4
The forest stretched on and on.
Michael saw three more pairs of those yellow eyes, but just like the first set, the creatures didn’t move except to follow him with their gaze. But the same knife of fear cut through him each time, and he found himself walking faster and faster.
“Why such a hurry all of a sudden?” Sarah asked him as he spied the fourth animal.
“I keep seeing eyes out there,” he answered. He could hear the fear in his own voice. “Like a KillSim’s. But smaller, not quite the same.”
“Oh, so you figured you’d put me in between?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Michael grinned.
She was just about to turn to look for herself when the cloaked stranger stopped.
“The sight never ceases to moisten my face with tears,” the old man said.
His eyes had widened in what looked like rapture, and—true to his word—tears streaked his cheeks, glistening in the eerie glow of the forest trees. Michael turned to see what had captured his gaze.
Just up ahead along the path, the branches of two trees had been woven together into a tight coil, arching over the trail. Hanging from the center of the arch was a wooden sign with hand-painted yellow letters. They shone as if lit by neon:
MENDENSTONE SANCTUARY
MASTER SLAKE
PRESIDING OVERSEER
ALL ARE WELCOME
“Master Slake?” Michael questioned. “What are you a master of?”
The man turned sharply and nailed him with a hardened gaze. “I’m here to help you, boy. Show some respect or my …” His words faded and his eyes darted to Sarah, then back to Michael. “Never mind. Come and sup with me. My friends will have made us a pleasant meal. We can sit and rest our bones by the fire as we eat and drink. Then I’ll tell you how to reach the Hallowed Ravine. From here you’ll find that it’s all very simple. Very simple indeed.”
A dozen questions flickered through Michael’s mind, but the man resumed walking, heading for the archway. Michael gave Sarah a wary glance, but they both followed. At least the man answered questions.
5
The forest didn’t quite end at the hanging sign, but the clearing that opened up in front of them after they passed under it had only scattered trees instead of the densely packed trunks of the woods. A bright moon shone down from above, casting long, narrow shadows. A hundred feet or so ahead stretched the Mendenstone Sanctuary, a long, low building. It was made entirely of wood, and every part appeared crooked or about to topple over. A huge welcome sign hung above what Michael guessed was the front door, which stood wide open, revealing darkness lit only by the flickering of a fire.
Michael expected the man to say something like “Home, sweet home,” but he remained silent, heading for that backlit doorway. Michael hurried to catch up to him. He felt slightly more at ease, though maybe it was just his hunger finally winning out over judgment.
“You mentioned your friends,” Sarah said to the man. “How many people live here? Are you guys monks or what?”
The weasel perched on Slake’s shoulder sniffed the air as the man let out an unsettling chuckle. “Monks? I guess you could call them monks.” He laughed again.
Michael shot Sarah a look. She wasn’t happy to be there, and her eyes said that whatever happened, it was all his fault.
He turned back to Slake. “What do you mean? Who are they?”
“You’re about to find out,” the man answered, then added happily, “Hope you’re hungry.”
That last word put Michael at the man’s disposal all over again. He was willing to do just about anything for some VirtNet food.
“Here