Benedict

by Jackson Bennett

  He was still chuckling to himself as his head and moustache clutching hand bounced across the rocks, coming to rest as his lifeless body slumped to the floor.

  Richard appeared from the shadows, his bloody sword clenched in his hand and a grim look on his face. Stepping to the decapitated head, he spat on it with all the contempt that he had, for the animal had deserved no less, bent down to clean his bloodied sword on the wretch’s clothing and then stalked towards the house and the promised blood bath that waited.

  The brothers had followed the guard to the house when he had entered and seen him and his men committing acts that were to foul for words. With revulsion in their hearts they had gone to the shadowed rocks to await his return. What they had seen could be dealt with in only one way by their laws.

  With tight eyes and clenched jaws they peered in through the un-curtained window at the single room beyond and the scene that had sickened them so.

  As before the bloodied and bruised woman was alone in the centre of the room, naked head slumped on her chest and tied to a chair, her arms bound behind her back and her legs hooked behind the chair legs, forcing her thighs apart. Bound hand and foot and unconscious in the corner were four more women, all of whom were covered in bruises and lacerations from where they too had been repeatedly assaulted.

  They waited there, until the men became too intoxicated with the wine and ale they were consuming to stand, collapsing to the floor in a drunken stupor, in the misguided certainty that their comrade who had left them earlier was watching over them.

  When the fifth and final soldier had succumbed to the effects of the powerful liquor, Richard slipped his pack from his back and returned his now clean sword to its scabbard, drew his belt knife, placed it between his teeth and entered the house, slipping silently in through the open window. Mark followed suit, but instead of using the window he entered via the open door on the other side of the room, so as to take the men from different sides and maximise their chances of surprise.

  Silently they approached the intoxicated and slumbering soldiers and dispatched them with a thrust of their knife to the main artery of the neck. As the men began to struggle, their bodies reacting to the loss of its precious liquid, they could do nothing, for their assailant’s full weight was brought to bear atop them.

  In less than a minute four of the men lay lifeless where they had minutes before slept, and in the corner, unconscious and bound hand and foot as were the women, was the fifth.

  When the threat was removed they untied the woman from the chair and covered her nakedness with one of the blanket’s the soldiers had strewn across the floor. Then carefully Richard lifted her to the floor, placing her next to the other women, who they also released and covered.

  When the five women were all together, Mark moved across to the window, drew the curtains and peered out from the side watching for any sign of danger, whilst Richard tried to gently rouse them.

  The first of the women to regain consciousness recoiled in fear at the sight of a man leaning over her, so Richard shuffled backwards on his haunches and tried to sooth her by keeping his voice low and calm and telling her she wasn’t in any danger and that they were friends.

  The woman glanced around the room as if expecting more attackers, the words that he was speaking apparently not registering, but on seeing the dead men she seemed to visibly relax, the words for the first time sinking in, but she kept her distance from the brothers not saying a word.

  “Where are your men?” asked Richard his voice gentle and compassionate.

  “They took them next door, so that they wouldn’t be interrupted in their games,” replied the woman who had been bound to the chair and who was still laying on the floor where they thought that she was still unconscious.

  She raised herself up, keeping the blanket in place with her elbows and stared at the dead men that now covered the floor.

  “Wait here Mark and look after the women,” Richard said as he left the room by the still open door.

  Leaving the relative warmth of the house and entering the cold night air, the fresh night breeze whipped the metallic smell of blood from his nose and silently he moved towards the dark adjacent building that sat brooding in the now dark landscape. Approaching the house with caution, as he had learned from personal experience that anything could be waiting for you behind a dark shadowed door, he drew his short sword he approached the door that had been left slightly ajar.

  The house was in total darkness, but Richard didn’t need any light to tell him what he already knew he would find within. The house was deathly silent and the smell carried on the wind emanated from within, which could only mean and come from one thing, eviscerated flesh.

  Covering his mouth with one hand and pushing open the door with the other, he peered inside, the light from the twin moons revealing the gruesome scene inside. Lying in the darkness in the middle of the floor were four men, stomachs sliced open and entrails spread across the floor, and eyes gauged out. They had died in a great deal of pain and judging by the look on their faces had taken a long time to do so.

  Richard closed the door behind him as he left, wiping the residue of vomit from his lips with his free hand.

  ***

  Above, in the rocks where minutes before the brothers had lain and watched, a Shadow now perched and scrutinized the scene below.

  It was difficult for it to focus, the smell of freshly slaughtered flesh fighting to overpower its intellect.

  Deep within the shadows of its body its stomach growled.

  It hadn’t tasted the sweet fatty meat for too long now.

  It could not deny itself any longer.

  The shadow melted into the night as if it had never been there, and as its bestial side reasserted itself, overpowering its intelligence, it sated its hunger on butchered flesh.

  ***

  When Richard returned the other women were awake, and were now sat hugging their legs to their chests, the blankets that had been placed upon them held tight, staring wide eyed at Mark. On seeing Richard enter they visibly recoiled, their backs trying desperately to merge with wall behind them.

  Richard glanced at Mark and shook his head almost imperceptibly. The woman who had been bound to the chair when they had first entered the building saw the gesture and bit her lip, then glancing at the other four she looked back at Richard, and seeming to have come to a decision rose to her feet.

  She came across to Richard “All of them?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Four! Yes,” he replied also in a whisper.

  A single glistening tear formed in the corner of her eye, but when she spoke her voice was steady. “Why are they here?” she asked indicating the dead men with her head.

  “We don’t know yet, that’s why he’s still alive,” said Mark, pointing at the unconscious man in the corner. “We need some answers.”

  With the realisation that one of her assailants was still alive the woman crossed the room to where he was lying tied, gagged and unconscious on the floor and swinging her leg as hard as she could kicked him in his manhood. He let out a grunt as somewhere within his alcohol riddled mind something registered, but remained unconscious, however both Mark and Richard flinched as the kick landed, but decided not to stop her as she wasn’t trying to kill him, yet.

  Leaving the unconscious man she went across to the other women, crouched down and told them that the men were gone. At the news they let out a combined whimper full of pain and loss and began to sob recoiling further behind their blankets. Richard and Marks faces showed remembered sorrow as the memory of their mother letting out a similar cry when Uncle Tom had told her about the death of their father flashed before their eyes; it was a cry neither one would ever forget.

  There was a fire in the hearth that only needed a little attention to get it to blaze, so Mark thought he would make the mo
st of it and cook some of the rations they had brought with them, besides the current situation with the women was one in which he felt out of his depth, so with the poker he shifted around the already burning logs, added a couple more, then placing the empty cooking pot on its metal grate he added water and some of his rations.

  Half an hour passed in almost total silence, the occasional sob from one or other of the women being the only sound, as Mark prepared the food and Richard kept watch. Then when the food was ready Mark offered the women some, which they accepted, and they all ate their share in silence.

  After he had eaten Richard approached the man they had captured earlier, who had been showing signs of recovery, and hauled him upright into a sitting position.

  “Who are you?” he asked him, the anger and hatred evident in his voice.

  There was no response as he was still groggy and seemed unable to comprehend what he was saying.

  Richard grabbed the bucket from the corner of the room into which the soldiers had been urinating and defecating, and threw the entire contents into the prisoners face. The man spluttered and shook his head, trying to clear the deluge of filth from his eyes, nose and unfortunately open mouth.

  “Who are you? Where do you come from? What are you doing here?” Richard demanded, holding the bound man by his soiled shirt.

  He just stared at Richard, looking him directly in the eyes with not a trace of fear in his face, just contempt, and without uttering so much as a sound he spat full force into Richards face, the remnants of the bucket splattering his cheeks and forehead.

  Richard glared at him and then punched him in the jaw, hard.

  The man just glared back, not showing any sign of pain as his jaw began to turn purple.

  “Let me try,” said Mark stepping alongside Richard. “Who are you?”

  There was no answer. Mark turned back to his brother.

  “Leave him to me; I know how to make him talk. We’ll have a good chat and let you know what he has to say. You look after the ladies,” he added, indicating with a wave of his hand that he should remove usher them outside and out of view.

  Richard turned to the women and wiping the spittle from his face, ushered them out of the door and into the cold night air.

  The women pulled the clothing that they had retrieved from the floor and the dead men tightly about themselves, having taken the opportunity to dress whilst the food was cooking, to ward against the cold and the dark, whilst at the same time trying to grip tightly to the weapons they had found amongst the equipment of and on the dead men, who now had several wounds that would have without a doubt have killed them, if they had not been so already.

  Screams, full of pain and hate began within the house they had just left, and upon hearing them, the women began to recoil and withdraw again into a huddled group.

  The screaming didn’t last long, and moments later Mark left the house via the door, motioning Richard to one side.

  “As we suspected they were Prith mercenaries,” he half whispered. “He claimed he didn’t know who it was who had hired them just that they paid extremely well. They were told to keep away from the major cities as they weren’t their concern, but they were to scour the rest of the area for any signs of resistance and to eliminate it on sight.” He showed Richard a map. “He had this on him, all the large towns are marked and some of the larger villages,” he finished pointing out a few.

  “It looks like they got a bit side tracked,” replied Richard glancing at the women.

  “What do we do with them,” asked Mark, inclining his head towards the huddled women. “They can’t stay here and if we take them with us they will only slow us down. Besides he said that there were hundreds of them out there searching the land.”

  “We change our plan,” said Richard. “We have no way of telling how many mercenaries there are between us and the ice wastes, so we head for Fire Mountain and seek help there, its common knowledge that no one lives in that area so there should only be a few, if any, mercenaries there looking for people.”

  “But you know more than anyone that we are forbidden to enter there unless invited,” said Mark looking at Richard with obvious concern on his face.

  “I know but we have no choice, we can go no other way. You’ve seen the map and heard what he said,” Richard said indicating the mercenary in the house with his head, “and besides, Rosemary wouldn’t turn me away not when our lives are all in danger.” The last was spoken in hope rather than certainty.

  “I pray your right, but if you are wrong we all suffer!” said Mark shaking his head, still not happy with the idea of entering the forbidden lands of magic.

  “I know of no other way out of this,” Richard finished returning to the women and telling them their plan.

  They listened in silence as he explained the risks that were involved, and when he asked if any would like to accompany them they were hesitant, all of them reluctant to leave their homes, with the exception of the one who had been tied to the chair who was understandably eager to leave.

  However they had no choice, they knew that to stay there could mean coming face to face with another squad of soldiers and besides, their men were gone, so they followed the brothers lead trusting to those that had rescued them to see them safe.

  Mark returned to the house and gathered together all the provisions that he could find and some of the more useful and manageable weapons, and returning they headed off northeast, leaving four blazing buildings behind them and the acrid smell of burning human flesh on the wind.

  ***

  The Shadow recoiled at the smell of burning flesh that came from the burning carnal house, its hidden nose wrinkling in disgust as the sweet metallic smell of blood was replaced by the foul odour of cooked flesh.

  Such a waste.

  It had been gorging itself within the dark building when the fire had been started, unaware at first that anything was wrong. Then as the acrid smoke had cut through the blood haze, it had fled, unable to save its meal.

  It had slipped away then, flitting across the shadows that the roaring flames cast, passing through the walls of the burning building as if they hadn’t been there.

  From the shadowed recesses of the volcanic rocks, it took one last, wistful look at the fire ravaged building, and then it turned to follow the two men and their new charges.

  Just as it was about to leave it caught a scent on the breeze almost hidden by the foul smell that all but filled its senses.

  It followed the scent past the decapitated remains of the guard on which it had already feasted, to some undergrowth at the bottom of the fields that ran from the back of the houses. There it found a naked corpse, which by the smell had been dead a couple of days.

  The shadow pulled the corpse free and began to feast on the rotting flesh, a poor substitute for fresh meat, noting as it did so the face which had had the skin completely removed. Pausing in its feasting it sniffed the air more delicately than before.

  “Could it be,” it thought, then the blood lust descended once more and it returned to its meal.

  Chapter Eight

  The Voldounar Revealed

  The women at first were full of energy, eager to be moving away from the carnage that had been their lives until that morning, but as the fullness of night began to settle its weight upon the land it seemed to settle heaviest on their shoulders, causing their pace to slow and falter until they could go on no-longer.

  Richard called a halt and they stopped then, in a sheltered dead ended ravine, out of the cold mountain wind and made camp for what remained of the night. The women huddled together in part to keep out the cold, but in the main to keep their personal demons at bay.

  The two brothers settled down at the entrance to the ravine, their backs to their grieving charges and scanned the night shrouded land for any sign of pursuit or da
nger, and as night passed with the men taking it in turns to sleep there was almost complete silence from the women behind them.

  The breaking of the dawn light revealed a land that was on fire.

  Dotting the landscape around them were dozens of columns of thick, black smoke that could signify only one thing; more death and misery. The only direction that was left untouched, because no-one lived there, was north-east towards Fire Mountain and their destination.

  Richard woke Mark and for several minutes the brothers watched with heavy hearts the columns of smoke rising into the air, where they were swept along by the winds. Rousing the women from their fitful dreams, they instructed them to eat some cold food, silencing any argument the women might have had by pointing to the smoke filled sky.

  Once they had all eaten their fill of cold meats and bread, they gathered their belongings and set of once more in silence along the smokeless corridor towards Fire Mountain, this time at a slower pace and with frequent stops for them all to gather their strength.

  As the day of bone weary travel neared its end the woman who had been bound to the chair approached them and spoke.

  “I would like to thank you for your assistance and for all you have done. My name is Dorina.”

  “Richard.”

  “Mark,” they replied.

  “You are welcome,” they added as one.

  “What brings you out this way?” she asked.

  “There is some kind of strong magic in the city and for some reason we appeared to have been the only ones not affected by it, and outside there are Prith mercenaries roaming the land killing everyone that they can find,” Richard told her. “So we were heading north to find Benedict in the hope that he can explain what is going on, when we found you and those animals,” he explained having to refrain for spitting in disgust at the last.

  “It is a long time since I spoke of him, not since my days in the Voldounar,” Dorina said shaking her head at the memory of Benedict.