Had there been anyone there to see, they would not have seen much. The stars shed little light, at least for Mannish eyes. The bent stone wrapped around the hiding place from all sides, at least all that a Man could scramble over, save one twisted, narrow path. The hulking creature that waited there could smell the hunchback long before it reached the hollow. Warm blood. It had been too long since the creature had drunk it, even tasted it. The thirst was like fire in the gut.
So fragile, Men. Even more so this hunchback, twisted and frail. How easily it might slip on a stone in darkness and perish. How believable a tale that would be. Then there would be no need for these tedious meetings, so many words in the crude, clumsy language the Men spoke, so little warm blood in the teeth. A little nudge, a quick swing of the axe…
But no. The Master could see through the strongest of lies. He would know, and his displeasure would be terrible. Beautiful, but terrible. The creature sighed; there would be too many words, and no warm blood to drink, tonight.
"It's is a hard climb," the Man wheezed between gasps. "Especially in the dark."
"The Master says we must meet here now, where no one might happen to see. No more mistakes like the last one. What news do you bring?"
The hunchback crouched as it caught its breath. "On that same matter. The mistake has been set right. The boy is leaving tomorrow. He will go into the wild. It is likely he will perish there, and even if not, he will be gone far, and long. He will chance to see no more of our meetings, nor shall dangerous truths fall from his lips into the ears of Thanes or any other."
The only joy the creature took from this news was the expectation that the Master would be glad to hear it, and it was always good to bring him happy news. The death of a farmboy was also a pleasing thought, but that it would be far away, where its blood would go to waste, dimmed the pleasure. "How was this achieved?"
"I could not have him banished or the like," the hunchback said. Pathetic, always making excuses. In the pits, its like would be torn to pieces before the first excuse could be uttered. Torn and devoured, its warm blood used to make the strong grow stronger. "My influence over the King is not yet potent enough; it will take months, years. Instead, I concocted a fantasy, an ancient artifact the boy could be sent in search of, and a fancy why only he might be sent."
"And your chieftain believed this?"
"He is wise yet, and sees much, but all men are vulnerable to believing what they already wish to believe. A means of saving his son, his family, his heritage. And the only cost being a farmboy he does not know, and a horse, not even one of his. An easy decision. He imagines a heroic journey ending in triumph. Our people always dream so easily of such things. By the time blood has been spilled, the king will have forgotten the cost."
It should not have mentioned blood. The hunger rose once more and the creature barely bit it back. "Good. The Master will be pleased, and all who please the Master will be rewarded, when the axe falls. Go back to your chieftain and whisper to him. We will meet again here in eleven nights."
When the hunchback left, the creature crept, under cover of dark, to the top of the cliff, and stared down at the sleepy crofts below. Peaceful, soft. They would burn. The warm blood would flow. Soon.
Not soon enough, but soon. The Master had a plan.
