บท 24: The Dead Man's Tale
"The dead do not speak. Accept death's gratitude!"
The leader of the robed men, pressing down on Alyssia, raised his blade toward her throat. A shot rang out, and a silver bullet sent the bloodstained knife spinning into the underbrush.
The trio of robed men looked towards the source of the gunshot in surprise, only to see a dark-clad man with a wide-brimmed hat emerge from the thicket.
"Let her go, you lowly executioners, or I'll make you acquainted with my blade!"
Grayson, with a cigar clenched in his teeth and a silver sword shining in the night, directed its cold glow towards the men. A swift silver figure leaped out behind him, her twin silver pistols aimed and ready, mirroring her frosty gaze, prepared to shred their foes.
"Who are you to interfere?" The leader's voice was dark with menace as he recovered from his initial shock.
"Your master just had a chat with me, and you don't recognize me?" Grayson, sword gleaming, stepped forward with authority. "I'm 'Lone Wolf' Grayson, the one who roams under the moonlight, and I have a stake in this midnight affair."
At the mention of Grayson's name, the robed figures instinctively stepped back, their fear and alertness evident. Alyssia seized the moment of distraction, her tail lashing out powerfully and sweeping the men off their feet.
They scrambled to block the mermaid's blow with their staffs. Alyssia repelled them and leaped up, her tail transforming back into legs as she clutched her wound and sprinted northward.
The men, seeing her escape and knowing Grayson wouldn't let them pass, turned westward. They hoped Grayson would pursue Alyssia, giving them a chance to slip away. But Grayson, with Katheren in tow, chased them instead.
"These men hold the key to Wystan and whoever pulls his strings," Grayson said to Katheren as they pursued. "Catching them is crucial!"
He looked up to the owl above, "Elyra, keep an eye on them; don't let them get away!"
Elyra soared, guiding Grayson with a woman's mournful cry that echoed eerily through the silent woodland.
Suddenly, a slope appeared ahead. As the trio dashed downhill, a figure lunged from the side, tackling the leading robed figure to the ground, pinning his neck.
The other two attacked Grayson with drawn swords. Grayson's blade parried theirs, piercing one's arm. The other was struck down by Elyra, her crimson claws leaving bloody trails across his face. He dropped his sword and stumbled back, clutching his wounds.
Seizing the moment, the leader shoved Grayson aside and fled downhill. The injured men followed suit.
A gunshot sounded, and a silver bullet struck the leader's leg, sending him tumbling over the cliff's edge at the bottom of the slope.
"Damn!" Grayson cursed as he watched the man fall. His intention had been to wound, not kill.
The remaining two, chanting incantations, vanished in black smoke, reappearing across the chasm. They glanced back at Grayson and Katheren before disappearing into the dense forest.
"What do we do now?" Katheren asked, anxiety evident in her voice as the figures' shadows faded.
"Let them go. Dead men can still speak," Grayson said, making his way to the cliff's edge. He spotted the fallen leader's body lying motionless on a large rock below.
"Come on, let's take a look." He extinguished his cigar and tossed it off the cliff. Grayson quickly fashioned a sturdy rope from resilient vines, tying it to a tree at the cliff's edge before descending with Katheren to the ravine's bottom.
The terrain was treacherous, scattered with rocks and brambles, all hidden beneath a layer of snow. Grayson's sword cleared the path as Katheren followed, agilely navigating the rough landscape until they reached the body.
Grayson dragged the corpse from the rock, laying it flat on the snowy ground. He thoroughly inspected the sleeves, collar, and belt, searching the neck, wrists, waist, and ankles for any marks.
"What have you found?" Katheren curiously watched Grayson's examination.
"Something strange," Grayson muttered, scrutinizing a sword retrieved from the body. "These men are not black sorcerers. They lack the black dragon tattoos."
"Black dragon tattoos? What's that?" Katheren asked, intrigued.
Grayson stood, gazing down solemnly at the body. "Black sorcerers bear the mark of the black dragon—a symbol of their patron deity, immune to all magic. It's a rite of passage for them."
"So you were looking for a tattoo to confirm his identity?" Katheren realized.
"Exactly. Even novice sorcerers bear the black dragon mark. Yet, this man had none."
"These men, then, are warriors disguised as sorcerers, masking their true nature," Katheren mused, still gripping the robed man's sword.
"Indeed, but to what end?" Grayson pulled up the man's sleeve, revealing a crisp black crescent moon on the pale skin.
"What does this mark signify?" Katheren questioned.
Grayson shook his head, "I'm not sure. Many powers within the rangers, none use this symbol. Perhaps it represents Wystan's master, the true puppeteer."
Standing, Grayson spoke to Katheren, "Let's return. This man has told us enough. If Andros's men are trustworthy, they should have Alyssia by now. It's time to hear what the living have to say."
สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์
-- การจัดอันดับด้วยพลัง 
-- หินพลัง