Something from the shadows caught Gonath’s attention and held him, gazing at the obscure figures generated by the large flames.  As he stared Gonath saw two hands form from the darkness.  Long black fingers uncurled and straightened, pointing upward.  Gonath blinked to clear the picture from his mind, yet the hands did not disappear.  Instead they slowly creaped along the ground moving toward him, longing to reach where he stood.  The hands disappeared and blended in with other shadows of the camp, yet continued through them.  Gonath blinked again and suddenly the shadows were at his feet, clawing the tops of his boots.  He could feel only a harsh coldness were once before the fire warmed.  The shadow hands moved up his legs drawing the warmth from within,  leaving Gonath with a chill from a cold, a lifeless cold, a dead cold.  He stepped back once and the hands fell, only to stretch from the blackness and regain its course.  The two hands passed his knees and moved towards his waist.  The black finger tips tentatively stopped at the pockets of his pants.  The dark force grew colder still and tried to pass where it stopped.  Gonath could feel heat coming from within his right pant leg and began to spread down toward the gripping shadow.  He felt the lifeless chill and rousing warmth collide.  The shadow hands curled into arthritic forms and disappeared back into the flames of the campfire.  Amazed at what transpired, Gonath thrust his hand into his pocket and retrieved the coin.  In the darkness the golden coin shined as though reflecting the sun.  He could feel the lingering heat the coin projected just seconds ago.  He fixed his gaze to the woman figure embossed on the coin and traced her with his thumb.  “Who is this woman?”, he thought to himself.  “What is this coin?”  Beneath his thumb he felt another symbol that was not there before, now making two on the coin.  With shaking hands he placed the coin back into his pocket and continued on to search for Starik.  He felt he needed to desperately find his friend, if not for help in explaining what was happening but to at least have someone to tell of the bizarre happenings he had experienced since his encounter with the old woman earlier that afternoon.

            Gonath left the large fire and continued through the camp, avoiding any other flames the best he could.  Starik could not be found within the camp.  Gonath stopped several men throughout the camp and asked if they knew where Starik may be.  The men either did not know Starik or did not know where he was.  Gonath decided he would find his friend the following day somewhere within the village.  Chances were that Starik would not be too far from the tempting ale in town.  As Gonath reached the end of camp and continued his walk home.  A large man covered in armor that bore the distinct markings of many battles stepped out from the brush and stood before Gonath.  The dents and gashes with the steel contorted the man’s figure, making him look as though his body was made up of lumps and mounds.  It took nothing away from his intimidating pose.

            “State your name and business here.”, barked the form.

            “Gonath of Cantlow, I am searching for the camp of his majesty’s army.”, answered Gonath with a sigh of relief.

            From this distance, Gonath could now see that the once obscured figure was a member of the military camp he was  seeking.

            “Gonath of Cantlow?  Ah, Starik has not fully recovered from your outing this afternoon.  Once he is well again, it will be the Majors intention to turn Starik’s stomach as did the ale.”

            “At a greater distance from the mouth of Starik than before I suppose.”, Gonath said with a slight grin.

            Aye, and an unsoiled uniform I trust.”, returned the soldier, “You may pass Gonath, Starik’s tent, as well the others can be found just over the bluff and down into the ravine.”

            “Thank you, I am familiar with this land.  Take particular caution, these woods are not kind after dark.”, warned Gonath.

            “Yes, and I can be quite the bearer of unpleasantness myself.”, assured the guard.

            Gonath shook the soldier’s hand and continued on in the direction the camp was located.  After a short distance, Gonath came upon on an incline in the land.  The grade began to steepen at this point, leading up to a depression.

            The same feeling Gonath experienced when he registered for the tournament earlier that day returned to him.  Tension and activity filled the air and chilled Gonath as he reached the top of his climb.  He looked down into the ravine and was surprised to see the camp alive and laced with the sensation of fervor.  Many tents blanketed the ground, resembling the snow capped peaks of mid-winter.  There were a number of camp fires that blotted the space below and illuminated various tents in the camp.  Gonath could see the active shadows of preparation within each of the glowing canopies.

            He made his way down into the into the army post.  The closer he made his way the more apparent it became that something was astir amidst the group.  Gonath noticed a number of Blacksmiths who ornamented their own pyre of radiating coals.  Each Smith created distinct sounds of metal clashing against hammer and anvil, chiming as an appropriate alarm to signal the enthusiasm unfolding.  The product of one Smith revealed an abundant collection of armor plating and weapons.  Blemished swords and damaged knives lay strewn about waiting for repair.  Each implement of battle chronicled the conflict it encountered.  Each piece of steel was placed into the fire and as the past lives taken were incinerated they rose above with the smoke, only to be released and lost in the darkened night sky.

            Gonath found difficulty to pass through the restive crowd of uniformed men.  Soldiers criss crossed one another, attempting to fulfill orders given to them by men of higher rank.  Each person seemed to have a distinct purpose to their uneasiness.  The mayhem made it difficult for Gonath to locate Starik on his own, he decided to stop the first he saw that appeared less hurried than the others.  All the soldiers Gonath came upon seemed to be preoccupied with packing this and that into boxes and parcels of various sizes and shapes.  Those who were not busy packing involved in heated discussions of whether items being packed were done so appropriately, in accordance with military precision.  Packing or arguing, each person was in as much a rush as any other.  Gonath thought it best not to interrupt them and continue on through the camp.

            Gonath reached what looked like the center of camp.  Massive tents, much larger than those of the troops he just passed, were being dismantled and packed into wagons that were over flowing with the white canvas.  A large fire in the center of the activity lit the area with hot light, Gonath’s skin warmed as he neared the flames that fought with the wooden fuel, making cracking and snapping noises that sounded as men’s bones breaking in battle.  Shadows were cast from the fire.  Gonath noticed the black smears that danced on the ground, tents and faces of men.  They created shapes and images that Gonath thought looked as though they belonged to the Undead.

 Angus left the assembly of men and rode off to meet the others.  NAME LATER watched as the elder knight departed, he was somewhat worried that his superiors knew more than what Demorus wanted to be known.

            “Sire, I ask that you allow me to accompany Angus.  As you have said yourself, these woods are not safe.  I would be honored to serve you by ensuring the safety of the message you await from the others.”

            With an agreeing nod, Mylor granted NAME LATER’s request.  As he turned his mount and rode off to catch Angus he overheard the king.  “He is a determined young man, is he not?”

            Overhearing the King’s words and answering to himself, NAME LATER muttered, “Determined indeed, determined to see this land governed by it’s rightful ruler and not by a dwindling feeble old man.”

*****

            As Gonath continued home he turned his thoughts back to the old woman he encountered in town.  Try as he might, Gonath could not form the woman’s hideous face in his mind.  The woman was distinctly repulsive, however that is all Gonath could recall.  He was amazed that the old wretch knew so much about him.

            “Some sort of trick?”, he asked himself

            Gonath thought of the magician he once watched many years ago.  He was astonished to see the man pull objects from thin air only to make them disappear to where they first came.

            “Could this woman know her own form of ruse to cheat me of my horse?  Was this woman able to conjure as a soothsayer?”, asked Gonath again.

            The thought of the haggard woman having skills of a sorcerer made Gonath both laugh and twinge with uneasiness.

            Gonath had no fear of fighting that of a physical state.  The sharpened sword edge and the wild look in his opponents' eyes were things he could defend against.  The mysterious world of the unseen is what intimidated Gonath.  He was unsure how to avert an attack from an invisible foe.

            Now feeling uneasy and more apprehensive about carrying the coin that was sought by a growing number of people, Gonath thought best to find Starik at the encampment prior to going home.

            Gonath was uncertain of the exact location of the compound and was concerned he may not easily find it.  His fear of not locating the campground quickly dissolved as he was startled by a figure approaching from the darkness.  Moonlight shown from behind the body revealing only the frame of a man that continued to move in Gonath’s direction with a clear purpose.  The unknown man turned slightly causing the steel of his sword to reflect what little light was present.  Keeping in mind that at night the forest became hazardous, more so due to the arrival of the tournament.  Gonath’s first thought was of danger.  Unarmed, his heart began to race and the palms of his hands grew cold and dank.  Gonath reached to wipe damp from his hands, he felt a warmth coming from his trouser pocket.  His attention from the figure turned towards the warmth.  He reached down into the pocket to retrieve the object emitting the heat that intensified.  Gonath  removed his hand, holding the coin he found earlier in the day.  The coin flared, making Gonath drop it to the ground to avoid scorching himself.  He bent to recover the gold piece and upon standing he found himself starting in the face with the man that approached.

In the sound track of most slasher movies there seems to be a moment when the "soon to be victim" is hiding in a closet or under a bed or behind a translucent shower curtain. While said "soon to be victim" is squirrelled away, hoping to live through the ordeal, they hear the killer's tell tale heavy breathing creeping closer and closer signifying the victim's impending doom.

Last July I transferred within my organization and, as a result, was relocated to another piece of real estate on the 8th floor.  I soon realized that my new cube neighbor either had a severe case of asthma or some other issue that tested the limits of each of her lungs. 

The first time I heard it I thought she might have been having a serious medical emergency, you know like something along the lines of congestive heart failure but in between the full bodied breaths I could hear a frequent crunching of chips, cookies, crackers and/or very stale pizza.  I ruled out heart failure and considered the root of the dyspnea to be that of food induced orgasm as it really lasted no more than 10-15 minutes.  The next day however the breathing repeated itself despite the lack of any noticeable consumption of food.

The first few weeks of transferring I really put some time in trying to figure out why the ebb and flow of her inhale/exhale would occur between 8:30 and 8:45 every morning.  I looked for scented candles.  I searched for burning incense.  I even rummaged through her desk drawers hoping to find a vat of perfumed hand lotion. Success in finding anything eluded me. Until...

I was riding the elevator one morning, mentally categorizing what clues I might have overlooked in my current futile search for answers when I overheard a conversation about the local filming of some small-scale serial killer movie and a casting call for various roles. Eureka! It could not have been more clear to me if the hand of God had come down and smacked my forehead. She was going for the lead and was merely feverishly practicing for an audition for a part  in the next installment of Friday the 13th or Halloween or some other shallow budget film of the sort.  She was


I don't know when the auditions will be held but from what I've been hearing every morning for the last eight months, well, let's just say I can't wait for the premiere.

The first character in the band of symbols had changed.  Transformed somehow from something foreign to the letters his mother used to teach him to read.  Quickly Gonath realized the coin was worth more than the gold it was made of and had more power than simply to trade for goods.  Immediately he dropped the coin back into his pocket and quickened his pace to home, before the men found the old woman and determined that he now possessed the basis of their “business transaction.”

***

            Though the forest roads were widely accessed, a traveler never felt safe as they passed through the woodland.  The thick growth seemed to have pact with the sun to create ominous shadows and patches of cold that made a rider's horse snort and twitch with nervousness.  The men that composed the monarch's escort were no less wary of what the forest was able to conceal.  Each guard had heard tale of the fateful trip that took the life of the Queen, living Mylor to rule from the throne unaccompanied.

            The handful of guards that survived the excursion remained to serve the King.  Each of those men were present and determined, as they were with each passage, to not let the dreadful event occur again.

            “Just around this bend," said Sir Angus, the patriarch of the King’s Guard, as he turned to XXXX, one of the newest of the elite group.

            “Around the bend sir?”, replied the young knight.

            Angus cleared his throat as he began to retell the story.

            “Aye, the mob attacked just as we made our way about the shoulder.  We were completely overwhelmed by the number of men.”

            XXXX interrupted, “Still, being thieves you surely had the upper hand did you not?”

            “Any man who would believe a rabble of thieves were triumphant to bring down any number of skilled knights and able to take the queen’s life must be mad.  Those were no pilfering miscreants.  Those men were well armed, well trained, guided and full of hate for the king and queen.  To this day lad, I believe someone was behind the attack.  If that same man lives the king may always be in danger.”

            Feigning confusion XXXX asked, “Could that be a possibility?  Is there any one man able to summon that force?”

            “Aye”, replied Angus, “The king does not know how close he may be to, well let us say that he…”

            “ANGUS!, Join me.”, ordered Mylor from his teetering coach.

            Immediately Angus tightened his hands on the reins and maneuvered his horse so he was now riding aside the King.

            “Yes my lord?”

            “Angus, you are well aware that I am not fond of these woods, yet I feel we must stop, make camp and await the following group.  We will end the day here, I ask you to ride back and inform Demorus that we have halted and then return to me and report on the well being of my niece.  I trust that Demorus will watch over her, yet I want to know first hand.  They should not be far behind so I expect your quick return.”

            “Of course sire.  I am sure all is well.  Sire, before I leave, I must have a moment in private with.  I have information you may find quite important.”

            “It can wait.  My niece is what is important for now.  We will speak once I am assured she is in no harm.”

            “As you wish.  I shall not waist a moment.”

Congratulations to me!

I had my first bout with food poisoning last week. Either from package trail mix or packet of peanuts.  Either way, it hit me from nowhere like an IED while I was driving in rush hour traffic on the 51. From sharing stories with other survivors I've decided it was a mild case of it. Don't feel bad for me though, I think I had it coming.
 
The Gastro Gods or Food Karma or something along those lines finally caught up to me and unleashed a wrath of justified retribution.  Here's a little back-story...

Seven or eight years ago, at a place at which I don't work any more, my co-workers and I were very active in the way of playing practical jokes on one another. We'd pull pranks that ranged from the classic "Cup full of water precariously balanced behind the cubicle overhead door" to rasterizing a photo of someone and displaying outward from the office windows to creating a Craigslist personal add soliciting a 4th guy for a weekend full of man on man sex (complete with photos and contact info.) too.

The common thread among the pranks was that, in the end, the victim(s) eventually were let in on who was behind that particular gag until, that is, I decided to go rogue and up the ante.  Like most office-based work environments we had the communal refrigerator in the employee break room. As an extra bonus there were refrigerators on two other floors PLUS someone had a mini-fridge at their desk.

The joke was simple. Periodically search the refrigerators, take one bite of whatever looked tasty, put it back, and then sit back and wait for the bitching.  To deflect any suspicion I pretended to be a victim by half-eating my own lunch too. I did this, undetected, on and off for about two years and never got caught. That is until last week.

I was working late one night and started to get those hunger pangs we usually get when we've skipped a meal. I was under a deadline on a project and couldn't really afford to leave to go grab something quick. However, I knew a co-worker had a stash of snacks in her desk so I decided to snag something from her. By that time she had already left for the day but I figured I could pay her back the following day. Apparently the Universe figured I was up to my old tricks and had a different payment plan in mind for me.

One generation of people can remember where they were and what they were doing when John F. Kennedy was shot. The same can be said for all of us the day the World Trade Center went down. And specifically, for me, I recall that I ate a packet of peanuts at 3:37 p.m. on Thursday last week and at 5:28 p.m. the cramping, dry mouth, and persistent sweats began. Unfortunately I had to work a promotional event and struggled through it until I got home. At 9:15 p.m. I was curled up in a ball wondering when I'd fall into unconsciousness and leave this world.

Although, when I woke the next morning, I felt much better but the effects continued to haunt me until I knew the event had passed by the following Sunday afternoon when I actually ate food for the first time in two days.

The men saw Gonath approach and lowered their voices, however, not enough to conceal what they spoke.

            “Don’t consider this an act of murder.  Consider what we do as merely a business transaction”, explained one of the men.

            “A business transaction?  Good lord man, how so?” questioned another.

            “Simple.  She has what we want.  We make a proper offer.  In this case it's what she holds or her life.  Of course, she may counter the offer…"

"Yes, yes and being the shrewd “businessmen” we are, we can't take no for an answer."

"That's right.  She may still refuse and even better if she does.  No smart trading man will ever disagree that good business should always benefit both parties.  However, who said there was any good in our business?”

            A third man spoke, “How do you know she still has the token?  And by what means do you have to find her?  You are aware that this town is full of people, not to mention that soldiers are patrolling everywhere.”

            “I followed her here myself.  That ragged cloak she wears is unmistakable.  I know she is in this town and I mean to find her by looking.  I assume you will assist me.  The town is small, so we will find her and that damned coin.”

            Hearing more than he wanted, Gonath feigned an interest in the items on display and hurriedly put distance between the men and himself.  He tried not to look any different than when he first stumbled upon the trio’s plot.

            Judging he was well away from the men, Gonath reached into his pocket and fumbled for the gold piece the old woman dropped.