The night was silent as the grave, only the crunching of brush underfoot broke the suffocating silence, and the moon was shrouded by the night so that none might see that which lurked in the dark. I could feel them, the wretched creatures that sought after our lives.

The winds caresses against my bare skin left me feeling vulnerable, fearful even for I did not wish to watch more of my brethren perish. Of the brethren, only Dimitry and Sir Bernard had been properly armed when they struck in the dead of night, seeking to catch us unaware. The rest of us carry only that which was within reach in our moment of surprise.

And...

They had seen success, half our number was taken from us.

Eclaire, Dimitry, Peter, Nicholas I will remember you unto my death when we are received into glory.

“Vengeance belongs to God.” I murmur quietly under my breath. “He shall surely requite the sinner for his sins and avenge the blood of his servants.”

It is not the villager who are worthy of death, they’re merely unwitting vessels bound in slavery. Subjugated to the heathen by means of their witchcraft. A fate crueler than death and deserving of pity rather than devilish malice.

Faint buzzing one hundred and twenty degrees to my left, it will reach me in...

Now, with a weightless flick of my blade and a flash of white flame, I sever the creatures wings and crush it underfoot.

Eyes darting through shadow in search for my enemy, those around me doing similarly as they brace themselves for the coming assault.

More follow, a raucous cacophony of buzzing which I can hardly track. Too many for thought or consideration to take place, instead I rely on God to guide my hand as my surroundings blur and my blade moves with haste.

Four or five are cleaved with every swing, the flames bursting forth from their cadavers keeping their kin at bay for fear of being consumed by proximity to the holy fire. They flood us carefully, not flying so close that their burning brethren will affect them yet close enough that they will inevitably find a gap and enter into our formation.

“Hold and stand your ground!” Bernard bellows.

From behind, one latches onto my neck and gnaws. Another and another and another until all my exposed skin is consumed and I am flayed even before the first had finished burrowing into my neck.

Hellish burning agony, a terrible creeping sensation all across me as they crawl across all my skinless flesh and I can do nothing to them. To stop would be leave the rear unguarded, to allow my brethren to be devoured, to forsake my honor for cowardice.

Into my eye sockets they crawl and their ravenous hunger leaves me blinded.

“God, grant thy servant strength.” I scream and they crawl into my mouth, blood seeping down my face from empty sockets. “MHMHM MFFH!”

A blistering warmth floods the areas, those creatures wriggling, crawling, chewing are all returned to dust, their incineration intimately felt.

“Chkuack...” I can hardly breathe, hacking and gasping as I seek desperately for air while my body vomits back up the ash within my lungs. Radiating numbness fills me entirely, not the burning exhaustion born from exercise or the stinging pain of wounds but an altogether deeper breed of weakness. “Is it poison?”

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‘Or, am I dying?’ I say silently as I fall to my knees, hacking up and vomiting dust mixed with blood.

Thump, crunch, splat I am drenched from behind where Bishop Leonard had stood.

For a split second I consider, deriving my answers more from intuition than reason because I do not have time. He had moved from his initial position, the sound of his demise and how far the gore had traveled tells me this.

‘Lord, may my guess be truth and my blade strike true.’

Churning rage gestates in whatever remains of my guts and my pain is forgotten as I rise, with speed driven by righteous fury, and strike with all my might from overhead, for it is certain that-

“My blade slays evil!” I roar in what is more a gasp than a proper war cry, even so the pungent smell of singed meat assaulting my nose lets me know God had answered my prayer.

Before my sword hits earth, I swerve and pull upward, cleaving it into three burning pieces instead of two. Even so, it does not stop. The parts untouched crawl as if they have a mind of their own, gripping me with hooks as its appendages shred meat with the merest of touches.

There is no thought in me, reason had left my spirit and only mindless struggle remained in its place.

The beast is dead and my consciousness leaves me.

The world shook beneath me, I was fastened to a heap of metal and held by shifting bands of steel. Insulated by strips of garment wrapped around every inch of my flesh.

I am alive, the beast's remnants had been taken off from me.

Gasping breaths are inhaled and exhaled as we move in a slow jog.

“Let me down.” I tell him though my dry aching throat, the merest twitch all the response I get to know that he’s heard me. “Release me, this is a burden you cannot carry. Not here, not now when heresy so grotesque is chasing us from behind, nipping at our very heels.”

I am paid no heed and exhaustion gives way to fury, a burning rage lit within my heart by the knowledge, the undeniable guilt, of being the one who would hold back our report.

“I said, RELEASE ME!” I roar at the older man, a pang of shame flaring over raising my voice against one so honorable. For as long as I had known him, Sir Bernard’s conduct has been beyond reproach. In war he’s well reputed for being practical, fierce, and mighty with the sword. So, quieting myself with a penitent heart, I speak again. “Why must the fate of so many be risked for a mere man, do you not know? I would be happy to die so our that our brethren may live. So, lay me down. If God is willing, it is even possible that you will save my life.”

He gradually slows, gently lowering me to the ground.

“I am sorry, Brother.”

“You have given no offense, neither against the against the divine or I have you offended.” I grasp at my side in search for a blade as I unsteadily get to me feet. “Now, hand me my blade so that I can fight. In your path will I wait, causing all who seek after you to pass by me and be cut down. If death shall come, pray for me that it’ll be one worthy of heaven.”

“Yes, you are right.” Bernard says, the jostling of his armor and sword resounding as he rises. “It is not your time, I do not believe God would set such a light only for it to be snuffed out so soon. Take care, I will return and, with the power of Christ, shall we purge the evil from His lands.”

“I shall, but depart now.” I say, the aching pain returning to my throat now that my soul’s fire has subsided. “It is not good to waste time and my voice grows sore from talking with you.”

With not another word more, I hear his steps as he walks further from me and I am left alone. Suddenly, alone and in utter darkness, death sounds more terrifying a concept than ever before.

As I stumble about, my foot trips upon a root and I fall to my knees. I crawl, on my hands and knees, getting a lay of the land and searching for a clearing.

Small, not over ten feet in diameter, I find my spot and dedicate a little while longer to understanding it by touch. Sitting, I place my blade across my lap and meditate upon my surroundings. Engraving the map into my memory and straining my senses to see without sight.

Every moment is agonizing, the fear of foes unseen stronger than ever.

An anticipation which is broken by the rustling of brush in the distance. Perhaps, if I laid here, it might be possible for them to pass by unnoticed...

Without another thought I rise, bellowing my challenge.

“Come, Sir Roland stands here ready to die! My blade desires to spill the blood of murderers and demons, will you quench it? Or shall you run, craven in the face of he who fights for God!”

Why?

Why did I do that?

I am one; blind, broken, and without my armor. They are many, fearless of death and indifferent to pain. My challenge will hardly even stop them, no sane commander would send more than a few.