The ground was glazed with frost as the three hooded horsemen rode into the village. The men were armed and clad in heavy leathers and furs, clearly warriors, and as the townsfolk noticed them, they retreated into their homes. There were few reasons soldiers would visit such a hamlet, none of which the citizens would want to be involved in.
The frozen earth crunched noisily under the horses’ hooves as they rode to the center of town. The largest building in town was the inn, and there the men dismounted and entered, walking tall and with purpose. Their boots sounded heavily on the wooden floors of the hall as they strode toward the keeper. The keeper was a small man, standing barely to the shoulders of the hooded men, and as they neared he seemed to shrink even further.
The tallest of the hooded men removed his cover, revealing his stern, weathered face. His eyes, gray as the churning seas, captivated the keeper, and as he stared back into them, he felt a powerful mixture of sorrow and fear.
“I am looking for the man named Decker”, they gray eyed man stated. The keeper stood, still transfixed under this stranger’s gaze for several seconds before responding.
“Decker? The painter?”
“Yes, that is the man I seek.”
“What do you want with him?”
“That is my business”, they gray eyed man’s words were calm, but still sent shivers of terror down the keepers spine.
“I-I... I can show you.” The keeper led them up the main lane for a ways, before stopping in front of a small home. Barely more than a shack, it was crudely fashioned, and was in ill repair.
“Go back to your inn, commoner”, one of the other hooded figures snapped. The keeper retreated back down to his lodge, not daring a backwards glance.
The three men stared at the house in silence for a time. The other two looked the the gray eyed man, who nodded silently to them and strode forth to the doorway. They understood the wordless command, and stood their ground on the road, waiting for their companion to complete what he had traveled so far to do. The gray eyed man pushed open the door, and disappeared inside.
Inside sat a thin man, haggard and bald. He sat up straight, and summoned the most determined look he could as he looked at the man who had invaded his home.
“I’ve been searching you for some time, Decker. You can not have thought you could evade me forever”, the gray eyed man’s voice remained as cold and empty as before.
“I always knew, Jaren. I never thought I would escape you”, Decker could not look into Jaren’s face, dropping his gaze to the floor. “But killing me will bring you no peace. It will not bring her back, and she wouldn’t want this.”
“Regardless, I am here. There is no peace for me anymore. The two of you took that from me”, Jaren stated, ever calmly.
Decker lunged forward, brandishing a short blade he pulled from behind. Jaren caught his sword arm by the wrist, stopping it mid swing. His face curled with anger as he stared into Decker’s eyes, inches from his own. In a single movement, Jaren stripped the blade from his opponent’s hand and kicked him back into the wall. Dust fell from the ceiling as the shack shuddered under the impact, and Decker coughed the breath out of his lungs. Before he could gasp another in, Jaren plunged the taken blade forth, spearing Decker through the shoulder, pinning him upright against the wall.
Jaren stepped back and stared at the man bleeding before him. The anger had left his face, replaced with the emptiness of before. Decker choked on fresh tears, and Jaren pondered if they were from his wound, or a deeper pain.
“All I did was love her! I loved her and she loved me!” Decker screamed through his tears.
“You don’t know what love is, and neither did she.” Jaren unsheathed his longsword slowly, letting the scabbard scratch dramatically against the blade.
“This serves no purpose! She is gone, and that is your fault! You should have let us be, you cou-” Jaren slashed the sword tip across Decker’s throat, what words remained came out only as a gurgle, a splutter of air and blood. Jaren stood in silence before the dying man. Waiting for the end, he was patient until all life had left, then turned and exited the hovel.
Jaren’s companions fell in stride behind him as he strode back toward the inn. They stayed a pace behind him, glancing between themselves with unhidden curiosity. Upon reaching the horses, Jaren quickly mounted and reined his steed around to leave the village.
“Is it over? She is avenged?” One of the men asked as he climbed upon his own mount.
“This was not vengeance. This was not wrath. What I did today was a mercy for a pitiful soul.” Snow began to fall, slow and softly as he spoke. Jaren looked up, letting it fall upon his face. The cold was soothing, it echoed all he knew.
They spoke no more as they rode away.
No comments:
Post a Comment