The Enemy of the World Chapter 2 The Intruder

TWO GUARDS CHARGED AGAINST THE UNKNOWN, AND THE FIRST DIED WITH A KITCHEN KNIFE BETWEEN HIS EYES. The second guard hesitated, stepped wrong, and was taken down by a leap from the stranger, who climbed onto his chest with his knees. The guard felt a firm grip lock his arm, bones in his wrist breaking with a sharp pain; a bite to the throat. The intruder stood up, his mouth and chest drenched in red, and looked around.

He was surrounded. Six other guards encircled him, the gentleman who had shouted, and two young boys, but the intruder didn't concern himself with counting them. Perhaps he didn't care, or maybe he couldn't. He certainly didn't fully understand what was happening. The intruder resembled more of an animal than a person.

He had entered the house because he was hungry; the smell of food drew him in. Of the two men who had tried to block his passage, he had killed only one; he didn't care, so long as he reached his goal. The house had two floors, filled with rooms and furniture, but he quickly found the source of the enticing aroma. Two women had begun to scream as he approached, but now they lay silent with broken necks. He couldn't tolerate the noise anymore, those incessant voices in gatherings of animals, people, and things, always making noise. He looked into the large pot, picked it up with his hands, let out a cry of pain, and dropped it. The steaming contents spilled onto the floor, and he bent down to devour it. Then the bald man arrived in the kitchen, shouting, and calling for all the armed men.

Now he was stained with blood and raw soup. His body tensed, anticipating the guards' attack. The intruder knew that the bald man, though the weakest, was the leader there. The two youngest boys were close to the leader, unsure whether to protect him or run away.

"Trennay, call the captain of the militia," the bald man instructed the smallest of the boys. "Tell him we need reinforcements."

The boy ran out of the house. For a moment, the stranger fixed his gaze on the boy, and then two of the six guards attacked.

The stranger turned his body, attempting to dodge, but was struck. Two swords pierced his stomach and chest, exiting through his back before his eyes. He completed the spin, turning back to face his enemies. His massive hands grabbed the faces of the two guards, and a sickening sound of bones snapping filled the air as he crushed both skulls. One of the surviving enemies couldn't contain his vomit. Bodies were thrown, knocking down one of the remaining guards, while another slipped in a large pool of blood. The only one able to fight was attacked by the stranger, who embraced him, impaling him on the tips of the swords that sprouted from his own body.

He struggled to free himself from the corpse and headed towards the bald man and the boy. They screamed again and ran, but the intruder's long arms caught them by their clothes, pulling them close.

"Only. I want. Although..." the stranger struggled to articulate, the words slipping from his grasp.

The bald man turned his head, looking at the intruder in terror. "Go. Please," he pleaded. "Just go."

Perhaps the intruder didn't understand what the man was saying, or maybe he decided it wasn't worth it anymore. With a violent gesture, he slammed the man's head against the wall, again and again, until a red stream leaked out. The boy screamed once more. The stranger, losing patience, dropped the bald man's body and broke the boy's neck. He looked at the remaining guards, but none dared to confront him. Suddenly, he heard a thin voice behind him and felt the sting of multiple arrows piercing his back.

The first of the boys had returned, accompanied by several other guards. They didn't want to get close; they shot arrows with bows and crossbows. The intruder locked eyes with the boy, smiled with blood-red teeth, and decided to start with him.

Irynna didn't see her mother killed; she only found her body in the kitchen. She couldn't scream. Next door, a servant also lay stretched out on the floor. Irynna spied on everything, hiding in the dark of a closet, while the intruder killed several militia guards. One of them was nearly her age and had, shyly, flirted with her. He died. Another, she knew, had a two-year-old son with a crippled foot. He died. Another was a stranger, although she had seen him around town. He died.

She witnessed Dressen, her younger brother, die. She thought Trennay, the youngest, would escape, but the man attacked him unexpectedly, ignoring the arrows that flew at him. They pierced his flesh at regular intervals. The fight moved outside the house, and she lost sight of the stranger, but before that, she had paid close attention to him. After all, he had killed her entire family. He was now the most important person in her life.

The intruder was extraordinarily tall, perhaps the tallest human she had ever seen. His skin was white as lime, his short hair almost the same color. His eyes were red. Maybe it was Collen's nature, Irynna thought.

But no. He was just an albino.

The intruder wore clothes much too small for him. He had on a red coat that must have once belonged to a nobleman, beige riding pants, and a butcher's apron—white and filthy. Over everything, he wore a tattered black cape. He wasn't wearing shoes; she figured he couldn't find any that fit.

Many hours later, the militia captain found her still locked inside the closet. He tried to explain what had happened, but Irynna interrupted him.

"My family died. I know. I saw."

She realized how devastated the captain was having to break the news to her. He thought it best to simplify everything. The captain also mentioned that the intruder had fled, disappearing into the forest, but Irynna already knew that too. She thought she would know if the intruder died.

The reluctant captain had all the bodies collected and organized a hunt. Ten of his men had died that afternoon. Everyone was silent. This was Petrynia, the Kingdom of Stories, but this was a tale no one wanted to tell.

"Eat," said Athela, Lena's cleric, looking helplessly at Irynna. The two had known each other since childhood.

"I don't want to," Irynna replied. "I'm not hungry, you know."

Athela stood up, placing the bowl and spoon on a simple table. The two were in a temple of Lena, the Goddess of Life. Athela had lived there, and so had Irynna, for four days, ever since the stranger had invaded her home. Athela had learned to be calm and gentle since taking up the clergy, but now she felt like slapping her friend to bring her out of her apathy.

"I don't want to eat anymore, Athela, or sleep. Until he's dead." Athela walked around the room for a while, feeling aimless. Irynna lay there, as she had for the past four days, in the same clothes and with the same expression—indifference mixed with certainty.

"It's a lie," Athela said, forcing a smile. "You slept yesterday and the day before. I saw."

"Wrong," Irynna said. She had merely closed her eyes and lay still, controlling her breathing for eight hours. She hadn't slept for a single minute. She knew that the cleric wouldn't sleep until she thought Irynna had fallen asleep herself, so she had pretended.

Athela shuddered, knowing it was true, but tried to convince herself otherwise. "My life is over, Athela. I don't need this anymore. I just need him to die, and then I can go too. I'm already done here."

"That's a lie too," the cleric almost shouted. "You can continue your father's business. You can get married. He's your age."

"My father is dead," Irynna stated. "And so am I."

Like every cleric of Lena, Athela had given birth before joining the order. Only by generating life, as preached by the goddess, would the clerics understand why they should never take it away. Athela wondered if she would become like Irynna if her daughter died.

"You have money," she said, almost pleading. "You can do whatever you want."

"This money already has an end. I'll hire someone to hunt him down and kill him." Athela sighed. That had become her only response lately; sighing and sinking deeper into her friend's sadness. She prayed to Lena that Irynna's misery wouldn't swallow her up.

"If that's what you want," she sighed again, "I have a friend who can help you."

For the first time in four days, a spark ignited in Irynna's eyes. "Really?" she asked, almost smiling. "Who is she?"

"She's a hero."