By The Sword - Homepage

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The creaking wooden door slammed shut behind us.

I clenched my fist, ignoring my still-aching legs. Or, I tried my best to ignore it—to focus on anything else, but each time, it was still there. It felt like with each new step, an impossibly sharp and ever-widening needle was getting pushed through my bones.

“I wonder what the hell this is about,” Kye said in front of me, her voice sounding out over the small fire going in the corner. I nodded, latching onto the anger in her words in an attempt to get some respite from my pain.

Marc’s messenger glared at us, his small, light-brown eyes doing their very best to intimidate us. For a moment, through my exhausted haze, I was. But seeing the way the stocky man adjusted his stance, puffing out his shoulders in an attempt to look larger, that intimidation fell away in a second.

I stifled a chuckle, swallowing it as much as I could. Kye didn’t, and her laugh rang out through the room like the screech of a bird’s call. I glanced over at her, watching the way she snapped her lips closed afterward and stared right back at the man. He just pursed his lips and turned back around.

“It’s too damn late for something like this,” Kye muttered soft enough that I was the only one that heard. I swallowed another snicker, the lazy, disbelieving quality in her voice reflecting almost exactly how part of me felt.

It really was late. I really was tired. And no matter how many times Marc’s messenger made me chuckle, that didn’t change. The laughs did little to break through the solid and hardened irritability brought on by a complete and utter lack of much-needed rest.

My eyebrows dropped, forcing my gaze to the floor. The wood creaked ever so slightly under my metal boots, swaying and bowing as if in the lightest breeze. I could still hear the fire crackling behind me, shining a brilliant orange warmth on the side of my face. That was an upside, at least. Despite the unease I felt about why we were there, being inside the town hall was still far better than trudging through the cold in the dead of night.

Now, at least, we got to trudge through something warm.

I glanced over to the window on the other side of the large room, watching the still night outside. Seeing the darkness somehow get even darker, the world seemed itself to be falling asleep. The howling wind that had been slapping me in the face every time I’d turned during our trek back had calmed, and even the ambient sounds had given way to silence.

And the town hall was no different. As we’d walked up the hill toward it. the streets of Sarin had been barren, completely void of any of the commotion that they normally held. All of the buildings had seemed still and quiet, as if they too felt the near impossible need for sleep that I felt. The only difference, however, was that they actually got to heed the call.

A soft groan slipped between my lips, one quickly masked by a crackle of fire. My metal boot dragged sharply on the ground, refusing the energy I’d offered it to pick my foot up. My muscles felt like they were made of stone, stone that could only be cracked by the sharp pickaxe of sleep.

A chill raced down my spine, snapping me upright. My eyes widened a hair as I tried to shrug it off, tried to bring the warmth of my cloak back. But the chill stayed for longer, remaining as a ghostly remnant of a feeling I’d felt only a dozen or so minutes before.

Myris’ face flashed in my mind—the pale, almost lifeless face that had been forced on him by fear. I twisted my neck, stepping just a little bit more cautiously on the wood floor beyond. I was in pain, and I felt more tired than this body had probably ever been, but at least I wasn’t him.

I shook my head, reassuring thoughts coming up to take the place of my worry. Galen had him, I told myself. He was going to be fine. When the short healer had taken Myris in his arms, he’d looked as interested as he always did, but he hadn’t looked worried.

If he wasn’t worried, there was no need for me to be.

“Let me knock to make sure he’s ready for us,” a voice said. I snapped my gaze up, meeting eyes with the generic face of the messenger as he walked up to Marc’s office door.

I furrowed my brows but didn’t argue. His statement was fine, and there was nothing strange in his voice, but something still felt off. There was no guard by Marc’s door, a product of the time I was sure. But somehow, that made it register harder in my head, ringing out like a beacon and trying to get me to pay attention to it.

Everything we were doing just felt… familiar.

The messenger knocked on Marc’s door. Only silence followed.

After a few seconds of standing around, a very satisfied smile broke out on the messenger’s face and he swung open the door, gesturing for us to walk in.

Before I even knew what my body was doing, we were in Arathorn’s old office. My eyes widened as the small space filled my vision. Memories rose up in my mind, and the feeling of familiarity only became more and more solid.

As I looked around the room, I expected something different than what I got. I expected to see the messy floor—the piles of papers and books that Arathorn kept around for one reason or another. I expected to see a barred window only letting stray beams of moonlight into the room. And I expected to see Arathorn, sitting at his desk, his brows furrowed in focus as he worked on this paper or that.

But that was a while ago. That is not what I saw.

“Lord Marcel?” the messenger asked, bowing ever so slightly to the bulkier, black-haired man.

Instead of a messy floor, Marc’s office was clean. The wooden floor wasn’t covered with stray stacks of books or papers—it was organized and walkable. Instead of a barred window, Marc’s window had the bars taken off, letting the full brunt of the moon’s glow drape his desk in light. And instead of an organized desk, with Sarin’s lord working diligently at it, Marc was leaning up against the desk and staring out the window into the night.

The messenger cleared his throat. “Lord Marcel?”

Marc’s stiff shoulders relaxed and he blinked. He turned toward us, the pale gleam of the moonlight instantly clashing with the orange glow from the torches on our side of the room. The Lord of Sarin’s eyes widened before he pushed himself away from the desk and straightened up, staring directly at us.

“Ah, they’re here,” he said, the calculated calmness that I’d gotten used to oddly absent from his tone. He nodded to the messenger, plastering a smile right on the shorter man’s face. Within the next second, the messenger was gone, letting the polished wooden door click shut right behind him.

Silence threatened the room, moving in to fill the sudden absence of the all-too-giddy messenger, but Kye didn’t let it. She stepped up, stared Marc right in the face, and broke it without hesitation.

“What is this about?” she asked with more than a little irritation in her tone. One of her eyebrows cocked upward, and her hand twitched in the air.

Marc sighed, his broad shoulders relaxing. “This is not the meeting any of us want to be having at this time of night. I’m sure we’d all rather be in our beds, sleeping off the day’s depletion on our strength.”

My eyebrows dropped and I felt my features soften at his words. His tone was just… genuine, without anything hiding in it, and his words rang far more true than I’d expected. Kye leaned backward on her heel, her fingers relaxing a bit.

“Why did you want to see us?” she asked.

Marc cleared his throat and stared at both of us, not losing any seriousness in his gaze. “My trusty eyes and ears of the town told me that a group of rangers was following a lead in the forest. And seeing as you two just came back from there, I can assume that group was you.”

I nodded on instinct, feeling the command in his tone.

“With the situation regarding the scourge on our forest,” he continued, “I have some decisions to make.” My lips slipped apart, but he just barreled onward. “And I know you rangers know this scourge better than anybody else.”

My brows furrowed, dread building up more in my chest. It pressed against my lungs, forcing me to speak. “So?”

Marc’s eyebrows twitched upward for a brief moment and he squared his gaze on me. “I know the situation in the forest is worse than normal.” A cold certainty entered his tone. “They normally don’t come this early, do they? And they’re normally not this bad.”

I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat. Phantom sounds of scraping echoed terribly in my ears, reminding me of the splitting fear I’d felt mere hours before. The dread only grew, pressing hard against my heart.

“It’s nothing the rangers can’t deal with,” Kye said, slowly-dimming defiance in her eyes.

Marc smiled, one of his hands shooting up in an instant. “I don’t doubt that. But the entire forest does not have rangers.”

Kye tensed up, her gaze hardening on Marc. He didn’t budge. The thin film of unease at the bottom of my stomach thickened, sending a bitter taste up to my tongue. I swallowed, trying to rid it from my mouth, but with Marc still standing there and staring at us with firm, commanding intent, it wouldn’t go.

“No, they don’t,” Kye said.

Marc nodded, the movement way too smooth for the situation. “My knights are good,” Kye’s nose scrunched up again, “but they’re not as familiar with the forest as you rangers are. They are nowhere near as effective at dealing with terrors as you.”

My teeth pressed together. “That makes sense.”

My lord’s eyes met mine, orange light flickering in their shiny reflection. “There are other towns that are feeling their scourge as well—towns that we have relationships with. And those towns don’t have anybody to protect them as effectively as we do.” My neck twitched and my lips pressed together. “Particularly, a town that Sarin has a longstanding relationship, Farhar, has been ravaged by terrors recently.”

Marc’s head tilted to the side, a ray of moonlight streaming through the air where his hair had just been. I froze my gaze on him, my head already shaking before the words could escape from his mouth.

“So,” he started, leaving no room for interruption. “I want to send a group there, however small, to help them deal with their problem. Our relationship with Farhar is very important.” His lips tweaked upward, a sliver of pearly white teeth peeking through the small gap.

Kye’s hand clenched into a fist and her face contorted into a scowl. She stared at Marc for a long second, silent curses and complaints passing to him through her gaze. He flicked his eyes away from me, meeting hers with sincerity. The smile on his lips softened. It didn’t look or sound like he was lying, but each time I played his words over again in my mind, I couldn’t help but feel the beginnings of bile rising up in my throat.

My heartbeat sped up, memories flashing on my rapidly blinking eyelids. Everything around me was familiar, and I’d done it before. I still remembered the charming smile Arathorn had flashed me before asking me to go on a simple task. A simple task, that’s the way he’d framed it. And Marc’s smile was doing the exact same thing.

“We’re rangers,” Kye said finally. Marc nodded, not hesitating at all. “We have an agreement with Sarin, we do not work for it.”

The accomplished man raised an eyebrow. “That is not what the agreement I entered into only days ago said. I am the lord of this town, and I do only what is best for it.” Kye’s harsh gaze wavered. “Including preserving valuable relationships that have been set in stone for decades.”

Kye’s lips snapped shut. She averted her gaze, glancing somewhere else in the room before looking back at him. But by the time her mouth opened again, Marc’s hand was already waving away.

“Don’t worry, you will not be one to go,” he said, gesturing to Kye. “You are too valuable here in Sarin.” Something flashed in his eyes and his smile softened a hair. I scowled. “Agil here,” the mention of my name made my eyes widen, “and the more experienced ranger you arrived with, will go. If that is not enough—and it probably will not be—you can take another with you, or suppliment the group with one of my knights.”

My stance relaxed a bit, giving just enough time for my tired bones to scream at me again. I half-winced in pain, trying to hide just how tired I felt. From the corner of my eye, I could see Kye staring at Marc. I’d expected a scowl on her face, some venomous look that told Marc just how much she hated what he was saying. But that’s not what I saw. Instead, she was staring at him in curiosity, as if she was simply confused.

Marc continued to stare at me, tilting his head forward. My eyes widened in an instant, realizing that he wanted me to talk.

I smiled awkwardly before clearing my throat. “Why do we have to be the ones to go?”

“Because,” Marc replied a little too quickly, “you are the ones most suited to deal with the issue. Farhar requested assistance, and I’m going to provide it.” I nodded, the knight in me having a hard time resisting his order. He was right, after all. We were meant to protect. Where we did it was not something that mattered. “However... there is administrative work that still needs to be done.”

Kye nearly rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we get it.”

He flashed a toothy smile. “I know that you want the terrors gone as much as I do.” I could only nod at that. “They are creations of Death, so why not send them back to its chamber?”

The world froze around me as Marc’s words echoed in my mind. I flicked my gaze away from his face, stopping on the bronze gauntlet emblazoned on his shoulder that radiated a firm grip of power. My breathing sped up and, for a moment, all of my pain fell away. Without even thinking, my hand fell to my blade, clutching the grip of it tight.

Creations of the beast?

“That’s a myth,” Kye said nonchalantly. I blinked, snapping my gaze to her.

Marc raised an eyebrow. “Is it?” he asked. Kye hesitated at the question, words dying before they could make their way out of her mouth. “Either way, sending those horrible things to knock on Death’s door is good for us all.”

I nodded, and Kye did too. There was no real use in arguing, he was right. He’d ordered us to go to Farhar. And with the stern edge that was always present in the back of his voice, his orders were meant to be followed.

“Fine,” Kye said. Marc only beamed in response.

Part of me still didn’t like it. The unease I still felt in my stomach was enough to tell me that. But it didn’t really matter. I wasn’t going to disobey his orders, and he’d made good points.

If the terrors really were creations of the beast, I would’ve done anything to send them right back to their maker.

With the decision made, the heaviness returned to my eyelids. The sharp blade of fear and Marc’s strong, lifting tone were gone, leaving only silence and the pain within. I felt the aching in my bones again. There wasn’t even enough energy for them to burn. They just hurt, and that was it.

The image of my bed floated in my mind, relief just out of reach for my pained body. I latched onto the thought, and within minutes, Kye and I were out of the town hall and back out into the cold.

With the idea of rest still hanging in my head, the frigid breeze didn’t even bother me. Nothing could’ve really at that point. Sparing one last glance at Kye and thanking the world for a moment that my mind was too tired to think about the conversation we’d just had, I just walked.

I walked all the way home.