A Bloody Night

The alarm bells rang.

Krenen's eyes opened and he focused on his hearing to make sure the bells were ringing, and he wasn't just dreaming it. It took the fraction of a second for him to get up from bed, jump down to the floor, and start dressing himself. All the guards around him did exactly the same.

They'd drilled for this countless times, and even though it never took them more than two minutes to get ready, it always felt like too long. That by the time they'd be done, whatever atrocity or emergency was happening would already be over, and claimed all its victims.

Trousers, shirts, an especially thick and protective over-coat, a wooden round shield, two short, one-handed spears, and a long one with obsidian tips was the guards' equipment. They all stepped out from the barracks to the dark night of the courtyard. Rudsis was already waiting for his men.

"Households are being attacked by groups of assailants," he announced loudly to the hundred men standing in squads in front of him. "We are to patrol the streets and protect the folk. Am I clear?"

Every single guard saluted. "YES, SIR."

"Let's go, then."

Krenen had been assigned to Rudsis' squad. He and his four companions stood in formation behind the Second, and stepped out of the courtyard to patrol the section of the city their squad was assigned to.

Even though he'd barely gotten any sleep and felt physically tired, Krenen noticed that he felt alive marching hurriedly through the streets of the city. This is what he was meant to be doing.

It didn't take long for them to come across a house that had been invaded. As they got close, shouts could be heard coming out of it.

"PRAY."

"WE TOLD YOU TO PRAY."

"PRAY TO TRENIS ON YOUR KNEES."

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. LEAVE US ALONE."

"NO, DON'T."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

Rudsis, at the head of the squad, stepped into the house just in time to see a robed figure pull a wooden pointed stick out of a woman's stomach. The figure shoved the woman, and her back clashed against a wall. Her husband and two children were kneeling on the floor, held at stick point to the neck.

As the children started crying and the husband shouted something, Rudsis stalked in, held the woman's killer by the shoulder, turned him around so they'd be face to face, and drove his short spear into the man's lower jaw, up to the head.

There was a moment of confusion as the first men of the squad stood at the door, and looked at the scene. Fortunately, they reacted to the surprise faster than the robed figures.

One of them tried to get out of the cramped space within the house, and flee, but Krenen stopped him by tripping the man. Unusually limber, the man rolled on the floor instead of falling and sprawling. That gave Krenen some pause, but when he saw how inappropriately the attacker was holding the wooden stick in his two hands, he determined he didn't need to worry too much about it.

"Calm down, friend," said Krenen putting his spear away, slinging it on his belt next to the spare, and letting his shield drop to the floor. "Unless you've killed someone, of course. In that case, you should definitely try to run away."

"I haven't killed anyone! I'm not your friend!" said the man with a wide stance, holding the stick with both hands, and pointing at Krenen's chest.

"Then drop that stick and tell me, what word do you think I can use other than friend?" Krenen took careful steps towards the man with hands held in front of him so they'd be visible all the time.

"Get away!"

"I can't, friend. I need to ask you why you're doing this."

"Let me go!"

"I can't. I told you why."

The man lunged forward and thrust the stick at Krenen's chest. Krenen ducked, took hold of the stick, and spun with it to twist his attacker's wrist. The man had to let go of his weapon.

Krenen expected him to counterattack with his fists. But quite intelligently, the man went for the shield on the floor.

Krenen sighed and rubbed the outer corner of his eye with a finger. "Would you like to please attempt the peaceful way?"

"Peace will never change anything!"

"Please, friend."

"I'M NOT YOUR FRIEND." The man charged to smash into Krenen with the shield in front of him.

Krenen, however, like any other guard, trained his body every single day to make it strong. He grabbed the shield by the edge with both hands, stopped the man in his tracks, and pushed him up against a wall. The back of the man's head crashed with the stone bricks, and when the bright spots in his eyes cleared out, the obsidian point of a short spear was already a finger's breadth from one of his eyes.

"If I feel you try to move in any way, this spear goes into your head, foe." The word felt campy, but given the circumstances, Krenen considered it an appropriate substitute for friend. "Am I clear?"

"Do it," said the man. "I'm tired. If I can't change anything, just do it."

Krenen had felt the emptiness with which the man spoke. The emptiness that had drowned his fear of being decapitated just a few hours before.

"I get it. I'll do it," said Krenen. "But tell me why you're doing this? Are you part of the attacks throughout the city?"

"Because it's all we can do," said the man. "We break our backs, and arms, and legs, and knees working to barely have enough to eat on our tables. Every day, from sunup to sundown. And you? You rest after a quarter of the day. And the nobles? They barely work. And the king? He listens to the nobles. But who's listening to us?"

"Fair enough," said Krenen. "But what did you expect to fix? Attacking the folk will only get your head cut off. The king won't even listen to it roll on the cobbles."

"What king?" The man laughed. "By now, our goddess Treni will have torn his head off his shoulders with her own hands. Funny that neither of us heard his head bounce on the marble floor, eh?"

"Kinghall is being attacked?"

The man shrugged.

"How many of you are attacking it?"

"Just do it," the man looked at the point of the spear, crossing his eyes.

Krenen would have laughed at how silly the man looked. "How strong is the force attacking it?"

"I already served everyone that needed me. That's all I wanted to do. I just wanted to serve—"

Krenen was pushed off the man. The guard had to roll on the floor, but when he was on his feet, he saw that it had been Rudsis who'd tackled him. His superior proceeded to slit the man's throat.

"You heard him," said Rudsis to Krenen.

The robed man took his hands to his neck, choking.

"He wanted you to kill him, and we have to go to kinghall immediately."

Blood escaped between the fingers of the man. He fell to his knees on the floor, and looked at Krenen directly. It was hard to see in the darkness of night; the torches of this street had been put out. Still, by the little light of the moon and stars, Krenen was sure of what he saw in his eyes as life escaped him. A sad tranquility. Resignation. The very same thing he'd felt himself when he was sure he'd be executed.