The Dark Trinity

Chapter 16

The moon hung high in the sky, its pale light casting eerie shadows over the village as Malcolm and his men rode through its narrow streets as its hooves thundered against the dirt road. Behind him, a contingent of soldiers followed, their faces hard and unyielding, their torches casting long, flickering shadows over the forest path. 

The village came into view as they descended a hill, its modest homes huddled together as if seeking warmth and protection from the night. The sight of the king’s arrival struck fear into the hearts of its inhabitants. Word of Malcolm's ruthlessness had traveled far and wide; his presence in their quiet hamlet could mean nothing good. 

Shutters slammed shut as villagers caught sight of the advancing party. Doors were bolted hastily, and the streets emptied as people scattered like frightened rats. Shopkeepers abandoned their wares, pulling down stalls in a flurry of movement.

The guards reached the edge of the village, their torches crackling and illuminating the frightened faces peeking through cracks in shutters and doors. Malcolm pulled his horse to a stop in the center of the main square, his men fanning out in precise formation.

"Spread out," he ordered, his voice calm but carrying an edge of authority that brooked no disobedience. "Search every house, every barn, every cellar. 

His guards nodded, their faces grim, and dispersed without hesitation. They moved with practiced efficiency, kicking down doors and storming into homes. Screams and shouts erupted as families were dragged from their hiding places, the soldiers showing no mercy as they overturned furniture and ripped apart bedding in their search.

Malcolm remained in the square, his posture relaxed as he sat astride his horse. His cold gaze wandered over the chaos unfolding around him, but there was no trace of emotion on his face. To him, this was a necessary inconvenience, a mere task to be completed.

A short, fat man with a scraggly beard was hauled into the street, his protests cut short by a gauntleted fist striking his jaw. He crumpled to the ground, groaning as blood trickled from his split lip. 

“You saw her,” one of the guards barked, his voice harsh and unyielding. 

The man whimpered, clutching his face. “I saw a lass,” he mumbled. “Long dark hair, bronze skin, hazel eyes. She looked lost—like she weren’t from here.” 

Malcolm’s gaze sharpened, and he urged his horse closer. “And where did she go?” he demanded, his voice low and deadly. 

The man scrambled to his knees, his hands raised in a pleading gesture. “She was with a young lad,” he stammered. “I don’t know who he was. Please, my lord, I’m just a father—” 

The guard’s boot slammed into the man’s side, cutting off his plea with a pained cry. The villagers watching from the shadows gasped, their fear palpable. 

“Where does this man live?” the guard snarled, drawing his sword and leveling it at the trembling villager’s throat. 

“I-I don’t know!” the man sobbed, clutching his side. “Spare me, please! I have children!” 

The guard raised his sword, his eyes narrowing, but before the blow could fall, a voice broke through the tense silence. 

“I know where he lives!” 

The crowd parted as a young woman stepped forward, her hands trembling as she clutched the shawl around her shoulders. Her eyes darted nervously between Malcolm and the guards, her fear evident. 

The guard closest to her grabbed her roughly by the arm, yanking her forward. “Speak, girl. Where is he?” 

The woman swallowed hard, her voice shaking. “He… he lives on the edge of the village, near the woods. I can show you.”