ANATHEMA - Inferno's Vow

Beneath The Watch

"Wake the hell up, both of you!"

The lieutenant shook the two guards from their slumber. Short groans left their lips, but both men stiffened at the sight of their superior and rose to their feet. The coat of snow upon the cobblestone arch bridge clung to their red garbs with the wetness of the late winter drift. The iron bars of their helms guarded their eyes, and they clenched the throwing spears in their hands. The sabers at their sides were without sheath, and as they stood, the edge of one came close to the lieutenant's leg, eliciting a second call of reprimand. The lieutenant rapped the back of their helmets as he scolded them.

"Watch the sword! On Valor's spear, if I catch you two sleeping on watch again, I'll have you hung from the neck till dead. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, my lord." "Yes, my lord."

"Do you boys see that flag over there, the black one?" The lieutenant aimed a finger toward the black waters of the harbor. Anchored in the deep of the port was a brig, with three looming masts and a hull of black paint lined with pitch and steel and strung with barnacles. It was grander than any merchant galley and longship docked at the harbor. A long flag hung from the main mast, dark and hard to see through the shadows of night, and inscribed with three circling crows.

"Them's the Midnight Crows. From the Long Isle west of Haffensberg, and they're paying us five silver a piece for good security, and a blind eye. Five silver. That's more than you fools make in a week, and twice as much as you show to your families, and if they catch us with our pants down at our post, they'll throw us in chains and use us as oarsmen. Does that sound like a good time to you?"

"No, my lord." "No, my lord."

"Oh, I am sure it does not! I could scarcely bear the thought of the night ladies losing such loyal customers. Now stand straight, or you will have no legs to stand on, nor a torso, nor a neck! Bloody fools..."

As the luitenant marched off, the two guards let go of their baited breaths. The small waves of the harbor water clashed against the cobble

"Midnight Crows," spoke one guard, his voice low with contempt. His right arm was adorned with the patch of the city guard of Vimbaultir. A wolf of red and white on a grey field of three spears, under which his name was spelled, 'Cane'. His partner wore a matching patch with the name 'Marren' inscribed there.

"Fancy name for a pack of pirates."

"You'd make a poor oarsman," Cane pulled a cantine off his hip and drank through the guard of his visor. The winter air had chilled the mead, but it still warmed him. He passed the bladder off to Marren.

"Good. I don't plan to be one."

"You make a lousy guard just the same."

"Be quiet," Marren shoved his friend. Loose snow continued to fall from their garbs, a memory of their rest upon the cold ground. This winter had been rather tame compared to the hell of years prior. The Upper Brux had not iced over once, and the merchants had started their retreat up north before winter had even waned. "You fell asleep first."

"I did not," Cane replied.

"Sure you did. A woman walked by and you fainted on the spot."

"Oh sod-off you dam-"

"Lera." "Lera."

The guardsmen went limp at the cast. They fell backward against the two cloaked magii, who lowered them down below the wall of the harbor bridge. The command to slumber had knocked the pair out, and soon enough the two guardsmen were dragged through the wet snow to be stashed beneath a rack of boards. The magii, dressed in black pelts and black veils, with gloves of black and black shoes to boot, nodded at one another as one retrieved a whistle from their sash. A silent call was levied, and from the shadows at their side, two more thieves arrived. They had a rowboat levied over their shoulders, and in the light of the full moon, the squad began their descent to the waterside. They never once spoke, but when the chilled water graced their leather boots, one figure turned around and whispered an order.