Vincht whirled around, drawing his ivory-handled blade in one smooth motion and extending its gleaming edge toward the intruder.

Nevin didn't budge from his spot against the window, his adrenaline-honed attention lost in the sight before him. Radiant blue eyes considered them both from afar, shining out from beneath the darkness of a drooping cowl, still and piercingly serious. The figure presented as little more than a hulking shadow, draped in floor-dragging black nubuck, the fabric soaking up the lantern light like a hole in reality. The southern edge of a mahogany mask covered the cinch at the cloak's throat, a simple horizontal mouth slit the only visible decoration.

“You're actually real...” Nevin muttered to himself through bloodless lips.

The blue orbs narrowed, and the cowl dipped in a shallow nod. “Been hearing that a lot today.”

There's no way. He couldn't have heard that.

“That's a pretty sword,” the man in black said, cocking his head in amusement. “And you're even holding it right. Daddy must have paid for some private lessons, I see.”

Eyes like slits, Vincht glared at the man in black, caught off-guard by both his unexpected appearance and backhanded compliment. Just like that, the energy in the room had completely shifted.

Vincht glanced out the window and then back to the newcomer. “How did you get in here, wizard? I have armed men surrounding this cabin on all sides. Someone would have signaled me.”

The cloak parted, and the man in black tossed out a wooden cudgel and broken reflex bow. The pair clattered to the floor, the cudgel skidding across the floorboards to rest within inches of Nevin's boots.

Vincht muttered profanities under his breath, cursing a person named 'Rowen' emphatically. “Both of them?”

“All three.” The man in black chuckled. “Wouldn't exactly call that surrounding.”

Nevin cast a furtive glance at the club lying a quick crouch within reach. His exit was blocked, and Vincht stood too close for him to get a running start at the window, but putting a weapon of any kind between himself and the two men had to be a better alternative to playing defenseless farm boy.

Still, if it came to violence, and the man in black decided he was an enemy, Nevin knew there wasn't a weapon in the world that would prevent him from joining the other body currently spilling its lifeblood into the ferns in front of Ishen's cabin.

When he raised his eyes again, the man in black was staring straight at him. The cowl moved side to side, a silent warning.

Don't try it, it said.

Nevin swallowed, offering his own nod of understanding. Message received.

The black-haired soldier slid back a step, keeping Nevin in his peripherals as he put some distance between himself and the newcomer. “A grave mistake, wizard. Those were the Baron's men you killed. You play at being a hero, but what do you think he will do to this town when he discovers one of its members murdered a number of his guard?”

Wizard? Was it possible Vincht had no idea who he was dealing with?

“No worse than what you and yours have done today.”

Vincht tugged at the hem of his vest and cleared his throat, his sword tip wavering. “I've done what's necessary.”

Unrelenting anxiety twisted Nevin's guts into knots. He couldn't remember the last time he blinked, his eyes dry and stinging as they darted back and forth between the verbally dueling men. Each time he thought Vincht wasn't paying attention, he shifted ever so slightly away from him, hoping the opportunity to dive through the study door and into freedom would soon present itself.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Necessary,” the man in black spat the word from his mouth like so much rotten meat. “Necessary means breaking into an old man's house and terrorizing a helpless boy? Necessary means the murder of countless innocents?”

Vincht stilled. “Whatever it takes to ensure man's ultimate dominion over false gods and the charlatans they empower.”

His empty hand lashed out, bridging the space Nevin had built between them and grabbed the younger man by the back of his shirt. He jerked him from his feet, sliding deftly around behind him and laying the flat of his gleaming blade along the tender skin of Nevin's exposed neck. Its light touch drew a painless line of crimson on his skin. A single drop of blood scuttled down the length of the sword to dangle precariously from its tip.

“Now, Nevin,” Vincht barked into his ear, sneering. “You're going to finish telling me where I can find the object I'm looking for. You're going to tell me, and we're going to go get it. We're going to get it together. And after I have it safely in my possession, the two of us are going to take it back to Comelbough.

“And if anyone gets in my way,” he continued, pointing his sword directly at the man in black. “His blood will be on their hands. Have I made myself clear, hero?”

“Stop calling me hero,” the man in black growled, edging forward.

Nevin could hear Vincht gnashing his teeth in frustration. “Did you not hear me? I will quite literally tear this boy in two if you don't back off!”

I'm dead. Tears gathered at the base of his eyelids, blurring his vision as they prepared to make a run down his quivering cheeks. He envied their freedom.

The darkness behind the man in black flickered and shifted, and Nevin thought he could see the outline of a gaunt figure appear in the doorway. It watched him silently, drinking in his fear and helplessness through unseen eyes. A pale hand reached out to him from the shadows, its fingertips glistening black in the pale light.

Dalen's voice filled his head. You need me faaaaaar more than I need you, boy.

Glass shattered behind him. Jagged shards careened past him, against his back. Pieces hit the wall, the floor, the shelves, tinkling like crystalline chimes in a windstorm.

Nevin covered his face with his hands and dove to the side, slamming against the wall. A groan fluttered through his pursed lips. The impact jarred loose an amethyst geode, and Nevin rolled out of the way as it shattered on the floor right where his head had been.

Vincht hunched forward as a ball of teeth and fur bolted through the broken window. The two hit the floor hard, with Vincht's sword spilling from his grasp as he tried to fend off the snarling whirlwind of pain that attached itself to his face and chest. The man in black lunged backward, his cloak flung wide with the arrival of a sicklesque blade.

Screams of surprise rapidly gave way to squeals of agony as the soldier struggled to fight off the tenacious lynx. Claws met flesh as the cat raked into Vincht's face again and again and again, retaining his grip by latching onto the man's skull with his toothy maw. Realizing his fists weren't doing the job, Vincht's blood-slick hands fumbled at his belt.

“Aidux, he's got a knife!” Nevin screamed.

Metal flashed in the weak light, but Aidux was already gone.

The cat skid across the floor, every hair on end as Aidux placed himself between the wounded soldier and his closest friend. Red-tinted saliva dripped from his teeth, and the whole of his front was matted with blood. The cat's shoulders raised and lowered in rapid timing with his breath.

Shivering uncontrollably, Vincht wordlessly rose to his knees. Chunks of meat dangled from long gouges where his cheeks and forehead had been, showing white where claws had met bone and teeth. His eyes had somehow survived the attack. To his credit, Vincht made no sound as he stared slack-jawed into his shaking, blood-drenched palms.

He fumbled through the glass, struggling to gain purchase on the hilt of his sword. Aidux bristled.

The man in black stepped forward, raising his sword high overhead.

“Wait!” Nevin screamed.

The man in black shot him a smoldering glare, but halted his advance.

Vincht cradled the sword in his open palms, peering down at the gleaming, mirror-like blade. He tilted it this way and that, adjusting the surface until the wreckage of his face looked back at him.

An agonized wail burst from his ruined lips. Nevin cringed at the sound, burying his face in Aidux's side.

Vincht squeezed the bare blade in his hands, spilling fresh blood down his wrists and forearms. He grit his teeth, still screaming, but pain had turned into rage. Nevin peeked out beneath the cat, locking eyes with the shredded soldier one final time.

“That's enough.” The man in black brought his sword back up, prepared to finish the job the lynx had started.

The man's screaming ceased before the final syllable passed his lips.

Vincht dove head first out the broken window, and into the open forest beyond.