The traveler pulled the hood of his black cloak tighter, hiding his entire face from view. The sun was out in full force, and the man was forced to walk on the edge of the road in order to be covered with the little shade provided by the trees. Winter had not yet ended, and the bitter winds pounded on his clothing as if attempting to rip them away. He had traveled an amazingly long distance since the beginning of his journey, but he somehow felt it was near an end. He knew what he was searching for, but he just wasn't sure exactly where it was he was going to find it. He believed he had to keep going until his instinct told him he was in the right place.
Farmers driving horse-drawn wagons passed him on the road but took no notice of him. They were on their way back to their farms if they were not headed toward the large city the traveler had passed over a week ago. All the wagons were full, carrying all sorts of food and tools that the farmers had bought or were trying to sell. One overzealous man even tried to sell him some overripe tomatoes once, and it took only one glare to send the man scurrying on his way. He shook his head to clear his mind of such excess thoughts and concentrated on the road ahead.
Days passed and the traveler was teetering on the brink of exhaustion. He realized he shouldn't have come so far, but what he had to do was more important in his mind to risk keeling over from overexertion. His plan had to work, and he had to find a small village or a town to make it work. Once there, he could rest and regain his strength, and set events into motion that he hoped one day would make him an extremely powerful being.
Finally, on the night of the twentieth day of his journey, he spotted lights not far in the distance. He began to jog, realizing his search was at an end. He went straight for the nearest inn, not stopping to look around or say one word to anyone. He did not even notice the multitude of villagers in a near frenzy putting up pink streamers on every house and raising dancing poles on the green. Some kind of festival, he reasoned. A celebration was just what he needed.
The Forest Sprite was not a large inn, but the traveler knew it would serve his purposes. As he sat in his room after dinner, he did nothing but plan. Planned to learn everything he could about everyone in the village during the day, and then blend in and try to remain as unnoticed as possible during their little festival. He wanted to be as discreet as he could, attracting too much attention could ruin everything. He grinned to himself as he fell asleep, thinking of how utterly clueless the townspeople were of what now walked among them.
Gedwyn Felmora paused and reined in his horse for a moment, frowning at his companion. He scratched his scraggly, gray beard thoughtfully and looked up into the sky, as if searching for something. He waited another few moments before answering. "I'm definitely sure there's a trail here. There's no mistaking the magic within it either. I don't know for sure if it's a demon, or even a Shadow. Sometimes they leave behind magical auras too, but not as strong as this one is. Doesn't seem like it's human though."
"Would you stop leaving cryptic hints and tell me something concrete for a change?" Torval Rochaid was getting exasperated. Felmora was the more thoughtful and scholarly of the two, but his tendency to think too slowly or too thoroughly definitely irritated Rochaid. The two had been friends for a long time, as long as they could remember, but Rochaid usually had a short fuse when his friend couldn't make up his own mind about what it was he was doing.
"All I can say is that it is definitely something we should keep following. There may be something important out here almost two weeks from one of the largest cities on the continent. And the more time we spend standing here arguing gives this…thing…more time to get away."
Rochaid grumbled under his breath and rode ahead before Felmora could say another word. A passing farmer gave them an odd look but said nothing. Travelers were not rare in these parts, especially with the rich farmland and small towns farther to the north. Felmora lifted his head high, seemingly listening to the wind as if it could give him some clue of where to go next.
They spent the next night in the woods under their tents, Felmora again assuring his friend that they were close and would probably overtake whatever it was they were trailing the next day. Rochaid was all too happy to stop and set up camp. He was against this chase of theirs from the beginning, ever since they stopped at the Taramecia River to catch a boat heading south and Felmora suddenly became frantic, claiming that he could feel a magical energy that had been there not long before, and was heading due west. Rochaid could sense nothing, but he trusted that his friend had not gone insane and begun imagining things. He only hoped they wouldn't have to fight whatever it was they had been chasing. He would be prepared, but resorting to violence was the last thing either man wanted to happen.
After about an hour it suddenly hit him. A young woman, just barely an adult, threaded her way through the crowd and made her way over to the innkeeper's refreshment stand stationed not far from where he sat. She waved to a group of young ladies on the east side of the village green, presumably her friends. The man examined every detail of her. Her soft brown hair that spilled over her shoulders and her curious brown eyes stood out and seemed to jump at him. Her nose protruded a bit, but was quickly overshadowed when she smiled. She was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. Her white dress seemed to sparkle in the faint light given off by the flaming torches that formed a ring around the green. She is the one, he thought. She will fulfill my plan. He got up and indirectly made his way over to the refreshment table.
Before he was halfway to her, she noticed him and flashed a sort of curious smile. Then she turned and started to walk away when something seemed to stop her. She turned back and there was the man again, staring right at her. He had a sort of pleased look on his face, and that was when she really noticed him. He was rather tall, and his slanted gray eyes looked like they belonged more on a hawk than on a person. His black hair was long, nearly reaching his shoulderblades. His garments did not mark him as a common farmer, but definitely as a city man, perhaps a minor noble. She ignored the shouts of her friends and waited until the man finally made his way over.
"Lovely night isn't it? Excellent weather for a festival such as this."
She was so absorbed in his eyes that at first she did notice that he had spoken. "Yes it is, the best we've had in many years."
"You're a very lovely girl. Do you dance much?"
She had never been one to be impetuous, especially when it came to men. But she somehow found herself unable to resist this one. She wanted to go with him, but a small voice in the back of her head told her to run as fast as she could. That she ignored though, and she set the drink back down on the table. She took his arm and he lead her towards the wooden planks that had been put down as a makeshift dance floor in the center of the green. The man smiled inwardly. It took all he could to suppress a laugh.
Rochaid clapped a hand to his forehead. "After all this you think that it's gone! I swear if we've gone off chasing ghosts for the past two and a half weeks…" He held back what he was about to say and kept it to a low grumble that Gedwyn did not hear.
"Well if there's a party going on we might as well check things out."
"That's the first bright idea you've come up with in a month." Gedwyn ignored the remark and lead the way towards the green which was bustling with activity. He wandered through the crowd, head up the air again, while Rochaid went off to get a drink.
The two men were not out of place because of their dress, since they had only packed simple clothes for the long trip. It was Gedwyn's head in the air as if sniffing the wind, and Rochaid's offhand glances at everyone who passed by that gave the impression that they weren't there to relax and enjoy themselves. However, neither of the two turned up any sign of a magical being.
As the torches began to die out and the people made their way back to their homes, Rochaid and Felmora met up again in front of the town's only inn. Gedwyn peered oddly up at the second floor but said nothing. Rochaid eyed him sideways and also held his tongue.
Finally Gedwyn spoke, "The trail definitely ends here in this town, but it seems to have fizzled or diffused. I can't pick it up again, but I know that whatever we're after was here, probably in this inn."
Rochaid sighed. He had been afraid it would come to this. "Well at least we've gotten all the exercise we need for the next few months. No sense hanging around here any longer. It's obviously nothing dangerous, but definitely something we should report." He held in an offhand comment regarding his friend's sanity.
Gedwyn nodded slowly, as if trying to find something that would give him reason to believe they should stay and keep searching, but found none. They bought rooms for the night and were out of town the next day.