CHAPTER 18
THE BEAST OF THE NIGHT
Mark rode into the quiet village, a place of small wooden houses with thatched roofs and dusty dirt roads. He guided his horse to the single inn – a modest building, much smaller than the bustling inns in larger towns. After dismounting, he gave his horse a gentle pat. “Good boy,” he murmured, then made his way inside.
The inn was dimly lit, with seven people gathered around tables, drinking ale and speaking in loud, tense voices. Mark walked up to the counter and tossed a coin. “A cup of wine, if you please,” he said.
The innkeeper caught the coin smoothly and poured a cup of wine. “Here you go,” he replied, looking visibly troubled. Mark took a gulp, watching the people in the room. Though they were loud, they seemed uneasy, far from the usual lively chatter. Sensing something was off, he turned back to the innkeeper. “What’s got everyone here in such a sour mood?”
The innkeeper sighed. “For the past week, a monster’s been roaming the village at night. Anyone who steps outside after dark gets attacked. A dozen people are dead, even a child. We’ve had to lock ourselves in our homes every night. And the Baron? He hasn’t lifted a finger to help. All his soldiers are off fighting for Archon Anthemios, so there’s no one here to defend us from that beast.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “Has anyone actually seen this monster?”
“No… whoever’s seen it didn’t live to tell about it. But we’ve all heard the terrible howls.”
Mark grinned. “Lucky for you, I’m a swordsman for hire. Got plenty of experience with beasts. For sixty gold coins, I can rid your village of this monster.”
The innkeeper hesitated. “Sixty coins… it’s a lot. But if everyone pitches in, we might be able to scrape it together.”
“Then you’ve got yourself a deal,” Mark replied with a nod.
Mark settled into a chair at a table, ordering another round of wine and a meal of rice and chicken. The innkeeper quickly brought the food and drink, and Mark eagerly devoured his meal, washing it down with the wine. He relaxed, enjoying himself until night fell. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon rose, Mark got up from his seat. By now, everyone except the innkeeper had hurried home, barricading themselves inside.
The innkeeper, visibly nervous, stayed behind only because Mark was still inside. “So…” he finally asked, “you’re really going out to face the beast?”
Mark nodded. “Stay here. No matter what you hear, don’t open that door. I don’t need any distractions.”
“You won’t need to tell me twice,” the innkeeper replied, and as soon as Mark stepped outside, he heard the door slam shut and the heavy lock click behind him.
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Mark began strolling down the empty dirt streets, waiting for the monster to show itself. Suddenly, a chilling howl pierced the silence. Mark drew his regular sword, bracing himself for what was coming. Next came the heavy thud of approaching footsteps – not the footsteps of any human, but of something massive. “Well, that’s not a good sign…” Mark muttered to himself.
Then, he saw it. The creature towered seven feet tall, a monstrous bulk of muscle and gray, leathery skin. It stood on two legs but had four thick arms, two on each side, each ending in seven long, razor-sharp claws. Its face was grotesquely deformed, with a single glaring eye set in the middle of its forehead and rows of jagged teeth jutting out from its mouth, catching the moonlight.
The beast spotted Mark and let out a scream, a mixture of rage and hunger. Mark gripped his sword tightly, heart pounding. The battle was on.
The beast swung at Mark with its two right arms, claws ready to tear him apart. Mark barely dodged, rolling to his right just in time. The creature charged again like a raging bull, but Mark sidestepped to the left, letting it barrel past him. With the beast’s back turned, Mark leaped up and slashed down, cutting deep into its back. Grey chunks of flesh and greenish blood sprayed from the wound, and the beast let out a howl of pain.
It spun around, swinging all four arms wildly, and Mark had to retreat a few steps to avoid getting hit. The creature lunged again, this time with both left arms. Mark rolled beneath its claws, dodging by a hair, and plunged his sword deep into its right leg. Greenish blood oozed from the wound as he pulled his blade free. Furious, the beast swiped at him with its right hands, but Mark jumped back, then swiftly sliced off all seven fingers from one of its hands. The monster stomped the ground, shaking the earth beneath them and causing Mark to stumble and fall.
Seizing its chance, the beast lifted a massive foot to stomp him, but Mark rolled to the side, feeling the rush of wind as the foot missed him by inches. He sprang to his feet and slashed at the beast's left foot, sending chunks of flesh and more green blood flying. As the creature howled in agony, Mark drove his sword into its groin, twisting the blade. The beast crashed down onto its knees, clawing at him with its left arms and one remaining right arm. Mark yanked his sword free and leapt back, narrowly avoiding the vicious swipe.
Mark took a few steps back, creating some space between him and the beast. With a roar, he sprinted forward, leaping high into the air. The beast had risen back to its towering seven-foot height, but as Mark came down, he drove his sword straight into the creature's only eye on its forehead. The beast screamed and thrashed, but Mark held on, gripping his sword as it lodged deep in the eye. Finally, he wrenched it free and landed gracefully on the ground. The beast, now blinded and trembling, was bleeding heavily from its eye wound.
Without hesitation, Mark swung his sword, slicing off the creature's last remaining right arm. The beast stomped furiously, shaking the ground, but this time Mark held his balance. He struck twice more, first chopping off the seven fingers from one of its left hands, then lopping off the entire second left hand, sending it flying through the air in a spray of blood.
The beast dropped to its knees again, and Mark plunged his sword deep into its chest, twisting it hard. With one last pull, he withdrew his blade, and the creature collapsed to the ground in a pool of its own blood. Mark exhaled, relieved. It had been a brutal fight, and he’d barely made it through.
He made his way back to the inn and knocked on the door.
“Who is it?!” called the frightened innkeeper.
“The beast,” Mark joked with a chuckle.
The innkeeper opened the door, eyes wide. “You killed that foul creature?”
“Yeah,” Mark replied. “Now I’m ready for my payment.”
The innkeeper quickly fetched a pouch of sixty gold coins from behind the counter. “Here you go,” he said, handing it over. “You can stay the night here for free too.”
Mark nodded, and the innkeeper showed him to his room. Early the next morning, as the first light of dawn broke, Mark mounted his horse and rode off, leaving the village behind. Such is the life of a wanderer – always on the move.