The Fourth Zaldizko 8 The Pale Rider

A star shape was shown on the screen.

The mob erupted into an uproar of grumbles, cackles and hearty yelling.

Jensen raced to the Bookie Knight and excitedly received his hefty wad of white paper stubs.

"Daro." Wilfred explained on the white paper stubs, which was the currency for Apocalypse.

The tavern resumed its typical merry and relaxed atmosphere once the betting was called off for the night, and the screen had returned to blank.

I was glad that no one approached us, although a few cordial nods and thumbs up went our way.

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I felt dizzy after a mug of ale had gone down my belly. I was seeing the place through a blur.

"_Ai-sheesh_ man. Famisto's gettin' drunk." War noticed with slurred concern.

"c.r.a.p. He had a mug of ale. Not good." Death's voice rang in and out of my ears.

My heart pounded through my eardrums as my dizziness persisted.

"Wuz yah saa'n?" I slurred.

"Fami... sto?" War's voice broke in and out of my ears.

I was beginning to see stars around everyone's blurry faces.

_"Onii-san."_

My heart slowed dangerously. Now I know I was drunk to hear Pesti's voice clearly in my mind.

_"Onii-san."_

His voice became louder and distinct.

Darkness flicked across my vision. I thought I heard cursing and shouting.

The atmosphere of the tavern become ripe with panic amongst rus.h.i.+ng men and women who moved defensively with swords or guns raised for action. At least, I think that's what I was seeing.

_Famine._

Lights turned off.

Silence and stillness was heavy in the air.

I sensed nervous tension.

A high-pitched shriek ripped through my eardrums to snap my mind from my stupor. The tavern's silence was so thick that I could hear my breathing.

The temperature dropped to freezing as a procession of hollow-eye ghosts entered the place. They weren't like the ones I had encountered at the labyrinth. They were seeking for something or someone specific.

"Marla Schweiner." The hollow-eye ghosts shrieked out a name.

"No! Leave me alone." A female knight fired at the ghosts, her eyes were filled with blind panic.

A frenzy of grey ghosts rushed upon her fitful body. The knights' desperate attacks to the hollow-eye ghosts were unable to save her from them.

The woman's body slumped to the ground as a lifeless corpse. A ghost image of her former self was contained within ethereal blue rope-links coming out of the other ghosts. Her ghost form still held the image of her blue eyes.

A man on a grey horse trotted into the tavern, trailing grey cloudy light behind him.

The rider's head was hidden underneath a hood of a pale grey. One pale grey gauntlet hand gripped the reigns of his horse, the other held a silver-gla.s.s longbow. His steed let out a tinkle and jangling noise with each long-drawn-out trot.

"Marla Schweizer. Your trial is judged. "

The words were clear yet the voice held no distinction. Almost like it was using my own voice to speak.

The Pale Rider nocked a silver-gla.s.s arrow and released it. It landed in the ghost woman's heart. Her ghost image let out a shrill cry before going silent. Her blue eyes turned to black and became hollow.

She became part of the hollow-eye ghost party.

The Pale Rider and ghosts disappeared. The tavern returned to normal.