Towns in Lyrian had routinely brought him bad luck. The people here distrusted strangers, and Jason doubted his wraithlike companion would earn him any extra goodwill. But the village would have resources, and Tark had given him plenty of money.

While weighing whether to visit the village, Jason eyed the boats in the sheltered cove, then glanced at his shadowy escort. The dark figure had hesitated to cross the creek. What if Jason bought passage to Ithilum by boat? Wasn’t it possible that traveling over the water could help him ditch the creature? As a bonus, he’d probably reach his destination faster, and he’d get a break from walking. Even if booking such a voyage was irregular, he figured that enough money would inevitably convince some poor fisherman to help him out.

The more he pondered the idea, the better he liked it. If the reaction of the giants had been any indicator, the dark creature following him would probably keep anyone in the village from messing with him. Maybe somebody could confirm whether the entity was a lurker. Or maybe he would get lucky and the creature would simply wait outside the palisade.

Jason started toward the walled settlement. He noticed a few men on the shore near the cove, fussing with large nets. A dirt road meandered from the seaside to a wooden gate in the palisade. Jason approached the entrance, the dark figure less than its typical ten paces behind. A pair of huge white fish jaws gaped at either side of the closed gate, showing jagged triangular teeth. Both sets of jaws appeared large enough to swallow a human whole. Or bite one in half.

Jason neared the gate, which was lower than the rest of the wall. A small wooden guardhouse stood on stilts behind one side of the gate.

“Hello?” Jason inquired.

An older man with bushy sideburns appeared in the guardhouse window. He glanced at Jason, then gaped at the dark figure standing behind him. “What evil walks with you?”

Jason glanced over his shoulder, acting startled. “Yikes! You know, I’m not sure. We’re not together.”

The man gave Jason a skeptical stare.

Jason peeked over his shoulder again, as if nervous and perplexed. He looked up at the man. “I don’t like the look of him. Mind letting me in?”

“Please, pass us by,” the man asked, eyes on the shadowy figure. “We’re simple folk.”

“He isn’t with me,” Jason insisted. “I assumed he was a local. How about you just open up a little so I can squeeze through?”

“Don’t share your doom with our community,” the man implored.

“Sorry, I need to come inside. Orders from the underworld.”

The man vanished from the window. A bell atop the guardhouse clanged three times, then three times again, then a final three times. Jason heard the man dashing away from the gate, shouting hoarsely. “Run! Hide! Death stands at the gates! Get inside! Bolt your windows! Barricade your doors!”

The gate was only about seven feet high. Jason hesitated. He was clearly unwanted. But the gatekeeper had looked terrified—much too frightened to make trouble. Surely Jason could find some intimidated villager willing to sell provisions. Maybe even somebody to sail him to Ithilum.

Jason climbed the gate without any trouble. He backed away, curious to see how the dark figure would handle the obstacle. It remained outside the gate as Jason walked backward. Jason turned away, then whipped around in time to see the shadowy apparition landing on the ground inside the gate. Jason pointed at the figure. “I saw that. Part of it, anyway. Nice jump.”

Turning, Jason directed his attention to the village. The buildings were constructed from weathered wood accented by the same rounded stones prevalent beyond the sandy beach. Most of the dwellings had stone chimneys, and several boasted stone foundations or garden features. Nobody walked the dirt streets.

A few curious villagers poked their heads out of doorways or windows, only to hastily withdraw once they caught sight of Jason and his mysterious escort. Jason heard a panicked woman calling to her children and saw a group of young kids hustle over to a small dwelling on the far side of town.

By the time Jason advanced up the road to the largest building in the village, all was silent except for the swishing of the waves against the shore. He paused to consider the large structure. A splintery, faded sign proclaimed it TAVERN. Jason found the front door locked. He knocked.

Nobody answered.

“Open up!” Jason called, banging harder. “I just want to talk. I’m not here to cause trouble. I need some food, then I’ll move along. And if anyone wants to make some money, I’d love a ride to Ithilum.”

“Go away,” replied a female voice muffled by the intervening door.

“Look, I’m exhausted. I’m just passing through. How about some food? I’ll pay double.”

“We don’t make deals with your kind.”

“My kind? I’m not with the creature. It started following me in the woods. I’m hungry. Please help me.”

“It’s too late for you. Move along. Take a boat if you must, but move along.”

“I don’t know how to sail,” Jason said. “If you send out a sailor who can take me to Ithilum, I’ll not only leave, I’ll pay him well.”

No response.

Jason shoved his hands in his pockets. Maybe he was being too nice. “Hello? I’m still here! Hello? Lady, you better answer me. Not a good idea to make the guy with the shadow demon angry.”

He heard a bolt being thrown, and a wide-eyed woman in a beige canvas apron pulled the door ajar, her frizzy brown hair streaked with gray. “What’s the matter with you?” she hissed, trying to keep her eyes focused on Jason instead of his dark companion.

“I’m starving.”

She said nothing.

Jason tried to make his tone gentle and reasonable. “I need some food. Like I mentioned, I have money. May I please come in?”

Her anxious eyes flicked to the tenebrous figure.

“Don’t worry about him. He doesn’t eat much.”

Tears brimmed in her brown eyes, and she shook her head. “Death has marked you. This burden is yours to bear. Go.” She closed the door.

“Now!” bellowed a hearty voice.

The door to a relatively large establishment across the street flew open, and a burly bearded man led out two younger men. Each brandished a weapon.

“Don’t!” Jason yelled. He pivoted to face the attackers, raising his palms.

The bearded man threw a hatchet at the back of the dark figure. In a simple, fluid motion, the figure spun, caught the weapon, and hurled it back. The hatchet blurred through the air, striking the bearded man with enough force to bury the entire head into his chest as he flopped to the dirt.