The Crimson Party

Chapter 18

The first guard was too young. In the world that Thomas lived in, boys of 15 and above could join wars, marry, and walk through every path of life. Yet to him, this boy was still too young. His pale face looked terrified at the events around them, the dark freckles that peppered his nose a stark contrast to his light blue eyes.

Thomas was pleased., Tthe boy would be easy to fool. He adopted a gruff expression under his helmet as he began to hand the lad a clutch of crossbows. And the boy took them. He suppressed a whole pile of nervous cackles, and his face remained flat under his visor. Egil was also silent, but Thomas could almost taste the quiet mirth that exuded off of him, as he himself gathered a pile of bolts.

The second guard was Sergeant Rickstraw, the Turnkey from before. Thomas's eyes were on his face like arrows striking a target and the sudden heartbeat in his ears was so loud the other four guards who entered might as well have been dancing ten foot rabbits for all Thomas cared.

"You," Rickstraw gruffly said as he pointed to him. "Why in the nameless sporting gods are you wearing the warden's helmets?"

The earth shook under Thomas' feet even as he opened his mouth to speak.

"And your fucking shite boots are breaking apart," Rickstraw interrupted, as the other guards began carrying piles and piles of bolts from behind him.

Thomas opened his mouth again. "I'll have you and your wife here," Rickstraw gestured to Egil, "whipped to death. Then I'll wed your fucking corpses. Until that comes, stop wasting my blackened time and get your clubs."

Egil murmured something Thomas barely heard as he went for the clubs. Thomas joined him, pretending to be slow.

"You have disappointed your superior officer private Thomas. You shan't be promoted anytime soon." Thomas was too nervous to reply, and too cautious to risk giving something away by speaking. He shh'd Egil as the other guards armed themselves near the door, and hoped none would spot Grendel hiding at the very back. He reached for pain.

It was the clubs, he was holding one, and it felt like hot iron. A storm of sparks and heat crawled up his arm and then into the rest of him. It electrified his bones and made his teeth shiver as he began to feel indecipherable whispers in his mind. Not hear, Feel. Thomas seized, stiffening like a statue, and then the pain ceased moments later, as well as the whispers.

"QUICKLY." Rickstraw yelled, this time seemingly right behind Thomas,. And laid a hand on his shoulder. Thomas turned around, and Rickstraw's face was inches from his. They made eye contact through the grills of Thomas' helmet, and Thomas saw the confusion in Rickstraw's eyes.

Rickstraw stepped back, and spat out his next words. "Shite boots, shite discipline, and a soft weasley little face." Backing away slowly, he pulled his own club out of his scabbard, and the four other guards drew their weapons as well. Two had swords, the other pair had their own heavy corpsewood clubs, bone white in the dark night. The last guard, the young one, was still holding his pile of crossbows, and was near the door.

"Mikel" Rickstraw said to the boy after quickly glancing around, and then not taking his eyes off of Thomas. His tone was much more gentle. "Son, guard the doorway, make su-"

Grendel stepped slowly out of the shadows from the end of the room, and Thomas, who had thought that perhaps he might lie his way out of confrontation, braced himself.

Rickstraw looked up at her tall and intimidating frame as she stood behind Thomas, wickedly armed and armoured. And tightened his grip on his club.

"You're not ready for this son," hHe continued to Mikel, "run and warn the othe-"

"No, uncle." said young Mikel. He looked terrified, so terrified that the crossbows dropped from his shivering hands, sliding one by one onto the floor. He pulled out his sword out of his sheath. Slowly, Shakily. Egil threw a dagger at one of the nameless guards, he ducked, and the battle began.