PRAY
(Working Title)
Written by
Corey Burns
Chapter 1
“Blessed Provider, our Lord and Father, I
thank you for this meal you have given to us,” Braiden prayed aloud, thinking
more about the smell of cooked sheep sitting at the table in front of him than
the prayer that had become nothing more than habitual repetition.
“You are welcome.”
Braiden’s eyes shot
open and his hands clenched tightly around his parent’s. Sweat ran down his forehead
as he looked around the kitchen. His parents’ eyes were still closed and no one
else was in the room.
“Do you really not know who’s talking to you?” asked the same
voice. “You did just pray to me.”
“Braiden? What’s wrong?” his mother
asked. His hands were trembling in his parents’ grip.
Braiden opened his mouth to speak
but the voice in his head spoke again. “I
am aware your family has fallen on hard times, my son. I know your father lost
much of his flock to bandits. I know your family’s garden was overrun with
parasites. As your god, I have seen your family’s struggle and I have taken
pity on you.” Braiden was aware of his mother and father speaking aloud to
each other and to him but none of the words made it to his ears. The Father was
speaking to him. His own god was talking directly to him, a farm boy.
Braiden worked the muscles in his
mouth and finally managed to speak. “I-I thank you my L-Lord.” Braiden was aware
of the silence that suddenly took his parents.
“I will see
to it that your family is taken care of. I offer my help.”
Braiden’s mind raced for a
response. The Church tell all children how to open prayers and how to respond
if the Provider was to talk to them but that was years ago and no one actually
believed their god would personally talk
to them. “Great Father, you are gracious and your boon is something I and my
family is not worthy of.”
“We will
change that of course,” the Father said. “There is something I must ask of you and when you accomplish the task
I have set out for you, I will see to it that you and your family are looked
after.”
“My Lord, it would be a tremendous
honor. I am not worthy, but I will do my best.”
“Very good.
Are you aware that parading through Taria at this very moment is the Will of
Shadow?”
“Yes, my Lord. That is the reason
why we hadn’t gone into the city today.”
“Go into Taria,
my child. Bring your bow. And kill the Will of Shadow. That is what I want of
you.”
“Kill the Will of…” Braiden trailed
off. A Will was the highest ranking person of a Church. They were the voice of
their god. And the Father wanted him to kill the voice and acting hand of the
god Shadow. “W-why me, my Lord? I am not a father, I don’t have a family of my
own. I’m only sixteen and I’ve never… I’ve never…” Braiden felt like he was
swallowing a stone. “…killed anyone before.”
“Rabbits,
deer, human, it’s all the same. I have chosen you because you are one of the
best of my children with a bow.”
“But I-“
“Do this
and your family will be well rewarded. They will never be want for food or
shelter again. They’ll be taken care of. And you… You will have personally
served your god. How many others can say the same?”
“I’ll do it, my Lord. For you and
for my family.”
“You have
my blessing. Go now. Time is short.” The god’s voice disappeared from
Braiden’s head, leaving an empty feeling behind.
Braiden swiftly stood out of his
chair and his trembling legs almost caused him to fall. Both of his parents
looked at him with concern. “What did he want?” his mother asked.
“He needs me to do something for
him in the city,” he said trying to sound more proud than scared.
“To kill someone?” asked his father.
Braiden’s heart was beating loudly
in his chest. He managed a slow nod.
“Ridiculous!” his mother protested.
“You’re the son of a farmer, not an assassin. If the Father wants someone dead
why doesn’t he send his Blade?”
Braiden’s father placed both hands
around his mother’s hand to comfort her. “The Father must have his reasons,
Madge. This is a great honor for us and especially for our son.”
His mother shook her head as tears
welled up in her eyes. “What kind of father will you be when your son is dead?
How will the Great Father look on you then?”
“I’m not sending him out alone,”
his father said. “I’m going with him.”
“But Father-“
“No son, I’m your father and I have
a duty to protect you. He’ll understand that.”
“Please don’t do this,” his mother
sobbed. “Please don’t go!”
“We’ll be fine,” Braiden’s father
clapped a hand onto Braiden’s shoulder. “We’ll be back in time for dinner.” He
looked at the tiny wooden table set with food that hadn’t been touched. “We’ll
just throw the sheep back on the oven to warm it up a little when we get back.”
Father and son gathered up their
bows, quivers, and hunting knives like they did every time they went out
hunting and stepped out onto the porch of their small farmhouse. “We’ll be fine
Mom,” Braiden called to his mother inside the house. “We’ll do what the Father
asked and then we’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.” The two of
them departed to the faint sounds of his mother crying.
The weedy path leading from their
farmhouse to the small dusty road was a short one. It took only a couple minutes
to get from there to the poorly paved, larger road which served as the main way
into the city of Taria. After that, it was just a little over half a league of
traveling through farmland which Braiden spent telling his father exactly what
the Great Father had told him and the closer they got to the city, the more
anxious his own father grew. The land outside Taria was growing more crowded by
the day as more and more farmers crammed into what little available land they
could find and all that competition only made it worse for everyone involved.
If Braiden’s family didn’t get outside help fast, it wouldn’t be long until
they wouldn’t even be able to feed themselves.
Taria itself was not a large city.
At one time in history it had been a commercial hub for travelers trekking from
one side of the continent to the other, but since the discovery of better
routes, not many visitors found themselves in Taria, with the exception of
today…
Even from outside the shoulder-high
walls of the city it was evident something big was going on inside. A Will of any
god showing up in public would have attracted a large amount of people from
nearby villages and even the bordering cities. The fact that the Will of Shadow
was making a literal parade of his travel through the city only drew even
larger crowds.
Braiden and his father walked up to
the entrance of the city where four guards stood. A few traces of ancient rock
around the shoulder-high walls told that there had once been a much grander
wall in place and that at one time an actual gatehouse may have stood in place
of the gaping entryway, but if so, it had been a long time ago.
Braiden nervously gripped the bow
on his back as the guards took notice of him and his father. Normally, only a
single guard stood on duty, sometimes two, but the Will’s presence had
apparently upped the required number of gate guards.
“Barton!” One of the guards called
out, recognizing his father. “How’re you doing today?”
“Doing just fine, Jon,” Braiden’s
father said with a wave of his hand.
“And Braiden?” the guard named Jon asked.
“Fine, sir.” Braiden kept his reply
short, afraid he may give away just how nervous he was.
“How about you?” his father asked. “Run
into any trouble yet?”
The guard and his father shook
hands. “Nothing much for trouble so far,” the guard said to his father while
glancing over at Braiden. “What brings you two in town today? I figured you’d
have been smart enough to avoid the crowds.”
“Well, it seemed as good a time as
any to try and sell these old bows to help pay off the new ones,” his father
answered.
Jon laughed. “You’re sure right
about that. It’s a seller’s market right now. Vendors and merchants are
charging triple on everything and still selling out because of this Shadow
business.” Jon spat on the ground. “Not sure why anyone would want to worship a
god like that.”
“You’re not sure why anyone
worships any god, you damned atheist.” another of the nearby guards spoke out.
Jon flashed a smile at the
outspoken guard. “Can’t be damned if I don’t believe in an afterlife.” Jon returned
his attention back to Braiden and his father. “Be careful in there. I’ve got a
bad feeling. Lots of these high-up religious types have been getting themselves
killed lately. Most of ‘em have had the common sense to stay out of the
public’s eye. This fool throws a parade.” He shook his head.
Braiden’s father nodded but didn’t
say anything in return. Braiden and his father walked three paces into the city
before Jon shouted “Wait!”
His father’s hand on his shoulder
was the only thing that stopped Braiden from instinctually bursting into a run
to flee from the guards. And even then it was hard not to run from the
possibility of being arrested.
“Yes?” his father turned back to
Jon.
“You’re wife’s not bringing her
meatloaf again next week is she? My stomach still hasn’t recovered from that
pepper mix she added to it last time.”
His father gave a laugh Braiden
could tell was fake but sounded sincere enough. “A little girl could handle
that little bit of spiciness better than you could.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m a
girl. Ha ha.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell Madge to
keep it a little light next time.” He added, “so that all the little girls can
eat all the delicious meatloaf they want.” Braiden and his father turned their
backs on the snickering guards and entered the city.
Like everything else in Taria the streets had once
been something that would make you proud to be a citizen. The once solid stone
blocks were now so cracked and worn they appeared to be more like cobble
streets. Small cabins lined the streets that were barely bigger than half of
Braiden’s farmhouse, yet cost at least four times more. He had been told at one
time beautiful two story houses used to stand in their stead but that had been before
the city had lost its position as a premier trading post. The only place that
had kept its glory was Main Street where the wealthiest of the city lived and the
upkeep was persistent. It was there where the crowds of Taria had gathered to
catch a glimpse of the Will of Shadow.
Hundreds of people crowded around
Main Street hoping to get a look at the Will. Braiden could see the white
banners of Shadow further down the street heading in their direction. “We’ll
have to get a better vantage point,” his father said. “Up there.” He pointed to
the roof of the house nearby.
They climbed up the side of the
two-story house as discretely as possible, an easier task than Braiden
initially thought since almost every single person was staring intently in the
direction of the Will of Shadow and the Taria city guard were too busy trying
to keep the crowds in check.
The Will of Shadow walked a slow
pace down the center of the street. He wore a completely black robe that
covered his entire body topped with a hood draped over his face. The fabric
that the robe was made of shimmered in the light of the sun. Four men with
white and gold-trimmed armor and grated helms covering their faces walked in
unison around him just a couple steps away. Each armored man held a halberd in
one hand and a shield in the other and a golden flame was engraved into each of
their chests. On each side of the formation of white and gold knights marched
three men holding white banners, the silhouette of a saber-toothed shadowcat
rearing up in the middle of it. The banner holders wore black robes similar to
the Will’s yet managed to look so much more plain, dull, and unimportant
looking.
Braiden’s father grabbed the bow
off his back and Braiden followed suit. “It’s just like hunting an animal,
Braiden. Brace yourself, take your aim, take your time.”
Braiden took an arrow from his
quiver. His father’s advice helped calm him down even if he didn’t need to be
told how to aim. “Just like an animal,” Braiden whispered under his breath.
“He’s just an animal. A walking, talking, two legged animal.” Braiden and his
father waited as the Will of Shadow got closer. Braiden kept his breathing slow
and controlled. “Dear Lord and Father,” Braiden opened his prayer, “please guide
my arrow.” He heard his father whisper a similar prayer as they both notched an
arrow, took aim, and loosed it, his father losing his arrow just a second after
his own. The string snapped back in place and the arrows flew straight at the
Will of Shadow. The two arrows flew over the crowds of people and passed
through white and gold knights surrounding the Will. They noticed the arrows,
but not in time to stop them.
A black, shapeless blur suddenly struck out
and knocked both Braiden and his father’s arrows out of the air mere inches
from the Will. The arrows tumbled down as the black blur quickly closed the gap
between the Will and Braiden, becoming an unfocused human shape as it shoved
its way through the crowd and jumped onto a lamppost, springing onto the
rooftop neighboring the house Braiden and his father was on.
“Run!” Braiden’s father shouted as
he pushed Braiden back. The black, vaguely human shape leapt onto their rooftop
as Braiden stumbled backward just a step away from falling off the roof and his
father pulled free his hunting knife.
Braiden watched in horror as the
unfocused shape knocked the hunting knife from his father’s hand and before he
could even scream out, the shape struck again, leaving a trail of scarlet blood
in the air and a gash in his father’s neck.
Braiden’s hands fumbled for another
arrow and pulled it free just in time for the shadowy figure to solidify right
in front of him, giving Braiden a clear look at his killer just before the
knife broke through the bones in his chest and pierced his heart. Braiden fell
from the roof, looking up at the man clad in dark leather and black furs with
the head of a shadowcat pulled over his own. The human mouth underneath the
sharpened teeth of the cat’s spat and smiled. Braiden died before he hit the
ground.
Marcus had watched from the crowd
as the two of them had climbed up the roof, had watched as they took their shot
at the Will of Shadow, and had watched as they died. They were amateurs,
probably some god’s desperate ploy, and they had made several mistakes. Their
first mistake was attempting to assassinate the Will of Shadow in the first
place. The second mistake was believing the white and gold armored knights were
the Will’s only protection. Neither of those mistakes were ones Marcus made.
The crowd barely reacted at all to
the attempted assassination, most of the people either missing what happened
completely or were just confusion as to what did happen. The grey cloak Marcus
wore hid the black leather jerkin underneath it and the hood helped hide his
face. It also served to hide the two weapons he had strapped to his lower back.
Marcus unsheathed them both. In his right hand he held his bronze colored,
double edged dirk and in his left was the black hilted, broad, silver-bladed knife.
Atop the roof where the two would-be assassins were killed stood one of
Shadow’s very own assassins. The Twin Fangs were the Blades of Shadow and
thanks to enchantments given to them by their god, they could be near invisible
if they kept to the shadows, but the one on the roof had no shadows to hide
behind and was fully exposed by the unhindered sun.
The Blade was clad in lightweight,
dark, leather armor. His arms, legs, and shoulders were covered by the short,
course hair of a shadowcat and on his head sat a mask repurposed from the skull
of a shadowcat, its fur and features still completely intact with the exception
of the holes made for the man’s eyes and the removal of the cat’s lower jaw
along with its two long, curved fangs. The Twin Fangs’ weapon of choice were
two midsized daggers made from the fangs of the shadowcat and were enchanted by
their god beyond the normal capabilities of such a weapon. They were killers
with skills that went beyond that of any normal person. And they always worked
in pairs. Where there was one there was always another. While the Twin Fang on
the roof was fully exposed at the moment, the remaining Twin Fang was still
hiding in the shadows, though that wasn’t a problem for Marcus; His own god had
given him his own little enchantment in the form of a ring he wore on his
finger to help aid him and with it, he could literally feel the murderous
intent of every individual nearby.
Marcus broke through the crowd. The
moment his feet hit the street he could feel the killing intent of the four
white-armored knights and the Twin Fangs magnify. Each person handled their
emotions in different ways, especially when it came to killing. Like smelling
meats cooked in different spices, Marcus could differentiate between them. The
knights’ intent were blended with just about every sort of emotion one could
imagine, though fear and duty were the largest motivators. However, the scent
that came from the Twin Fangs, both from the one the roof and the one in front
of him, were cold and unattached to any emotion. They killed because it was
what they did. They received no joy out of the act, they didn’t fear dying,
they didn’t even feel like it is their duty. Killing was just simply something
they had always done and would continue to do so. It was a scent that many
Blades had in common and it made them incredibly easy to pick out in a crowd.
Marcus parried the blurred shape
thrust at him and countered with a thrust of his own at the unfocused
silhouette in front of him. His dagger took a chunk of fur from the Twin Fang’s
decorated shoulder armor but didn’t manage to break through the armor. Marcus
and his all-but-invisible opponent had to step aside as a halberd from a white
knight crashed down between them. Marcus slid towards the knight and stuck him
in the throat then kicked his slumping body at the Twin Fang who had to twist
away to avoid the dead guard’s heavy body crashing into him. By the time the
Blade had regained his footing, Marcus had his broad knife lodged into Twin
Fang’s chest and finished him off with a dagger through the eye. The Twin
Fang’s image became clear as his lifeless body fell to the ground. Panic
erupted in the city. The crowds gathered around the scene screamed in terror as
people rushed to get away.
The second Twin Fang’s killing
intent turned into murderous rage. His daggers still wet from the blood of the
two amateur assassins, the second Twin Fang jumped into the chaos of panicked
crowds to avenge his fallen brother. Marcus dodged an attack from a knight’s
halberd and kicked the man’s shield to throw him off balance. Marcus’ head
whipped back and he could feel a breeze from the dagger that blew past his eye.
Marcus knocked the Twin Fang’s arm back and parried the attack from the other
hand which left the second Twin Fang’s chest wide open. Marcus’ dagger sunk
into the Twin Fang’s chest and he twisted it in the Blade forcing his body to
the right as he screamed in pain. The scream was cut short as a halberd slammed
down on the Twin Fang’s shoulder. Dead Blade and halberd crashed to the ground.
As the guard worked to free his weapon from the now visible Blade, Marcus leapt
over and stuck both of his weapons into the man’s throat. Marcus let the knight
fall off his knife’s blade and his corpse and bulky suit of armor clanged to
the ground. Marcus took a quick moment to regard the fallen knight. Men in
bulky armor often thought it made them immortal. Usually it only made their
weak points all the easier to hit.
Marcus took slow, deliberate steps forward.
The two remaining white and gold knights stood in front of the shimmering,
black cowled figure with their shields raised to defend him. Marcus looked past
them, towards the fleeing men who had been holding the banners.
The third mistake the amateur,
would-be assassins had made was that their target wasn’t even the real Will of
Shadow. They shouldn’t have expected the Will of Shadow, the voice of Shadow,
the god who loved the use of subversion so much it was basically a tenet of
their religion, to have been so open and honest. Marcus sheathed his knife and
dagger and pulled two throwing knives out from one of the several pouches sown
into his pants. Marcus threw one of the knives at the head of the knight on the
right deliberately slow. The knife tumbled in the air clumsily and wouldn’t
have been a threat even if the knight didn’t raise his shield to block it but
the knight did just that. The knight raised his shield in front of his face and
the knife bounced off his shield. It was just a fraction of a second after he
lowered the shield from his face that the second throwing knife Marcus had
thrown managed through the grates of his helm and into his eye.
The knight with the knife sticking
out of his eye screamed in pain and stumbled back, tripping right over the fake
Will of Shadow. Marcus ran forward, rolling under a wide swing from the last
standing white knight and left him, the fake Will, and the screaming knight on
the ground as he pursued his real target.
“Get back here!” Marcus heard the
last standing knight demand. But Marcus ignored him. There would have been no
point in killing the man.
The six banner holders were
spreading out and trying to force their way through the chaotic crowds. The
Taria city guard were trying to restore order, a few were even eying him, but
Marcus wanted to avoid killing the city guard if he could help it and thankfully
the city guard didn’t want to be killed and decided not to involve themselves
in the dealings of gods. Most didn’t. They found it increased their life
expectancy.
With six fleeing men, each one
wearing the same identical, drab looking black robe and hood, each one heading
in a separate direction, Marcus had to choose which one to pursue quickly.
Marcus decided to chase after the one who has been the very first to run, the
quickest to try and escape. Marcus unsheathed his two weapons again as he
caught up to the fleeing Will of Shadow who was pushing up against a crowd of
fleeing people.
The Will of Shadow in the guise of
a simple banner holder twisted his head around, his hood pulled back revealing
a gaping mouth and eyes filled with terror. “Boon of Darkness! Lord of Shadows!
Save me!” the Will shrieked.
Marcus grabbed the frightened Will
by the back of his hood and flung him away from the wall of people who were
screaming and pushing each other trying to get away. Marcus sunk both his
blades into his chest and Marcus was surprised to find the Will had been
wearing no extra protection which made him almost doubt for a second that he
was the real Will of Shadow. But his doubts faded quickly when he got a clearer
look at his face. The Will groaned and coughed up blood before he died. Marcus
let the Will’s body slide off his two weapons.
Over the cries and shouts of the
terrified crowds a single voice called out. “Followers of Shadow!” Marcus spun
around and saw the man calling out was one of the white knights, the one he had
left untouched. “That man has killed the Will of Shadow! The very voice of our god!”
His shield and helmet rested on the ground in front of his feet. He raised his
halberd up in the air. “Avenge his death! Kill that man and the Lord Shadow
will reward you greatly!”
Marcus cursed as he felt the murderous
intent of a couple hundred people rise up around him. The promise of reward
from a god had apparently been enough motivation to turn a crowd of terrified
people fleeing for their lives into potential killers. Marcus did the smartest
thing he thought he could do. He ran. And roughly half the crowd in the city
chased after him.
Marcus took off towards the closest alley
which was currently being used by wagons trying to get around the parade. All
the wagons were stuck at a standstill as people tried to cram their way through
the narrow passage. Marcus jumped on top of the first wagon without bothering
to slow down as a horde of unarmed people chased after him. He jumped from
wagon to wagon over the people below until he came to the end of the alley. He
jumped off the last wagon and rolled to the ground, but he still wasn’t clear.
The people he had left behind would catch up quickly enough. He ran towards the
next closest alley that looked unused with a large open wagon filled with
timber parked right near the entrance. Without slowing, Marcus drew his knife
and as he passed the wood-filled wagon, he broke the latch on the back of it.
The rear door of the wagon creaked and snapped open sending an enormous amount
of timber spilling out behind him, partially plugging up the entryway,
hopefully giving him enough time to put more distance between him and the
massive wave of murderous people behind him.
Halfway down the alley Marcus saw
the perfect chance to evade the angry horde. There were three windows on the
left side of the wall. The first two were closed but the farthest window was
wide open. Marcus quickly went over his options; He could keep running from the
mob until he escaped, try to kill every single person after him, or just jump
through that little open window and hide out until he could manage to get out
of the city without being chased down. He decided to take his chances with
going through the window as it was the option that involved the least amount of
work.
Marcus grabbed both his weapons,
jumped through the open window, and found a family of four sitting at a dinner
table staring at him. The man, woman, and two young children were visibly
alarmed by his sudden intrusion but didn’t scream or shout or run away. With
his weapons still in his hands, Marcus put a finger to his lips in hopes of
keeping them quiet and sat on the floor, keeping his body pressed against the
wall and his head low enough so it couldn’t be seen through the window.
Marcus felt the murderous intent of
the mob coming closer before he heard them stumbling over the wall of timber he
had left behind. The herd of an uncountable amount of people ran right past the
window while Marcus kept an eye on the family, though none of them gave off an
aura that told him he was in immediate danger of being attacked. The family
watched him right back, all except the youngest of the children, a girl maybe
four or five years old, who decided she wasn’t bothered enough to stop eating
any longer. The other child, another girl roughly eight years old clung to her
mother’s arm. The mother was quite beautiful though it was apparent in the
subtle features of her face that she had definitely lived a hard life. Her
frayed, light brown hair reached down past her shoulders, she had strong
cheekbones but her skin sagged slightly around her dark brown eyes, and she had
a look on her face that told him that even though he had two weapons in his
hand, she would do her damndest to make sure Marcus didn’t hurt her children.
“What do you want?” the father of the family
said sternly. He looked like he could pose a physical threat even with his
sloppy shaven face and disheveled black hair, but much like the tone in his
voice, Marcus knew the man was hiding behind fake bravado more than anything
else.
Marcus waited for the last trace of
murderous intent to vanish from the alley before moving or saying anything.
“I asked you what you-“ Marcus
stood up which was apparently a threatening enough gesture to stop the man
midsentence.
Whatever they were eating smelled
delicious and it had been awhile
since Marcus had last eaten. Marcus looked at the meat wearily. Taria was a
pretty backwater type of town and you could never be too cautious about what
you eat. “What kind of meat is that?” The young mother looked like she wanted
to answer but she refrained herself, looking toward her husband whose hand was
slowly crawling towards a knife on the table. “I’m not going to kill you,”
Marcus assured them. “Unless you plan on attacking me with that knife that is. I
just want to make sure it’s not weird like dog.” The husband’s hand stopped
edging closer to the knife but he didn’t move it any farther away either.
“Dog?” the wife spoke out which
earned her a hard look from her husband. “Who eats dogs?”
“You’d be surprised,” Marcus said.
“No, it’s not dog. It’s-“
“Shut it, woman,” the husband
snapped.
“Easy now.” Marcus sheathed his two
weapons behind his back. “I just ducked in here to hide a moment and then the
delicious smell of your meal made me realize how hungry I was.”
“Delicious? It’s terrible,” the man
said. “I kill a big elk and she manages to make it near uneatable. It’s the
worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”
“Bleh!” cheered the youngest girl,
sticking her tongue out. “It’s gross!” She grabbed a piece of the meat off her
plate and threw it on the ground, apparently forgetting she had been shoveling
the food into her mouth nonstop just a moment before.
The man’s hand had finally found
the knife and he brandished it in a subtly threatening manner. “You want a
piece, you can have the whole thing,” he grunted.
“How generous of you,” Marcus
declared with light sarcasm as he made his way closer to the table. The oldest
daughter shot out of her chair and hid behind her father. The youngest ignored
Marcus and went back to shoving little pieces of meat into her mouth. Marcus
glanced over at the woman who was looking at her husband like he was a bigger
threat to her than the armed stranger who had let himself into her house.
“And keep your eyes off my woman,
or I’ll cut your eyes out. Maybe I’ll give them to her so she can make a stu
that wouldn’t even be fit for a pig.”
“My apologies.” Marcus reached for
a small slab of meat in the center of the table, watching the husband holding
the knife in his white-knuckled hand. Marcus hoped the man would attack him but
he couldn’t even sense the tiniest bit of killing intent in the bastard.
Marcus eyed the man as he took a
bite of the elk. “Mm. That’s pretty good,” he lied. It wasn’t terrible. Marcus
had eaten worse. It was just a little dry. And a bit over-salted. But the girl
could use the compliment and if it pissed off the husband, even better. Marcus
swallowed and took another bite. “My name’s Marcus by the way.”
Marcus could hear the
husband’s teeth grinding together. The little girl hiding behind him peaked out
and stole a glance at Marcus before disappearing back behind him. “Jason,” he
said through his teeth. “And I’m a Hunter. So if you don’t watch yourself I
could have a dozen men hunting you down for sport. It’d only be a matter of
time before you were face down in a ditch somewhere.”
Marcus chewed another
bite as he waited for Jason to finish his threat. After he swallowed, he
reached for Jason’s glass and took a drink of the water. “Follower of the
Huntress, eh?” A piece of meat his Marcus on the side of his head and the
littlest girl laughed and clapped. Marcus smiled at the little girl and set the
glass back down before turning to the mother. “And you?”
“Fay,” she answered.
“Fay,” Marcus echoed. “A
lovely name. Taken from the character in Tales of Water and Ice?”
She hesitantly nodded.
“Your name as well?”
“Probably,” Marcus
shrugged. “Parents gave me my name but that’s about it. Spent most of my early
life in orphanages. The food was great by the way and I’m truly sorry that I
intruded on you and your family.”
Fay’s lips started
turning upward into a smile but the feeling of murder drenched in rage pushed
Marcus into action, twisting around as Jason shouted and lunged at Marcus with
the knife from his chair. Marcus grabbed Jason’s wrist and twisted it behind
his back. The knife dropped to the ground and Marcus slammed the man’s head
into the table and held it down. Marcus freed his knife from its sheath and
slammed it an inch away from Jason’s face into the wooden table.
Both children were
screaming and crying and the eldest of the two punched and kicked at Marcus’
leg. The smile Fay had begun to show was gone when he looked back over to her,
the frown back in its place, coupled with a look of worry in her eyes. He
missed her smile because the dumbass didn’t know how to keep his temper. Marcus
leaned over and in a quiet, calm voice said, “How about a better introduction.
My name is Marcus and I am the personal Blade of Sentinel, the Holy Protector,
who just a few moments ago killed both the Twin Fangs of Shadow and her Will.
So I really do hope you and your friends come for me. We’ll see just how well
the Huntress’ trash can die.”
Marcus let his hand off Jason’s
face and pulled his knife free of the table. Mindful of the girl still beating
up his leg, he slammed the weapon back into its sheath. Marcus’ foot splashed
into a small puddle of yellow liquid at the Jason’s foot as he turned to leave.
“Now,” he said in a more cheerful tone, “Where’s the front door?” He looked
around briefly for the way out and found it when Fay pointed him in the right
direction.
“Marcus and Fay, huh?” Marcus said
as he turned in the doorway. “Let’s hope our endings are only half as sad as
theirs.”
“I thought it was happy ending,”
Fay said.
“Nothing happy about dying young.”
“Even if it means spending the rest
of eternity with the one you love?”
Marcus frowned. That was not something he wanted to think about.
“Especially then. Eternity is forever. You’re only alive once.” Marcus shut the
door behind him. He stood on the porch of the quaint little family house and
checked his cloak for blood stains. When he was satisfied there weren’t any, he
began walking down the street rubbing his thigh as he did. That little girl’s
fists were going to leave some bruises on him.
The streets were still pretty
hectic and he could feel the murderous intent of the angry mob throughout the
area still, but it was dying down. Most of it was watered down with panic and
hysteria to begin with and now that they had a little time to calm down, many
of them were giving up their search. No one would even bother taking a second
glance at a sure man walking calmly down the street thinking he may have been
the man who had just killed a prominent religious figure. At least that was the
plan Marcus was banking on as he made his way to the nearest tavern.
