"Syl," the guttural voice behind him now thoroughly agitated.
"In a moment, Demon Hunter," Syl said, and placed the map on a broken tree stump. Folding up the sleeves of his brown cloak, Syl let the wind push down his hood as the breeze coolly flowed through his ever-aging hair. It was now completely silver, and the mystic was certain that Dameon had something to do with it. The two had been traveling through this forest for days now, Dameon able to go with very little sleep as though possessed by something other than his own willpower. Syl, for his part, could have easily been able to keep up with his companion, but he had neither mind nor reason to. Their entire friendship was based on Syl's apathy and Dameon's drive; a perfect compliment. The constant, unchanging scenery did little to keep the motivation high. The forest they found themselves in presented nothing but dying trees and dead grass. Even the stones looked as though they had aged past their years.
Reaching for his pack, Syl pulled a small tea kettle from his bag along with a delicate ceramic cup. Fired from a the small forges near the Library, this cup was the last small link to his past. This, and the knowledge of how to call Flame from the Lady herself. With a quick flick of his finger, a diminutive flame sprang up in front of the mage and licked the edges of his robe. With another short chant, he suspended tea kettle in air. Syl turned as the blue flames began to warm the water and nearly ran directly into Dameon. The tattered long coat swayed gently in the wind, belying the aggressive warrior shrouded behind a dark shadow.
"Where is it?" the dark voice demanded. Syl looked into Dameon's face carefully and tried to discern some emotion other than smoldering anger, but it was shrouded in the darkness. It seemed almost a part of him, as though the light itself avoided the Demon Hunter. The mage waved a hand casually in the general area of the forest.
"The directions weren't exactly as clear as the glass from the South Ocean, friend," Syl said, now becoming slightly agitated as well, "it mentioned only one direction, and we are currently traveling in said direction."
"So we keep walking until we blindly run into it?" The anger in Dameon's voice grated Syl's nerves. From behind him, a small whine started growing and lifted his spirits a fraction.
"That's the general idea. I think my tea might be done." Syl turned and gave the pot a weak smile. The slight slit at the top of the kettle pushed the steam quickly through, which had transformed into a shrill scream that belied the size of the little ceramic kettle. Syl took the kettle from the air and waved the flame from existence. Dameon's face changed from dark anger to surprise as the shrieking continued even after the water had cooled down.
"Harpy," they said at once. In an instant Dameon was off, sword in hand, bounding up and through the trees, deftly clutching and releasing each branch as he repelled. Syl, on the other hand, was busying himself preparing the tea leaves, delicately placing them in tactical positions around the edge of the small cup. As he poured the water slowly into the small goblet, he scooped up the map in the other hand. Syl began walking underneath the trees, savoring the smells of the tea as it invaded his nostrils.
Dameon was high in the air and gained on his target. The winged she-creature was nearly six feet tall with a wide wing span and horribly dark skin. As the Hunter closed in on the beast he noticed scars and diseased flesh covering most of its torso. The harpy had snake-like eyes and very little hair, its screech accented the ugly features. Nearly 20 feet off the ground, Dameon swung his sword up and met the incoming clawed hand directed toward his face. The harpy tried to turn, but Dameon came too fast and ran directly into the creature, pushing it back and knocking both of them off balance. Unfortunately for them, a branch broke both of their falls, and they began their descent toward the ground. The harpy, for its part, caught another branch and the furious battle resumed.
Syl was still contemplating the map and its contents, now sipping the cooling tea. The battle between the harpy and the Hunter raged on above him, with shouts and shrieks as they exchanged strikes. The mage looked up only slightly, barely interested in the fight and completely confident in the abilities of his unusual ally.
"I think we are getting close now, Dameon," Syl said casually, finishing his tea and gently swirling the water to catch the last of the leaves, "you had better finish this." Just as Syl completed his thought, the screeching from the harpy reached a loud crescendo as it was violently thrown from the treetops. Syl stopped just short as the wretched creature slammed into a dead tree in front of him, upside down. He watched with slight interest as Dameon's sword shot from above and implanted itself in the center of the harpy's chest. Branches snapped and dying leaves left the trees as the Hunter himself appeared on the tree branch above the struggling and wailing humanoid.
"I saw it from the trees," Dameon said, with something of a content voice, "it's just over that small hill." He motioned with his head over the hill near them as he leapt down. Syl walked past Dameon's struggling prey as the Hunter finished his duty. There, over the hill as his friend had said, was a small clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a tavern, worn and aged from the looks of it, but still standing. Above the door was a painting depicting a large, blood-red dragon's claw.
"The Red Claw," Syl whispered as Dameon joined him.
"It's about time," Dameon said and continued his hurried pace. Syl put the teacup back into his pack and sighed. Always rushing to every fight, never stopping. This was the nature of his friend.
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