They had trekked for three days, cleaving to the King’s Highway north of Ribald Creek. Three more days would bring the minstrels to Kayradan, just in time for the Duke’s tourney. There was plenty of coin to be had. And the sights! Kayradan was one of the most beautiful cities in all of Colton, and more so during fairs and festivals.
Ponce’s spirits were high as the wandered a bit off the highway, onto a wooded footpath. He strummed his lute as he went, whistling merrily in accompaniment.
“You’re a gods-damned fool, don’t you know?” Tobin uttered. “If you put that thing away and focused on the journey, we’d make much better time.”
“What’s the rush? It’s a beautiful late afternoon, almost evening, really. We’ll cut through Kayshire Wood, instead of taking the long way over the pass, and cut six hours off our journey.”
Tobin sighed in exasperation. “Someday, Ponce. We’ve both heard the tales of Kayshire Wood. Do you think it’s a good idea to cross the wood at this hour? There are bandits out there… and worse.”
They continued through the wood, but it was not the quick jaunt they’d imagined. With no other recourse, they made camp some hours later. Tobin built a small fire to discourage predators and they lay down to rest.
Tobin was soon half-asleep, but Ponce remained listless. “Nature calls, my friend. I have to get up and answer.”
“Don’t wander too far by yourself.
Not putting particular stock in the warning, much less because it came from Tobin, he set off in the dark, looking for a suitable bush.
His task complete, he turned back the way he had come, but Ponce could no longer see the fire’s flickering light. He pressed forward (at least he thought it was forward; in the dark, and not knowing Kayshire Wood as well as he should, he wasn’t convinced that it was).
The trees began to thin, and he stepped into the glade. He’d been through this wood maybe half a dozen times, and never come across this particular glade. Something about it seemed ominous, seemed… out of time.
In the center of the glade was perhaps the grandest tree Ponce had ever set his eyes on. It towered above everything else in the forest, and the shape and color of its leaves were like nothing he’d ever seen. A spring, more a slash across the earth, meandered near the tree’s base.
Ponce’s breath caught in his throat.
It was then that he saw them. Eerily beautiful, their bare, ashy skin was nearly indiscernable from the night that surrounded them, and the creatures they rode were truly terrifying. These were some lost tribe of the old people, still holding some primeval corner of the wood where men never trod. The scream froze in his throat.
The great snarling cats drew forward, and Ponce stood frozen in fright. The guardian to his left spoke. “Look what’s stumbled into our glade, sister.”
“P-please.” Ponce stammered. “I mean no harm.
“It means no harm, it says.” The guardian to Ponce’s left said mockingly. “We shall see. It looks harmless enough. The cats are hungry. It would make a tasty morsel for them.”
“A waste.” The other guardian replied. “Look at its form. It looks to have all of the parts in the right places, and it’s been decades since one such as this stumbled into the Glade. If we must feed the cats, let us… play with the food a bit first.”
“You speak truly, sister. But why sacrifice it? Let it return to its own and tell its tale. It lives… at least for this night. Let us hope it never finds its way back here.”
The two beautiful creatures dismounted, and the giant beasts they had ridden lay down near the base of the great tree, as if they were merely fat tavern-cats. The guardians drew near Ponce, and while still not at ease, he saw them now in all their glory and his body began to react differently.
They spoke as one. “You heard us well, foolish man. Please us, please us both, and you may yet live to see another sunrise.
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