Pentigrast by Daniel Sinclair Page B

faces showed the last of their death throws and the heavy bruising on their necks told the tale of their demise. There was no telling how long this sculptor of the grotesque was at his work, the cruel winters grasp had frozen the bodies solid with no hint of decay. When it started could be guessed, sometime after the first fall of snow, with mid winter fast approaching this queer scene still had ample time to conclude.
     
    Talen shuddered and came back to the present, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end he sipped his hot red tea quietly wondering what this traveling priest would have of him; he assumed he would find out soon enough.
     
    As the pale grey winter’s day last light was stolen by the darkness Talen neared the Inn. It had been a long cold ride and he was want of a warm meal and a seat by the fire. He walked his horse into the small livery and removed the bridle and saddle. Covering his horse with a heavy woolen blanket and fitting him with a feed bag of oats and barley he thought to himself he would much rather be his horse on this night than parry words with this priest again.
     
    As he entered the inn the innkeeper took him aside and told him that Father Lannister would like to have a word with him in private after he had eaten his meal. Talen had suspected as much and settled in at a table close to the fire. Although the inn was full tonight with many strangers eating their meals in the main room there was still ample space at the table for Talen to eat in peace. The innkeeper brought him a fresh bowl of venison stew and a mug of strong ale, as if he knew it would be needed to lighten his mood. After Talen had finished his meal and started on his second mug of ale he was led to the innkeeper’s private quarters where old man sat by the fire smoking his pipe and waiting. The Innkeeper asked if anything was needed and the old man motioned him closer and whispered something in his ear, the innkeeper hurriedly left the room closing the door tight behind him.
     
    “So” Talen uttered “You have want of my services after all then Father?” The old man gazed into the fire and motioned for Talen to sit. “Let us not play this game any longer than needs be, you know who I am and why I have come here and you know that I have come for you, Talen Morgan. Tell me of the women and the place in which you found them.
     
    Talen crossed the room and stood by the fire for a movement before finishing the last of his ale and taking a seat next to the old man. Talen looked closely at Father Lannister’s face and thought to himself that this could not be the man of legends that the tales spoke of. Surely that man was strong, confident and a killer. The man that sat before him now was a ghost of a man at best. Easily well into his 60 th winter and seemingly frail and bent. Talen sat his mug down on the small table between them before speaking. “You already know all the facts of this matter, if you would like I will take you there myself in the morning.”
     
    The old man considered Talen’s response as he pulled on his pipe. “I have heard the tale and know the facts second hand; I would hear it again from the man who witnessed it firsthand.”
     
    Before he could answer the door to the common room opened and innkeeper rushed in with a flagon of mulled cider and a plate of hard cheese. Sitting them down on the small table he quickly filled the men’s mugs and hurriedly made his way back to the door, making sure to close it tight as he left.
     
    Talen took a sip of the warmed cider before telling the old man all he knew about the matter.
     
    “I was just finished a good month of trapping in the barrens and had packed up my pelts to take to Quinth for trade.  Quinth Lies West of the barrens by 40 leagues. The barrens itself is a natural valley beyond the mountains ridge guarded by 100 foot sheer granite walls on either side and the borderlands of Quinth at its end. There is a cave on the North wall of