Siv brought his perception back to the inn. Taln was still eating. It seemed as if time passed the same here as it did up there, despite all his other senses being cut off.
"It says Marked by Death. What's that mean?" Taln froze, locking eyes with Siv. A strange hunger appeared in his eyes, which he quickly masked.
"Listen here, boy. Tell no one of your Mark. Ever. If you must, tell them you are of a different Suffering. Your Mark is a rare one, one that I have never seen in my life." Taln's eyes seemed unfathomable now. Siv was wary, now. He knew that look of hunger that Taln had so quickly masked. He had seen it his entire life. Among the urchins, the street gangs, and so many others. What little he previously had was taken by men with such hunger. Siv made a decision then.
They talked of little else, and Taln's responses had grown terse, as his eyes darted around to the few other clients in the tavern.
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, with Taln betraying no more emotion on the matter. It was early into the morning now, and Taln got up without a word. Siv followed him upstairs, into a dingy room with two beds in opposite corners. They both lay down.
...
Siv controlled his breathing, slow and steady. It was a struggle not to fall asleep. It had been about an hour since they laid to rest. Siv would make his move now. The knife belt Taln was wearing was on the bedside table. Siv silently sat up, placing his foot on the wooden floor.
He crept over silently, eyes never leaving the older man's sleeping figure, which was facing away from him. His hand reached for the dagger on the table. He grabbed its simple, but well-made hilt, and slowly drew it from its sheath.
Siv was not one to take chances. Urchins didn't live long if they were not cautious. He had already been wary of this man, who helped him for seemingly no reason at all, but after hearing what he had to say and seeing the glint in his eyes, Siv knew that it would only mean trouble to stick around. So, he gripped the hilt tightly with both hands, and with a moment of hesitation, thrust it into the sleeping man's back, once, twice, until the bed was soaked with blood. Taln woke quickly, letting out a groan that sounded almost... annoyed.
Without thinking any further, Siv sprinted to the door, slamming it open and running to the door. Even with his emaciated body, he could still move with a good amount of speed.
He broke out of the dingy tavern's interior, into the cool early morning mist. He looked left and right. He wasn't sure where he was, this part of town was too nice for bums like him to hang around. He turned left, and sprinted down the cobblestone street, not daring to turn around.
With a start, he realized he still carried the dagger. Blood glistened on its wicked blade, and Siv could not help but feel a wave of nausea.
He had killed before, but never on purpose, only in self defense. It felt exhilarating, but also sickening. Still running at full speed, Siv wound down empty roads until he could no longer. He collapsed against a building, gasping for breath. The cold air burned at his ragged throat. He cast his gaze around him, realizing he was further into the city than he ever had been before. He could see the keep's walls in the distance, towering things that dwarfed the outermost walls. When morning came, the guards would surely run off a dirty looking thing like him.
The buildings around him were nondescript, built in the middle class style of stone and mortar, with thatched roofs. They were good for retaining heat in the often year round cold of the northern part of the continent. It was always damp here, with rain being commonplace. It did not quite get cold enough to snow usually, especially in spring time.
The city was known as Lindun, and belonged to the Baron of the North. It was one of the more peaceful cities, away from the frontiers of horrors that had come from the southeast of the continent.
Sending his gaze back the way he came, he saw two red priests quietly walking towards him. They were a common sight, often walking about the city as passive observers. No one thought much of them.
However, on this night, Siv could tell their gazes rested on him. They approached further, and Siv, ignoring his instincts, continued resting against the wall.
"Greetings, child. It is quite a late hour for one as young as you to be out." the right man spoke, his fleshy jowls shaking as he spoke. He had strange scars across his face, and his voluminous robe hid the rest of his body. His partner was garbed in the same.
Siv said nothing, warily staring down the two priests.
"Come child, rest in our chapel for a moment." The second priests eyes were locked onto his, a kind smile on his face. Siv slowly shook his head. "I am afraid I must insist." the priests bodily hauled him up to his feet, one keeping his hand on Siv's shoulder. The fleshy man gave him a toothy smile, trying to put him at ease. Siv grimaced at the sight.
Without much of a choice, Siv allowed the men to lead him back down the street. They walked for a few minutes, before reaching a nondescript chapel of the Traditionalists. It was a popular religion among the middle class, which preached tenets such as a good work ethic and family values. The priests called themselves Missionaries of the Light, which always struck Siv as a little cultish.
Being led into the chapel, Siv cast his glance around at the worn but clean pews. Clearly the priests here worked hard to keep their place of worship free of impurities. They brought him to a door to the left of the altar, gesturing for him to go inside. Hesitantly, Siv stepped through the door.
Inside was more of the same, with a short hallway leading to a stairwell. There were doors to his left and right along the hallway, likely the living quarters of the priests. They led him past all these doors, to the stairwell that led into the dark.
One of the priests pushed his shoulder, beckoning for him to go down. Siv cast him his best glare. The fleshy man returned his off-putting smile again, causing Siv to scowl further.
"Go, my child. The Mother will take care of you below." A Mother was the Traditionalists matriarch, a woman sworn to silence and chastity who ran the affairs of chapels like these. Siv, having little choice, made his way down the wooden stairs. Below, another hallway awaited him, this one with a heavy wooden door at the end.
He walked forward, a heavy silence blanketing the air around him. He glanced back one last time, to see the two priests silhouetted by the light behind. In a few more steps, he reached the heavy wooden door and opened it.
Siv gasped. Past the door he could see a decently large room with cages on the perimeter. They were empty, but straight ahead, Siv saw a corpse sitting on a chair. It looked to be an emaciated old woman, and what looked like her attendant stood next to her. The man's eyes were gouged out, showing his scarred eye sockets. The corpse, looking closer, was missing an arm and two fingers from the remaining hand.
"Welcome, child of Life." The attendant spoke. Siv felt rooted in place, as the man's empty eye sockets bored into his own eyes. "I am Gor Thr'hon, attendant of the Mother and Missionary of the Light." The corpse suddenly shifted, leading Siv to realize that it was not a corpse at all, just a severely malnourished old woman. The heavy eyelids fluttered as two beautiful green eyes shown out, looking deep within him. The woman's face cracked into some semblance of a grin. "The Mother greets you, child. She asks that you come closer."
Siv swallowed, thoroughly weirded out by this whole thing. At the man's suggestion, his body seemed to move on its own, walking towards the woman and stopping a few feet from her. She was truely gruesome. The flesh she had left was wrinkled and heavily scarred.
"Why am I here?" Siv's voice seemed small in the dank room. The eyeless man smiled.
"The Mother has brought you here. She knows you have convened with our Lord, and wish to receive His blessings." His smile grew wider. "It is truly a wondrous thing, to see that the next generation will hold the mantle of our Lord."
"I-I didn't convene with anything. The hell are you talking about? I want to leave." Siv found his voice again, deciding he was finished with whatever in God's name was going on here.
"Oh, but you did, child. Do not fear, the Mother will help you navigate your new path." The man reached inside his robes, procuring a glass vial. "Come now, our Mother will help you see."
Siv warily walked forward, stopping in front of the Mother. Her eyes bored into him, and she held out her three-fingered hand. The attendant suddenly whipped his arm out, grabbing Siv's own. In the same breath, the mother suddenly had a small knife in her hand. It darted out, slicing through the tender skin of Siv's neck.