~Thorben~
Thorben was using his active meditation technique to its maximum effectiveness. He was able to keep himself under control, but he couldn’t prevent his eyes as they flashed with bluish light. He lowered his gaze, hoping no one else would notice. His rage was under control, if barely, but the bile creeping up his throat threatened to betray him. Tanrin opened his mouth to greet the guards, but the sight struck him like a physical blow, leaving him speechless.
“You like our landscaping?” an oafish looking guard asked. The man laughed and slapped his thigh like he was a right jester. The others followed his lead, cackling like a bunch of mentally challenged hyenas. “We felt like the atmosphere needed to be especially welcoming for guests. This allows for all that positive energy to filter around the space.”
“Umm… I think you meant flow, Sergeant. The positive energy flows around the space.” A second man said.
The sergeant stopped laughing, turned and punched the man in the nose. The guard fell backwards and clutched his bloody nose. “What’d I say about correcting me, Private?!”
“Sorry, Sergeant Brantley.”
As quick as he had stopped laughing, he started again. “Yeah, we felt like the decor really allowed that positive energy to flow around the space. So, where’s this coin you offered me?”
Thorben took in the surrounding scene. It was the stuff of nightmares! Cages lined the eastern wall to Thorben’s right, with actual fucking corpses withering away to nothing lying in them. Straight ahead were rows of pikes driven into the ground with bloody humanoid skulls jabbed onto the top, and to the left were evil looking torture equipment.
“Would you care to explain what in the fucking chthonic realm is going on here?” Tanrin said, all pretense of joviality gone in a heartbeat. The guards seemed to think that this was hilarious and laughed as they slapped each other on their backs. Thorben could see his brother’s hand shaking in rage.
“We are about to do our morning training. Care to join us?” the sergeant asked, plucking a dull, rusty knife off a guard’s belt and tossing it at Tanrin’s feet. “I should clarify that you can join us, one way or another. After which I will collect my coin and guide you to the Duke.” He gestured to the knife, and then to a skeletal figure, little more than a bundle of rags.
Tanrin picked up the knife, non threateningly. He wanted to give the impression that he wasn’t sure about the implication of picking it up. He needed time to find an opening to act. The Sergeant smiled, and they walked towards the morning’s torture victim. As they got closer, Tanrin glanced up at the towers, then at Thorben, and then at the surrounding guards. Thorben had gotten the message. They had to eliminate the tower guards and allow no one to escape after they made their move. Thorben counted one guard on each of the four towers. They were more than likely manning a skeleton crew, not expecting trouble. He also assumed that there was a guard still up guarding the portcullis’ controls. From this distance, he couldn’t tell if all the guards were on alert, or if the apparent lack of military discipline had infected them as well. As they neared the figure, he heard his brother’s gasp. All thoughts of sticking to a plan fled his mind as he raised his eyes. “A fucking kid?!” Thorben’s Katana was instantly in his hands. The shocked looks of the guards didn’t even register in his mind as he fired off two consecutive lightning arrows at the heads of the guards on the two towers closest to the inner courtyard. As their head popped into something resembling mashed yams, Tanrin had pulled his throwing knives and cut his travel pack straps to reveal the head of his battleaxe. He lodged his throwing knives in the throats of the two closest guards, ending their lives before almost as quickly as the tower guards. The heads of the front two tower guards similarly found themselves relieved of their position on the men’s shoulders.
Thorben felt the drain on his mana but estimated he had a couple of bolts left if needed. He barely kept his rage in check. He wanted nothing more than to let loose and replay the events with the bandits. Thorben risked a glance at his brother and saw Tanrin had engaged the remaining two guards. “The rest are down. Focus on them. Sergeant Sadistic is mine.” He heard himself call out as if someone else were speaking. As he stepped towards the Sergeant, he lowered his hood and raised his Katana. “I am going to take my time killing you.”
He had to give the Sergeant credit. The man had quickly suppressed the flash of fear Thorben had seen in his eyes. “You killed a handful of guardsman and privates. You’ll find sergeants are a lot tougher.” He drew his standard issue side-sword, which was immaculate and sharp. It didn’t compare to his soul weapon, but it showed the man at some point had been professional. Thorben settled into his battle stance and took measure of his opponent’s movements. The mans seme indicated training and confidence, someone who had seen the horrors of war and enjoyed them. Thorben closed quickly to set the tone of the battle, showing the man he wasn’t alone in possessing ‘seme.’
The two warriors tested each other with various combat forms. Parry, counter, parry, counter. It was as if the battle had a heartbeat. It had a twisted sense of beauty to it. They were both focused on ending the other’s life. If they hadn’t been, they might have noticed Tanrin releasing the child from the rack and moving him to relative safety. They may have even seen the guardsman manning the portcullis attempting to flee towards the inner courtyard, only to be stopped by a throwing knife from Tanrin that severed his spine. Yet, they saw none of that as their entire beings were at one with the chaotic dance of battle. Both sported minor cuts and bruises. The Sergeant had a small gash above his right eye that was causing some difficulty with his vision.
People think that grand finishing moves that fell enemies win battles. That can be true, but often in a duel it is the thousand cuts of weakening that determine the victor. Thorben switched his approach to targeting his opponent’s right side. A nick on the upper arm here, a slash to the leg there. Slowly but surely, the Sergeant was losing. Strength flowed out of his body as his blood soaked the ground.
Strategy was just as important as skill in battle. Thorben had fallen into a pattern of focusing on the Sergeant’s right side to lure him into a specific situation. He slowly guiding the Sergeant to counter with a lunge. The moment he saw the decision flash across his enemy’s eyes, he unleashed a weak lightning arrow into the thigh of his enemy’s lunging leg, causing it to give out. He stepped to the side, feeling the air as the side-sword passed a hair’s breadth from his skin. The rush of energy that accompanied correctly anticipating your foe’s combat instinct was exhilarating. He followed up with a downward stroke that removed the man’s sword arm from his body. Thorben attacked relentlessly as the man screamed in pain. Thorben knew it was borderline cruelty, but as far as he was concerned, the Sergeant still had to serve penance.
That the Sergeant hadn’t lost consciousness yet was a testament to his constitution. With the images of the cages in his mind, Thorben’s rage needed satiated. Simply ending the man wouldn’t do it. His Katana claimed one foot, and then the other. He couldn’t figure out how to cauterize the wounds like before. Sergeant Brantley was losing blood and something told him what to do next, something ethereal, almost guiding his actions. Thorben bent down, grabbed him by his hair, and whispered in his ear, “Your soul is mine,” as he stabbed him in the heart. He felt a howling wind get sucked into his sword, and then it was done. He stood up and dismissed his Katana.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
***
Experience Gained!
***
Aldwin had trained him on customizing his HUD, so he adjusted it so that the notification would be a flashing light in the very corner of his vision. As he exited his HUD, the sound of metal rattling brought back to the world around him. Then his brother’s words registered, “Search him for a key.” It didn’t take long and after a quick search, Thorben ripped a set of worn metal keys from the Sergeant’s belt and threw them to Tanrin, who went to work taking the chains off of the kids’ ankles and wrists.
Thorben took additional time to search the Sergeant for anything else of value. After draining him of his coin, he took the side-sword and sheathe and held it out to his brother. It was a well-crafted piece. Though not up to his father’s exacting standards, it would still fetch a fair amount of coin. “Want this?” He asked, as he looked over towards his brother.
A wave of shame washed over him. As he was looting this dead corpse, his brother was unlocking cages looking for survivors. Tanrin was hoping for the best, but it wasn’t looking good. Regardless, he had been indulging in petty greed rather than trying to do good. He marched over to his brother, whose eyelids were holding back unshed tears, and arms quivering with anger. “Any luck?” Thorben’s voice was soft. Tanrin shook his head and kept working his way down the row lining the wall.
Upon reaching the last cells, the hope that remained fled. Their optimism was trickling sand in an hourglass. Tanrin’s movements had become automatic. Insert key, turn, pull door, gently check for life, sigh in disappointment, and repeat. Tanrin approached the second to last cage and heard a soft whimpering. The leathery skin of a woman, slightly trembling, caught his eye. Tanrin knelt down and gently rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Ma’am, can you hear me?” He asked with a gentle shake. Her body was rigid and Thorben knew she was gone, yet her corpse shook again. As Tanrin rolled it over, he yelled, “Thorben! Get over here!” Devastation warred with outrage in his brother’s words.
He knew he would forever remember the woman’s face. Sunken, haunted eyes stared at her, glazed over in death’s embrace. Dried blood covered her mouth, and her skin was leathery and discolored. That wasn’t what shocked him, though. It was the smaller skeletal figure, with loose fitting tattered rags that was attempting to scuttle to the corner of the cage, that broke his heart. Every slight shift of weight elicited a whimper from the emaciated child. He knelt down and tried to speak in a calm voice. “We are here to help you, little one.” He wanted nothing more than to sit back and cry with the child held safety in his arms. Gods’ damned! What evil did this to a fucking child?
“We have food and water. Let us take you to a safe place.” Thorben reached out his hand as if attempting to calm a panicked animal. The child attempted to lash out, a sound resembling a hiss escaped its lips, but the one attempt was all the energy the child had left. As the kid’s head was about to hit the ground, Thorben’s unnatural reflexes kicked in. His hand broke the fall, and he lifted the unconscious child out of the cage. Tears silently trickled down his cheeks. Cheeks wet, Tanrin crossed the adult figure’s arms and closed her eyes in a gesture meant to honor the woman’s sacrifice.
The guards’ shack that controlled the portcullis was unlocked and relatively secure. They lay the children down on a couple of blankets that they found. The boy looked around 13 summers of age and was despondent but awake. The child from the cage, a young girl, was still unconscious. Tanrin gathered what little food and water they had brought and scavenged from the soldiers. He then knelt down by the boy. A flicker of fear passed over the boy’s face as his gaze settled on Thorben’s. Damn debuff. “We are going to end the Duke’s reign. To do that, we need to leave you two here for a short while.” To his credit, the boy didn’t look away. Thorben could tell the boy was barely holding it together and needed something to focus on. “I need someone to watch over this young girl. Can I count on you?”
The boy’s eyes lit up in recognition, as if seeing the girl for the first time. He shifted his body in front of her protectively. A flame of defiance flickered to life in his eyes. On instinct, Thorben passed the sheathed side-sword. He knew the boy wouldn’t be able to lift it, much less wield it in combat, but that didn’t matter. Distractions could be powerful. The boy needed a mission, something to focus on and keep the memories at bay. Thorben was going to give him that. A strange look ignited on the boy’s face. It told Thorben the boy saw him in a different light. He had recognized Thorben wasn’t an enemy. Definitely not friendly, but not an enemy.
Tanrin brought over the food and water. The boy gulped the water and jumped a bit when Thorben nuzzled the water canteen down. “Easy kid, sips for a while. Let your stomach adjust. Same for the food. Help the girl when she awakes. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Stay here, and stay hidden.” The brothers left the guard shack, weapons in hand. Their killing was intent on full display.
After crossing the moat bridge separating the inner keep from the outer, Thorben peeked around the corner of the wall. Knowing the best option was to use the building’s interior as cover to avoid being noticed in the courtyard, they eased into the first door. Their eyes adjusted to the darkness as realization dawned on them. They were in the guards’ room. Cots with footlockers lined the simple rectangular room. Their eyes widened in surprise as they realized that half the cots had off duty guards sleeping in them.
There would be no mercy. The atrocities inside the walls of this keep proved, at least to Thorben, that there wasn’t a single person here worth redeeming. There was no honor in battle, just results. Rules of engagement were for debating nobles. Warriors did what was necessary and embraced the consequences. This lesson flashed through his brain, and Thorben knew his soul would forever be scarred. He also knew he would gladly accept that price after what he had seen. Come what may, he would live with the memories. It was common knowledge that it was sheer folly to ignore a gift from the gods, no matter the personal cost.
Silently, Thorben grabbed his brother’s attention and drew his finger across his throat. Tanrin nodded, and they both began the grisly work of culling as many of the sleeping guards as possible before one awoke. Thorben slipped from cot to cot. One hand over the mouth, he would slide his soul blade effortlessly through the sleeping guards’ necks. Despite nearly decapitating the men, it was silent. Similarly, Tanrin clamped down on guards’ mouths and jabbed a throwing knife into the side of their necks. Waiting for the lifeblood to stop flowing before moving to the next person. As Thorben reached the last remaining guard, Tanrin grasped his arm and stayed the man’s execution. He indicated they should question this one.
A few minutes later, the last guard provided the information they needed. It had taken little effort on their part. Awakened to a hand over his mouth and knife against his throat, his fate was sealed. Thorben stood before him, Katana in hand, and gestured to the surrounding bodies. Information flowed in an attempt to stave off his own death. The man had moved from grim acceptance, to snotty tears with a piss stain spreading in his blanket, to begging incoherently. With a callousness that Thorben didn’t know he possessed, he ended the man with a thrust of his sword straight into the heart. Staring into the man’s eyes as his life fled, he felt no remorse. He should feel at least a twinge of something, instead he was numb. Evil like this didn’t belong in the world. It shouldn’t exist, he wouldn’t let it.
***
Experience Gained!
Level Up! You have reached level 3.
(170/375 to Level 4)
***
Apparently, whatever god responsible for the rewarding of experience didn’t care if the enemies were asleep, though he only got credit for his kills and not those of his brother. Each kill was a weight on his soul, regardless of the situation. He felt the weight of each life fall on his shoulders.
Aside from the Duke, the keep had a garrison of 30 guards, the Lieutenant that oversaw them, the duke’s youngest son, and a skeleton crew of staff. Apparently, the Duke had progressively sent more and more of his garrison out into the countryside to gather wealth and recruit bandits. Most of the keep’s non-guard staff had perished in the cages in the outer courtyard for displeasing the Duke. After a quick count of their progress so far, they figured there were about six guards remaining. The remaining guards were in the great hall and served as the Duke’s personal guardians. The time to confront the man behind the plague of darkness had arrived.