"Don't worry," Martin Drymark assured his wife. "Yesterday we brought in a good haul. That'll only improve once we're inside the city walls... and if we get on the road now, we'll be there by sundown. We find a tavern to busk in, play throughout the night. We'll have plenty of jingle-jangle come sunrise."
Reina offered a tired smile. "I wish I shared your optimism. Lately it's been the country folk who've proven more generous than the city-dwellers. I suspect we face more competition."
Martin let his grin grow broader. "Well, we'll just have to give it our all, won't we?"
Reina shook her head, her own smile widening, before leaning towards him to offer a kiss.
A gnarled tree bereft of leaves, a large log, and a battered wooden signpost; bushes flanked the fork in the road, and something seemed to be rustling them. Neither paid the shaking bushes much heed, their focus instead on the sign as they worked to try to determine which path to take.
Suddenly, the sound of air suddenly rushing by followed by a dull thumping sound as arrow-point met bone. Reina whipped her head around and saw her husband first, and the arrow in his neck second.
A second arrow was loosed, and then a third, as three figures emerged from the bushes, whooping and cheering as Martin fell into the dirt, blood intermingling with the dust from the road they spent all day walking. Reina stood by in shock as the trio descended like magpies upon Martin, picking through his valuables and filling their own bags with whatever possessed shine and luster. The air became thin suddenly, and then Reina fainted.
When she came to, the world was moving, even if she was not. She felt something binding her wrists together, and heard the soft canter of a horse. She looked around and then saw another fork in the road, identical to the one; both the horse and her came to a stop.
No. Not another fork in the road; these brigands were lost all of a sudden.
She could tell because Martin's body was still there.
They cursed violently and dismounted, and they sat her on the nearby log. One woman stood guard near her, her eyes unkind. There was arguing amongst the trio for a time, about where they were headed, about whether or not it'd even be worth trying to ransom her off, about who was really in charge...
... and then time seemed to stand still. A colossal figure emerged from the signpost's long shadow, twice as tall as any man. It bore the face of a jackal, and two pairs of arms. It spoke, but not with its mouth. It spoke directly into Reina's mind.
"Mortal. We know your thoughts. We can sense the anger that rests within you. We can sense the potential there, too. The Overlord would see you granted great boons. In return, a performance is desired... and more still, but that matter can be discussed in greater detail, after you've had your fill of revenge.
Nobody will be able to take from you like this, ever again. No one will be able to harm you like this, ever again. What say you, mortal? What will you sacrifice?"
In Reina's mind, the choice could not be any clearer. She made her decision, and as she did, the rope untied itself from around her wrists. From her fingertips came gouts of electricity that made wide arcs, first towards the woman standing next to her, and then towards her other captors. They danced as the lightning shot through their body, and a pungent and metallic odor filled the air. Their corpses were unrecognizable once she was finished with them.
Then she produced her own fiddle and set to play for her new benefactor. A performer's bow to no one, and then the stomping of the dirt. She laughed, and she could not stop laughing, for fear that the wailing and the tears would replace it and that reality would work itself in. Her feet are quick. Her hands are quick. She is in double-time now, and her legs move frenetic and frantic by the slain Martin.
She dances through the evening and into the morning. She dances, and plays, and dances some more. A terrible accompaniment comes in counter-melody to perform the jig with her, the fiddle of pandemonium sounding like the whinny of a nightmare. The sky is red. The sky is hungry. For a brief moment, Reina swears the moon enters rest in front of the sun, bathing the world in crimson glow. She could not stop laughing. She could not stop dancing. She could not stop playing.