Nomad {Editing}

::Chapter 23:: Innocents of War

Even the King froze at this, as though scared the slightest movement would bring his death too. He regarded the stranger with caution, from the corner of his peripheral vision, but didn't turn to look at him straight on.

At first no one spoke, every person on edge to the point where no one dared to breathe. Charlie was shaking to the point where he watching was difficult through vision blurred by red. He clenched his fists, a growl echoing from him.

But at first James didn't acknowledge Anthony, rather turning his voice to his youngest son.

"Go outside and check that no one else has been hurt," he commanded firmly.

One way to put it, Charlie thought, but he knew what his father was implying.

He wanted his unpredictable son nowhere near ground zero if this was going to all go off.

Charlie tugged on Briar's elbow, to which she responded with a low protest. Stilling herself like a statue, she had no intention of leaving. At least not until she was given further answers about what had happened.

Leaning closer so he was a mere inch from her ear, he whispered in a low tone. "Come on, or it might not be me who tears you limb from limb." Charlie's words were foreboding, and perhaps cruel, but it didn't matter as long as it worked.

And it did.

Whilst he couldn't have described the young witch as willing, she followed him begrudgingly out of the tent and back into the light of camp. He lead her with a grip as firm as he could manage, despite the fact he was shaking like a mad man.

Once they were free of the tents four walls, Briar picked up the speed and outpaced Charlie, who watched her in a pained silence.

Muttering to herself, half under her breath but Charlie's heightened senses could pick up on the words. She paced back and forth, barely seeming to notice the still frozen members of camp dotted around her.

"I cant believe it," she muttered. Looking like she was fighting the strong urge to punch something as hard as she could. "He's meant to be dead, this cant be right." Her words were stumbling now, like Briar was struggling to get her head around it. Like a million thoughts were swimming around it.

Charlie would have moved to comfort her, hold her, do anything to cheer her up but he could barely breathe. His fists clenched, a snarl tore from his throat before he could stop it. He too began pacing, but the thoughts running through his head were much more deadly.

She swung around at the sound of a snarl, magic fire at her finger tips and a defensive stance to the way she stood. Briar narrowed her eyes, "I'm not in the mood to calm you down, don't make me use slightly less humane tactics."

But Charlie couldn't hear what she was saying, only that her lips were moving. It infuriated him.

Her voice quickly softened, the humour void from it to be replaced with pure concern. If not somewhat spoiled by the apparent panic in her voice. The flames flickered momentarily, but she forced herself to stay strong.

The only thing that was stopping Charlie from ripping her throat out in that minute, and the sitting ducks which were the rest of the army at that moment. Was the sliver of humanity which still remained.

But it was quickly becoming harder and harder to hold on to it.

Lowering herself to her knees, Briar struggled to force the shiver from her tone as she said. "Not now, Charlie, for the love of God not now." She begged, Charlie could only just hear her through the red.

The need to destroy and kill was beginning to overwhelm him and the red had all but taken a total hold on his vision. He shook with the effort of holding back against the need to shift, to put himself in a better position to defend himself from the blinding pain taking over his entire body at that point.