Dying Light

Chapter 1

It was dusk when the men had arrived in the village. The frigid air and dark clouds made worse by the freezing rain. Knights of the king came on orders to seek out the rumors of witchcraft and sorcery in the quaint town and put an end to it. All witches and wizards were burned at the stake, and if lucky, killed on sight, though the later was rarer than the first. The men looked from side to side looking for any eye contact the villagers would give them, but none was given.

Cattle lay dead to the side of houses, crops destroyed, and no sign of life was there, almost as if the village was hollow. There looked signs of disease and murder, as corpses were found in the streets. The only noise was the rain against their armor.

"Grant, what do you make of this?" the captain said with discuss and annoyance.

"Sir Ryan, it seems that these people have a real problem." Grant Smith replied.

The captain sighed, "Can it not be Gods will to just burn this to the ground? This is a plague."

Sir Ryan was their captain and a mean and blunt man. He was the senior knight of the group. Sir Ryan was tall and had dark features, with a grim face ready to complain. He was annoyed with these, "minuscule task," as he put it. He claimed to be Christian and gave it all to his credit of going to church.

"Is there even life left in this God forsaken place?" Sir Ryan yelled in frustration.

Instantly there was a thump heard within a house, as if a table had been flipped. Each man drew his sword slowly following the noise into a nearby house. The door had claw marks on it as if a predator was trying to get in. Slowly a knight opened the door, his face turning from side to side, before taking the wrong step forward. A trap was sprung, an arrow hitting him straight in the face, his body instantly hitting the ground. The face of a young woman was spotted before her footsteps rushed forward.

"You two come circle back with me!" Sir Ryan said taking two men and rushing around the house.

Grant stepped forward watching his step, catching a bear trap just beyond the door. Grant took in a deep breath catching the smell of rotten meat in his nose. He wanted to gag, but it would only bring his guard down. He swung the hood of his red cloak down on his back as he looked around the corner, a man following behind him. The creaking of wood could be heard with each of their steps. As the two knights moved, they found the flipped table in the dining room, a dead man with an opened neck, the wound fresh.

"I'll take the second floor, Grant." His fellow knight replied.

Grant nodded, to his whisper in the suspicious house. Suddenly the candle lit in the room died, leaving Grant to use his left hand feeling the walls as he walked by. As he moved his leather glove, he felt a wet substance and hoped it was just the water, daring not to look at it. Suddenly, a yell was heard, from the basement. Quickly, Grant followed the noise until he saw a faint glow, from a cracked doorway, from within the house. Slowly he let his feet fall against the stairs.

"There is nowhere to run," Grant said letting his next step fall on the stone slabs of the floor.

An ominous laugh was heard as a reply was made from a young female, "Who said I was running?"

Grant saw the candles at each point of the hexagram lying on the floor of the stone, in the center the woman holding a blooded knife. It didn't take long for Grant to understand what substance the hexagram was drawn with. In the center facing the woman was a skull. Grant was disgusted and wanted to vomit. His very soul was uneasy.

"The world is ending the flame dying, what else is there but for it to turn unto darkness, from nothing did the world come, and from nothing, it will return. As the last light of the sun fades, and the world turns ice cold, will men still believe in God?" The witch said aloud.

Grant caught a dead body in the corner of the room, "Under the order of the king, you are sentenced to death by fire. Enjoy the fading flames, your morbid fiend."

"Now, Grant, I'm just another woman, don't say so harsh words."

Grant gently placed his blade against the back of the woman's neck, "Stand."

She merely laughed, "You don't even believe in God do you? That's a bit strange for a knight."

"I said stand!" Grant said bitterly.

The woman laughed as if she wished to anger Grant more. However she was right to some degree, he didn't believe in God, even though all knights were supposed to. His blue eyes seemed to rage with fire as she continued to mock him. Grant moved forward grabbing her by the neck and slamming her face into the wall.

"What are you finding funny? Do you think I believe you fragile, even if you be thee age of a young woman?"

The woman spat back at Grant, her saliva hitting his cheek bone. She was only welcome by another slam, this time, into the ground his hand on her neck still as he squeezed.

"Kiss the dirt you worship." Grant said bitterly.

He slammed his knee against her back as the woman struggled. He tied her hands together with ropes, making sure it dug into her skin just enough for pain. Sir Ryan came rushing down, the soft glow of the candles reflecting of Grant's armor.

"Good work, Sir Smith." Captain Ryan replied, walking over, lifting the witch by the ropes, as she cried in pain.

The woman had a bitter face as they moved up the stairs. She just stared at Grant, as if to say, "Are you pleased with yourself?"

Grant just gave a smirk back, as if to claim, he was.