Pentigrast by Daniel Sinclair Page A

any other night, but not this night.” “so you say Father, either way I hope your journey is swift and untroubled” Talen crossed the room to settle his bill with the innkeeper then pulled the hood of his dark green cloak over his head to shield his face as he walked out the door into the biting winter winds of the night.
     
    “Is he the one?” The old man spoke softly as if to himself. “Yes, father” the Innkeeper spoke up “Do you think it wise to show such unkindness to the man you will have need of?” “I do not trust him, nor for that matter will I show kindness when none is offered. He cared not for my age nor for my travels he only sought to find out why I was here, and in good time he will wish he had let an old man be to carry this burden himself”. “When do you expect him to return?” “He will be back before nightfall tomorrow after checking his traps.” “Good” said the old man holding his hands up for warmth against the fire. “When he returns tell him I do have need of his services after all and to wait me by the fire in the evening.” “And where will you be Father?” inquired the innkeeper.” I will be in my room, the one you are about to make vacant for me. And I suggest you do so fast as I am tired and will soon be in a foul mood.” “But Father…” the innkeeper began. “ No buts about it my son, you are being paid well by the church to look after me and you will look after me now, won’t you.” “Yes, Father. Give me but a moment and I will ready my own room for you if that is to your liking.” “That will do just nicely” the old man said as he gazed into the fire as if searching for answers that he knew wouldn’t come.
     
    Talen walked to the nearby stables and untied his large black destrier from the feeding post.  Mounting him in one swift movement from the stirrup he wondered what tomorrow would have in store for him and the sour old man sitting in the inn. He had heard that the man was coming and he already knew the stories of Riven Lannister for some time, he knew the old man would have want of him and why. As he rode out of the stables his horse gave a low whinny as if to say beware. Talen rode for his encampment on the north face of the mountain and he would sleep a fitful sleep that night.
     
    Talen awoke in the morning and settled in next to the fire to eat a ration of hardtack and brew some red tea to bring him some warmth to his bones. As he surveyed the stark expanse of snow across the valley he thought back to the old man in the inn. Talen had heard stories since he was a child of a man called Riven that did certain jobs for the Church, although in the tales it was never told he was a man of God. If the tales were true then Father Riven Lannister was much more than a humble old priest, he was a killer of men. Some say the men he killed had dark souls, others suggest that Father Riven Lannister is a dark hand of the church itself, taking on the role of a secret confessor and executing those the church found unworthy. Either way Father Riven Lannister was a man to be watched. Talen Knew that it would only be a matter of time before he would come for him, after all it was he who had found the bodies of the women in the barrens, all so young, all so beautiful and all too dead.
     
    He had found them in a cave on the North face of the barrens high granite walls. They were sitting in a circle as if by a fire but in place of a fire ring there was a circle drawn in blood with a pentagram at its center. Each point of the pentagram pointed to one of the dead women. The four bodies were naked and posed in a sexually ritualistic way about the pentagram, four bodies and 5 points; it seemed this grotesque work was yet unfinished.  Each woman was beautiful and in her prime, Talen thought to himself that none of the women could have been more than 25. They sat there legs spread wide giving their womanhood to each point of the pentagram, twisted smiles upon their