Chapter 16

Once there, all warnings of the local spectre returned to haunt him. He turned toward the bridge leading to his hovel, seeing no other option, but as its long, dark form rose up to overshadow what little light remained, Ignatius froze in place. He could not walk another step, for he was quite certain he was not alone. His bladder weakened, and with it returned some semblance of anger. He was a man of learning, not some superstitious bumpkin, and if someone watched him, he knew it was no ghost. Turning, he scanned the darkness of the trees.

“Come out, Jacques,” he hissed, wishing to speak louder but unable to do so and dismayed at the discovery. “Have the balls to face me.”

A horse snorted to his left, and Ignatius gazed that way, hands fisting at his sides. He lacked the ability to win a fight with Jacques, but he would not go down without cursing him. He gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and opened his mouth to say he knew not what, when another horse snorted to his right.