Creep

Chapter Nine: Blame

The rage shifted as he walked and the reality of what he'd just done started to bother Angus. What was he becoming? Ignoring the violence that seemed to litter every pocket of Red Fern's streets, Angus thought about earlier when he'd caught Pyggbe in the act of eating that beggar. At the time, he'd been repulsed by the creature's actions, but now he was pretty much doing the same thing himself. How in the gods did it come to this? Speaking of gods, would Mortvell the God of Death devour his soul when the time came? Was he still worthy of a good afterlife? After all, it wasn't his fault.

It was the vial's fault.

More than that, it was Ivonor's fault. Now he just needed to find him. Without knowing where he was going, Angus walked with purpose.

Angus walked through the city's streets, his sword forgotten at his side. He had no need for such a weapon now... Angus was the weapon. All nervousness and self-doubt had disappeared. Underneath his borrowed face, he didn't even flinch as he strolled by fights between soldiers. He didn't even blink when he wandered by goblins. If anything, he fancied they became nervous when they caught a glimpse of him. What kind of monster was he? A monster capable of scaring monsters?

Soldiers from both sides fought or lay injured wherever he looked. Finding Ivonor in this was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

But still he kept walking.

Without any conscious thought, Angus sniffed the air. On it, he could smell - and taste - fear, panic, blood, and death. He sniffed again, taking a deeper breath, and caught a familiar scent. It seemed impossible, but memories flooded into him of waking up in a shared tent with that scent. He could remember marching with that scent. It was a smell he'd never noticed before, but now it was as familiar to him as the smell of his mother's cooking.

It was Ivonor's scent. Angus followed his nose.

*****

Shards of glass, splinters of wood, and various other unidentified debris crunched underfoot as Angus approached Palestone Castle. Buildings surrounded him in various states of invasion; some had been broken into, some were on fire, some housed the screams of Red Fern's inhabitants. Somewhere nearby, a goblin chewed on a human bone. There was no way of knowing which side the unfortunate soul had been fighting for.

A group of Moonwich soldiers lurked outside the main entrance to Palestone Castle, having crossed the moat with no small amount of bloodshed. One of them kicked against the thick wooden doors to the keep as he uttered what Angus believed to be a swear word. Their frustration told Angus that at least the castle hadn't been breached. Fires lit up the night and he was able to see the faces of each of the invaders. Most he did not recognise, but there was one face he knew well. At some point, Ivonor must have found time to remove his Red Fern armour as his breastplate now proudly displayed Moonwich's crescent moon. Angus sneered. This fresh betrayal sent a brand new wave of anger through his veins.

"Ah, brother!" Ivonor called to him. For a second, Angus paused at the friendly greeting. Did Ivonor think he'd forgive him so easily? He was about to say as much when he remembered he was wearing another man's face. "I like the disguise, but I don't think it's necessary any more," Ivonor said as Angus drew closer. Once again, these words made him pause and his confusion must have been clear as Ivonor spoke again and pointed at Angus's torso. "The Red Fern armour. It's a nice touch, but there's no need for stealth now. Even I've changed!"

"That you have," Angus muttered. There was no disagreement there.

If Ivonor heard him, he didn't react. Instead, he turned to the other soldiers. "We should get started," he said. With that, the other soldiers broke off in different directions to attend to tasks happening elsewhere.