After sundown, Arvenus walked down the dusty dirt road toward Daron’s mansion, hand in hand with his wife.

“Do you think your parents are right?” Analin asked. “Do you think he will come back when he’s ready? Do you think we’ll see him again?”

He shook his head. “I wish I knew love, but I don’t. The truth is, aside from my mother and father, there isn’t anything to keep him here. He has no wife, no children to speak of. He’s free to roam wherever he chooses. And we have no right to ask him to stay if he does not wish to.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “You’ve never been one to defend Yarnus,” she said pointedly. “I can only assume you do so now because it benefits you. He’s out of your hair, and I think you take far too much pleasure in it.”

Arvenus released her hand but continued walking, widening the distance between them.

“If I argue with him, I am admonished,” he said at last. “If I defend him, I am admonished. Is there ever a time, wife, when I might say the right things about him? Is there ever a time you might give me the courtesy of feeling however I might feel about my brother without your commentary on the matter?”

“I just wish that you missed him the way the rest of us do,” she said after a moment’s pause. “You seem so unaffected by his leaving. Is there nothing at all about him you miss?”

Arvenus was silent. Analin waited a heartbeat before her scornful snort filled the space between them.

“You have so little family,” she said to him then. “So little family, yet you would be more than happy to do away with the family you do have. How unbecoming.”

Arvenus let his anger out in a breath, holding his tongue. He rubbed the back of his hand against his beard, wondering if he would ever make Analin happy.

“Much as I’d love to continue our conversation,” he said, his words biting. “I have the watch to attend. Can you see yourself home unaided, love?”

She glanced at him with a shake of her head.

“Yes,” she said after a pregnant pause. “I’ll find my way. And perhaps when you find your way home when your watch has ended, you might also see your way to understanding my view.”

Her words brought him up short, and Arvenus stopped in his tracks as she continued on down the road without him. He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his temples in small, slow circles. What could he say to Analin to assuage her hurt? He feared that no matter what he said, he would never convince her of his pure intentions nor of his innocence in his brother’s leaving.

With a shake of his head, he turned around and headed back the way he had come, closer to the edge of the village. He followed the path for a short while, until he came to the rickety hut that had been thrown together quickly, its haphazard shape looming before him like the bent skeleton of a would-be house. Arvenus lumbered inside quickly, stepping free of the warm night air.

Inside, a single lamp had been lit and it sat on the table, the small flame flickering with cheer inside its glass cage. Next to it sat Sadus, the older villager that had helped him train the village guard men.

“Well met, Sadus,” Arvenus said, making his way to the table and stretching out an arm. Sadus gripped him around the elbow, and Arvenus did the same.

“Well met, Arvenus. How goes it?”

Arvenus sighed through pursed lips. “The same as ever, I’m afraid.”

“Analin still on about your brother?” Sadus asked with a knowing grin.

“Aye,” Arvenus agreed. “She can’t seem to let it go. She thinks I am responsible for it all, and no matter what I say I cannot seem to convince her otherwise.”

“If she loves him so, why didn’t she marry him?” Sadus murmured. He caught Arvenus' eye and dropped his head, a sheepish look about him.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Not my place.”

“No,” Arvenus sighed after a moment’s pause. “I must admit in my darkest hours I have wondered the same. Perhaps it is only that she cannot get past his deformed visage. I don’t believe I will ever truly know or understand what lies inside her heart.”

“No matter,” Sadus said, his tone light. “She has committed herself to you in the eyes of the Gods, and they have blessed your union with a child. If the Gods did not believe you two were compatible, or that her love for you was true, such a thing would not have been possible.”

“Aye,” Arvenus agreed, though he wasn’t sure he believed it. “I suppose you have the right of it.” He cleared his throat, eager to change the subject. “Have you done the first patrol?”

Sadus nodded. “Aye. All’s quiet out there.”

“I’ll walk another round,” he suggested, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “You never know what might be lurking in the shadows. Good to have eyes on it as often as possible, in any case.”

Sadus nodded. “I’ll keep watch over the fields,” he suggested. “It’s a clear night tonight, not a cloud in the sky, and the moon’s bright, bless her. It should be easy enough to spot trouble if it’s brewing.”

Arvenus nodded. “Let’s hope you’re right.” He grabbed up a darkened lantern and lit the candle inside. The flame burst to life with an orange flicker, and he closed up the door, latching the fire safely in its place.

He plodded out the door, trailing the path that led around the edge of the village. Such had become his nightly routine. He found it soothing, to walk the outer ridge in the darkness. He was alone at last, alone with his thoughts, with his feelings. Though he was on alert for anything that might be amiss, the time he spent alone was perhaps the only thing that had kept him sane over the preceding few weeks. Between the farm work and Analin’s backhanded words, it seemed he had precious little time to himself, time to decompress and allow himself to simply exist. So, while others had found the watch to be tedious, even boring, Arvenus had come to relish his night time stroll about the village.

He walked past the last rows of houses that encircled the village, disappearing into the shadows beyond. He stared out into the night, breathing deeply of the air. The whiffs of jasmine and lavender struck him, soothing him, lulling him to a sense of relaxation. He ambled back around the edges of the house, dipping down the side of an alley and back out onto the main road.

Sadus seemed to be right. All was quiet in their sleepy village. So, when Arvenus heard the faint whisper of hooves pounding the earth, he stopped short. He listened for a moment, wondering if his mind was perhaps playing tricks on him, but when the sound of a horse whinnying rose on the wind, he knew with crushing certainty there had been no mistake.

Arvenus raced back to the hut. The door slammed on its hinges as he shoved it open, and Sadus stared at him with wild eyes.

“You heard it too?” Sadus asked, the shadow of fear buried in his words.

“Aye,” Arvenus nodded. “Round up the others. Rouse them from their beds. Get as many as you can. It may be nothing, but I’d rather be prepared. Go now, don’t dally.”

Sadus nodded, his face white as a sheet. Arvenus could hardly blame him. None of them were seasoned fighters. They were farmers and merchants, not blacksmiths or soldiers. They knew nothing about swords and scrambles. They had lived their lives in silence, in amicable peace, until Kenderik One-Arm had come to their little village and robbed them of it.

Arvenus listened hard to the sounds of night, but the sound of hooves had drawn no closer. Sadus disappeared out the door that was still fully ajar, and Arvenus followed him. Outside, the world was quiet. Too quiet. Arvenus turned toward the field. It was empty, a blanket of darkness filled only with the whispering of the wind. The world was devoid of life. The crickets did not sing, and the birds did not trill. All around him, it was eerily silent. He hefted his sword in front of himself, both palms wrapped around the overly long hilt.

The sudden snapping of twigs caught his attention. It was punctuated by a guttural scream. As Arvenus turned toward it, something hard caught him on the side of his head. The force of it knocked him to the dirt. Jarring pain resonated from the crown of his skull to his jaw, and he blinked away the tears that gushed into his eyes. As he rolled over, laughter peeled through the air, and he managed to roll away free of the road as a dozen horses thundered past, parading through the streets. A familiar voice rode the wind, one that seemed to torment Arvenus at every turn.

With a slight hitch in his step, Arvenus rose to his feet. Raiders were dismounting, breaking down doors, and tearing the village apart piece by piece. Arvenus swallowed around the sudden bile creeping up his throat. He stumbled forward, swinging the sword before him. He raced to the nearest house. The door had been broken to splinters and was hanging from its hinges in a twisted sort of frown. Arvenus pushed his way inside.

A woman sat huddled in the corner, clutching her robes tight against her. She was a disheveled sight, with torn clothes and blood smeared cheeks.

“Where is he?” Arvenus thundered, clutching the side of his head. The woman raised a shaking hand, pointing to a door. The sound of a young girl’s scream echoed from behind it, and the woman choked out a sob. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, then he charged into the door, breaking it down.

Inside, a raider stood over a child’s bed, leering at the young girl tucked away beneath the covers. Her whimpers emanated from within the folds, and Arvenus watched in horror as the bandit lifted a large knife aloft, the point hovering over the child’s head.

With a savage grunt, Arvenus bolted toward the raider. He hacked at the bandit’s back, and was surprised when his blade stuck in. The squelch of blade ripping through flesh was loud in his ears, and he tugged the sword free in a swathe of bright blood. The raider dropped to his knees, his screams filling the air. He twisted and flailed, but he could not seem to make his legs work. He flopped over onto his side, brandishing the knife before him, swinging at Arvenus in a wide arc. Arvenus stepped away, easily dodging the blade. As the raider lifted his weapon once more, Arvenus thrust his blade inside the circle the bandit’s arms created. His sword pierced the raider’s breastbone, slicing clean through to the other side.

At once his screams ceased. Arvenus placed his boot on the man’s unmoving body, and with a groan of effort he jerked his sword free. He tried to ignore the blood that dripped from the point in a steady stream, trailing a path through the house as he made his way back outside.

Carnage greeted him. For the second time he saw his village in ruin, and the outrage inside him swelled. He darted to the next house and was gutted to find its inhabitants slain, their bodies drenched in blood, still laying in their beds. As he stumbled back outside, he was relieved to find Sadus and the other men in the guard waiting for him. Among them as well was Sadus’ nephew Arin.

“Comb the streets,” Arvenus ordered without preamble. “They’re killing everyone they can find. Men, women… children…” he gasped a breath. “Check every house. And men… any bandits you see… kill them.”

One by one the watch members nodded and disappeared down a series of snaking alleys between homes. Arvenus gulped down the night air. Screams raged all around him, screams of terror, screams of pain, and the haunting laughter that followed them slithered up his spine, making him shiver.

Shaking the fog from his mind, Arvenus could only think of one thing: Analin.

He needed to find her and to keep her safe. He raced through the streets, his heart pounding. Breathless, he reached the gate to the garden of Daron’s mansion and ripped it off its hinges. His feet thundered up the dirt path, but before he could reach the door, Analin’s face peered through the window. His limbs weak with relief, he dropped to his knees.

“Arvenus!”

With a deep breath, he turned around. Sadus came stumbling through the broken gate, his face pale and drawn, giving support to his nephew who had been badly wounded.

“Sadus, what news?”

“Arvenus,” he panted. “It’s the farmstead… your parents…”

His heart in his throat, Arvenus swallowed back sour bile. “What of them?”

“I’m sorry,” Sadus whispered. “We tried… but we were too late…”

Arvenus didn’t wait for Sadus to finish. With a sob still caught in his throat, he rose up and raced back down the path. He ignored all the violence around him, the shattered homes and the villagers’ blood running in the street. He stumbled over bits of wood that lay scattered in his path, his mind focused solely on reaching the farmstead of his parents.

When he arrived, all was dark inside. The door had been ripped from its hinges, and it lay split into large fragments on the grass. Blackness beckoned him through the gaping doorway, and he followed its command. Rusty swathes of color led him deeper inside, blood that had already started to dry. Arvenus felt the world tilting towards him. He fell to his knees, his hands falling to the floor, his fingers slick with the blood he found there. 

Arvenus staggered back to his feet, clutching the walls for support. He continued on, desperate to find his parents. All too soon he did. As he stepped into the back hallway, their door loomed open before him. It mocked him like a mouth gaping wide with laughter as he crept forward warily, his feet slipping with each step. He breached the doorway, and there he saw them.

Face down on the bed, they lay side by side. If it hadn’t been for the way his father’s head was cocked to the side at such an odd angle and the way his mother’s scalp flopped, hair and all, behind her, he might have been able to pretend they were merely sleeping. However, the walls were caked in their blood, a fine mist of red that painted the room the color of nightmares. Their bodies lay in a mangled mass of broken limbs and pearly bone protruding through jagged bits of skin.

Arvenus made his way to his father’s side, and with deft and gentle hands he turned his father onto his side. Bits of his entrails spilled forth from his belly and lolled lifelessly over the edge of the bed.

“No,” Arvenus whispered. “Gods, no. This cannot be.”

Hot saliva trickled into his mouth, and before Arvenus could conjure a moment to think, he suddenly retched all over the floor. He fell back on his haunches and skittered out of the room on all fours.

Out in the hallway, he struggled to draw breath. The weight of what he had seen crushed him, and he slid down the wall, his back scraping against sharp fragments of wood that protruded from the surface. There he lay, consumed by a biting agony.

It was there that Daron found him some time later.

“Arvenus,” Daron murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. Roused from his stupor, Arvenus struggled upright.

“They’re gone,” he croaked, his eyes harboring unshed emotion. “I was too late. Far too late.”

Daron nodded. “I know. Come, let us leave this place.”

The landlord helped him to his feet, placing a thick arm about Arvenus' middle and dragging him from the house.

“They were gutted and scalped like animals,” Arvenus whispered, his voice hoarse. “They had been treated as if they were less than human. They did not deserve this fate.”

“No,” Daron agreed. “They didn’t.”

“This has to stop,” Arvenus whispered. “We cannot go on this way. I thought the watch…” He took a shuddering breath. “I thought the watch would stop Kenderik One-Arm. I thought I could stop them. But they slaughtered our friends, our families, in their beds. This needs to stop…”

“Hush,” Daron soothed. “As other landlords have done since the start of the crop plague and the rise of Kenderik One-Arm, I will send word to the steward of Mano asking for his help. We have neither the resources nor the numbers to defend ourselves if this happens again. And I would not see anyone else suffer from our incompetence.”

Arvenus nodded. A few steps more and they had reached the gate of the mansion. He registered vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, Analin rushing toward him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned into the softness of her embrace, closing his eyes and breathing her in. Her touch gave him comfort in a world that no longer seemed whole.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. “I’m so terribly sorry.”

They remained locked together for several moments, until at last Arvenus had regained at least some of his composure.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed. His words were those of a broken man.

She slipped her hand into his palm and squeezed tightly. “I will help you with whatever you need,” she assured, still stroking his hair. Arvenus bent his head into the crook of her neck, and at long last, he let the tears of anguish and sorrow fall.