The monastery looked strange in the sunset. The great arches lit up from behind by the sun looked somewhat like glowing red eyes peering down from atop the mountain. Berrand and his men were not concerned however, they were far more interested in finding a place of rest for the night for out here in the Eastlands the night was not safe.

So as the shadows lengthened and night fell they rode up the winding staircase to the monastery. It was a strange monastery indeed, it appeared on none of their maps although there wasn’t much on the map out here. Even the Eastlanders rarely ventured out this far. But Berrand and his men were out there, hunting the beast that had been preying on livestock, and if the monastery would take them in it would be a perfect spot to hunker in down in for the night.

By the time they reached the top darkness had fallen and what little light was left to them came from the stars and faint lanterns within the monastery. In the darkness it was hard to make out the symbols on the monastery but they were for no god Berrand recognised, eyes of some sort, it appeared.

He knocked loudly on the great oaken door and then turned to find Reyse, he’d been a pastor once, perhaps he knew what kind of monastery on the edge of the world they were walking into. “You recognise those eyes, Reyse?” Berrand asked him. “You know what type’a place this is?”

Reyse shook his head. “I never heard o’ no god with symbols o’ eyes,” he replied, then paused. “Might a’ heard o’ some demons though.”

Berrand frowned in the night but the great doors creaked open before he could reply. A small man stood in the doors wearing a thick robe and a hood to protect him from the cold. He pulled back his hood to reveal a friendly face with an eye symbol tattooed on his forehead and eyes that didn’t look quite right but in the darkness Berrand couldn’t make out why.

“Welcome friends,” the man said kindly. “How may I help you?”

Berrand turned his horse back to face the man. “We seek shelter. A place to rest for the night, if you’ll have us. I am Berrand, and these are my rangers, we’ve been hunting a beast that has been preying on livestock in farms to the south of here.”

The man nodded, his eyes not seeming to be focussed on anything. “Certainly, follow me, I’ll show you to the stables.”

“Why thank you kind stranger,” Berrand said, dismounting and leading his horse around the back of the monastery after the man. “If you don’t mind me asking, what name do you go by? And what is this place? I never seen it on no map.”

The man didn’t turn to face Berrand and it was only because he was walking beside him that he saw the grin. “As it happens, sadly, I do mind you asking. I take no offence though and understand your curiosity. However, what we do here is of the utmost secrecy, hence why we are so far out at the edge of the world.”

Berrand was slightly taken aback. “Well... I...”

“Oh you need not worry. We do not hide from people like you, rather sorcerers, witches, and other... more dangerous things. Here are the stables.” The man showed them some basic stables at the back of the monastery with a small pony standing obliviously in the corner.

They stabled their horses and then followed the man into the monastery. Berrand was becoming concerned about this secretive monastery. He had managed to avoid all the wars and magics that had stricken Elkring. Staying well clear of sorcerers, witches, and whatever else. He didn’t want to get caught up in it now.

But on the other hand he was tired, as were his men. Surely one night in here couldn’t be that big of a problem. Especially if they kept guard.

The monk, for presumably he was a monk, led them through what appeared to be a rather bare and uninteresting monastery. There were a few other monks who appeared to be tidying or meditating as they all prepared for bed themselves, but other than that it appeared empty of any shrines or statues to whatever the eye symbols represented.

“Do not go in there,” the monk said as they walked past a rather imposing looking door.

“Why not?” Berrand asked, hardly expecting an answer.

“There is a creature in there,” the monk replied. “A monster I have worked hard to trap.”

“If you have it trapped why don’t you kill it?” Berrand asked, rather bluntly and the monk simply grinned again.

“We are not killers here Berrand the Ranger, not even of monsters. Here are our spare rooms I trust they will be more comfortable for you than a night in the wild.”

Berrand and his rangers walked into the rooms. It was still too dark to properly tell what was off about the monk’s eyes. What’s more all the other monks had seemed perfectly ordinary. What was it about this one that just seemed so wrong?

The monk left them to get settled and they packed into the rooms where Berrand gathered his men. “Alright, there’s definitely something suspicious going on here. I don’t trust any of these monks, particularly the one with the eye on his forehead. Reyse, what demons do you know about that have eye symbols?”

Reyse shrugged. “Hahkenata I think has an eye. ‘e sees the future, stuff like that. Mebbe Malafrien, queen of cold and spirits.”

“Okay do you think these people could be a cult o’ one o’ those?”

Reyse shrugged again. “I really dunno. If they were I’d think it’d be more obvious.”

“Well they ain’t gonna exactly advertise that they’re a demon cult, are they?” Lukor replied and Berrand grimaced as he raised his voice slightly above the whisper they were speaking in.

“Well they are hidden away up here. You’d think they wouldn’t care since no one’s ever gonna find them,” Reyse said.

“We found them didn’t we?”

“Shut up,” Berrand growled, careful to keep his voice low. “Alright, well whoever they are, I don’t trust’em. But I think we just sleep here for the night, keep a watch, and then we leave in the morning. We don’t bother them, they don’t bother us.”

“I dunno,” Lukor continued. “You heard him talkin’ about magic and sorcerers, what if they pull some magic on us?”

“We ain’t seen anything that indicates they’re doing magic,” Berrand replied. “In fact I ain’t seen much at all. They just look like ordinary monks in a mostly empty monastery. The only weird part is that door they told us not to open but I ain’t gonna open that regardless so it don’t matter.”

The others muttered to themselves but mostly they seemed to agree. “What if behind that door is the beast we’re hunting?” Allator, one of the quieter, gentler, rangers asked and the others all looked at him. Encouraged by this he continued. “What if these people are the ones letting it out as part of whatever sick cult they’re in?”

The men muttered about this and Berrand felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“We ain’t found a trace o’ the beast.”

“They’re stayin’ so secretive up here.”

“Worth investigatin’ at least.”

“That little guy said he trapped it, surely we can take it if-”

“Enough!” Berrand whispered as loud as he dared. “These people have taken us in and while they may seem like a secret death cult, they ain’t done any harm to us yet. We are gonna sleep in this room for one night. One night! And then we’re gonna leave for the morning. If we can’t stay in a house without attacking the hosts for a night then we don’t stand a chance at finding this beast. Lukor, you’re taking first watch, watch order is as normal. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to get to bed.”

The rangers grumbled but gradually they began to settle down although all of them wondered, sometimes quite loudly, about what was behind that door.

Malathar walked through the quiet monastery to the great circle at the edge that faced outward over the Eastlands and beyond. From the courtyard you could see all the way to Elkring and in the clear night it was an impressive sight. There he found the High Monk, sitting there, meditating. The High Monk who never slept, who only sat in his monastery and watched.

Malathar sat down beside him and looked out at the view. It was an excellent place to meditate out here. He could see why the High Monk chose to do so when the rest of the world was asleep.

He turned to look at Malathar and opened his eyes. In the darkness it was barely visible but Malathar knew what to look for. Red eyes, the eyes that marked the High Monk as neither human nor sorcerer, but something else entirely.

“I am leaving for a while Malathar,” the High Monk said sadly. “One of my traps has been sprung, my most dangerous quarry of all.”

Malathar nodded. While he was here they called him the High Monk, but outside, to the witches and the wise who knew of him, he was the Trapmaker.

“The Minstrel?” Malathar asked. “Did the trap work?”

He turned back to face out toward Elkring, to where somewhere he’d set up a trap for the Minstrel, one of the most dangerous men alive. “It did,” he spoke, still sad. “I can trust no one else with this. I must go myself and deal with this man before he breaks free or someone finds him. I leave you in charge of the monastery. Take care of the rangers. They do not trust us of course, but they will be on their way tomorrow.” The High Monk stood up and produced an arrow from somewhere within his robes. A red arrow. He twirled it within his fingers and plunged it into the ground. “I will return shortly Malathar. Providing that all goes well of course.”

He stood back as the red arrow transformed into a red horse. Malathar had seen it many times but it still shocked him the speed at which it happened. The High Monk mounted his horse and rode it toward the edge of the courtyard.

“Godspeed High Monk,” Malathar said reverently.

The High Monk turned back and grinned. “Do not call gods on me Malathar, you know what they think of my kind. And I am not a High Monk any more. For now I am the Trapmaker.” With that he spun around, kicked his magical horse and it leapt from the courtyard to speed off down the mountain. Malathar stood and watched him leave. It was always difficult dealing with demons. Even a fragment of one.

Lukor heard the hoofbeats and leapt to the window. He saw the monk, still in his robes and with his distinct shaven head, galloping off down the mountain. Lukor had never been the brightest of rangers, but he knew that the only horses in the stable had been theirs and a pony. The monk was not riding a pony.

He shook awake Allator who was closest to him. “Allator,” he hissed and the quiet ranger blinked in confusion as he slowly woke up.

“Wh-what?”

“That monk stole one of our horses.”

“What?”

“He’s riding away on a horse and there weren’t any horses in the stables apart from ours.”

“So he’s robbing us?”

“Damn right he is. Come on, let’s get after him, we can-”

“Nuh, I ain’t leaving till I see what’s behind that door,” Allator replied and Lukor froze in surprise. Normally Allator was quiet and reserved, following along with what the others decided. What had suddenly made him so desperate to see what was behind the door?

“Why do you care what-”

“Think about it. We’re looking for a monster. They’ve got a monster. They just stole one of our horses, perhaps more so clearly they’re up to something. Let’s kill the monster, then we can chase this stupid monk.”

Lukor thought about it. He really didn’t like this idea. “Well we should at least bring more than just the two of us.”

Allator nodded. “Let’s leave Berrand, he’d say it was a terrible idea. We’ll wake Reyse, and Thren.”

Lukor nodded, amazed that he was actually going along with this plan. Although it did make a lot of sense when you thought about it. The monks were releasing this monster on the farms to the south in accordance with whatever evil demon they worshipped. Now they’d had a band of rangers hunting said monster turn up on their doorstep so they clearly planned to kill them, probably in a sacrifice to their demon. The monk had stolen their horse likely to get help from whatever other monks inhabited these godforsaken mountains. It was all making a twisted sort of sense and the best way to determine the truth was just to open the door and slay the monster. So the four of them gathered up their weapons and went to the mysterious door in the hallway. To their surprise it pushed open rather easily.

Beyond the door was a room full of weapons with another door at the back. This door looked even more formidable than the first one had and was locked up tight. Luckily there was a key hanging on the wall. Clearly the monks hadn’t really thought about anyone trying to break the monster out.

Allator boldly took the key and put it into the door, unlocking it. The door slid slowly open and they all readied their weapons.

Malathar walked calmly back to bed, perfectly content to simply fall asleep, safe in the mountains. But he remembered the key. They’d just left the key to the prison hanging right next to it so they could open and close the door as needed. But now these strangers were here and who knew what they might get up to. Malathar decided he should go and grab the key and take it to bed with him, just to be safe. He turned around and walked back through the monastery until he saw the door to the weapons room wide open. Then he started running.

The four rangers aimed swords and bows at the darkness beyond the door but there was no monster there. There was just a man, an ordinary homely man. He looked up at them and spoke in a voice that sounded far more ordinary and welcoming than the monk’s had.

“You are not monks?” he asked curiously standing up slowly.

The rangers gradually lowered their weapons. They could see the whole room the man was in and there was nowhere for a monster to hide. Just a bed, a chamber pot, an empty food tray, a cell. A prison that the monks were keeping this man in.

“Who are you?” Allator asked, Lukor was glad he was taking the lead. “Why have the monks imprisoned you here?”

The man shrugged. “I suspect they want to sacrifice me to whatever demon or dark god they worship.”

“They worship a demon?” Lukor asked.

“Well they must,” the man said. “Look around you, this is no holy temple. Why are all the shrines hidden? Why are the only symbols a mysterious eye? And of course I’m sure you noticed the head monk’s eyes.”

The rangers looked at each other, there had been something wrong with his eyes but in the darkness they hadn’t been able to pin down what it was.

“What is wrong with his eyes?” Lukor asked suspiciously.

The man shrugged again. “They’re blood red, the eyes of a demon.”

Malathar rounded the corner and his mouth dropped open, the monster was free. He’d only been in charge a few minutes and the rangers had already opened the door.

“Stop! Close the-”

The rangers spun around as he ran forward to try and close the door and two of them grabbed him. The monster remained calm, simply looking at them all with empty eyes. His eyes that were somewhat comforting but Malathar knew were anything but.

“Who are you?” one ranger shouted into his ear. “Why have you trapped this man and why did your head monk steal our horse?”

“No!” Malathar pleaded as the monster slowly walked out of his cell, looking up at the weapons hanging on the wall around him. “You don’t understand, he’s-”

The monster took a sword from the wall and drove it straight through Malathar’s neck. The rangers were too slow to stop him.

“What did you-?” Allator asked as he released the monk to lie gurgling on the ground.

The man shrugged. “He was a cultist, he would have only lied to you. You say the head monk stole one of your horses?”

“We could have interrogated him, we could have learned something!” Allator continued and the man shrugged.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I only worried his cries would wake the others and they would all attack us before we had a chance to escape.”

“Well I suppose-”

“Forget it,” Lukor said, also leaving the monk to die on the ground. “We need to get our horse back so we can all get the hell out of here! Reyse, Thren, wake the others,” he said, sending them running out of the room. “You,” he pointed at the man. “I still don’t trust you so I want-”

The man stuck his sword straight through Lukor’s throat next. “Good,” he said, still in his comforting voice. “You shouldn’t.”

Allator’s eyes went wide but before he could react the man had another sword and it was stuck in his throat. The man smiled at him, then pulled back both swords leaving both rangers to collapse to the ground and die. He put down one sword and then walked back to the wall of weapons. The sword he had was good, he wouldn’t need another weapon now, but he was still missing something. He picked up his old shield and slung it back on his arm. The shield of the Boar’s Head Knight.

After he’d killed all the rangers as they woke he moved on to the monks. Some of them were awake but none of them were skilled enough with their weapons to challenge him and his only regret was that he lacked the time to stick around and make their deaths more painful. These monks had locked him up for years after they’d tricked him into that stupid trap back at the farm. But there was something else he needed to do.

He walked to the edge of the courtyard and looked off the mountain into the land beyond. Sure enough the Red-Eyed Monk rode a horse off across the land below. He was heading north which was strange because there was nothing to the north except the Whisper Pass. The nearest pass through which you could get to the Hallowed Realm. But there was another way to the Hallowed Realm, a faster way known only to the Mullindore. The mysterious raiders who once stalked these mountains raising the great direwolves until they’d all fought and killed each other. Until Craegan and Wyrous were the last ones left. Wyrous was dead now too he knew. So much death, so much pointless violence. He relished it.

Craegan watched the Red-Eyed Monk ride off into the distance and slowly walked to the stables. The ranger’s horses were of the Eastlands and while they likely never would have outrun the direwolf they were hunting they would do for catching up to the Red-Eyed Monk. He untied a few of them and swung into the saddle, setting off down the mountain.

As he rode he heard that voice in his head that had so bothered him all the long years he’d been trapped in that monastery. The voice offering to break him out that he had only given in to a week ago. The voice of Raqos the Demon God of Fire.

“Yes,” Raqos said as he rode, filling his head with annoying visions of fire and topaz. “You will make an excellent knight to lead my forces.”

Craegan of the Mullindore growled at the voice in his head. Raqos only laughed and filled Craegan’s head with fire.