FicWad

Another morning on another dusty road and Thayer wondered just how many more days would be spent wandering the forgotten roads between towns. The road he was on would lead him to River Front after he passed trough the harsh quiet of Krill Woods. He knew the forest would be hot, the trees bordered Mechi Desert’s southern edge, and the dry winds blew sand on any passing travelers. He checked his canteens once more and trudge on. He kept his eyes trained on the woods ahead of him, watching for any sudden movement or anything that seemed unusual. Tales of screeching creatures were told in the surrounding towns and he’d heard all the stories and their variations enough to be at least cautious. He’d never heard any of the foul beings he hunted screech and was sure there was some other explanation, but he also knew that even a creature of nature could prove fatal for the unwary.
The twisted, knarled forest that lay before him filled him with unease, but not the same dread that Yavick’s Pass had stirred in him. He didn’t know why the pass had affected like that, why he felt the need to stay clear of the gorge, but his something had told him to steer clear, to go through Krill instead.
He had never cared for the dark forest that lay less than a mile before him. Maybe it was the arid desert that lay just at the edge of the forest and contributed to the humidity and fog that seemed to permeate the woods and gave them an unnatural atmosphere. Many a ghost tale was told of Krill, of the environment, of the screeches and cries that cooled the blood and the creatures that were reputed to make the twisted wood their home.
He expected the heat, but not the lack of noise. His eyes scanned, searching the broken line of dead, twisted trees. His hand rested on Gwyar’s hilt, but the sword was offering little comfort and seemed to rest heavier in its scabbard. Not much longer will I hold you. Thayr knew he had to find the boy before Gwyar abandon him completely. Everyday that passed made him wonder if the sword would betray him or would he live to see another day.
Thayr knew it wasn’t age, or wasn’t just age, that made Gwyar heavy. Gwyar demanded much of its wielder and allowed no weakness. The sword was a steel broadsword inlaid with silver, twin silver snakes twisted around the hilt, their cold sapphire eyes regarded Thayr uninterested.
When he had first taken up the sword, it had seemed weightless almost aware of his young age, but that seemed to be where the weapon’s compassion ended. Gwyar required strength of body and mind; it demanded its master roam the world alone, ever ready for the next battle. The solitude kept him sharp, but as the years passed, he wondered what if he had refused the sword. Thayr frowned, his eyes narrowed and he moved behind a gnarled tree as his hand tightened on Gwyar. He muttered a curse as he pulled the sword free, lost in his thought and self-pity; he’d almost missed the deranged creature lurching toward him. He had never been given a choice, but there had never really been one.