Night Blades and Morning Blood

Chapter 16

“Get up!” A voice said from the darkness. “Get up!” It repeated, patting on Barrett’s back with a heavy boot.
He roused in a panic, scrambling for his sword in the black. But he had no need of it.
Three men had joined him in the old abandoned cottage he’d choose as his refuge. Their faces, framed with black hoods against the dim light, were ones he recognized.
“Bores, Senik.” He said, his joy overshadowed by his grogginess. “Cutler?” He trailed off more surprised than pleased. Any thing that would bring Cutler to him could not be good.
“We came as soon as we got news of the attack on Martyr’s fort.” Bores said. “Tales of a terrible monster eating men whole… we thought you might be in trouble.” A rare smile from the bearded northerner.
“It is a dangerous position you have put the order in, young Barrett.” Barrett’s annoyance twanged at the prefix, why was it always young Barrett never brother Barrett like the rest of his creed mates. “You should have dealt with the beast immediately, instead you have fled like a frightened child.” Cutler said looking distractedly around at the cottages inside, raising the twang to a spasm.
Barrett was speechless.
“With only a sword? Alone?” Bores said leaping to his defense . “You saw what that thing did to the golden knight. The beast is far more powerful than even our master of information could have guessed. It would have been suicide.” Senik twitched slightly at the reference to him but otherwise just stared into nothingness.
“You saw the battle?” Barrett asked still in shock.
“My little ears got wind of your movements as we travelled past Marath.” Senik began dreamily. He slowly turned his head to focus on Barrett. “We picked up your armor from a nearby farm and came to meet you at the castle.” His wide, manic eyes were something Barrett had never quite gotten used to.
“We stood on the cliff and watched that knight give his life for yours, Barrett.” Cutler interrupted. “You should have stood and fought, attacked the beast while it licked its wounds. But instead you ran. Again.” He raised his voice in obvious distaste.
“You heard the noise that thing made! You saw its strength!” Bores met Cutler’s anger head on. “We have to help Barrett kill this enemy. Or does the great Cutler, lead of the Order of the Night’s blood, hidden bodyguard to the emperor himself, lack the courage to fight alongside his brother? Or does he only fight when his enemy is on its knees?”
“This is Barrett’s task! Not yours! Not mine! His! His alone!” The two were arguing again just as they had the last time Barrett had seen them.
“I will not stand by as one of my brothers faces certain death! We must stand together!”
“Then I will have no part in it! Come, Senik.” Cutler said turning and making for the hole where a door should have hung. But Senik remained motionless, staring wide eyed at the floor.
“I would like to stay.” He said quietly to the stone floor.
“Senik. This is Barrett's task not yours. Do not waste all you are, all you have become. Now we must leave.” He commanded as if to a small child. Bores smiled again. The room paused in silence.
“Very well, so be it!” And with that their leader left the deserted hovel, striding out into the snow.
“So, Barrett,” began Bores looking pleased with himself. “We have brought you your armor, are you ready to stand? Ready to bring an end to the beast that howls at the moon?”

All that day Barrett shifted and fidgeted and sweated despite the chill in the air. His mind replayed his encounters with the monster and he relived the fear it drove into him like an ice shard. He thought of the men who had died for him and how brave they had been when he had simply run. Maybe cutler was right. Maybe he deserved to fight alone to pay for his cowardice. But what of the seer’s prophecy? Was this what it meant?
At what Barrett judged to be mid-morning bores returned with three rabbits and the trio discussed the battle plan (with a minimum of input from Senik). It was quickly decided that they were to attack at once. The kretch always came in the night, so it stood to reason that like most things of its ilk, the darkness gave it power and the light, weakness.
Barrett spoke at length about how twice he’d faced the beast and how the knight’s lance had simply bounced away from a previously injured thigh.
While Barrett and Bores discussed the possible reasons for this, Senik seemed to start and panic. He rushed franticly around the cottage, searching dark corners and tipping over the remaining furniture before rushing outside. The other two assassins  looked at each other in confusion.
Senik returned almost instantly, the snow dotting his hood and cloak, a small parcel bound in linen under his arm. He laid the package on the floor between them, sat and began to rock. Another look of puzzlement passed between the two sane men.
“I almost forgot.” Senik began with a mad chuckle. “Silly me, I almost forgot, open it please.”
Bores reached forward and undid the strings that secured the long, thin bundle. He unrolled the linen and a silver sword etched with lightning fell to clatter on the stone floor.
“Senik? Whose blade is this?” Bores asked the Bat.
“Cutler’s.” Another mad chuckle. “I thought if the stories are true we could use it. He’d be so mad if he knew.” Barrett and bores were astounded.
“You stole Cutler’s ceremonial sword? A sword that’s not been used in over a thousand years? And you think we should use it to kill the Kretch.”
“High silver content. Might be deadly. All those stories… HA!”
“Senik, you’re a genius.” Barrett praised. “Where did you get it?”
“His house.” The rocking grew and grew in ferocity. “Didn’t even lock the door. Replaced it with a copy.” He gave a slight whimper this time and drew his knees up to his chest.
The sight of the blade brought a smile to Barrett’s face and as the conversation moved on, a plan began to take shape.

The three assassins sought their enemy to the west. The snow was light and the bright sunlight came in dazzling bursts as they traveled without words.
The land was silent and they combed the forests and fields in a line, their horses whickering only occasionally, no other being for company. Barrett became dismayed with their progress quickly but did not say as much, instead he pushed himself on, not wanting to be the first to suggest a reprieve. It wasn’t until just after midday that there was any sign of their quarry.
The enemy had made quickly up behind them and the blatant destruction of snow led into a thick copse of trees atop a small, gently sloping hill.
The three rode abreast, Barrett in his shining jeweled armor, Bores, bare chested in the chilly wind and Senik in his ever-present black robes and cloak, hooded and hiding from the sun.
Barrett rode forth and issued his challenge.
“Belog!” He shouted up the hill. “Belog, I have come to meet your challenge at last! Come and fight me now!”
A deep booming laugh echoed out of the trees and crows complained as they fled from their branches.
“You are not alone assassin.” The Kretch boomed. “A wise decision? Or yet another display of cowardice? It matters not. You will pay to speak my name; your tongue is not worthy of it. I will stain the snow with your blood before the end.”
Senik gave a High pitched, nervous titter behind him.
“You dare laugh in my presence, coward!?” The angry voice came again. “The time has come assassin, the of your death.”
The Kretches followers began to materialize out of the trees. They howled and hissed far less menacingly than they had before and it filled Barrett with confidence.
The three dismounted into the snow as the beast gave a call from out of sight. The sound washed over him and he breathed deep. It was loud and long but it did not shake the earth as it had before. It did not strike fear into his heart or freeze his muscles. Under his helmets visor, he smiled to himself. Barrett drew his sword and looked down at it. The shining blade was razor sharp, reflecting the winter sun perfectly and gem encrusted hilt cast rainbows down onto the white snow.
Behind him he heard his brothers draw in unison and the three stood, armed to the teeth and awaiting blood. A bark came loud from the trees and the battle began.
The gaggle of enemies rushed down towards them, sprinting with their blades held high, shrieking and barking. The first legionnaire fell as he ran and the reddening snow piled around him as he slid, pierced through the chest as Bores launched arrows from behind. Another fell and another and a grey-haired witch stumbled as a wooden shaft sprung from her leg.
Now they were upon him and Barrett knocked aside a hag’s spear and sliced hard through her neck. The bow string twanged once more before its wielder roared and Barrett severed a wolf’s leg at the knee.
Bores’ giant axe flashed as he danced through the frozen powder and Senik spilled invisible death from his black cloak. The enemies’ numbers waned but still the attack was thick and fierce and the three assassins painted the white snow with splashes of red and black.
Three hags assailed Barrett together in a flurry of flashing steel and dirty hair. As the attack gained momentum his arms grew heavy and each miss grew nearer, he knew a blow would soon come that he could not parry. The witches closed the circle around him and Barrett gave a wide, searching swing in an effort to drive them back. He heard a wild scream behind him like none yet issued by his foe.
He felt the first knife break his defense, clattering against his armor and withdrawing lightening quick. Out of options he grabbed at a witch’s outstretch hand and drew her into a savage head-butt. She squealed through her hands as Barrett spilled the guts of a second and fought the third in earnest.
The final witches double bladed defense was ironclad and quickly she countered hard. Barrett sent one blade spinning away but her full strength came in the other and she grasped at him franticly with outstretched talons.
Barrett saw a gap and lunged, but the witch was quicker than she had given away. In the blink of an eye Barrett was looking up at the stark white snow clouds bordering a mass of grey hair and black gnashing fangs.
Sword out of reach he wrestled for his life, but witches are stronger than most men and this hag was no exception. He tried to misdirect her attack with no hope of blocking or forcing her off.
He watched in horror as she ripped away his gourget, breaking its leather fastenings like they were a spider’s web. The hag slowly brought her chomping teeth towards his exposed throat. He could feel the hot breath on his flesh and the spray of the warm saliva as he thought his final thought. The witch pushed hard and as an unknown force pulled her away he felt a sharp pinch and the flow of warm blood.
Bores had come to his rescue; yanking the hag by the hair he tossed her away like she was a  stripped chicken bone. She snarled and ran towards them, eyes locked with Barrett's as he scrambled to find his weapon in the snow. But Bores brought his heavy axe across the horizon and buried it deep in her chest.
“That taste of blood might have saved you there, brother.” Barrett touched the warm blood dripping down into his armor. Bores swung the axe into the neck of the head-butt victim as she screamed and stumbled, he hands covering he face oblivious to anything but he smashed nose. “Once they’ve tasted your blood you’re the only thing in the world to them.” He said wrenching the weapon free again. He held out a hand and pulled Barrett to his feet.
The scars around the northerner’s eyes had grown pink with exertion so they were almost invisible. There was a whimper behind them, Barrett picked up his sword and the two moved over Senik who knelt in the snow, sobbing like a child.
His robe was ripped on the arm and the wet patch was clear as day against the soft black of the material.
“The wolf, ” He giggled erratically in an extension of the sob. “he slashed me.” Senik nodded towards a wolf soldier with a knife buried in his eye.
“Doesn’t look very bad, Senik.” Bores commented, making to rip off the sleeve at the shoulder. Senik tried to protest but Bores was too quick for him.
The sleeve removed, Senik’s white skin almost matched the snow. The arm was long, bony and covered in scars. Bores and Barrett exchanged a look, Barrett confused and Bores concerned.
Some of the scars were snow white and barely visible in the bright sun, other were red, fresh and angry. The placement and size was random from shoulder to wrist, some the size of match sticks others the shape and width of small fingers.
Barrett ripped off the other sleeve and the story was the same. Senik gave a pathetic whimper.
“How did you get there burns Senik?” Bores questioned firmly. The only reply was a sob and a wide-eyed stare into the snow. “Senik?” The bearded assassin asked a little louder. “Answer me, Senik. How did you get these scars?” He traced a particularly long injury with his finger.
“I did them myself. Do you like them?” Senik looked up and met Bores’ gaze his face now blank.
“Why did you do them Senik?”
The pair stared, eyes locked and unblinking until finally, the bat laughed his nervous, high-pitched giggle. Another silence.
“I do it when I make him angry of course. He is so often angry.” Another awkward chuckle. He tilted his head but kept his eyes fixed.
“Who is he, Senik?” Barrett cut in, trying to relieve the pressure from his brother.
“Master Cutler of course. He gets so mad when I disappoint him. He says I can do them myself or he will do them for me.”
Bores’ face flicked between confusion and disbelief before settling on blind rage. His face reddened and a vein began to throb in his temple. Barrett wasn’t sure which way his anger would vent but as his hand tightened around the axe’s handle they were snapped back into reality.
A deep, rolling howl came down the hill to meet them, and the Kretch came loping from the trees.