XVI

The wagon rolled solemnly down the dusty road. Riders in gleaming white armor flanked the road, but their shoulders sagged. A gentle rain fell from a gloomy sky, pinging off the metal. Behind the wagon rode the patrols healer, Sir Cael. He kept his eyes on the back of the wagon, watching for movement. Inside lay two of his fellow knights, both with grisly injuries. Cael had stabilized them, but just barely. One would lose his arm for sure, the other may never walk again.

They had been tracking what should have been a small pack of young werewolves. It was known for a while that a pack was operating outside of a nearby village, and reports indicated it was only a few small ones. However, when the knights followed the pack to a large farmhouse, they quickly realized how wrong they were. Over half a dozen of the monsters were assaulting the house, most of them older and bigger. The entire family of six was slaughtered. The Silverbloods killed only four werewolves, but in return took two heavy casualties. Cael was bitter about how the night turned out.

The convoy was heading away from the decimated farmhouse now, en route to the village it belonged to. They needed to rest, and nobody wanted to camp off the road after the recent events. Especially because the werewolves didn't so much run away, but seemed to regroup within the trees. Cael had never seen that kind of behavior before, and it disturbed him greatly. More and more lately, Cael found himself bitter, jaded by the way things were going. He grew up watching the Silverbloods march through the city streets, cheering for them as they rode out to defend the people. He had longed for the day that he too, might bear their crest. Now, many years later, his silver eyes had lost that passion.

He noted to himself silently that as the patrol rolled into the village, not a soul was out to greet them. They plodded into the village square, bringing the wagon to a halt next to a fountain packed with snow. As Cael looked around, he saw faces in windows, briefly, before they closed the shutters, or walked away. The few lanterns that were still lit, barley illuminated the area around them.

Sir Isaac, the patrol leader and the only knight here above Cael, dismounted. The blond haired man walked past the fountain, removing his gloves and looking around.

"Did we ride into a ghost town? Where the bloody hell is everyone?" He said, as Cael walked up to him.

"They don't want to come out. I've seen a few shutter their windows." Replied Cael, shaking his long greying hair at a feeble attempt to dry off.

Isaac approached the town hall building across from the square. Before he got to the steps, a short stout man emerged from the doorway.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" He asked, his voice echoing across the empty space.

"Are you the village Bailiff by chance?" Countered Sir Isaac.

"That I am. You've come to sort out our problem, I assume?"

"I am Sir Isaac, patrol leader." Isaac approached the man as he spoke, wishing to get out from the rain. "We've come from the farmstead about an hour down the road. I regret to inform you that all the occupants have been slain."

The Bailiff scoffed. "What use are you then? you didn't happen to load the bodies into that wagon there, did you?"

The knight scowled. "No, we did not. We have our own wounded that need the space. We came in search of shelter and warm food."

"Bah." Retorted the man on the porch. "The tavern's closed up. Folks don't stay out after dark anymore these days, for obvious reasons."

"My good sir," Isaac said, raising his voice slightly and taking another step forward. "We are the Silverblood knighthood. We have come in the pursuit of the creatures that did this. The least you could do is offer us a little hospitality."

"My good sir," the Bailiff fired back. "The beasts you're lookin' for, aren't here. last I heard, they were about an hour down the road. Perhaps check there." With that, he turned and strode back into the town hall.

Isaac was fuming as he spun around, red-faced and muttering to himself.

Cael however, went up the steps and knocked on the door. It cracked open to reveal the Bailiffs frowning face.

"What, does Sir Isaac think he can send one of his lackeys to come bully me?" He said through the crack in the door.

"No," started Cael. "Sir, please. My superior can be quite full of himself. We will leave the town square, but I must ask, Why the harshness? We used to be more welcome in these parts, what's changed?"

The Bailiff eyed the knight up and down, his frown unwavering. Finally, he pulled the door open a little more.

"Aye, we used to greet the Silverbloods with open arms. But over time, the attacks have become more frequent and deadly. We've called for aid till our voices were hoarse, but when a patrol would finally come, it would be either just before or just after a slaughter. Then they would pack up, leaving the bodies to rot in the fields, and taking the children that survived back to the city. Never once were we asked if we wanted the poor souls. But it just kept happening." The mans' voice became mournful, and his eyes watery. "I lost my only son to an attack. An attack we knew was comin'. He was helping to evacuate folks when the beasts came. They ripped him apart, not even leaving a body. By the time the patrol showed up, the monsters were gone."

Cael lowered his head, his heart aching from the story.

"Since then," Continued the Bailiff, his voice sharpening once again. "We've tried to do more for ourselves. Everyone--and I mean everyone--took up arms. Every man, woman, and child that could has been training. We knew they were coming back, but we didn't expect them to attack on that side of the village."

"I'm so sorry." Said Cael, his voice a soft whisper. "They've been getting harder to track. We didn't even expect to find as many as we did."

The Bailiff scowled. "Then it sounds like someone didn't do a very good job. I don't know how you handle things, but if I were you, I'd start demanding answers. Now please, leave us in peace."

He shut the door, leaving Cael standing on the porch, crestfallen.

The knight slowly trudged back to his mount. The convoy was ready to move out of the village, so he saddled up and plodded alone behind the wagon, lost in thought.

He's right. Thought Cael. We need answers.

The patrol stopped along the road several minutes outside the village, in a field near a clearly forsaken house. The knights dismounted, and quickly began setting up camp. Snow was shoveled, tents sprung up in the grass, and a bon fire was started. Cael wandered into the freshly erected command tent, where he found Isaac and two other senior knights. They were looking at a map, quietly arguing. After a minute, they finally noticed Cael standing solemnly nearby.

"What's gotten into you?" Ask one of the knights.

Cael raised his eyes to look at them.

"This isn't right. Between what we thought we knew, and how the wolves behaved, there's something going on." He said.

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They started at him for a moment, their silver eyes occasionally flicking to each other.

"These things happen Cael. Sometimes we're too late, none of the orphans survive."

Anger flashed through Cael's eyes.

"They aren't orphans, they're children, with families. They died because of us! I've seen this happen too much lately, and I want to know why."

The other knights withdrew, startled by his outburst. Isaac stepped towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Your passion to the knighthood is commendable, but no need to take it so hard. We know of other packs in the area, we can track those. There's still time to for us to find some survivors and--"

Cael shrugged his leaders hand off aggressively.

"This isn't about finishing our assignment! Innocent people are dying, and I'm sick of it! No longer are we heroes of the kingdom, returning to cheers and praises. People are afraid of the things in the night, yes, but they are also afraid of US now. This isn't why I became a knight."

He stormed from the tent, leaving his shocked peers behind. He heard laughter, and saw men gathered around the fire. Joking and laughing like nothing had happened. He used to be like them once. Even after his many promotions. Now he felt sickened. His feet carried him to his tent, but he stopped just outside the flap. A myriad of emotions swirled inside him. He wanted space, he wanted silence. He turned on his heel, returning to his horse. Mounting up, a junior knight approached.

"Do you need a partner sir?" The young man asked.

Cael glanced at him.

"No. I'm not going far." With that, he turned his steed, and galloped away from the tent. He thundered down the road, head down, no destination in mind. The rain had picked up a little, seeping into his armor and through his clothes underneath, but he didn't care. He rode into the night, pushing his horse, as if he could escape his thoughts.

Finally, he slowed his mount, and lifted his head. Through the gloom, he spotted a farmhouse. It was the one they had left earlier. Without a second thought, he nudged his horse off the road and into the snowy field. He stopped by the front door, which had been ripped off its hinges. Cael dismounted and stepped inside. It was eerily quiet, and little light made its way through the windows. He closed his eyes and focused for a moment, muttering an incantation. When he opened them again, his eyes shimmered slightly, and the world around him was lit up, like a soft full moon had pierced the clouds and roof. His magically enhanced vision allowed him to see the full detail of the slaughter. The entryway was slick with blood, and the fathers body lay a short distance away, his throat torn out completely. Cael stepped carefully over the corpse, walking deeper into the house. Pieces of viscera lay scattered about the living room. A hand, that of a teen, lay near a broken chair. The eldest son. The entire first floor was wrecked. Furniture was destroyed, windows broken, food, clothing, and toys scattered everywhere. Cael said a brief prayer before moving upstairs. At the top, he had to avert his eyes. The body of a headless child was crumpled in the hallway, blood pooling beneath it. The second oldest son. He followed the bloody trail into a bedroom, where the remains of a bed sat in a corner. Blood and gore were splattered all over the walls around the broken bed, even dripping from the ceiling. Only a few traces of hair were left to show that this was the third oldest, and the only daughter. Cael hurried from this room, but hesitated when he got to the broken door frame at the end of the hall. He needed to see. He hadn't been here to save them, so he had to see his failure. Inside, a large bed sat against the wall, its legs on one side broken. The body of what was once a woman lay curled on the bed, an arm missing and coved in blood. Clutched against her chest, was the mangled remains of a small child, just a toddler. Cael stared at the horrible scene, letting it burn into his brain.

They had worked fast, catching the father and oldest son by surprise, and not even waking the daughter. This was unusual. Normally the beasts made a big commotion, howling and growling as they approached their prey. Cael stepped back outside, breathing the frigid winter air in deeply. The rain had stopped, finally. He peered through the gloom, trying to locate where they had done battle. He wandered around for a bit, finally locating the trampled snow and spots of blood. The bodies of the slain beasts lay still, slumped in the snow. They were all small, like they had originally expected to find. The patrol hadn't managed to take down any of the larger ones.

Cael knelt next to one.

something feels...off... He thought. He looked towards the tree line, but even with magic enhanced sight, he couldn't see into the deep gloom. It felt like something was watching him from those shadows. Suspicion growing, he closed his eyes and focused. He was exhausted from healing his comrades earlier, so he had to dig down a little deeper, pulling magic from deep within himself. A swirl of energy shimmered around him, like leaves blowing in the wind. He opened his eyes, but was disappointed. He could see no traces of magic among the trees, at least from here. Then he looked down.

The body of the werewolf was glowing a soft blue. Cael rose quickly and took a step back.

"This aura...it's strong..." He muttered in shock. Someone had done something to them, but he didn't know what. Even if he wasn't exhausted, he didn't have that kind of magic in his arsenal. He knelt by the corpse again, moving his hand above it, feeling the residual energy like heat from a fire. He closed his eyes again, trying to feel the arcane flow. It wasn't just lingering magic, it was dormant. His curiosity piqued, he reached deeper, trying to pluck at the mystical aura.

Suddenly, the corpse at his feet shuddered. His eyes snapped open. He stared at the body, his eyes wide. His ears filled with the silence of the night, but nothing moved. Slowly, he closed his eyes again. The aura had definitely responded to his prodding. He reached out again, his energies brushing with that of the body. The ethereal weave quivered, and the mass he knelt by shifted again. This time he was sure. It was like the slight movement of someone sleeping, only this was a werewolf with a massive sword wound in its neck.

Cael stood, feeling the strain of magic use tug on his mind. He needed to leave, to get rest. As he backed away, he eyed the shadowy tree line once more, still feeling like he had an unwanted audience. A shiver ran down his spine. He'd seen enough.

Mounting his horse again, he galloped back towards the camp, his mind buzzing. He had a hunch, but no way to confirm it. The thought briefly crossed his mind to talk with Isaac about it, but he quickly scoffed at that. Isaac likely wouldn't care. No, he would keep this to himself, for now. Once they made it back to the city, he had questions, and damn it all, he was going to get answers.