“Fight me” James said.

Azrael could only look at the man uncomprehendingly.

“Pardon?” he asked.

James loom over Azrael, both hands now resting on the table, blocking out the light from the rest of inn and casting them both in shadow. Azrael saw the man grin.

“You’re strong. Fight me.”

The question was asked with such straight forward factuality that for a moment its contents didn’t register. Or rather, it wasn’t a question. It was a statement – a demand.

“You’re strong” James repeated one more time, as if he hadn’t been heard, “fight m–“

“No.”

“What?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I will not fight you.” Azrael clarified. His heart was pumping and his larynx seemed to have risen and clogged up his throat. James let out a heavy sigh and Azrael swallowed drily as the giant of a man slowly straightened himself, removing both hands from the table. Rising to his full height James walked around the table, placing himself directly opposite Azrael and… sank down onto the opposite chair, with the air of a sad puppy.

“Just once.” He asked. “Please!”

Azrael looked at the giant puppy of a man for a moment, unsure how to process what he was seeing. The sudden change of demeanour threw him off completely. Was the bloody figure of carnage and destruction he’d seen in the forest really the same person? Was this just a prank or some elaborate scheme to coax him into lowering his guard?

In the end Azrael decided that inaction was its own form of action and quietly and warily continued his meal, resolving to ignore the big man. It didn’t seem like James would initiate a fight at the moment and if there was no danger, then it was easier just to not think about troubling stuff. Erring on the side of caution, Azrael planned to finish his meal and leave as soon as possible, just in case.

Like a beast watched by a hunter, Azrael finished his meal bite by bite, the food strangely bland and tasteless under the constant gaze. Each movement of his was slow, deliberate and exaggeratedly casual. Thankfully for him, James stayed silent for the rest of the meal, ordering his own and another tankard of ale.

He remained at Azrael’s table, leaving his sword unattended in the middle of the inn. Nobody moved to that table, or tried to move the sword, though Azrael doubted anyone could. The massive blade must have weighed more than most men in the room. The only thing that bothered him while he finished his meal was James’ constant gaze.

Like a hunter, James watched Azrael’s every move. It was as if he was just waiting for the slightest give away of Azrael running away or springing into action. If it wasn’t for the fact that that was exactly what Azrael was thinking of doing, it might have been insulting.

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Mopping up the last of the juices on his plate with his remaining potato, Azrael placed it in his mouth the same deliberate exaggerated care he’d had throughout the rest of his meal and chewed it, before slowly lowering his empty fork to his plate. James watched as Azrael lowered his fork and opened his mouth to speak. He never got the chance to get a word out.

As Azrael lowered his fork, he watched one of the patrons opened the door of the inn. Light from inside spilt out into the night and cast the patron’s shadow against the ground outside. Azrael took the opportunity to fall backwards into his own shadow and vanish from the room. He appeared in front of the leaving patron, startling him. Before the man even started his cry Azrael leapt forward like a bolt from a crossbow, vanished into the night swiftly and without a trace.

*****

Alena stalked through the forest, shadows wrapping her in their gentle embrace. She was silent, a formless phantom amongst trees, one shadow amongst countless others. Somewhere, she knew, a dozen heartbeats were beating alone, – her disciples – hidden amongst the shadows. She would find them, as she always did, as her Master had done for her. They had gotten better, though still incomparable to her Lord and Master.

She looked up at the silver crescent moon, its weak light alighting on her face. It would be new moon soon. And soon she would take her disciples to scout the enemy village. They were good enough for the task now. Their stealth was good, their combat less so, but they had grown.

Ever since her Master had left, she’d been watching the enemy every new moon, watching their encampments and forces grow. It was her disciples turn to take up the guard.

The enemy village had truly changed in the half year since her master had freed her. The little village that she knew and had grown up in was no more. It now had rising encampments of dirt and stone, mighty towers of wood, as well as great gates made of logs and iron. But just as the enemy had grown, so had their new village.

A few stragglers, and lost souls had added onto the already growing numbers of their village. Bartlos too had brought people with him from his journeys, along with much needed supplies. Some of these travel companions settled down in their village, each and everyone of them being taught to honor the Lord and never intrude across the lake to his sanctuary. And as the village grew, so did the number of her disciples and information from the outside world.

Her eyes and ears gathered information from surrounding villages, sometimes travelling for weeks. Information, rumours and stories, all of it was brought to her, no matter how inconsequential it seemed. It was not enough, but it was a beginning.

A subtle breeze carefully threaded its way through the forest, leaves whispering voiceless secrets that intruded on her thoughts. She did not know what they said, but she knew a secret nobody else in the village knew. Actually, she knew many, but there was one that held prominence above all other.

Briefly she turned inwards, touching the bond with her Lord and Master. It had been growing stronger for the past few days; a gossamer thread that was slowly filling out to something more substantial. Though she could not feel any emotions across the link yet it was proof that they had not been abandoned or forgotten.

It had been a relief when she had first noticed, tears spilling uncontained down her face. She had never doubted that he would return. Afterall, he had tasked them to guard the forest for him. Her grip on hope had been slipping though, and it was a relief to feel her hope answered. She let her gaze rest upon the smiling silver moon one moment more, before letting her gaze fall to the shadowed forest below. A dozen disciples, a dozen hidden heartbeats, a dozen prey for her to find.

Alena fingered her wooden practice dagger and smiled. If her disciples wanted to stand before her lord, then they had to prove that they were worthy of the honour. She already relished tonight’s hunt.