Mordreth sighed. Stretching his weary muscles as he prepared to rest for the night, he prepared for the journey ahead. The fires light dimming slightly as he closed his eyes and though his focus was ahead, his thoughts strayed to the the road behind him as well. The path up to this point had been long and his dark reputation had preceded him at every turn. Always the outcast, Mordreth had been the first Human in Andaral allowed to follow the path of a Dreadknight. A path that meant solitude, a path that meant fear. He had spent most of his adult life with a race that had called him one of their own, though they were not. Abducted from his family at a young age, he had some memories from his childhood, but could remember little of their ways.
The Drow who arranged to have him taken had reluctantly decided that he was the first human whose soul was troubled enough to follow their ways, to be their champion. Though the memories Mordreth reflected on as he rested were from only a few years ago, in his mind it seemed as if decades had passed. His training under his Drow master’s had been brutally crafted. They tolerated no failure. They gave him no quarter, offered him no praise, never allowed a moment for rest. From the very beginning, they pushed him. Above what they would have expected of his peers, and also, well beyond the limits that they expected him to succeed. To their astonishment, as they purposely chose tasks that they believed would cause him to fail, he surpassed them. Each challenge laid before him was met with a fervor which demonstrated a desire to excel that not only impressed and gained him favor with his teachers, but eventually with the entire Dark Elven race. Over time they learned to respect him, to accept him as one of their own but also, to fear him.
Rolling over and looking to his side, Mordreth smiled inwardly as he glanced at the creature that served him. A man who was dead and yet through Mordreth’s power, still very much alive. Corpses that were reanimated by Itra`gul’s dark power typically retained some of the memories and knowledge of their previous lives. Mordreth’s power being greater than any Dreadknight before him. His minion, Shalik, had retained an complete knowledge of his previous life. This had made their journey to this point less lonesome though being alone had bothered Mordreth much before, but having a companion did have its benefits. He smiled again justifying his thoughts with "Well, someone has to take the first arrow...”
A man of few words, Mordreth had dealt with few people in his lifetime that were of interest to him long enough to be any sort of company. In Nesbin, the home of the Drow, when Mordreth was forced to speak to those of inferior placement to his own, and aside from those in the Citadel he believed the majority of those he met were, it was with a series of nods and short sentences. Judging him solely by his actions, or his behavior, some would think that Mordreth was an assassin. He would beg to differ. An assassin killed for a reward, a payment of some sort, but for Mordreth killing was his reward and he had a very selective list of targets. With every follower of Roshar’s slain he brought himself closer to fulfilling his mission. It did not deter him in the least that he had not yet completed his mission even though it had begun years ago. Patience was the key to winning a war that has waged eternal, and he intended to see it to the end, regardless of what stood in his way. It made little difference to him that he had been ordered to deal with his own brother, there was no love lost between the two. Given their past, he had his own reasons for wishing Velkin’s death.
Quite possibly the only human in Andaral that could stand a chance defending himself against Mordreth alone, Velkin was the highest ranking Paladin in the Order of the Light. Despite this, Mordreth was confident that regardless of how skilled and powerful his brother was, it would not nearly be enough. Although he understood the inherit risk, he was not concerned that Velkin would pose a problem. Mordreth had vastly grown in power since the last time he had seen his brother and he was more than ready for their confrontation. Glancing down at the fire he had made hours ago he saw that the coals that were now reduced to embers and turned to the nearby creature saying, "Shalik. Find more wood for the fire. We must be careful not to catch our death of cold." Smirking quickly at the joke he had made at the creatures expense, the grin did not last long though and quickly faded into Mordreth’s normal expression of seriousness.
Standing without a word, Shalik silently stalked away in search of wood suitable for the fire, cursing to himself as he passed closer to the fire than he would have liked to. He knew he should be grateful to Mordreth. In many ways Shalik’s current circumstances were not his fault. Having died and been reanimated it was as close to being alive that a corpse could be, "Thing’s could be worse." Shalik thought, "I might have been a lesser Knights minion…" The idea made him shudder. As Mordreth’s minion he continued to have some semblance of the “humanity” he had when he was alive, perhaps that was why he didn’t mind so much, aside from other more obvious reasons. Mentally reminding himself to hurry before Mordreth could scold him for his tardiness, Shalik bent down to retrieve a piece of wood. Despite Mordreth’s impatience and unbridled rage at times, Shalik had his own reasons for his continued interest in him. Even Shalik himself wasn’t sure if that was entirely due to the time they spent together before his death, or some residual magic from the reanimation affecting him but he knew he had some responsibility for what Mordreth had become. Shaking his head at these pointless thoughts, Shalik bent to retrieve the last piece of wood from the forest floor thinking, “At any rate it doesn’t matter really.” This was his fate; there was no point in brooding further on it.
As he stood, a familiar voice entered his mind through the innate contact they shared. Mordreth’s message was simple, "Hurry, Shalik." Shalik, stumbling under the weight of the wood, hurried to comply. Although he was a corpse and had no fear of pain or death, Mordreth could still make his existence miserable. Entering their encampment he overheard his Master speaking quietly, but was unable to locate another presence in the camp. Did Mordreth talk to himself? Perhaps but unlikely, Mordreth had on occasion spoken to Itra`gul directly, and Shalik having experienced his own encounters with him as well, knew that this was a possibility. As Shalik dropped the wood he had collected in a pile near the fire he realized Mordreth, as he had expected, was the only person in sight. Shrugging as if it were not his business, Shalik collapsed on the ground. The Dreadknight’s affairs were no longer his own. Finally after some time, acknowledging Shalik’s presence Mordreth looked at him in a way he had not seen in years and said. "At the first sign of light we will be breaking camp, there has been a change of plans.”
Sleep, as it did most nights, would come easily for Mordreth. He did not fear an attack by the lesser races that inhabited the woods around the cave. The trolls and goblins that lived in the woods surrounding the area would be too afraid of the evil they would sense in him to approach and he was confident that Shalik’s presence would deter any animals that were careless enough to wander too close.
As a precaution he placed wards around their site before laying down to sleep, these wards were a simple conjuration that would alert him if anything were to enter the campsite. It was out of habit that he placed them, as he was convinced the wards would prove unnecessary. It had been some time since Mordreth had been approached by a opponent that Shalik would have difficulty handling on his own. Despite these assurances, Shalik watched over him as he did each night. Turning to look at Mordreth, Shalik thought curiously as to what the events of last night entailed.
Laying on his back his cloak wrapped around him for warmth, Mordreth stared thoughtfully at the sky, bothered by a small fact about the new information he had just received.
Shalik saw the consternation on his face but he dared not ask. At best, Mordreth’s moods were volatile and unpredictable.
A few days before making their current encampment they had traveled past a small town, halfway along the path to Fira from the city of Damonar. Standing for a few moments at the city gates they had neglected to enter, Mordreth immediately sensing the auras of two paladins residing in the city. He mentally envisioned walking on the path towards the town trying to recall its name, Shalik must have caught some of the confusion he was feeling through the bond they shared. Glancing over at Mordreth and seeing the look on his face, he accepted the risk that came with it asking, "Something I could help with Master?" He had not called Mordreth by his name in many years, not since Nesbin. Turning his head slightly towards Shalik, Mordreth said, "Do you remember the small town we passed by not two days ago to the north?" Shalik appeared nervous as he immediately knew the reason for his master’s question. "Of course I do Master."
As Mordreth’s minion he had so far found himself unable to lie to Mordreth. A few times Shalik had been able to omit the truth but he suspected that even then Mordreth had known. Mordreth turned his gaze to Shalik to gauge his response. "Do you recall then the name of this town?" Shalik met his eyes and responded without hesitation, but loaded with obvious sarcasm, "Of course, one of the benefits of my... condition... is we are able to recall anything our Masters say to us." Mordreth knew this was not the case and was not in the mood for witty banter from a corpse. Berating Shalik for his sarcasm he said, "You know better than to play games with me Shalik! If you know, out with it!" Shalik was unnerved if a corpse could be so. It had been some time since had he seen Mordreth this impatient, or so easily agitated. "The sign said Marril". Having confirmed his suspicions, Mordreth let out a sigh of relief. "That it did Shalik, that it did". Mordreth stood suddenly and without even putting the fire out said, “This cannot wait any longer” and began walking towards the path leading to Marril. Shalik stood and without a word followed. In the silent darkness they walked, Shalik knowing better than to bother Mordreth, he simply tagged along as he mentally prepared himself for what was ahead.
Lost deep within his own thoughts, it was quite some time before Mordreth spoke again.