This story is being rewritten! The new version, A Price in Memory, can be found here.

I highly suggest you read the new version as this one won't be completed. Also, there has been a lot of changes so you won't be able to continue with the other where this one left off.

The sun had already risen by the by the time they slowed down. It would have been better if they could have kept going but they had already been walking for hours by this time and the people were exhausted.

There were sighs of relief travelling through the crowd as they finally stopped. One of which came from Y’rid himself. The boy had tried to keep up at first, albeit with a bit of prodding, but it didn’t last long.

Soon Y’rid was forced to carry him on his back. The boy barely reacted when Y’rid picked him up. He could only hope that the kid would be all right. He had witnessed things that no child should.

Carrying both him and the sword had drained Y’rid of all energy. The feeling in his arms had been reduced to a burning ache.

Focussing on his breathing was the only thing that helped to keep his mind from wandering. Whenever it did the helplessness he felt in the clash with the flying monsters threatened to overwhelm him. His heart would begin to race as he thought of the searing pain in his mind, halting all movement and causing even his thinking to slow.

How do these people survive with those things out here?

The thought rose in his head more than a few times during their flight, yet the answer remained the same. The actions of the red-eyed man were still clear in his mind. If he hadn’t seen it himself he would probably have dismissed it as a tall tale.

He was faster than any human Y’rid had seen. And the glowing yellow sword had left a deep impression on him. But the part he found most impressive was something he didn’t realise at the time. It only came to him after he had replayed the scene in his mind a few times.

The creature’s screech didn’t affect him.

At least not in any way Y’rid could tell. Even if he had the man’s speed and that sword of his, he doubted he would have been able to defeat one of those things. But he would have been able to put up a fight. At least that would be the case if not for the horrible sound the things produced.

Life and death could be determined in a single moment. If you were robbed of movement in such a fight, then you would have zero chance of surviving. You were entirely helpless. And he was getting much too familiar with the feeling for his liking.

The boy woke up as he lifted him off his back, he had fallen asleep sometime during the walk. Y’rid glanced at him as he sat down next to him. The boy sat silently and stared at the ground, his eyes unfocused.

Y’rid didn’t know what to say to the boy. What could he say? Any comfort he could offer would seem hollow coming from a stranger like him. Thus he only sat next to him and observed the other people around them.

There were about two hundred people from what he could tell, an abysmally small amount when one considered the number that once lived in that city. A constant reminder of all those that didn’t make it.

They probably weren’t the only ones that escaped. The city lord and the blackguard almost certainly made it along with any others that lived near the western gate and some that were quick enough to act when the wall fell. But even so, most would have perished.

The group he was with consisted of mostly civilians along with around two dozen guard and hunters. And of course the six red eyes. Beast eaters he had heard some of the others call them. Though he doubted that was an official title, it did hint at a rather dubious background.

The road they were travelling on was a simple winding path, surrounded on both sides by immense looming trees that quickly obscuring one’s view. It was little more than two carriages wide and stretched from one city to the next.

From what little pieces of conversation he picked up from the others he was able to tell that it ran from the city of Riversedge, the one they came from, to the city of Lok. Lok was about four days travel away under normal circumstances. How long it would take them now was anyone’s guess.

He sighed looking at the sword lying in front of him. It was well made, as to be expected of the equipment of the city lord’s knights.

It had a double-edged blade little over a metre long. It was a simple design, one that sacrificed aesthetics for practicality. A black leather-wrapped handle extended past what one would need for a one-handed sword, allowing it to be wielded with both hands even though it lacked the length of a true two-handed sword.

It was a knight’s weapon, yet the blood that stained the blade was that of an innocent woman. Thinking of the scene caused Y’rid to shake his head sadly. Crossing his legs he placed the sword on his lap and licked his thumb before beginning to clean off the dried blood. He had enough to weigh down his mind, without the constant reminder of that.

He saw the boy watching him as he worked to clean the blade. Showing interest in something was probably a good sign, even if it was superficial.

“What’s your name?” Y’rid asked him.

The boy was silent for a minute, but he didn’t press him. Instead, he kept on cleaning the sword. Eventually the boy responded.

“Hadi,” he muttered.

Wiping off the clean blade with his sleeve, he turned to look at the boy. His skin was a light tan colour like most of the people he had seen. He had dark hair, almost black in colour with brown eyes. At the moment however they appeared dull with dark circles underneath them.

“My name’s Y’rid. You have any other family, Hadi, other than the ones that were in the city?” He asked.

He felt bad asking the question, knowing it would bring up bad memories, but it was important. His thoughts turned out to be correct when the boy dropped his gaze to the ground, his lower lip quivering slightly, before shaking his head.

Y’rid turned away from the boy to look out over the other resting people and the forest beyond them.

An orphan from a monster wave. Another one.

The story was all too familiar, as the real Y’rid’s memories surfaced in his mind. The nights of freezing cold and days of unbearable hunger. How many children had similar stories? Probably more than he would like to know.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find a place for you,” he said.

The boy didn’t respond, but then again, he didn’t expect him to. Hadi had become his responsibility when he had pulled the boy away from what was undoubtedly his father’s corpse. Y’rid was still wrapping his mind around his current situation and now he had to look after someone else.

But he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. In fact, it might even be fitting.

A part of him still felt like he owed something to the person whose skin he now wore. If he could keep this kid from the fate that led to that person’s demise, would that not be a start to repay his debts?

The sight of one of the beast eaters walking across his vision drew his attention. It was the same man that saved hi the previous night. He wore a loose fitting coat around his shoulders with a bandage underneath it across his chest.

Y’rid tracked the man with his eyes as he made his way through the spread out crowd to a small circle of stones a bit away from the rest of the people, where one of the other red-eyed hunters was busy starting a fire.

“I’ll be right back,” Y’rid said over his shoulder to Hadi as he stood up and started making his way towards the two.

They seemed to hear him before he was even halfway there as the one who had walked over looked up and watched his approach, his gaze pausing for a moment on the sword Y’rid carried.

I should really have picked up the sheath.

Y’rid though, mentally shaking his head. He knew there was no time for such things then, but the sword was beginning to seem like more effort than it was worth. The thought was quickly dispelled as he thought of what might be lurking behind those tall trees.

Y’rid reached the two and stopped before them. He stabbed the sword’s tip into the hard ground before opening his hands in what he hoped would be recognized as a peaceful gesture. He nodded at the man who simply held his gaze, his face expressionless.

“Thanks for your help in the city, I would not be here if not for you,” He began.

An awkward moment of silence passed before the man looked at the sword again, a look of recognition passing over his face before nodding back at him.

“Don’t mention it,” He said turning back to the now small flame beginning to come to life in the kindling.

The other man gave a dry chuckle and looked up at Y’rid from his seated position.

“Don’t mind Ritter, he doesn’t speak much to strangers,” the other man said.

Y’rid nodded, turning his gaze to the fire before continuing.

“Well, thanks. But there is something a want to know. That… beast-“

“Kahtri,” The man, Ritter, interrupted.

“…Huh?” Y’rid focused on him, not expecting the reply.

“Kahtri, that is what they are called.”

“Well, that kahtri. How were you still standing after that screech it made? I could barely think, never mind actually fighting against it.”

“Doesn’t affect me,” He replied.

The other man shook his head before turning his pale gaze to Y’rid.

“The kahtri are a common sight if you head up north. They are fast and strong but their bodies are relatively fragile, their bones and muscles less dense than most creatures of that size. Thus they rely on their voice to keep prey from fighting back, but there are a few tricks one can learn to dampen the effects… though seeing them here was a surprise,” he said. His last words muttered under his breath, but they didn’t escape Y’rid and Ritter’s notice.

“Which is why we can’t waste time here,” Ritter replied causing the other man to sigh.

“Don’t bring that up again. Besides, the horde will disperse in a day or two. Any damage they could do would have already been done by then,” he said.

“They are not the problem, only an effect.”

“What do you mean?” Y’rid asked, an uneasy feeling rising in his gut.

“Who is this?” A voice came from his left.

He quickly took a step back and looked towards the newly arrived man. He shared the same pale red eyes of the other two, marking him as one of the six. His black hair was a sharp contrast against the pale skin of his face. His hand was resting on one of the two short swords were strapped to his right side.

The new arrival locked eyes with Y’rid and he had to keep himself from reaching for the sword at his side. Even though his posture looked relaxed with a slight smile upon his lips, he somehow gave off the impression of a predator waiting to pounce.

“He’s one of the people Ritter led out of the city,” the man sitting next to the fire said.

“Oh?” The man the man said, turning to face the other one.

The man seemed familiar. It was only a moment later that Y’rid realised that this was the man that had stared at him yesterday before he entered the city gates.

He seems a bit too vigilant for-

His thought was cut off as the man suddenly drew his sword and swung it towards him. Y’rid had no time to think in the face of the assault. Reactions drilled into his mind from a time he couldn’t remember caused him to step back hastily, narrowly avoiding the swipe that flashed past his chest.

He reached out his hand closing onto his sword, pulling it out of the ground in a backhanded grip as the man stabbed forward. Y’rid swung the sword just in time to strike the blade off course and it passed to his left, but leaving him open. He instinctively stepped to the right as he tried to gain a proper stance but his body couldn’t right itself in time as the man’s fist struck a solid blow to his chest.

Y’rid stumbled backwards. He reversed his one-handed grip on the sword and swung it in an arc to fend off the man’s overhead swing. Once again he barely made it in time before the man’s boot lashed out, sweeping his legs out from under him.

With a heavy thud, he landed on the ground, the back of his head striking the compacted dirt. He was just about to try and roll away when he felt a mild sting come from his cheek. He looked up to see the man’s sword pressed against his face. He froze, knowing any sudden moves would do more harm than good now.

“What the hell Holin?” The man sitting at the fire exclaimed, confusion clear in his voice as Ritter just looked on with interest.

The man didn’t answer as he slowly withdrew the sword while keeping his gaze focused on Y’rid. He drew a finger over the bloodstain on the blade before bringing it to his lips. A frown crossed his face for a moment before he relaxed, an easy-going smile spreading over his face.

Holin quickly wiped and sheathed his sword before holding out a hand to Y’rid, who stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment. His heart was still pounding in his chest, his hands shaking slightly with the adrenaline coursing through his body.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Had to be sure,” he said in a friendly manner.

Y’rid was stunned by the man’s sudden change in demeanour. One moment the man was trying to kill him, the next he wanted to help him? A trick? No, if the wanted to kill him he would have done so. Was he simply insane then? Although the other man had seemed surprised, Ritter didn’t. Did that suggest that this was normal behaviour?

After a few seconds of silence, as different thoughts raced through his mind, Y’rid reached out and took the man’s hand, but kept his other hand clenched around the sword's hilt, and was promptly pulled to his feet.

“Had to be sure of what?” He asked warily raising his hand to his cheek and seeing his fingers tipped with red.

“That you are human. You smell… different,” he replied.

“Shapeshifter?” Ritter asked, a hint of caution to his voice.

“No. Just something unfamiliar.”

“Isn’t that what those runes on the city gate were for? You were there when I entered,” Y’rid said. His wariness turning to anger before switching back to caution. Could this man actually smell that he wasn’t from here? How?

“I never saw you enter,” the man said. “You could have snuck in when the wall fell. Besides, the quickest way to find out if you’re human is to fight you. A shapeshifter wouldn’t have reached for the sword in such a situation. And blood doesn’t lie.”

“Don’t worry about it. Holin has the best nose among all I’ve met. If he says you’re in the clear, then you are,” the man sitting by the fire said.

Ritter nodded his agreement, his previous caution nowhere to be found.

Holin smiled at Y’rid. “You have talent man. Your movements are dull, But judging from your figure I doubt you have trained at the sword very much. Your instincts, however, are on point. A few months of training and we’ll be able to turn you into a passable swordsman.”

“Training him?” Ritter asked.

“Why not?” Holin replied. “Some new blood will do us good. And it's not like these people have bright future ahead of them. Most will suffer when we reach Lok. The lucky ones will have a hard life ahead of them.”

“What do you mean?” Y’rid asked, his mind catching up to the conversation.

”Most cities don’t take kindly to those that can’t pull their weight. It depends from city to city but Lok is one of the older and more… ‘strict’… cities in these parts. Somehow I doubt there would be enough room for all these refugees. Unless your noble but I’d wager that you are not,” Holin said looking pointedly at the worn shirt Y’rid wore.

“Surprised?” The man by the fire asked. “You shouldn’t be. Cities have limited space. The hunters and guards should be fine, even with families. But the others? They best hope they can be useful to the city or they will just burn through whatever coin they have before ending up on the streets. And from the streets to someplace even less desirable.”

“So most of these people are doomed? Surely there have to be other options,” Y’rid said

“Well, there are refugee camps,” the man replied. “But they usually don’t last long. The more people you have in one place the more attractive a target they become to the creatures that roam the wilds. The only way to live in relative safety is to offset the number of civilians with defences, guards and hunters. Hopefully, a few wealthy merchant families with eyes on nobility will try to reclaim Riversedge, but that can take a very long time.”

A solemn silence descended on the group, each lost in their own thoughts. Before the man spoke up again.

“You should get some rest, we’ll be moving again in a few hours.”

Y’rid bade them farewell after a moment but his mind was elsewhere as he made his way back to where he had left Hadi. It wandered as he looked towards the people that survived the attack.

Here and there, expressions of anger and heartbreak could be seen, but most simply looked drained and lost. At first, he had thought they were worn out after the horror of the attack and loss they had to endure but after hearing the man’s words he knew that this was something more. They were truly lost. They had lost everything they had known and worked for in a single night, but it was more than even that, they had lost their futures.

If he could feel lost without his past, would they feel the same without their futures?

This was definitely not the life he wanted. Even though he didn’t truly experience the life on the streets his body had lived through he still had its memories. A life that had driven his body’s previous owner to such desperation that he was completely willing to risk certain death for three gold coins. And by what the man had hinted at, Lok seemed even less forgiving than Riversedge had been.

Y’rid looked toward the boy that hadn’t moved in the time he was away. He was still sitting silently hugging his knees. In his mind, he saw the black-haired girl playing in the sun.

What would the old him do if he saw her in such a state?

For better or worse the boy had become his responsibility after he had pulled him away from that hell of the previous night. Back then he had merely acted without thinking of the consequences. Would he have turned away from the burden if he had known then what he did now?

No.

He would not. He didn’t need to the memories of his previous life to tell him that. And if they said otherwise then he wouldn’t want them in any case.

He walked over to the boy and sat down. The boy didn’t react.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Y’rid said, repeating the advice he had received only minutes ago.

He reached over when the Hadi didn’t respond and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. The action seemed to startle him, as the boy quickly recoiled and stared at him. With a sigh, Y’rid repeated his words before lying down to follow them himself.

Thinking about how merciless the world could be, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to free him from the exhaustion of his body and weariness of his mind. But sleep was an elusive thing and, when it finally came, it brought with it scenes from the night before.

***

Shortly after Y’rid had left the three red-eyed hunters were still staring at the fire in silence. Finally, Ritter broke that silence, bringing up the subject they had all been thinking about.

“We should head back," Ritter said. "The weaver should be informed.”

“You know why we can’t,” Rhone, the man who sat by the fire said. “Many already view us as little more than beasts, if we leave now it’ll just help solidify their superstitions.”

“We were sent here for confirmation. Every moment we waste here will only make matters worse.”

“We were sent to investigate. We need to retain good relations, or at the very least acceptance from the people,” he replied. Ritter was a good man but he placed too little value in people outside their order in Rhone’s opinion.

“They wouldn’t be here if not for us. Jerick already lost his life in that city. Getting these ones out should be enough,” Ritter said. The mention of Jerick struck a nerve, causing Rhone’s eye to twitch. An unnecessary death of one of theirs. If they were on their own then there would have been no reason to hold back. It was exactly because they had to prevent further estrangement that he had died.

“It should be. But it won’t,” Holin said with a sad smile. “People always expect those with the power to solve their problems for them to do so, and we still need them. Stronghold won’t survive more than a few generations on its own,”

“Won’t matter if we get wiped out before then,” Ritter replied. “The behemoths are one thing but the kahtri are another. I’ve never seen one outside of the frozen forest. Something’s driving them south, and we better hope that something is mundane hunger.”

A few moments passed as his words set in before Rhone spoke up again. “Let’s wait for the others to get back. One of us can go ahead and send word to Stronghold, the rest can keep travelling to Lok. I doubt those back home would be happy if we returned without supplies.”

“No they would not, and I rather enjoy being on Lori’s good side.” Holin’s words brought a smile to his face, albeit a forced one. If given a choice between facing a hungry behemoth and an angry Lori he would have to think about it. Not for too long… but he’d hesitate.

A few minutes later Holin turned to look towards the east. Rhone followed the man’s gaze to see Kali and Red emerge from the forest and walk onto the path. The man’s senses never ceased to amaze him. Even if he took pride in his own he knew he could never hope to match him in that regard.

They walked side by side as they approached, the big man towering over the smaller woman. Red had a steel breastplate over his chest and a greataxe on his back, his dark skin a telling sign of his desert folk heritage. Kali stood in stark contrast to him, dressed in light travelling leathers and a black recurve bow in her hand. The two newcomers quickly joined them by the fire.

“The path behind is empty. They are not following,” Red said as they arrived.

“It’s the same to the sides,” Kali added. “It seems the surrounding creatures have all been caught up in the wave.”

“Something less to worry about. That’s always good news in my opinion,” he said.

“Uldar is just. His will moves in cycles. Turbulence followed by peace,” Red said with an absolute certainty.

“I’d rather He just stick to the peace and be done with it,” Ritter said

“It is not the way of the world. Hard times are necessary to keep the people from softening,” Red replied.

The man’s belief always made Rhone a bit uncomfortable. People of faith were rare in these parts. Followers of the Balancer even more so. He never knew what to say to such conviction. But even though he couldn’t share it, a part of him also couldn’t help but admire it.

With his god standing at his side, Red would face an entire monster wave by himself without flinching if it was required. Rhone couldn’t think of a single person he would rather have watching his back.

“We were just talking about sending someone to the back to inform the others of the monster wave,” Rhone said

“Good,” said Kali. “The sooner they know the better. Who were you guys thinking of sending?”

“Haven’t decided yet, we were waiting for you and Meera to return.”

“You won’t have to wait long,” Holin said, nodding towards the front.

They looked to see another woman walking towards them. She wore a hooded brown cloak covering most of her features. To her waist were strapped a row of daggers and a short sword.

She walked over to the fire and sat down, throwing back her hood to reveal her youthful face and short brown hair before speaking.

“I found them. The city lord’s company has joined up with a few other troops and carriages. Mostly nobles and their guards, though there are a few civilians mixed in with them.”

“How far away are they?” Rhone asked.

“We could probably reach them in three hour’s time if we press this lot a bit, but I doubt they’ll be moving soon. It looked as though they just set up camp a while ago.”

“Let’s give the people a few hours more to rest before we catch up. We were just discussing sending someone back to the enclave,” he said

“Oh? We’re not all going back?” Meera asked

“No, Rhone wants to get these ones to Lok,” Ritter said with a hint of displeasure.

“It’s a wise decision, not to mention the right one. We should help each other where we can, selfishness won’t do us good in the long run.” Kali said.

“That being as it may, Ritter is right in thinking that we should inform the weaver. But we also need to help get these people to Lok and get supplies. Anyone want to volunteer to go back?” Rhone asked.

“I’ll go. My Aspect is the least suited for fighting around these people, at least not if you want to leave a good impression,” Ritter said with a grimace while pulling at his bandage in distaste.

“I’ll go too,” Meera said. “You’ll need someone to watch your back and guarding people isn’t for me.”

“Then it’s settled,” Rhone said.

He turned back towards the fire and fed the flames a few more pieces of wood. It was an old habit of his. The sound of the crackling wood usually helped him think but this time he couldn’t quite settle down.

It was true what Ritter had said. Behemoths were a rare sight in these parts but not totally unheard of. The kahtri were different. And if they were moving south, then maybe some of the other things stalking the north would also.

And he didn’t know why.

The thought unsettled him. After all, the number of cities decreasing further north wasn’t because of the cold.