The Legend of Sylph Stridemoon - Chapter 2 - Incipient Demise

No response so far to the first chapter, but I'll keep up hope that someone's reading this. Here's chapter 2.

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"Everyone… hide."

The villagers didn't need to be told twice. They scattered, grabbing the children and quickly retreating to shelter. Sylph remained in the road.

The clouds billowed and the skies grew ever darker until it felt like nightfall, even though it was midday. The Ether pulsed once more, yet again darker. It was a lingering feeling of death, and it began to permeate everything within his immediate vicinity.

Then he saw them... many of them. They approached the town and brought with them a foul, Ethereal stench of death. There were at least twenty; however, this was all he could count from where he was standing in relation to the edge of town. They were all dressed differently, but that is where the uniqueness ended. They were swaddled in robes, rags, and tunics of black and dark brown. Their heads, when not covered by turbans (at least, Sylph thought they were turbans), were covered by short, spiky grey hair. It was their eyes that caught Sylph's attention... they were red. It was both beautiful and haunting at the same time.

The tallest one seemed to lead the pack. He was an elder gentleman, but even with a few signs of aging on his visage, it was apparent by his build that his age was not going to be too much of a factor. He was the first to speak; his voice had a grainy timbre but deep intonation.

"Ah. Just one guardian, is it?"

"This town only needs one guardian," Sylph boasted in reply. "Why are you here? What do you seek with this place?"

The tall one marched the group into the center of town, and not too far away from where Sylph stood. They all eyed him maliciously; Sylph was careful not to return the stares. He kept his luxuriantly plumed hat dipped.

"You have something that we want," the dark one said. "But before that, I think it would be slightly rude not to introduce myself."

"I couldn't agree more," Sylph interrupted with a hint of indignation in his voice.

"I am Gustach, of the Necrati tribe. These are my, uh, comrades," he said, gesturing to the snickering folk to his rear. "And what name does this town's solitary guardian go by, so I may brag of it to my next of kin?" he asked sardonically.

"Sylph Stridemoon, of the Royal Order of Red Mages," Sylph replied, masking rising anger.

"Royalty, is it? Well. I had best watch my step, lest your royal boots be stepped on. Would not want that happening."

Sylph ignored this taunt. "Again I ask you, Gustach. What do you seek with this place?"

"Ah, yes. That. You see, I believe you have something I... we... want."

"I can guarantee you that there is nothing here that could generate the interest of a man of your caliber."

"If that were the case, I would not be standing here before you, no? This may seem very superficial of me, but I'm seeking a gem. A ruby, specifically." Gustach paused and grinned. "Much like the one you have in your possession right now."

Sylph was astonished, and it took all he had to hide this shock. He tested Gustach's claim. "I have no such item. What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't lie to me, Stridemoon. We've only just met. That's bad etiquette, you know. It's right there, in that pouch." Gustach raised a finger, pointing to the very pouch that contained Sylph's new artifact.

"All right, then. Why do you want it?" Sylph replied.

"That, I'm afraid, shall have to wait until another day to be answered. All I can say is that you shall see soon enough. Just hand it over and there will be no trouble."

Sylph didn't trust these people. The Ether pulsed again, and Sylph could sense obvious malicious intent. "You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands," he said.

"That can be arranged." Gustach snapped his fingers, and a younger man emerged from the mob sporting a shining dagger.

"I'm a professional thief," the young man said, "so your valuable will be relieved from you painlessly. That is, unless, you would like to do this differently."

"Come near me with that thing and you'll not only lose it, but your hand along with it," Sylph threatened back.

This was no empty threat, as the man quickly found out. He lunged at Sylph's waist; Sylph easily sidestepped this clumsy attack. In one quick movement, Sylph brushed aside the cloak that concealed his rapier, unsheathed it, and in one swift, downward stroke, sliced his attacker's hand clean off. The thief screamed in agony.

"That's a shame. Such a beautiful knife you have there, and now you can't even use it," Sylph said nonchalantly.

Gustach was outraged. "Kill him," he commanded, and two other minions appeared from behind him, each wielding a ring blade slightly larger than a tambourine.

Sylph flourished his blade. "Let us dance."