PRAY (Working Title)

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.