FOREVER KNIGHTS: #6 Malevolent Attentions

Watercourse Hamlet, Dread Hideout

Savage’s Pawn

That night Chavias did as bid. Creeping in the darkness with a torch he walked the simple dirt road between ramshackle booths and shops until reaching the epicenter of the tiny village. A few Cimmerii were sent to ensure he obeyed Radix’s orders, helping scatter dry hay and branches in front of each shop. Trailing a path to the next heap.

Chavias took in the scent of freedom. Such wealth they have in their liberty. What I wouldn’t give to spend my nights starving in a cottage.

A man appeared on the street from a shop. Locking the door, unaware of them as of yet. Turning he froze. Eyes landing on Chavias.

“You should’ve stayed inside, Friend.” Chavias shook his head slowly, saddened.

“Ye’d destroy our ville?” The man cried.

“I haven’t a choice.”

“There’s always’ a choice!” The rotund, pock-marked man whimpered. Terrified stare locked on Chavias. Eyes flitting to the dual sword hilts peering from above Chavias’ shoulders.

“Not in my case.” Seeing the man’s long study, Chavias urged. “Don’t. Please.”

He knew that look. The one people get right before they force me to cut them down.

Alerting them will save you nothing. It’ll only guarantee your demise. Chavias gave him a steely look. Trying to convey the message.

“You can’t do this!” The quaking man drew a small knife from his worn brown vest. “Get back.”

I wish I didn’t have to.

“Don’t.” Chavias shook his head slowly. Sighing.

“Ye’re a black-eye’ Devil!” The man yelled. “I’ll kill ye afore I let ye destroy our ville!”

“Please do so.” Chavias’ dark eyes were hollow. Hopeless.

The man yelled. A frantic attempt to alert the rest of the village.

Chavias knocked his knife aside and drew one of his swords in a swing that slit the man at an angle.

The stranger fell to the ground limply. Closing his eyes, a moment, Chavias wished more than ever to be somewhere else.

“We would’ve had great fun with him!” The squeaking voice behind him objected.

“I’ve no doubt you would’ve. But now you can have fun with pieces of him.” He gestured to the corpse, strolling forward staring ahead unblinkingly. “We do what we came to do. We’re not here for your play.” He told the Firoque man. Glancing at his black-blotched, gray face.

“I do not fear you! You’re no more than a slave!” The orange eyed man huffed in a hissing voice.

How his kind laughs. Chavias knew.

But the others weren’t laughing. They skittered further away and looked everywhere but at them.

Chavias couldn’t touch the Nonis, Targue or Sarabi, because of their link to Radix. But these Firoque, the ones that still had a mind to argue, were not possessed by Radix. He doesn’t know if I beat them to shreds or kill them.

And has too many to care. The others knew that.

“Better than a soulless Demon.” Chavias barely spared him a glance. “You must be new.”

The laughter died.

“Mistake me not Demon. I’ll slit you as fast as I did him.” Chavias pointed at the body behind him with his swinging blade.

“The sorcerer would kill you!” The Firoque man’s chin notched but they both knew Radix would care little. It’d only mean an extra bit of torture for Chavias tonight.

The demon prides himself more on my slavery than he does the Cimmerii’s loyalty. It said much for the demon’s character. Or lack thereof.

Chavias glared over his shoulder unblinkingly at the man until the Firoque, duly put in place, shuffled away.

“Get rid of that.” Chavias barked about the corpse.

“I wished to feast anyway.” The Firoque grumbled. Rubbing his clawed gray hands gleefully. He called for a comrade to join him in dragging it around the corner of the building.

At least there’ll be no body to be found.

Nothing terrifying for children to discover. That was how he consoled himself as he saw them crouch over the body. Heard the splashing and tearing sounds of them gobbling the tissues. Ripping at him like starved dogs.

Walking to the center of town he lit the pile of hay. The fire traveled quickly to the separate mounds in-front of each shop.

It’s a shame.

The acrid smell of smoke-filled air that’d only minutes before, been filled with the scent of lavender from the field beyond, and wet dirt.

Next, Chavias moved to their cattle. Their livelihood. Swinging his blades in a frenzy he cut the docile sleeping animals down before they knew what walked through them. Following Radix’s instructions. Vaguely surprised there were so few. Less than a half-dozen.

Not enough for a village. His eyes narrowed over the surrounding meadow. Where are the rest?

This isn’t all of them. Something isn’t as it seems here.