I felt the brigand tense suddenly as the knife slid through his dirty cloth tunic, and then swiftly between his ribs. His muscles strained in shock and desperation, fighting against the inevitability of the grievous wound. His mind took a fraction of a second to understand what was happening. His mouth opened wide, but a barely-audible exclamation was all that escaped his chapped lips. His eyes were wide, looking at me with fear, agony and confusion. Who was I, and why had I done this to him? I pulled him close, a friendly embrace to any watching, and pulled the knife out, easily able to overcome the feeble resistance from the dying man. The knife moved swiftly again, this time a practised stroke into the side of his throat, a butcher's cut. Fast, merciful. I withdrew the beautiful dagger, ensuring the spray of crimson was directed away from me and the fire before us. It would not do to give ourselves away so easily. I held the man for a moment until the life drained from him, then leant him gently against the wall. A drunk thief sleeping off the excess of the passing night. Well, at least to a casual observer. I let myself wonder for a moment, trying to picture his last moments as he would have seen them. Would he have seen a Man, or did he know enough to realise what I was? I cleaned the knife with two movements and dismissed the thought. It did not matter what he had thought, he was gone from the world now and would no longer be troubled by such things.
We had done well, to have made it so far into the old keep without raising the alarm. Parnard and Danel had provided suitably filthy clothing and robes from some foul hole. I was reminded of our previous journey to Dol Guldur, where the same ploy had been equally as effective. We had been accompanied by others to that dread place, Elloen, Rainith for a while, and Belegos. I would have had him beside us now, but knew he had other matters that drew his attention. Still, his sword and bow would be welcome when our ruse was discovered.
The ruin stood atop a hill, nestled close to tall cliffs of sharp grey stone, too steep and tall to climb easily to come at it from there. The encircling wall was in disrepair, in several places it had cracked and crumbled, but the heaps of broken stone were still tall enough to make moving over them treacherous. And the Men guarding the place would not be blind to such an attempt. So the only way in was through the main gate, or what was left of it. And through the gate we had sauntered, dressed in our rags; stumbling, laughing and cursing in the manner of Men. Our knives moved swiftly as we greeted the brigands drinking by the broken gate; to call them guards or sentries would be a misuse of the words. Their deaths were swift, silent and unremarkable.
I looked away from the fire, searching for my companions. Our disguises still held, though the treacherous light of dawn would soon put paid to them. Parnard of the Greenwood moved swiftly, as light on his feet as a spring breeze through the meadows. It seemed that he almost danced among the brigands, his laughter and crude jokes interspersed with the flash of a blade. I wondered for a moment where he had learned such curses, perhaps during his time as a soldier of that distant and dark forest of his. Several Men were slumped where they had once sat, or leaned where they had once stood, either dying in silence or already departed. At times he moved too close to a fire and I feared his crude disguise would fail, but so far his speed outpaced his lack of caution.
My other companion was slower, more deliberate in her movements. I was reminded for a moment of a wolf stalking their prey, moving through shadows silently, waiting to pounce on the unaware, the incautious. Danel of Thargelion ended the pitiful existence of another of the villains, pulling them back into the shadows with her. I did not see the flash of steel in her hand, and nodded to myself with approval at how she had concealed the blade. For a moment I lost focus, content with simply watching the red-maned wolf prowling the ruins. Rácarnë, I thought to myself and smiled at the name, Scarlet Wolf. I scolded myself for such thoughts, for such distractions. It was not my place to choose an epessë for Danel, even in passing. The bond between us had grown stronger with our travels together, yet it would not do to overstep the bounds of propriety. I continued staring at Danel's shadowed figure as the thoughts raced through my mind. She must have sensed my gaze upon her for she turned and looked at me. Feeling as foolish as a child, I nodded briefly then turned away. There was time for dreaming later, once the stars shone once more. I stood from my seat by the fire, and moved towards the stairs.
I had lost sight of Parnard and Danel once the alarm had finally been raised. We had managed to clear most of the lower level, leaving nothing but corpses between ourselves and the broken gate. If we needed to flee, our path would be clear at least. Harsh yells, the ringing of a crude bell and the sound of running feet were all around me. I put the others from my mind, as one must during a battle. Whether I was concerned or not, they were on their own, and I could not allow myself to become distracted once more. I held my broad shield before me as I moved up the stairs, the filthy robes discarded now that they had fully served their purpose. Let them see me in the morning light, let them witness their death approaching unmasked and unstained. A bearded Man with short dark hair rushed towards me, hoping to use his position above me on the stairs to his advantage. He held an axe in one hand, and a buckler in the other. His first swing of the axe told me all that I needed to know; powerful, but sloppy and off-balance. I let the hard blade deflect from my shield, then moved my head just enough to avoid the strike with the buckler. I waited for the next swing of the axe, and intercepted it with the blade of my sword, the sharp steel quickly severing the axe, and the hand, from the Man's arm. His eyes widened as he registered the loss, then were closed by the next cut of my blade. I let the body fall past me and continued up the stone stairs. Two more of the brigands faced me at the top, an older man with white hair and a woman with red hair. The sight gave me a momentary pause as the rays of the morning sun lit that hair in a painfully familiar way. I paid for the distraction as the old man nocked and loosed an arrow from his shaking hands at me. It cut deeply through the light armour, then the flesh around my shoulder and I felt a bright flash of pain. Fool, I thought to myself, and advanced.
The fortress was empty, save for my companions and the dead. I did not think that any had the time to flee, and nodded to myself at a job well done. Parnard and Danel had emerged from the fighting unscathed and the sight of them brought gladness to my heart. Danel noticed the wound from the arrow, and quickly moved to clean and bandage it as best she could. I nodded my thanks and waited for her to finish, watching that familiar red hair as she did so.
