lack sleep

The demon continued.

A stir in the air pursued against his left ear and a shadowy figure in blazing speed would cause a tremor in his sense of reality. With swiftness he brought himself to turn once again but the forest remained as it was, tranquil in its convincing facade.

He drew his weapon from its sheathe with as little sound as he could muster.

If there was anything that mortals feared the most, it would be the unknown.

Rièle walked slowly through the dark and shifting shadows of the swamp, her right hand resting on Jack's shoulder as he plodded along beside her. The trees here grew thick and gnarled, and were too dense for riding to be possible. Rièle's boots and six inches of her skirt were coated in the thick black mud of the swamp, for she had walked miles through it. Jack's legs were covered in the muck as well. His feet were bare, which was fortunate, for he was more easily able to keep himself from slipping on the roots and sinking mud that coated the swamp floor.

A few dim rays of sunlight pierced the darkness, and Rièle watched in wonder as the deep shadows were interrupted by sharp rays of light that passed through the gaps in the canopy. There was little wind here, as none could penetrate the thickness of the trees, and thus the angles of the light and shadows remained constant save for changes from the slow motion of the sun in its path across the sky.

Birds of the swamp called from all around, so many that Rièle had difficulty distinguishing one from another. She heard the eerie echoing call of the riflebird as he sat atop the canopy, defending his territory, and the hollow drum of a woodpecker upon an ancient, hardened trunk. Humidity hung thick in the air, and Rièle's lungs worked hard to extract enough oxygen as she walked. Trees sagged from the dampness, groaning and creaking with such eerie sounds that they seemed as though they were living beings, speaking to each other with deep and primitive voices. A thick cloud of biting insects swarmed everywhere, and moved toward the heat of any living mammal that dared to pass through their domain. Rièle listened to it all, taking it in and marveling at the Voice of Nature and the beauty of Curin's realm.

Rièle traveled here without fear of danger from the elements. She knew the paths through the swamp, and walked them freely, for among the many things Curin had taught her was how to find her way in the wild. While her skills were still growing, and far from comparable to his, she knew the rough direction she should travel should she wish to return to the forest, or to the grasslands. She could also read the tracks of passing animals, and identify the songs of the birds, and she knew which plants grew in harder earth so that she might not sink into the dangerous, deeper mud found throughout the swamp. Further, the thoughts of the animals near her revealed much to her open mind, and allowed her anticipate changes in the terrain or be forwarned should danger pass nearby.

Life was teeming in the swamp, and Rièle's mind soaked in the thoughts of animals that were new and different to her. She experienced the perspective of the frogs, fishes, alligators, wild pigs, and more snakes and lizards that she thought she could imagine. The complexity and beauty of such a dark and unwelcoming place enraptured her sense of exploration, and she sought to unravel some of its mysteries.

Suddenly her ears detected something different; a sound that did not belong. It took her a moment to shift her mind from its internal concentration, but she soon recognized the distant baying of hounds, growing closer. Jack heard the sound as well, and she felt his muscles tense under her hand as he pricked his ears in alarm. She stroked his neck soothingly, and wondered. They are either hunting, or chasing someone through the swamp, she reasoned. The dogs were too far away for her to use her mental abilities to identify what they were seeking.

Quickly she encouraged Jack to move forward toward the sound. They both tripped and stumbled as they went, for the uneven ground and the darkness around them made it difficult to travel faster than a walk. Rièle kept her mind open, and soon she sensed the mental fright of a flushed bird, and the unfamiliar scent of an intruder in a territory.

It is a man, she thought. The impressions of the animals in fact suggested that the being was different from a normal human, but to Rièle this was of little interest. The baying of the hounds drew closer, and she received mental images of fright and worry from Jack. He took off ahead of her, tearing through the thick brush towards the location of the man ahead. Rièle couldn't see the man, but she felt the reactions of the animals around her, and thus knew roughly where he stood. Jack displayed little fear of him and passed near enough for him to see, though the great black horse likely appeared only a dark shape in the shadows.

As Rièle approached the small clearing, the baying dogs were nearly upon them. She reached out a mental voice and connected with their thoughts, and sent out a command of silence. Their braying ceased. All of the birds and animals in the area by now had fled at the disturbance, and the silence of the dogs left the forest in such a sudden stillness that it was as though a damper had been placed on all sound, with nothing but the dim light and the thick, wet air to assure one's senses that they were not under some sort of spell. It was thus that Rièle appeared to the man, emerging from the shadows in a world otherwise devoid. She was, as always, ordinary, with a calm demeanor and a muddy, honest face. The man may have been dangerous, but Rièle did not reach for the modest staff that was slung across her back. Instead she remained at a distance, waiting to see what he would do.

The dogs, still silent, emerged in the clearing to Rièle's left. Their minds were filled with instinct, and the urge to find the scent that filled their most powerful of senses, and to attack that scent to please their master. They growled viciously and darted to attack the man. Rièle reached out her left hand in a commanding fashion and sent a mental thought of stop into their minds. They froze. Lie down, she told them, and they did. Their eyes never left the man, however, and several of the dogs continued growling fiercely.

Rièle returned her attention to the man. He was tall, and a warrior, with black hair and strange blue eyes. A chill passed through her as she looked upon him, and Rièle had the impression that this man was more than he appeared. Rièle thought him fearsome, and wondered who commanded these hounds that such a man would flee from them. "I am Rièle, of Anan Isl. What are you running from?" she asked.

Whatever it was, what shadow, what entity played with his mind was dismissed entirely for the torture itself in such case was not the unknown but instead the act of reliving a historical event that was all too familiar; the golden flames crackling in the distance, the howl of dogs, the cry of hunters and the clang of their weaponry. This was certainly not the first that Valec has seen nor was it the first time that he had felt such unwavering fear. He clasped the weapons upon his side in vivid remembrance of the night he was captured almost two hundred years ago. He could still feel the sting of ropes that had bound him by the blood-coated wrist, their roughness grazing through his flesh like thorn-filled vines as he was made to submit into a death march past the bodies of over twenty murdered guards. The noble was of course not the kind to have easily succumbed to a peaceful surrender with the caked crimson stain that lay painted across his arms and the spatter on his cheeks belonging to those who remained sprawled and lifeless upon the ground.

A cloud of fog escaped in his silent exhale as pale beams of light penetrated through the thick grove that was merely a few leagues away. They were near and closer still were their minions that sought for him in ferocious barks. With one knee sunken deep beneath the muddy surface, he remained unmoving in the likeness to the stone statues of Lomendor whose forms watched valiantly into the world below. And then there was a crack. A branch fell from a distant path, diverting the attention of those who pursued him elsewhere. For a brief moment in time, he felt a sudden rush of comfort as the march began to stray from his place of hiding. The dogs were led away as the haunting torch lights began to fade. Thus in silence he lay waiting, waiting for the perfect opportune moment for escape until…

PLOP!

A heavy stomp upon damp earth began in surprising succession.

Valec’s glare darted towards the beast in an instant just as the rhythmic stir would alert several of the men who trailed behind.

“HOLD!”

A dominant voice of a raspy quality cried.

“Quiet! I think I might have heard something…”

It continued with a moment’s pause coupled with a stream of silence.

The demon knew that they were listening for the slightest indication of a presence in the darkness and it only angered him further to find that the stallion’s approach would not heed his infuriated thoughts. Thus, it was with deep caution that he unsheathed his sword, a blade more infamously known as the Deathbringer, in preparation to silence the animal if not for the worse, to engage in battle with the men he had so desperately attempted to evade. From a deep hue of sapphire blue, his pupils changed to that of fire as if in a fierce and vibrant warning against further movement. I will not be found again.
Suddenly like lightning, they sprung from the bushes with the thud of padded feet synchronized with the beat of a terror-stricken heart. Every frenzied thump landed upon Valec’s ears like the gallop of stampeding horses, prompting him to draw the second of his two weapons of war. No longer content with a state of hiding, he rose one leg after the other until he stood astride to face the consequences of his crimes. He was like a solid barrier, a figure of the darkness traced by the faint and glowing illuminations of nearly a hundred flaming torches whose beams of light penetrated through the leaves like the rays of the sun at dawn. They fell upon the varied aspects of his being, highlighting the very sharpness of his gaze, the soiled yet emphasized strength in his breadth, the confidence and the mastery within his armed hold. Aye, he was prepared to meet them in their animalistic glory of gasping, saliva-coated fangs that were no less eager to taste blood.

From his place, he waded onwards beyond the brush, paying little attention to the woman who had by then emerged from the shroud of the world unseen. The wolven charge proceeded as the eyes of demon and beast met and collided in a mental battle. Gradually, he raised the Abyssmal Sunder, crossing the blade before him as if in preparation for a back-handed retaliation. The light beams from the distance caused a gleam to travel down the sharpened edge of his weapon. It was when the dogs were prepared to make their leap that all of a sudden, they withdrew with their paws pulling away in contradiction to their previous rush of momentum.

For a moment, Valec would be unable to grasp as to what stopped them or what had prompted their silence until his peripherals revealed the motion of the female who came for him more for the sake of curiosity over any other purpose.

"I am Rièle, of Anan Isl. What are you running from?"

She asked to which he could not help but turn and receive her with a puzzled stare that held remnants of infuriated emotions. Deep within however, as much as the beasts settled, he was still aware that their masters were still traversing the path that they had paved. There would be no greater clarity than that He would have emphasized if time had allowed any other form of provocation than the kind he was about to implement.

His view shifted for the last time upon the dogs who remained still at a growl before his glare darted once again to the woman however this time his arm extended with supreme quickness to her direction and with it, the pointed tip of the Deathbringer aimed threateningly at her jugular.

“Follow me and I will have your head as with the rest of them.”

He scowled as he began a gradual retreat backwards. It was then however, that the blazing fire of torches broke through the lush growth of foliage, revealing the fist of over a dozen men who seemed searching yet still quite confused as to where the noise had come from. To this awareness, Valec did not wait for as soon as he had found his cloak of darkness, he reverted once more into a sprint past every obstacle, every vine and every fallen tree.

As the stranger stood, Rièle began to hear sounds steadily approaching the clearing. The baying of the dogs combined with the dense vegetation of the swamp had muffled the sounds of the approaching group of men, and Rièle suddenly realized that the hunting party was nearly upon them. The stranger was now extremely nervous, and he acted with a sense of urgency that Rièle normally identified with animals; with his wide eyes and stealthy movement, he seemed almost as if he was their prey. The man spared a frightened glance for the resting dogs, and stepped forward to draw his sword before her, bringing it up to Rièle's neck with frightening swiftness. Rièle's eyes widened a little and she took a step back in surprise, but she remained calm.

“Follow me and I will have your head as with the rest of them,” spoke the stranger.

Have her head? What motivation could a complete stranger have for wanting to kill her? And why would she follow him, if he didn't want her to? If the man had no need of her aid and no cause to threaten her, Rièle would just assume be on her way with Jack. She stared into his strange blue eyes and nodded slightly, offering no challenge to his words. The man began backing away from her slowly, his weapon still pointed at her.

As the stranger disappeared into the swamp, Rièle heard a tumult arise behind her. The hunting party came into view not fifty yards away. Their torches caught her eyeshine, and the twelve men approached her loudly, gathering before her with their weapons drawn. Rièle's heart beat a little faster, and she was a little intimidated by their greater numbers, but she told herself she should have nothing to fear from these men. Though she may be walking in a strange place she was still human, and had done them no harm, hence they should have no reason to harm her. Rièle looked them over appraisingly, noting their weapons and their behavior. Several of the men seemed to be experienced trackers, but others were obviously only fighters. Each looked eager to deal death, and she knew that they would slit her throat in a moment if she gave them reason to think her a threat. Her thoughts seemed correct, for the men seemed to be waiting for an explanation as to her presence.

"You come deep within the swamp," Rièle said, her voice showing a hint of concern. "The God of Nature holds much sway here. It is not a place for Men to walk unbidden."

"We hunt the demon, girl," one of the men replied, aggressively. "You would do well not to challenge us."

"I challenge no one," she said. "I walk here freely."

"The demon passed this way," stated another of the men. "Tell us the direction he went, and we may spare you."

"I take no part in this." Rièle spoke shyly, for she was growing worried that the men would be angry at her for this choice. Yet she did not want to contribute to the death of a being that she had no reason to kill.

"Fool girl! Do you know what that monster has done? What he's capable of?"

"Nature does not judge on morals, but on strength and cunning," she said softly. "He will be who he is, and if he survives, more will follow." Rièle ended her answer with a tone of hopeful finality and turned to leave, but she was stopped as a blade was pressed to her throat.

"You will help us find the demon," said the man with the blade, "or you leave us no choice but to name you traitor and cut you where you stand."

Rièle's eyes widened slightly, and she found herself not only worried that these men would harm her, but troubled by their ignorance. Acting with such rash narrow-mindedness, particularly in the ream of the Nature God, was asking to be taught a harsh lesson in one's own insignificance. She carefully weighed her options, and decided to stand by her principles.

"I will not help you. You must find him by your own means, or not at all. But I do not think you will succeed, for the elements of the swamp will defeat those who walk its path in ignorance." As she spoke, Rièle opened her mind and reached out again to the pack of hounds that lay nearby. She transferred the scent of danger to their minds, and filled their noses with the musk and stench of angry predators. The simple minds of the dogs forgot all traces of the scent of their quarry and panicked, turning at Rièle's direction on their masters. They attacked briefly, biting arms and legs before the men could react. As soon as the hunters drew their swords and targeted the dogs Rièle directed them to run home, back the way they'd come. In moments they were gone, their baying growing gradually softer as they ran in fear through the dense trees of the swamp.

The hunters were distracted by the frightened hounds, and Rièle used the opportunity to slip into the darkness of the trees. Her trail was hard to discern, though she did not doubt that the human trackers would be able to follow her should they choose to do so. Anticipating this she broke into a run, and opened her mind to look for Jack.

The horse was close by, he had traveled downwind from the scent of the hounds and waited for her. It was still impossible to ride in the swamp, but as Rièle put distance between herself and the clearing she grew less and less worried about the trackers. Without the hounds they would be slowed, and in half a days' time she would pass through an area where she could easily mask her trail. Further, if they were truly hunting the stranger she had met earlier, they would seek out his trail and follow him, leaving her alone.

She and Jack made good time for several hours, and placed a great distance between herself and the hunters. Unknowingly, Rièle traveled in the same direction as Valec, but because she knew the paths of the wild she made better time than he. As afternoon passed they came upon a large marsh, impossible to cross on foot due to hundreds of yards of sinking, waist-deep mud. To detour to the east would take her back towards the hunters, while if she traveled along the sandspit paths that crossed the western edge at low tide she would be free to take a dozen paths once on the other side, and lose any pursuers who might have followed her.

It was here she rested briefly, eating some food and allowing Jack to graze on what forage was available. She was tempted to dig for clams and mussels in the mud of the low tide, but knew that it would take too much time. Though there were many routes that crossed the marsh, all of them changed with the tides, and only a few were reliable. Several led only halfway across, or twisted and turned until they dead-ended in the middle of the water, only to leave travelers stranded once the high tide returned. Rièle knew most of the routes by heart, and selected one that would be quickly covered by the returning tide so that her if her pursuers were ignorant enough to follow they would be stranded if they were but ten minutes behind her. Unless the hunters knew an alternate route across she would be safe to wander again once she reached the far side.

As Rièle stood to begin her trek across the sandspit her keen eyes spotted a figure making his way along the marsh's edge, at least a hundred yards behind her. The stranger, it seemed, had also chosen the same western path around the marsh. It was hardly possible for him to come this way and not encounter the great body of water, Rièle reasoned, though in truth she found herself wishing he'd selected another direction. Fate had reunited them again, and there was little she could do to avoid him.

A light rain began to fall, and in the open space of the marsh the water soaked into the ground, bringing life to a different community of plants and grasses compared with that under the trees. Birds and beasts came awake, sounding their calls across the vast marsh, for life here thrived on the constant rain. Rièle cupped her hand and drank the fresh water, and splashed some on her muddy face and arms. She spared the approaching Valec a disinterested glance. Whether he successfully navigated the swamp and escaped was of little interest to her, especially given the threat he'd made at her earlier. The hunting party was still far behind, for without the dogs they could not make good time in their tracking. No sounds could be heard from the bush, and birds called from the trees nearby. Rièle decided to ride, for though it would increase her visibility to the hunters it would also help her to reach the far shore before the tide rose again. She swung her leg easily over Jack's back and mounted him bareback, and began walking slowly and carefully across the sandspit and across the open marsh.