by Heath Pfaff
"Take that as a warning." I called across the room, and all eyes shifted from where I had been, to where I had moved. "I can kill you if you make me do it, but I'd prefer not to. You are my men. We have fought together through many situations. Let us not shed each other's blood now, when we are so close to the end of this journey."
"You say you'll give us this ship when we reach land," Kivann spoke after righting himself and doing his best to appear that he had not been knocked easily aside. "yet what have you ever done for us? Hollow words. Empty promises. Give us this ship."
"There are only two, maybe three months of travel left. You would risk all these lives over so little time? If you can take the ship by force now, couldn't you do the same in three months if I do not keep my word? You have nothing to lose by waiting, but the lives of yourself and your fellows are forfeit if you make the choice to fight now. I'm tired of killing my own, Kivann. Let us end this without bloodshed." I kept my tone firm, but spoke from the heart. I did not desire any further death. I couldn't believe that Kivann would risk the lives of his own men, knowing that his power was much less than mine. The other black cloaks watched him expectantly.
"Three months will see all the young birthed. Young make us vulnerable. You wish to weaken us. I'll kill you here. We will take the ship today. You've brought this to the crew. You came here and brought war. We might have waited. Now there are no options." My heart sank at Kivann's words. His will was set, and there was no turning him from his path.
"Let none say I did not try to stop this." I said, loud enough so those around me could hear. No new bodies joined Kivann's side, and I did not believe any others would. If he defeated me, I did not doubt that they would help him achieve his ends, but by the same token, if I won, they would finish out their three months on ship without complaint. They would let a test of might make their decision for them.
"We take him as one." Kivann called, and then his men charged. My body reverberated as it shifted into the depths of its power and speed, quaking to the very bones as every muscle knotted like steel to force the unnatural momentum I would need to stay alive. Seventeen enemies, even if they were not Knights, could overwhelm even the fastest of men. I had to get the odds down in my favor. I charged the men closest to me, my blade leading the way. My reach, thanks to Snow's specially designed weapon, was far beyond that of my opponents. I drove my blade through the charge of the first opponent I encountered, and into his body. The stroke should have killed him instantly, but he grabbed a hold of my blade. I felt his muscles tightening on the weapon, and suddenly I was hard pressed to pull it free from him. Normally I would have ripped the sharp steel out and moved on, but he was using his fearsome grip to end the threat posed by my weapon. Blood frothed at his mouth from the fatal wounding, but he did not loosen his hold.
Two more black cloaks charged in from the sides, one of them the pregnant female. I released my sword with a hard shove of the weapon and leapt at the male on the other side, ripping his throat out with my razor sharp claws. His swing, which he'd started before I'd even let go of my sword, had little force behind it by the time it struck the left side of my body. The blade gouged, but did not cut deeply. My blood joined the rest of the blood spattered across the floor. I didn't need to turn to know the female was coming in for a kill. I dived to the ground and rolled forward, skidding to a stop, and tearing long trails in the wood floor beneath me. The pregnant female's sword was wedged into the ground where I had been just a moment before.
I tore across the floor as fast as I could and grabbed the dropped sword of the Brigade member I had just slain. The first one I'd injured was still standing, my sword protruding from his chest, with both his claws gripped tight around the hilt. He was no longer a threat, but until he died my sword would stay where it was. I charged the next approaching group. They'd been running since the beginning of combat. Only a few brief moments had actually passed, but in that time much had changed. They charged blade first at the last position they'd seen me, but I was no longer there. I stepped between two of them, lashing out with two swings, severing an arm and a head before diving to the ground to avoid a claw swipe from the man whose arm I had just removed. I ducked the claw, but the blow was too fast for his companion who was just behind me. The powerful stroke tore into the already headless body and sent it spinning backwards into the next group of approaching enemies.
I righted myself and charged forward again. I heard the sound of a string thrumming, and dodged out of reflex. A barbed bolt tore into the flesh at my back before I could even spin to see where it had been fired from. By the time I'd spun, I saw that two more black cloaks had charged in while I was occupied, and the bolt had been fired from only two feet away. It must have been a blind shot, but it had been enough. My momentum was still carrying me away from the shooter, even as I spun to face him, and I felt myself strike something warm and heavy with my now injured back. Suddenly there were powerful arms locked about me, pinning my arm to my side.
I could see my foes approaching, but I was helpless to run, held tight as I was. Another black cloak grabbed a hold of me, pinning me in place, and two others approached with swords drawn and ready to strike. This all happened in a terrible slowness, a macabre dance set to my impending demise.
We don't die!
It's not time.
Two different voices sounded in my head, and I felt a surge of power coursing through my body. I struggled against those holding me. Someone twisted the arrow in my back and pain shot like fire through my limbs. I channeled that pain away from myself, and thrashed about madly. A sword streaked towards me, the blow a well measured stab set to pierce my restrained chest. I thrashed harder, roaring into the suddenly claustrophobic room. The hold on me slipped, but not enough to set me free. I felt the blade pierce my lower abdomen, instead of my chest, but it was angled upwards.
I DO NOT DIE!
We do not die.
"I can't die!" I screamed out in unison with two others voices, voices I would later realize were only heard by me. The Fell Beast and whatever else called from within, and though I struggled to stifle that darkness within, I felt myself carried away with it. I had no choice. I knew I must go with it or fall. My body throbbed with energy. My feet caught wood, the claws digging in firmly and I threw myself forward with all my strength. Black cloaks fell away around me. I was not done. The world grew slower around me, the resistance of the air grew stronger, but I sludged through it. The world was red, a blur, death and pain all around me. Death. Violence. Rage. Despite allowing the darkness free, I found myself fighting it as well, struggling to keep afloat, and then I was gone.
"Stop, you've won!" That was the next thing I remembered hearing, many different voices yelled it unison. There were hands all over me, pulling me away, claws tearing into my flesh. My arm was straight, my hand clutched around the throat of a writhing female figure dressed in a sun dress, her clawed hands digging at my wrist, gashing huge lines of blood along my arm as she struggled to free herself from my grasp. All around me the Black Patch Brigade, no longer fighting, struggled to set the woman free. As I came to myself again, I released her, and she slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. She was missing one of her legs, the limb severed below the knee. Where the limb had gone, I did not know.
The entire world around me was a mess of broken bodies and death. Sixteen corpses, all devastated beyond reason, lay in pieces, ruining the once serene cleanliness of the commons.
My body hurt. I looked at myself. I was covered in claw marks from those who had tried to pull me free from their female companion. A sword protruded from my abdomen, and I was bleeding from dozens of cuts ranging in severity from minor to serious. I pulled the sword free numbly, and let it fall to the ground. My blood followed it, pooling on the floor beneath me, disappearing in the already massive flood of ichor upon the ground. How much blood had I lost?
"You've won. We will wait, Drake Slayer. We will wait until the ship makes land." It wasn't one voice, but
many that spoke to me, trying to calm the beast that lay before them. There was rarely emotion in the eyes of the Brigade, but now I could see the fear in them.
"Three months." I said, my tongue moving thickly in my mouth. My mouth was full of blood. Was it mine? I didn't know. "These people are dead for three months." I shook my head, and turned to leave. I found it difficult to walk, but none of the black cloaks came to my aid. I didn't expect them to. I put one foot in front of the other, and then again. I repeated that, forcing every step. I needed to get to my room. I needed Malice. I needed someone to explain to me why I had just murdered sixteen people to win three months of time. I needed someone to explain to me what sort of monster I had become that I had almost killed a pregnant woman.
I left bloody tracks in my wake.
I meant to walk to my room, but I found myself on deck instead. The sky was gray above me, and in the distance the horizon appeared to end at what looked like a great black wall, occasionally lit by a flash of brilliant light. The sea churned, and I wondered if it was somehow reflecting the turmoil I felt inside. Did the sea sense my disquiet? Was it struggling to quell the anger, fear, and sadness that burned inside of me? I walked across the ship, ignoring the eyes that fell upon my tattered body. I was cold, yet I burned all over. My body was struggling to heal wounds. I should rest, but I couldn't bring myself to face Malice. She had stood next to me for so long. I couldn't help but feel that, in my loss of control and brutality, I had failed her.
I could feel minor cuts and gashes sealing up, but there were so many injuries that even my powerful healing abilities were having trouble. The wound in my gut burned, and I felt a tearing pain with every step I took. The pain of my injuries fought back the numbness that was attempting to settle into my mind. I walked to the railing at the edge of the ship. A strong gust of wind grabbed my cloak and billowed it out to my side, revealing just how tattered the fabric had become in my fight. My wounds burned as the fabric pulled on them. I went to place my hands on the railing, and stumbled slightly when I realized that I had only one hand.
I stood like that for a time, watching the storm come in. It looked like a tempest of epic proportion. Footsteps approached me from behind.
"Lowin, Tower said that. . ." It was Malice's voice. I spun to face her, surprised that she had come. Her eyes went wide as they took in the wreckage before her. I knew my clothes, black through they were, were soaked with blood. Most of it wasn't mine.
"What happened?" She cried out, rushing across the last few paces between us. She didn't grab a hold of me, but instead she ghosted her hands over the wounds, afraid to touch the damage lest she cause me any further pain.
Tears formed in my eyes at her question, stinging to be released. I kept myself from blinking, knowing that if I did I would betray my own weakness. What could I tell her? How did you explain to someone you loved, that you were a terrible monster who had just murdered sixteen members of your own crew? I couldn't lie, and my silence would only hurt her worse.
"I've ended sixteen lives." I said numbly. "The black cloaks were going to revolt, so I faced them. I tried to stop things from coming to a fight, but I couldn't. I killed sixteen of them." My words sounded like an excuse. I was attempting to justify what I had done, but I knew my actions would never be justified. I would wear that burden for the rest of my days.
She reached out to me, touching a section of my arm relatively free of damage. "I know you Lowin, and I know you wouldn't have killed them unless you had to. You're not an evil man. Please don't look at me with those eyes." She pleaded, and I didn't know what look she meant. I could see the glassy reflection of tears in her green windows to her soul. Was she crying because she feared her words were false? Was she crying because she feared me? No, it wasn't the latter. I saw no fear in her eyes, only hurt.
"I'm sorry, Laouna." I hadn't meant to make her cry, and I certainly hadn't meant to kill all those men. My apology, my words that could offer no real compensation, was all that I could offer for all the wrongs I'd committed. How many more times would I need to do such things before I saved Kay? What would be left of me as a man when I was finally able to face my daughter again? I didn't know, but I was afraid. I was afraid there would be many more apologies, many more empty words that could never bring back those lost to my cause.
What I feared most, was the darkness in my memory. I remembered so much, so clearly, that the empty spots were the most terrifying part. I had lost control of myself again, like I had in the fight with the black drakes. In that moment of blind fury, I had become something more, and something immeasurably less, than a man.
Panic suddenly seized me. I reached up with my hand and touched my chest, pulling the fabric aside with ease, for it was torn to shreds anyway.
"What's wrong?" Laouna asked, seeing my sudden unease.
I ran my hand along my skin, and found that the fur that had stretched along my neck, at the line of my collar, had spread further down, creating a trail down the center of my chest. I had changed again, like I had after the battle with the drakes and the Hungering. I didn't know how far, but without looking I could feel the difference. I reached around to my back, and I could feel the progression of fur up the center of my spine, not covering my entire back, but far higher than it had been before. Those black spells, my loss of control, it was all costing me more than just my memory.
"I'm changing." I said, my voice a harsh whisper, mixed with fear and the pain of all that had transpired. "I'm afraid I'm losing myself." I added, after a moment.
Laouna threw her arms around me. "You're not changing, Lowin. You're the same man I've always loved. Do you remember . . ." She tried to assure me, and it seemed for a moment she was recalling something, but then it slipped away from her, and she sobbed and grabbed me harder instead. Her embrace hurt. Wounds reopened and began to bleed again. I did not flinch away though, her closeness made me feel real. However, her words and her love did little to quell the truth that lay before me. I was losing myself, small pieces at a time. Lowin Fenly was becoming something else. I put my arm around the woman I loved, and closed my eyes tightly, as if I could make everything but the feeling of her body and mine vanish.
Thunder rumbled through the sky, and I felt the first cold touches of rain. The storm was upon us.
My wounds healed over the course of two weeks, the severity of the major injuries taking a long time to completely become whole again. I forced myself to rest as much as possible, but the storm brewing outside drew me inexorably to the deck of the ship. It came in slowly, growing stronger every few days, until the rain lashed at the hull, a relentless torrent pelting the skin, and creating such a cacophony of noise as it drummed on the wood planking, that one could not clearly speak to a person standing directly next to them. The sea churned and tossed, creating swells that the ship rocked uneasily over. We had encountered such storms before, but none that lasted so long.
I was returning from the deck, the water sheeting off of my cloak, when I encountered Liet in the hallway leading to my room. He was carrying a sword. Not just any sword. He was carrying my sword. When he saw me, he stopped in the hall and waited for me to draw closer. There was no hostility in his stance. I had not seen my sword since I'd forgotten it in the black cloak commons weeks before. I'd known it was missing, but I couldn't bring myself to go back and get it. The metal gleamed in the hall lights. It had been cleaned and maintained by the looks of it. That scrap of metal, though a finely honed tool crafted with precision and care, had never seemed as ominous as it did at that moment. Its existence was a grim reminder of the battle that had taken place on the other side of the ship.
"I thought you might need this." Liet said as I approached him. He held the weapon out grip first. I hesitated to reach out and grab it. The leather wrapped hilt looked darker than it had been, as though it were stained with blood that could never be removed. I stayed my hand. A question burned in my mind.
"Is the woman, did she. . ." I hadn't asked anyone yet.
I hadn't seen any of the Brigade in days. I still did not know the fate of the woman that I had injured and almost killed. I was afraid to know. Had she died . . .
"She is fine. We stopped the bleeding, and she is recovering well. The child seems healthy, though we won't know for certain until it is born." Liet answered the unspoken question, reading the intent in my features, and the words I was too great a coward to speak.
Cool relief swept through me. It hardly helped the guilt I still felt, but it went a long way towards easing my mind. I had feared the worst. I reached out and took the sword hilt from Liet. The weapon felt warm in my hand, as though it were alive. I replaced it in the empty scabbard at my back, eager to get the feel of that tool out of my reach as soon as possible. The Fell Beast within me stirred at the touch of the bindings of my weapon hilt. It lurched forward in the darkness within me, testing the air. The handle of my weapon reminded it of death, blood, and battle, things it craved as a normal man craved a willing woman.