The Crimson Hunters: An Epic Fantasy Adventure by Robert J Power

Author:Robert J Power [Power, Robert J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DePaor Press
Published: 2021-03-22T22:00:00+00:00

27

Long Night

Silence. Nothing but silence played in Derian’s ears, and that was fine with him. The rushing wind brought silence, as did the crackling of the flames only a dozen feet from his place of watch. He liked how these natural things brought quiet, deafening his ears to everything else around him.

He ached, and each breath felt like he’d sprinted twenty miles in blazing heat without respite. Whatever had fuelled his rage and fierceness had now departed, leaving him weak and vulnerable. Lorgan was gone, his arms heavy with the broken body of his unconscious friend. So much blood had drained from Natteo. But he would rally, Derian told himself.

He’ll be fine. Right?

Natteo was stronger than most others, despite his appearance. A few stitches with a careful hand, a few cups of ale, and his strong heart would pump some fresh blood right back into him. Isn’t that how it works?

It probably said so in his book, but the section on human anatomy was heavy with complicated words and gruesome pictures. He thought of recovering his book to study the night away. Who knew how boredom would affect his thoughts as the night dragged on? Better, perhaps, to advantage of the silence.

No, best to keep an eye on the night, boredom or not, he told himself, and he made a good argument. Somewhere out there in the dark were demons, and he wondered if they watched him as he watched for them. He looked around at his comrades, at the crackling fire. There was probably no place he’d rather be in this town while waiting for dawn.

Standing upon each side of the breached wall stood archers. Twenty on each side or so. Enough to stem a sudden attack while they raised the alarm, he imagined. All of them behaving as statues would. Each lost in their own thoughts. There was no cheer, no whispered words; only uneasy eyes watching into the night.

Below them, anxious labourers went to work preparing for the day ahead. They were quiet in their tasks; they feared another sneaky assault by the clever demons, and rightly so. If Derian listened past the wind driving through the gap and over the sound of the dancing flames, he could hear their mutterings, their proposals, their manoeuvring of long timber poles, and their calm repairs. He didn’t know why, but it calmed him. Perhaps it reminded him of the value of civilisation.

Certain the beasts had gone for the night, Kesta had slipped away to rest, her face grave from memories and the fear of losing another loved one to monsters. Natteo’s blood had stained her worn fingers, and she’d spent a long enough time staring at them.

Derian turned to Seren, who stood beside him. She had been there for an hour now, and Derian was grateful for the silent comfort she offered. She hadn’t spoken, but she was familiar, and familiarity was as reassuring as silence.

“Soon, will be light,” she said at length.

He nodded, then turned away again and took a few steps through the breach, out to the dying flames.

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