Trespass: A Tale of Mystery and Suspense Across Time (The Darkeningstone Book 1) by Mikey Campling Page B

and the offerings that many made down by the stream. But here, he was in the Shades’ territory.
    “And they don’t want me here,” he whispered. The Shades had protected Waeccan for as long as anyone could remember. He touched the talisman he wore around his neck. It gave him no reassurance.
    It was almost dawn and he had to act, had to pick his moment. Once it grew light, it would be harder to catch Waeccan by surprise. Burlic reached out to feel his way and took a few steps forward. And froze.
    “Burlic.” A hoarse whisper, but clear enough. Burlic’s breath caught in his throat. “Burlic.” Instinctively he tilted his head to identify where the sound was coming from. “Burlic, it’s Tellan.” Burlic turned as Tellan emerged from the shadows. The younger man moved slowly, holding out his hands to show he wasn’t holding a weapon.
    Burlic growled, and Tellan stopped, keeping a respectful distance between them. “It’s all right, Burlic,” he said. “I’ve come to help.”
    “Why?”
    Tellan swallowed. It was a good question. “For my sister’s sake,” he said. It’s not a lie, he thought. But my idea of help might be different from yours.
    “Huh,” Burlic said. “You saw sense, did you?”
    “Yes,” Tellan said. “I saw sense.”
    Burlic nodded. “All right,” he said. “Come closer. We don’t want to wake the old man.”
    Tellan did as he was told. At a signal from Burlic, both men crouched low.
    “It’s simple,” Burlic said. “I’ll circle that way toward his hut, and you take the other side.”
    “And when we get there?”
    Burlic grunted. “When we get there, you can leave the rest to me.”
    “You’ll kill Waeccan. Are you sure?”
    “Are you sure the old man really is Waeccan?” Burlic said.
    “What do you mean?” Despite himself, Tellan was intrigued.
    “Do you remember Gitsian?”
    Tellan was confused. The only Gitsian he knew was… “From the story?”
    “Yes, Gitsian,” Burlic said. “The greedy old man. That’s right.”
    “I know the story,” he said. Of course he did. It was a popular tale. Gitsian wanted power so badly he called on the Shades for help, but they overwhelmed him. An evil shade possessed him and caused mayhem and misery in his village. It was up to Bealdor, the hero of this and many other tales, to drive the wicked shade from the world of men and back to its own domain. There was only one way to do this. He had to destroy the possessed body that had once been Gitsian. This was not murder but mercy. Poor Gitsian’s spirit had already been cast from his body, but it could not rest. While his body lived, his soul could not be admitted to the Shade World. It remained, trapped and in endless torment.
    Burlic said, “What if Waeccan is like Gitsian?”
    Tellan rubbed a hand over his eyes. “But Burlic,” he said. “Gitsian…that’s a story, a tale. He isn’t real.”
    But Burlic wasn’t listening. “What if Waeccan is possessed? What then, eh?”
    Tellan could hear the feverish edge to Burlic’s voice. It worried him, but he didn’t want to get into an argument just now. He needed time. And he needed Burlic to think they were working together. He said, “Burlic, if Waeccan is possessed, then killing him would be a mercy. But—”
    Burlic didn’t let him finish. In one movement he was close to Tellan. Even in the shadowy gloom Tellan could see the glint in Burlic’s eyes. “But what? Don’t you see? It explains everything: Scymrian, the stream dwindling away, the sickness—everything.”
    Tellan stood his ground. “I was going to say, if Waeccan is possessed then we had better not rush in. We’d better see what we’re up against.”
    Burlic ground his teeth together. “You’re afraid,” he spat. “Afraid of what everyone will say.”
    “No. Not afraid. Cautious. When you hunt do you just charge in and hope for the best?” He paused, but Burlic did not reply. “Or do you stalk your prey? Do you use stealth,