Prophecies and Lies

Chapter Forty-Four

Well, this is another cool chapter, I think. But I don't want to spoil things, so all I'm gonna say is that: it's cool ;)

Just enjooy!

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          With a grunt, Marc let the body of Tobias Browncloak fall from his shoulders, onto the cobblestone street. He looked over his shoulder, to the alleyway. The building was now completely on fire, and people had started noticing it; men and women were working together to douse the flames, using blankets and passing on buckets of water. They didn’t need an explanation as to how it came to be the building was set on fire—seeing the white robes Marc and the others wore, they already knew.

          “Demons,” some whispered and Marc couldn’t agree more. What he had fought today, those couldn’t have been anything but that. Giant wolves, as strong as boars and equally as dangerous. He was glad they had fought in the building, where the little room had limited the animals and made sure none of them had escaped. It had spared them casualties; if they had fought out in the open, where the wolves could have made use of their superior speed and agility, they might even have come out the victor. Now though, there were only a few casualties: Derek Goodman, his brother Sam and Tobias, the third Marc had knocked out himself.

          “And Luke too,” someone said.

          Marc looked up, snapping out of his train of thought. “What?”

          “The count,” he said and gestured at all the man gathered in a circle. “Luke is missing.”

          Another nodded. “He was fighting a wolf when another one caught him in the side. Ripped him open. He’s still in there.”

          “He’s dead?” Marc asked.

          “Yes.”

          “Then this is his cremation.” The building was too far gone to go back in and get out a corpse; it would come down on top of them. Marc humphed as he looked down on the two unconscious men. “So there’s two dead and how many wounded? Derek, any others?”

          The men glanced at each other, but no one spoke up. Even though everyone had come out bleeding, it was nothing in comparison to Derek; that one girl had burned his face off, and no one could say for sure if he would even survive.

          “Okay, at least that’s good news,” Marc muttered. He too, was only a little hurt. One of the wolves had scratched his arm, and another had thrown him against a wall. He suspected at least one rib was broken, but wouldn’t show the others his pain. He was the one leading the attack after all, he had to make sure his men were okay. “And the captive?”

          “Unhurt,” said a man. There was regret in his voice. “We really ought to kill that bastard for what he’s done, or at least make him suffer.”

          “We won’t need to, the others will take care of him at the Cathedral,” Marc answered and turned to the captive who sat on the ground, his arms tied to his back and another piece of robe in his mouth to keep him silent. Terrance didn’t show the slightest hint of fear, but met his eye in defiance. “I’m sure there’s some questions he needs to answer before he dies, and there’s a lot of fun stuff in the Cathedral to make sure he does.”