The Auric Insignia by Perry Horste

been sweating, Brock now felt chilled to the bone. Noticing that he was being observed, he tried to retain a calm composure.
         - So, Marielle, to what to I owe the pleasure?
         - That’s a nasty bruise you got there, how did you get it?
         Brock swallowed, his throat reminding him of its condition.
         - I, I eh fell and hit myself the other day. Too much to drink, hehe.
         Marielle joined in his chuckle but her laughter never reached her eyes.
         - Amusing... You know, I heard another funny story earlier today, from Gumma no less. She said that she ran into Roarke the other night, drunk as a lord as well apparently.
         - Oh well, you know Roarke.....
         Brock’s hands grew clammy.
         - Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? In all the time I’ve known Roarke, I’ve never seen him at the tavern, not once.
         - Really?
         - Really. What’s even stranger, Roarke’s vanished, his cottage stands abandoned, supplies and tools, gone.
         Brock’s heart rate began to increase as the realization that Marielle had figured out what had transpired. Brock’s hair stood up on the back of his neck.
         One dog, there was only one dog there but Marielle always had both dogs with her everywhere she went. With a sudden panic, he jumped up from the table, knocking over the chair behind him.
         - Where’s my wife?! Where’s Jenny?!
         - Well let’s see, Rugeux, come here.
         Emerging from the bedroom doorway, came the giant hound that was the second part of the duo that made up the hounds of Marceau. Originally tan in color, the rough coated beast had taken on a dark red hue, blood dripping from the rugged fur. Hanging from the jaws by the hair, was the head of Jennifer, the Smith’s wife, torn and mangled. Her eyes frozen in their last moment of living fear. Brock felt sick, his stomach churning at the grizzly sight of what remained of his loving wife. Tears ran down his face as his body crumbled and he fell to his knees.
         - Jenny....
         - Don’t worry, like I said, you’ll see her soon enough.
         And with the slightest nod, the huge black hound received the signal it had been waiting for. In a frenzy of blood, ripped clothes and mauled flesh, the smith joined his wife in death.
     
    ***
     
     

Korri has a stupid face
     
    The scents of earth, bark and flowers created a whole other world beyond what eyes could see. It calmed him, like the face of an old friend. accompanying him on his journey into the unknown.
         - You see those berries over there, the red ones?
         - Uhuh, I see them.
         - They are tasty! But you have to be careful not to eat too many, or you’ll get the runs!
         She helped as well, though not an old friend, they had quickly become friends in the days since they had begun their journey. They were traveling north towards a supposed safe haven. Roarke had complied under protest when they had entered the mountain range that normally signified the end of the relatively civilized world. They had entered the valley known to the inhabitants of Brightseed as Blackhorn pass, going like a twisted wedge between the two tops that gave the mountains their name. Despite Korri’s assurances, Roarke couldn’t help feeling a bit on edge. Roarke, having prided himself over the fact that he wasn’t superstitious, had, due to recent events, reevaluated his earlier skepticism and found himself looking over his shoulder more often than he would have liked to admit.
         - Are you sure it’s safe this far north?
         - I’m telling you, you have nothing to fear from the inhabitants of these parts, not when you’re with me. In fact, for every step we take north, we get closer to the safest place in this world, but more importantly, we get further from our enemies and their influence.
         - Enemies I’ve yet to hear anything substantial about.....