Arman trudged through the still wet sand, following the group he had been directed with. He pulled the coat he was wearing tighter around, bringing the dark red collar up to its full height around his neck and the back of his head. He was glad no one had really paid him any mind during the voyage. If they had, they would have noticed the rich weave in his clothing.
A casual glance at him, or a view from a distance, and a person could easily mistake Arman for a down on his luck mercenary. That’s the story he was sticking with for the voyage. But the truth was he could probably well be the most prepared mercenary on this whole expedition.
Under his dark red cloak was some slight scale armour, well oiled to make sure it made no noise. He was cautious here. Armour such as this was not common now, and he was glad no one had found it.
But that was his job. To blend with the crowd and go unnoticed.
His feet sunk into the sand as he continued onwards. They were heading further north up the beach, trying to stay in the open as much as they could to begin with. The men on the outside were carrying lanterns and their way was well lit. The trouble would start once they entered the trees. So the Mate in charge decided to go up north first then enter when they were closer to the mountains.
It was strange to see mountains shaped such on an island. They seemed to roll in a straight line directly to the cliffs they had spotted in the centre of the island, as if blocking something. But that was neither here nor there now. What matter was that Arman was not where he needed to be.
He had done well pretending to be a hand on the ship. They had needed to help out a bit, and he knew little of sailing, but as long as he helped, no one paid him any mind. When he had been hired it had been like everyone else.
The captains, Morgan and Francis, had put the word out around the docks that they were seeking men for a trip. It had surprised him though that they made no effort to hide where they were going, or what they were doing.
He had made his way to the Dragon Boat Inn where they had set themselves up. The line had been out the door, waiting to speak with them. He had just joined on to the end of it. Slowly it had moved, the mercenaries talking amongst themselves. He had kept quiet though.
Eventually he found his way to the front of the queue, face to face with the two Captains. Francis had not looked very impressive; Arman had wondered how this man had become a sailor at all. He was like a barrel with legs and arms. But Arman wasn’t one to argue.
Morgan though, was more than he had expected. He knew he was from across the other side of the Great Ocean, which separated Tuerleroi and the Western continent from the Eastern continent. He wasn’t sure which part Morgan was from, but he wouldn’t like to mess with them.
Morgan was solid. He wasn’t overly tall, but he filled his coat out completely. He looked like he would hold his own in a fight, and had at one time or another. His face was rugged and sharp, a few days of stubble on his chin, and hard eyes. He was not a man to mess with, and Arman knew he would need to be cautious around him. His superiors hadn’t warned him who he was following, maybe they hadn’t really known.
They had both looked at him briefly, and then Francis had spoken.
“So you wish to come on our voyage?”
Arman kept his voice low, he didn’t like speaking loud at all, and couldn’t remember the last time he had raised his voice much above a whisper.
“That is why I am here.”
“To be sure. Now, Captain Morgan does not wish to hide what we are doing. So he is making everything common knowledge. It’s not like it would be hard to figure out though. Lord de Frauglin has hired Captain Morgan, and subsequently me, to capture for him a dangerous creature,” Francis paused for a moment as Morgan pointed to a nearby table, catching Arman’s eye.
What was on the table had made him start a little, and he shivered. A creature larger than any dog he had seen was on it, obviously dead, gutted and stuffed by the look of it. But the head had been kept in tact, and the jaws were monstrous, the teeth razor sharp. As he was sure most people thought, it would pack a punch if you were to run into it head on.
He turned back to the Captains.
“So he wants us to catch one of them?”
“Yes. It’s that simple. We sail out to where they have been seen on an uncharted island, capture it, and bring it back here.”
“If it’s so simple, why such a large number of men?”
“Are your eyes troubling you?” Francis shook his head, “Never mind, just give me your name and come back here tomorrow morning. Lord de Frauglin is paying one silver piece per day, payable to any who survive the round trip.”
“Bailey.”
Francis scribbled the name down and waved him out of the way.
Arman walked off to the side, staring at the creature for a while longer. He wasn’t sure what the Governor had in store yet. But he had been told to get aboard the ships and watch Morgan. This complicated things a little bit, but he was sure he could still complete his mission. The Governor knew something about this island, and he wanted his eyes there. He had even given Arman a special scroll, which he wasn’t sure of its function yet. He had never seen the like. He had been given instructions on its use, but not its affect. But he was no one to argue.
He had walked out of the Inn, taking a look at the people who were waiting to sign their names up. Most were regular mercenaries, seeking the fortune that was offered. But two drew his eyes, because they stood out from the others. They were leaning close, whispering to each other.
He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was their appearance that made him take note of them. One was certainly not a mercenary. He was short and slight, and didn’t look like he had actually carried a weapon of any sorts ever. The other man was the complete opposite. He was tall and wore leather armour, carrying a bow across his back and a short sword at his side.
He looked very much like he was from the forest temple of XXX, where they trained their priests to be warriors and hunters. The ones in town were more of a proper priesthood. But from the forest, they were tough. And were often used as guards for the regular priests.
This had Arman confused, and made him sure now there was more to this voyage than he had originally considered. If other parties were taking interest in it too, then it must be something special.
He had continued on his way them.
His foot striking rock brought him from his reverie then, and he focused on the group he was with again. He needed to follow Morgan, that was the man who would find whatever was here. And the Governor had said to follow Morgan specifically. Being with this group would cause him problems.
He had considered slipping away from them, but that would cause just as many. He had to be seen following orders for everyone to ignore him. He’d be down for traitor if he slipped away. He had found another way though; they just needed to enter the trees.
The Mate called a halt to the group. The sailors stopped fairly quickly, but it took some of mercenaries a little while to figure out what was happening. There were fifteen men all told, including Arman, and they would be no trouble for him. A few sailors, but mostly a mish-mash of mercenaries.
They had trust upon him a musket as they had left. Which he was glad of, it was better than carrying the supply packs, which a number of men were doing. It would have caused him problems with his plan. He could discard the musket easily though. He held it up now though, as the other men were doing, as the mate prepared them to enter the trees.
The five men holding the lanterns were brought into a close circle, with the five musket bearers between them and the Mate taking a spot up front. The supply carriers were in the middle of the circle. They were all close together now; ready for anything that might happen.
Slowly they walked into the trees, the night pushing in hard around them, blanketing them thickly in its darkness. The lanterns shed enough light to walk by, but the trees were close together here, and the light wasn’t thrown very far. Still they walked. He needed to time this correctly. If he didn’t, then it would not work, and he could afford no errors in this unknown territory.
They walked for some time, coming across deer tracks, and various other animals. The mercenaries were becoming careless, unfocused. It was nearly time.
A short howl sounded ahead of them, masked by the thick trees and the darkness. It wasn’t far in front of them. Arman stayed where he was, but all the other muskets were suddenly pointed in the direction of the sound. The men at the back came towards the front, lending an extra gun for what lay ahead of them.
Arman was appalled that they could be so stupid.
He turned and looked quickly behind them. A small noise came from the bushes, barely audible, but he had sensed it was coming.
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The man at the back screamed as the back of his legs were torn to shreds by the teeth of the creatures. Only Arman saw the creatures, and only for the brief time it was there. He agreed with the rest of them, they were daemons.
The lantern fell to the ground and went out, the man followed, screaming. All feeling below his knees lost as the muscle and nerves are torn. He shouldn’t have turned around. The men with the muskets turned back around quickly, pointing them at the screaming man.
The remaining men with the lanterns moved in close, and two came over to shed light on the flailing man. He would not last long, the creature had severed his main artery, and he was quickly bleeding to death on the ground. For this he was glad of his scale armour, especially the greaves he wore behind the trousers. The only restricted his movement slightly.
A thud from the front came to them, and a short scream. Everyone swung around to face the new sound, the dying man forgotten. Lanterns were swung over to the front again, to see a musket lying on the forest flaw. Lines in the dirt say the man carrying the musket had been dragged away.
This was Arman’s moment. There was confusion in the group. One man was screaming as he died, and another had been dragged away. The Mate was at a loss for what to do. Arman saved him the decision though.
He flicked his wrist quickly, triggering the mechanism hidden in the oversized coat sleeves. A quick swoosh and from his coat sleeves slid two weapons. They were interesting weapons he had designed himself on a whim, now they were coming in handy. Each weapon consisted of three long piece of steel, curled over at the end, and sharpened to a fine point. The middle prong was slightly longer than the other two. All three prongs were then attached to a piece of metal that sat in an armband of leather that he had created. It went right up to his elbow. When not in use they slid along the leather up into his sleeve, and a quick flick sent them sailing out. A another piece of metal connected the three prongs together, then curled around on both ends, with a gap between where his hand could slid into and hold on to such as a handle.
He flicked his hands into them now, dropping the musket. It wasn’t loaded; he couldn’t be bothered with that. But the noise of it landing startled the Mate and he turned to look. The others hadn’t noticed yet.
Arman twisted on his heel, spinning his body around, arm outstretched and hand twisted around. The middle prong caught the Mates throat and sliced into it easily. Before he could say anything he started gurgling as the blood rose up to his mouth. He dropped to his knees and then fell on his face.
The men started dropping their supplies. Not only were they facing a threat from without now, but also from within, as the quiet man in the red coat suddenly started swirling and twisting his body.
Arman’s legs moved nearly as fast as his arms, keeping his balance, making it look more like a dance of death rather than a fight. He was amongst them quickly, before they really had time to react.
He caught the first man under the chin, lifting him into the air, and then bringing his arm down quickly to release the prongs. His left arm flicked out and caught another man on the should, causing him to scream in pain as he was then dragged forward and down, Arman’s knee connecting with his chin and he too was down.
They were gathering their wits now. Or was that losing them. He saw, as he span, the musketeers turning to face him, their weapons trying to keep track of his movements. One of them fell down, dropping the loaded musket. It fired off into the air. He flailed on the ground as he was dragged away. So fast no one could grab him.
Arman twisted again. There was no confusion when everyone was your enemy. His right arm caught a man in the side of the face, the crushing of his cheek bone clearly audible. One of the prongs sliced up into his eye and caused irreparable damage.
Three men had been attacked by the creatures, and four were now down thanks to Arman. Everything was falling into place perfectly.
The lanterns were dropped as the men scrambled for anything that they could use to stop the dancing madman within their ranks from causing any more damage. But the creatures also played on their minds. The lanterns went out and they were plunged into darkness. Arman paused for a moment as his eyes adjusted. He knelt on the ground, left arm behind him, held high, and his right close to his body.
He looked at the shadows around him, keeping low to the ground. Many of the shadows that were supposed to be there, the rustling of the bushes telling him what had happened. He wished it didn’t though. He had needed more time. But now he had none.
He pushed off his left leg, lifting himself into the air, and spinning. He span fast and the blades flashed around quickly as he held his arms out wide. He collected a man in the back, and lifted him in the air. He twisted his body as the weight he now carried brought him closer to the ground. His feet touched the ground, and he brought his shoulder around and flicked his arm. The now limp body of the man he had grabbed was thrown forwards, colliding with the last of the men who had been carrying the supplies.
He knelt again, right leg forward with his right foot on the ground, his left shin trailing along the ground behind him. His right arm rose behind him, claws pointing up at an angle. Left arm close in to his body, wrist twisted so the claws pointed away from his chest. His head turned to the left and then the right.
All the men were now gone. Either lying on the ground, dying, or dragged away by the creatures. Dog like shadows now filled his view. But they were huge, and the hair on their backs stood up tall as their anger was clearly obvious.
They didn’t rush in though, as they had with the other men. They held back, sniffing the air. They had been watching what had transpired. He was very sure of that. They seemed cunning creatures, from what he had noticed. Attacking in the dark, distracting the enemy. They were much smarter than the others were giving them credit for.
He kept a close eye on them, but they were coming no closer yet. He could sense they were all around him though, roughly eight of the daemons. Some had changed their stance, more aggresive and ready to spring into action. But so was he.
And he needed to move quickly. He had to get to Morgan before they had trekked too deep into the forest.
He noticed one of the creatures moving, barking and growling to the other creatures as he did. They all started to prepare themselves, and moved a step or so closer. They paced forward slowly, one paw in front of the other. Only the seven though, the eighth held itself back, watching what was about to happen.
He was glad his senses were honed sharp as he pushed himself into the air to let one of the beasts run from behind him and then under. He felt his mistake though, as two more ran forward and leapt into the air. He barely had the time to react they moved so fast.
His right arm shot down, catching his claws in the fur of the creatures running below him. The speed it moved dragged him to the ground with a thud as the creatures sailed overhead, he watched them go past from the ground.
The creature he had snagged shook him free and continued on, not even seeming to be hurt. Maybe he had not reached the skin and just snagged in its hair. That would cause a problem. He rolled sideways and forced himself onto his feet in time see another creature leaping in his direction.
He had his chance this time though, and brought both his arm back, then forward in an arc. He caught the creature in the head on both side, just behind the base of the skull. The claws dug in and the creatures blood flowed freely. He leant himself over backwards, rolled onto his back, and flung the creature away by pushing its underbellywith both his feet.
It twisted sideways in the air, and the other creatures leapt to the side as it crashed to the ground. The were fast, and they were heavy. He was surprised he had managed to keep that one above him. He needed to make the moves now, or he would be defending for the rest of the night.
The creature got up and moved away from the circle. The eighth came over, and growled lowly to him. They moved away together, blood flowly freely, and swaying greatly.
That left only six surrounding him. But it seemed more than enough. One to his right charged forward and leapt as they had before. But rather than waiting for it Arman rushed forward and dived under it, rolling and skidding to the other side of it, now making part of the circle himself. The two creatures to his side looked at him, seeming a bit shocked, then he turned and fled into the night.
Howls came from behind him, and he could hear them rushing after him. The bushes rustled, and fallen twigs cracked as they came fast. He tried his hardest to stay to the path, but they were soon on his heels, and he struggled to see his way in the dim light from the moon. But their golden eyes glowed bright trailed him.
He spun around as he felt one near and caught it in the eye. It went down, but the others just jumped over, not even slowing their pace. But the noise had died down a little. Maybe some had stopped to tend to their wounded. But they were still behind him.
He glimpsed an overhanging branch in the moon light and jumped as high as he could. He arms were flung up high and his claws just managed to catch the branch, and quickly he swung his legs up onto it as the creatures flew just below him.
He was wheezing a little from the exhertion. It had been a tough race, and he would not have last much longer. The creatures had come to a skidding halt below him. Five of them. The eighth from before was there, but three were missing. Possibly the one he got below the skull, and the one he got in the eye. Maybe the third had stayed behind to help them out as they died.
They came below him and looked up at him. Sniffing the air they looked around a bit, as if gauging where they were. He looked around a little too, to see what they were looking at. Then he heard the snapping below him, as they jumped high, trying to grab onto him.They were well short though.
Arman watched as they sniffed around the ground, deciding what to do next. One darted off to the side, a little smaller than most of them, but fast. He was gone in an instant, then was leaping under him, closer than before.
He climbed up onto the branch and paced along it slowly as they snapped closer and closer to his feet. He made his way toward the trunk and saw then what they had been doing. Scratch marks glistened along the trunk where they had been leaping onto it, and then pushing themselves off towards him.
They were much smarter than everyone though. They almost seemed to understand tactics. They nearly had him. He would make sure he didnt try to fight seven at once again. He got to the truck and decided his best bet was to climb higher. Once a few more branches up he looked around.
The trees were thick, and the canopy pushed into itself well. He could make his way through the trees for a bit with no problems, and drop to the ground once he had lost his trailers.
He looked below and could just see them, and they were watching him.
* * *
Koga paced around a little. Then looked up into the tree at the creatures above them.
He was worried about that one. The others had been easy to take care, the night providing a good cloak for them. But that one was faster, strong, and more instinctive. It didn't seem to think, just act. But it always seemed to act in the right way.
Iria came up to him and growled lowly in his ear.
“Yosashio and Fumita have both passed on to Monok. Their wounds were too much for them.”
Yosashio had taken blows to his neck, and he had lost a lot of blood. The creature seemed to have sharp claws it used rather than the thunder sticks. In fact, only one of the sticks had been used, and that was when dropped.
Fumita had lost an eye, then stumbled and falled, rolling along the hard compacted dirt path and over numerous rocks. She had punctured a lung as she had fallen. there had been no hope for her.
The creature was lost to them now. Following it now would be like following a bird as it flew threw the trees. He had more important matters to deal with. He needed to bury his dead before the raven came.
“Let us go and pay our respects,” he barked sharply at the wolves still trying to see where the creature was.
Slowly they looked away from the tree tops and followed Koga to where their dead lay. They took hold and dragged them in the direction of their knoll.
Their dead would be buried and honoured under the Scarred Tree, as the rest of the clan was. They may be Blood Mist now, but they would follow their own traditions still.
He let out a howl of mourning as they made their way to the knoll.