Acloo had tracked the fleeing horse and its rider. They had travelled almost half a mile before the horse eventually stopped. When they had caught up with the man, he was dismounted. The arrow had left the horse, now lame, the horse's fleeing movement doing damage that only a druid could heal.

Nathic had ended the man with an arrow through his throat from range.

“What did you do with the body?” Harm asked.

“Dragged it off the track. We also led the horse off before finishing it.”

Harm just nodded in understanding. They did have a druid back at the clan, but Harm had no idea of his healing process for animals, and a lame horse would not survive in the wilderness.

“Right then. Now you are back. We need to finish off here.”

The wagons had been searched. One of them had only been for beings and just contained benches; that was the one the women and a man had been travelling in. Another was filled with typical goods from peddlers. There were various items that would be useful, but they were not a priority. The second wagon had been their best find. It hadn’t been full of armour or weapons, but it did contain several steel daggers and a chest. Harm had smashed the chest open, revealing its contents. Inside, he had found a couple of bags of coins, but most importantly, it contained potions. 

After inspecting the potions, Harm found there were several healing potions, a couple of mana potions, and some stamina potions. None of them were strong, but since they currently only had the tonic of Barvu, which Harm wasn’t sure he could stomach again, it was a pleasant surprise. His hands had not stopped shaking since the fight, and he had carefully returned the potions to the chest, frightened of breaking them. He told Luubu to give one to Arvu to heal his wound. The cut on his face had been severe. Arvu had thanked Harm profusely.

The guards and bodies of the dead had been stripped of weapons and any armour. Only one dagger had been enchanted, which Harm had given to Luubu. She was second in the party after all and deserved a reward; it was only +2 but had an Edge of Sharpness. Harm knew the enchantment and that it would cut through almost anything.

“We still need much more than this,” Harm said as they sat back from the road and examined the loot. “It will take us months to get enough to arm the clan fully,” he sighed.

Nathic sat thoughtfully. “We could always raid the villages on the plains; I know there is a blacksmith who lives at one.”

“And risk angering the plain clans. You have told me of their strength?” Jillew interjected.

Nathic shrugged in response. “I doubt they are any stronger than we are now.”

“How many clans are there?” Harm asked.

Nathic scratched his chin. “Last I knew, there were two. There used to be just one, but when Portos, their chief, died, they split.”

Harm vaguely remembered that Rebo had mentioned Portos as a hobgoblin.

“How do you know?” Harm asked.

“It’s where I came from originally. I left them when Portos died; I didn’t like who took over and headed to the valley before I joined here.”

Harm still knew so little about the goblins’ pasts. Their allegiances were controlled by their chiefs. If they found one they respected or feared enough, then they would remain. Harm had been trying to run the clan by earning its respect. However, he knew that fear did play a part in their loyalty. It unnerved him when he considered it.

Harm sat thinking about what they needed to do. The professions limited their ability to do much without stealing what they needed. He knew there were other clans, not just goblins, in the territory or, if not in Freealiss, in the surrounding regions. Maybe they could provide more. The towns were out of question, unless he could find a sympathetic trader or similar, but how could Harm, a man with a bounty, ever seek such? His poster was probably splayed on parchments outside most town council halls by now, as others before him had been.

There are always options! The demon said seductively.

What options? Harm thought.

Just say ‘I do,’ and I’ll help you! It crooned.

Harm had been overly cautious about his thoughts and responses. Twice, he had been tricked into saying, ‘I do.’ 

Why do you need me to say it? Harm asked.

It was our agreement! Our pact! The demon said.

Pact? I never made a pact with a devil.

The demonic voice laughed, its mirth deep and resonating in his mind. I’m no devil! I am much, much more!

Harm had had enough. The voice had been torturing him, trying to persuade him and convince him.

Then what are you? Harm thought.

Ah! That would be telling! A surprise, it must be! If only you could remember what you agreed with me! It sounded almost poetic, and Harm shuddered.

Harm had stood and moved away from the party. They were finishing up the process of moving the wagons off the path. It had meant leading the horses further down the track to where the ditch had ended before they could do so. The bodies lay piled together. Their mutilated remains were a stark reminder of Harm’s rage. He had stayed away from them since, only going to see Orlew, who had been brought from the track, and paying his respects.

“Harm?” Luubu asked as he walked away.

“I’ll be back soon. I need some space,” Harm said as he wandered deeper into the wooded area. 

I know you influence me, but why? Harm asked the voice.

To get what we seek! Revenge is your goal! The voice said.

I know I seek revenge, but what happened? I don’t know who you are. Harm was confused, and his struggle between reality and his thoughts was becoming blurred.

I’m not sure I can keep going like this. I have no control. No reason to act as I did with those unarmed. He thought.

It’s what you agreed! You agreed to feed me!

“Feed you what?” Harm asked aloud.

You are my tool, to be my weapon of justice, and the more you agree, the more you become me!

“I don’t want to be like you. I want to be myself.”

But you do, you do! The power is true!

“What power do you speak of?”

It is coming already; you can feel it flowing, the fire in your soul. Your anger brings glory and death to those who oppose you.

“But I don’t want to kill everyone. I don’t want to harm innocents. Those women had done nothing wrong, yet I cut them down as though they were guards.”

How do you know they are innocent? Do you know their pasts? Do you know their futures? Who is to say!

Harm sat heavily and leaned against a tree. He looked up at the sky; it was now afternoon, and they would stay overnight before heading back to the clan. Not that they had got much from their venture so far.

Harm banged his head against the tree, gently at first, before more violently. He sent his vision squiffy and stopped. It did no good; the voice was still there, now laughing at him. He rubbed the back of his head.

“Please tell me who you are. I can’t keep going like this,” Harm pleaded.

The laughing stopped, and a serious voice followed. Your death would be a waste! I know what you’re thinking! It will make things much more complicated if you kill yourself!

Harm had been thinking about taking his dagger and slitting his throat to release him from the torment.

“What do you mean by harder? Once I am gone, I am gone. I would join the Requiem with Dahlia, Marius, and Yon.”

But sadly, you wouldn’t. The voice was sombre. Its tone and fluctuation had changed. Almost human and normal.

“Why? Why would I not? If so, then tell me why? Why do you torture me? Why do you torment me so much? Why drive me to kill? I seek vengeance for my family; that is all.”

You agreed to our terms. You may not remember the poor state you were in—a broken shell of a being—when I met you. Did you not heal and fight your demon?

“You are the demon that sits in my mind,” Harm said.

I am no demon. But an agreement was made. In exchange for the power to prevail and become what is needed, you must forgo your previous beliefs. Only after you allow your true nature to flourish will your transformation be complete.

“Transformation into what? My eyes have already changed.”

Physically, you won’t change; you are who you are, after all. Your power will soar as you agree. Your pain will subside, and with it, fear and questions will fade, leaving only truth and justice.

“Please, who are you?” Harm begged, his mind fractured, his thoughts and actions no longer just his. He knew this to be the case. The bloodlust that had taken him during the raid was not him.

There was no immediate reply, as Harm sat there.

“Please tell me?” Harm begged again.

The voice let out a deep sigh before replying. I have many names! My usual name is Death!

“Death? What do you mean?” Harm frowned.

Death. As I say. Some call me the soul taker, others the soul carrier, others the taker of light, the echo of the past, the bringer of shadows. The list goes on, but most just call me Death.

Harm’s mind reeled. The voice in his head was claiming to be death. Death was a god. One that Harm had known none to pray to. Why would they?

“You can’t be Death. Death has no followers.”

Ahh. You would be surprised. Mirth returned to the voice. I have several, not as many as most. But enough to provide me with what I need.

“Why have you chosen me?”

I didn’t choose you. You chose me. You prayed for the death of those who took your family. All I have done since is support you and guide you. 

“I would never pray to death.”

That is where you’re mistaken. You did indeed pray. The power of your loss called me to you. It was one of the strongest I have ever felt. Few ever crave my support as you did and still do. Your soul pulls me to you even now.

Harm shook his head. It couldn’t be true. Had he really made a deal with the god of death? Had he given up his soul? 

“My soul is mine, not yours to own.”

True, your soul is still yours for now. Only after you die will it belong to me. 

“You are no god. If you were, you would show yourself,” Harm said, angered now.

I have never hidden who I am or why I am here. You have just never asked before.

“Then show yourself. Prove who you are, and stop playing games,” Harm spat.

Silence ensued as Harm sat there. The wind rustled through the branches of the trees, its chill sending a shudder down Harm’s spine. He was about to stand and return to his friends when the incident occurred. Time suddenly appeared to stand still, and the wind died away. The animals and birds in the woods fell silent, and an icy grip took the air. It wasn’t a breeze or a wind. It was as though the temperature had just dropped dramatically.

Harm frowned as he shivered all over this time. His breath left his mouth and formed a mist as it did. The shadows deepened as darkness crept through the woods. Harm’s eyes widened as the being appeared. It wore a black hooded cloak. It seemed to float rather than walk as it approached through the trees. Harm knew as he watched it approach that this was no ordinary being; he felt a sense of suppression, as though a weight held him down. His mind was telling him to stand and run, but he could do nothing. 

From the depths of the hood, Harm could see specs of light—a brilliant red against the darkness.

The figure was tall and broad, with wide shoulders. It held no weapon, nothing of threat, yet Harm felt more terrified in that moment than he had ever been. He wanted to stand; he tried to flee, his limbs frozen, his chest hammered, his heart felt as though it would explode.

This time, the voice came from the figure. Its voice was deep: “You wished to see me.”

Harm could feel the air reverberate as the bass from its voice thumped into him. He gasped from the pressure.

“Do you believe me now?” the god said.

Harm’s mind raced; his thoughts tumbled, trying to make sense of this being standing before him.

“Death,” Harm said, the only word he could form.

The god laughed. Its head tilted back. It shifted slightly as it had, and Harm glimpsed a dark grey from under its hood.

“Reveal yourself,” Harm hissed, the air icy cold, biting at him, his hands feeling numb.

“I am in my true form,” it replied.

The figure, whether a god or a demon, was unclear to Harm. It reached its arms from under its cloak and allowed it to fall open. Reaching the hood, he pulled it down, and Harm gasped.

The figure before him was armoured. Beautifully crafted black and silver armour encased its body, and as Harm watched, it seemed to shift as though having a life of its own. The god’s hands were uncovered, but his skin wasn’t normal. It was dark grey, almost black. It held in one of its hands what looked like a crown, with long, almost horn-like designs coming from it. It lifted it, placing it on its head. It seamlessly disappeared, although melting into it, and as it did, the armour moved. Spikes appeared on the vambraces and pauldrons, sweeping and curving outward, adding to the terror that stood before him.

Harm couldn’t speak. He was frozen, now in a state of absolute dread.

“You see why I rarely show my true form,” the gatherer of shadows replied, a smirk forming on his lips. 

This was an actual god standing before Harm. Harm had heard tavern tales of gods visiting Amathereans. Over the years, many boons were granted, and visions or claims of seeing a god were made. He never thought that beings believed them to be true until now, until this moment, when a deity stood in front of him.

Harm’s breathing had quickened as panic had risen in his chest. Mist still formed every time he exhaled.

Harm managed to speak. Only quietly, and his voice trembled as he did. “If you are the god of death, and I am your servant, what is it you want from me?”

“You aren’t my servant, Harmonious Scrug. You will be my weapon. Even gods are restricted in what they may do in Amathera. We don’t have full rein. We may manipulate and influence, offering gifts or boons, but they are measured. Those who perform their tasks well are rewarded. As you have been.”

“Have I not done as you have sought?”

The voice laughed again. “You are refreshing. Many who follow me do not have the same heart as you. You care and show passion for what you believe in. Many seek power, yet you have never once asked. I have granted you gifts to help you, and the more you agree, the more you may receive. There are no guarantees, though, as I say, even gods have limitations. Each life that you take does help my cause, but death eventually comes to all in time.”

“Why do you need me as your weapon? If you’re a god, can’t you do as you please?”

“In time. In time, Harmonious, once you are ready. Then you find out and will become my weapon.”

“Why me?” Confusion wracked Harm’s mind. 

“Promise and justice, to right the wrongs of this world. Many strive for good over evil, yet what is evil, if not merely a matter of belief and choice? The words are broken, and the language is confused. In time, you will come to understand, and when you do, you will be ready. Then you will become my weapon.”

Harm had always been one to believe himself good. He had always fought against evil, whether it came in the form of beasts or monsters, bandits, or murderers. Yet was he now supporting evil? Was the god of death evil? Or was it only language that divided the beliefs? A wyvern attacking a village would be called evil, but what if it was only trying to feed its young? The goblin clan he now ruled. He had always thought them evil, yet since being with them, he just knew they were trying to survive. If anything, the true evil resided in the towns and cities of Amathera, where decisions were made that determined the life and death of those they deemed different. Who didn’t follow their rules, their expectations?

“I will leave you with a gift before I go,” Death said.

A small sphere appeared in its hand. Harm couldn’t be sure that Death was male, although he may have appeared to be. He didn’t know whether gods even had different sexes as other beings had.

“Come take it,” Death said.

Harm stood, his legs shaking as he slowly approached. His hand trembled as he reached out to Death’s hand. The orb was about eight centimetres in diameter, and a silvery mist whirled within its black surface.

“What is this?” Harm asked.

“It’s a Crystal Ball of Following. It will allow you to talk to your followers.”

“Followers?” Harm was confused by the statement.

“Yes, Harmonious. Your followers.”

Harm stared at the god as it backed away, floating back into the trees whence it had come. As it did, the air warmed. The wind returned, and the sound of animals came to life in the forest again.

Harm stood as he watched the red glow of the god’s eyes vanish, his hand still outstretched, holding the crystal.