[center][h2]Some Time Later, the Pilgrim Road[/h2][/center]

In the shifting streams of sunlight that managed to break through the Nightwood's thick canopy, wolves and trolls and blood flies were feasting. 

None bothered to flee at the sound of approaching hooves. 

"For Jago's sake," growled Forrestor Thalmy, coming around a bend in the road into full view of the carnage. A bone snapped loudly in one of the trolls' jagged maws. Thigh bone. Horse. The monster looked up, single eye blinking blearily at the approaching column of riders, then snorted and went back to its grisly meal.

Daigon sighed and leaned back in his saddle. "Get rid of the corpse eaters," he said quietly to the men on either side of him. 

Five mercs on horseback fanned out across the road. Two in the middle had crossbows, the three on the flanks spears. They loosed a few bolts at the nearest troll, sending it shuffling lazily into the woods. Another of the monsters charged the soldiers, a shrieking whirlwind of claws and teeth and brown, gnarled skin, but the Red Fangs were no rabble of drafted peasants. Any sellsword worth his salt could handle a wild troll.

A speartip through the neck, another through the chest, piercing the beast's main heart. A gurgling roar and a heavy thump and the monster was on the ground, bleeding out and whining.

"Carve it up," shouted Thalmy, "Good eating. Save me the liver!"

Daigon had swung down from his saddle already, approaching the upended wagon and ravaged bodies. The wolves had fled to the treeline, where they padded quietly in the shadows, watching their human counterparts with hungry eyes and bared, bloody teeth.

The bloodflies hung thick over the scene of the battle, swirling in twisting clouds and buzzing eddies.

Not much was left of the caravan guard or their horses. Daigon's eye caught a few arrow and sword wounds amid the bite marks and chewed fleshed and jagged points of exposed bone.

"Gold's gone, of course," he called back to Thalmy, who was helping the men skin the not-quite-dead troll.

"Of course," shouted the hulking mercenary, "Small wonder the King fled back to Caerwick, where I can't get my hands on 'im."

"Not yet," said Daigon quietly, and his eyes fell on a body half hidden by the wagon. Clad in the heavy plate of a knight. None of the carrion-beasts had touched it....nor the flies.

The sellsword captain kicked over the corpse with the toe of his boot. Part of the Knight's shield and gorget were misshapen, as though melted by heat. The body itself was pale and undecayed, blood vessels turned to black beneath pale skin, eyes open and staring and milky white.

Daigon sank to his haunches, studying the corpse. He put a gloved finger in the arrow(?) wound that had killed the knight. Dark ichor bubbled out.

The sellsword smiled.

He stood, and as he did so the flickering rays of sunlight shifting through the branches overhead seemed to slow, then almost freeze in place. The labors of Thalmy and his men hacking at the troll grew hazy and indistinct. The buzzing of the flies grew louder, as did the low growls of the wolves circling slowly in the woods.

Daigon said something that sounded almost like human speech, but wasn't quite. The woods darkened. The bloodflies swarmed into a single cloud, hanging in the air before Daigon. In the suddenly dim light, the swirling cloud of insects looked almost like a face.

"This one addresses us," said the swarm-skull, "This one knows the old tongue. The hidden speech."

"Lucky guess," said Daigon, still smiling, "Death and spent magic- I assumed one of your kind would be lurking here, feeding." 

"The ancient laws of courtesy stand," said the swarm, "You who addressed us, make your wishes known."

"The killer of this man," Daigon said, pointing to the knight's corpse, "Find him."

"And in return?"

Daigon sighed, "Make your wishes known."

The swarm-face paused, as though considering something, then said: "In return we wish a secret."

"Your kind is odd," Daigon said, "in what you treasure."

"Indulge us, fleshling, and we will hunt this killer for you. This man who slays with dark spells."

"Very well, what kind of secret?"

"A secret shame. Shame is..." the swarm thing made an unspeakable sound, "delicious to us."

Now Daigon paused, thinking, lips pursed. He did not speak. He did not need to. A series of images flickered through his mind, offered to the hungry swarm.

[i]A younger Daigon, thinner, gaunt, with a full head of stringy black hair and no mustache. He is standing at the door to a hut, somewhere in the northern mountains. There is a woman at the door in peasant garb. She was pretty once, before exhaustion and bitterness etched themselves into her features.

"Where is the boy?" young Daigon asks.

"You done nothin' by him, nothin' by me," said the woman with a cruel smile, "Off doin' whatever you do. Whisperin' with ghosts and fightin' other men's wars. Couldn't afford no child on my own."

"Gods and demons, woman," snarled Daigon, "That is my son."

The woman shrugged, "You didn't value 'im nothin'. Left me here alone, after you got what you wanted from me. So I did what I needed to do, to eat. Them southron slavers what come through these passes- they value young stock." 

He kills the woman very suddenly, and with cruel magic. One second she's scowling at him, the next second her hair and clothes are on fire and she's screaming and laughing as her skin bubbles and melts.[/i]
 
"Exquisite," says the swarm in its toneless buzz.

"Glad you enjoyed it," says Daigon. He looks paler than before and slightly tired, but is otherwise composed, "Now go find my quarry and tell me where he hides, and how many are with him."

The swarm of flies exploded as the insects shot off in every direction. The day brightened, sunlight began flickering once more, and the ugly wet noises of Thalmy's troll-flaying resumed.

"You hear that just now?" called Thalmy. 

"Hear what?" asked Daigon. He was still looking down at the corpse of the knight.

"Dunno, loud buzzing or something. Now its gone."

"Nope, didnt hear it," said Daigon, "Probably just these damn bloodflies."