The Contract
an excerpt

The morning mist was still sliding silently across the land like a multitude of spirits when the traveler set out upon the quiet road. There was no sign of the dog.

As the road turned, the traveler could see the manor: a decrepit, tired looking old building that wandered aimlessly around the crumbling hillside in jagged turns and steep drops. The road before it was choked with tall grass and autumn flowers. Despite its abandoned appearance, four men on horseback were riding hard along the road down the hill.

They left the road and crossed the fields, heading towards the public house. The traveler watched them for a long moment then continued on.

There was a shout, and a moment later the four horses had changed direction and come up to the road. In what seemed like an instant, the traveler was surrounded.

“What have we here?”

“Just a wanderer, passing through.”

“Is that so? No strangers may pass through this land without first meeting our good Lord Donovan.”

The traveler didn’t answer, but turned towards the despondent manor. Such things happened more often than not. Most simply wanted news of neighboring lands and sometimes what the people were saying about them. Never had any been a real hindrance.

One rode nearby as an escort while the other three went on their way. He was the youngest, seemingly, and not in a good humor about being left behind. “Can’t you walk any faster?”

“I walk as fast as I walk.”

“Damn you insolent outsiders! You take too great an advantage of our hospitality.”

“It doesn’t look as though many take advantage at all.”

“That isn’t the point!”

The traveler smiled.

The rider turned around at the gate with muttered warnings. The doors hung a bit unevenly from the massive rusted hinges, and opened with an ear-wrenching screech.

An old woman limped down the hall. “What? Who’s there? What do you want?”

“I was just escorted here by your officers. They say that no stranger may come through this land without first meeting the Lord Donovan, and it happens that I am a stranger.”

The old lady’s expression was one of pity. “I understand,” she murmured. “This way.”

The outer walls were indeed decrepit, but once through the first courtyard, things improved greatly. The windows were washed and the walls well repaired. But there were still no people as far as the traveler could see. The manor castle felt abandoned.

“In here. I will ready a room.” She turned and hurried off.

“You needn’t bother. I’m not planning on staying,” said the traveler.

The woman didn’t answer, didn’t look back. The traveler shrugged and pushed open the doors.

It might have once been a great receiving hall, but now it was dull and silent, the marble floor worn to roughness, the mirrors tarnished. There was an unpleasant smell in the air. On the far end of the room was a dull throne, and upon the throne leaned who the traveler presumed was the Lord Donovan.

“Sir? My Lord?” The traveler came forward a few steps, then stopped.

Lord Donovan was leaning because he had to. His eyes were fixed on a point somewhere near the door; his hands twitched miserably, drool ran slowly from his mouth. He groaned miserably in a way that wasn’t entirely human.

The traveler stared a moment more, then turned and headed for the door.