Raesh picked up his broad sword and they set out for the smithy.
Sundown and night had fallen. The whole village was up and out on the streets with torches in their hands. Groups of vigilant and angry men stood at every corner and intersection. For the first time, Mannat saw the roads of his village glowing golden at night. It was like a festival.
“So much for patrolling the village,” Pandit spat on the ground. His mother would have sent him flying with a torrent of slaps for spitting on the street. He found relief in the knowledge that she hadn’t tagged along with them for the dinner. He worried his father would later complain to his mother, but everyone beside him was distracted by one or another thing and hadn’t noticed the little evil he committed.
Khargosh was lost in many complicated thoughts. He didn’t believe his son killed the village men patrolling the streets last night, but he had seen Little Butcher slaughtering men without fear or worry like they were cabbages. That was not his son. He had told himself a million times but still couldn’t shoot the arrow at his head. He had missed. Everyone thought he connected, but in reality, he missed and did it consciously. His wife waited at home for him to bring her son back. How could he have killed the boy?
“I don’t think Little Butcher will show up tonight,” Mannat said. “There are too many people up and out.”
Raesh nodded along. “That’s the idea. The villagers don’t want him to return.”
“What happened to catch him?”
“You don’t understand,” Raesh said. “They never wanted to catch him. The point of sending the whole village into the woods was to scare him away. No one wants to grind their limbs against the wheel.”
Suddenly Khargosh asked Mannat, “Do you sense anything?” who shook his head. Khargosh clicked his tongue in regret. He looked like he was going to disappear into his thoughts again, so Raesh suggested, “Let’s get the armors. We’ll see about other things as they come.”
Everyone agreed. However, fate had a different plan for them.
They were passing the butchery on the way to the smithy when they saw its front door ajar and heard faint shuffling noises coming from inside the shop.
Suddenly, Raesh had a thought. “Where is Gande?” He asked,
“At home… I think,” Khargosh grabbed the bow from his back and pulled it to the front. Goosebumps rose over Pandit’s arms as he looked at Mannat and saw him frowning.
“I don’t know,” Mannat said noticing his gaze. “Could be; I’m not sure.”
Raesh looked toward the smithy; it was down the road, not too far away. He could not see it in the dark, but he knew they could make it back with all the tools they needed in under ten minutes, ample time for the trespasser to escape. They couldn’t have someone stay back either. That would be tantamount to sacrificing the person to bind time.
“What do you suggest?” Raesh asked Khargosh who knocked the arrow onto the bow and nodded to Mannat since he would be their eyes inside.
“There won’t be another chance this good,”
“But I don’t have a weapon,” Pandit muttered. They gave him the lantern to hold.
Raesh, who was injured, took the front with his iron long sword; it was big, wide, and heavy, a perfect shield that wouldn’t break into pieces from the swipe of a claw. Pandit followed him with the lantern raised high. He had the greatest constitution after Raesh. Even his father was but a paper tiger in front of him and Raesh. Mannat followed behind Pandit to protect them from an ambush, while Khargosh followed at the end with his bow and arrow.
The lantern light filled the dark crevices of the butchery with a golden glow. Walls appeared out of the darkness as cautious light enveloped them, and similarly dissolved back into nothingness behind the group when they moved away. They pushed past the counter and somehow made it through the tense corridor. Closer to the source, they heard the familiar sound loud and clear in the silence of the night. It was the repeating sound of something sharp cutting through bones and tender meat before clanging against the wood. Someone or something was chopping someone or something on the workbench. And they knew Little Butcher had spent his last year doing the exact same thing.
The workshop door was wide open, but it was dark around it. There was no lantern glow seeping through the door that would suggest they might be against a person rather than a…
Raesh wanted to call out the trespasser but decided against it so they wouldn’t fail to ambush him. Raesh had inherently firm and loud footsteps, as one would expect from a blacksmith, but the others seemed to meld into the darkness behind him, as neither Mannat nor the hunters made a sound. Mannat had learned the trick behind it.
Suddenly, the chopping sound abated before stopping completely. Either, they finished chopping or took notice of them.
“GO!” Khargosh said and Raesh rushed to bock the doorway. He made sure to keep his head hidden behind his broad sword. The weapon was double-edged. The thing would surely have his claws cut off if it blindly repeated its past action.
But nothing happened. Things didn’t dissolve into a fight as they all expected. A voice came from inside the darkroom.
“Who is it?” The familiar heavy and rough voice put the men at peace, while Pandit spoke out, “Ma, what are you doing out here at night?”
He pushed past Raesh with the lantern in hand and brought light into the workshop. Gande stood beside Little Butcher’s workbench with a chopped rabbit lying in front of her.
“Where did you get that?” Raesh asked from the door. He didn’t step inside.
His question drew everyone’s attention to the rabbit and made them frown. As far as Khargosh and Pandit were concerned, all the animals, including the rabbits, had disappeared deeper into the woods. They hadn’t caught one in weeks!
“I’m butchering a rabbit for my son.” She looked… happy. “What are all of you doing out here?”
Mannat acted unimpressed, but he was freaking out inside. He didn’t sense anyone else besides Gande in the workshop. However, his heart refused to believe they were alone; it continued thrumming faster and faster. He was sure the dread wasn’t unsubstantiated; his instincts were telling him they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And what about the chill that he felt coming from the room?
A hand caught his shoulder and made him jump. He glanced and saw Khargosh standing right behind him, with his eyes staring into the room, searching the corners for something that didn’t exist.
“Do you sense anything?” Khargosh asked and sighed when Mannat shook his head. “That’s good.” He said and pulled back the hand.
Mannat couldn’t see what the man was thinking, but Khargosh’s mana was agitated. Guess, Mannat wasn’t the only one whose instincts were screaming warnings at him.
Ahead, Pandit argued with his mother. “He’s not here, Ma. He’s out there somewhere, waiting to kill more people!”
“He didn’t kill people, boy.” Gande shook her head. “He was hunting a rabbit in the woods when the people attacked him. He did what anyone would do. He defended himself.”
Silence befell them. For a second no, one could comprehend Gande’s words. How did she know that? What was she saying?
While everyone else was busy contemplating, Mannat ‘sensed’ something in the room. An emotional storm was forming inside. Everyone’s breaths fogged as the temperature dropped around. A chill shook him. It was impossible for him to hide his reaction, and the storm concentrated its attention upon him. Mannat suffocated as the pressure enveloped him. Tears filled his eyes as he struggled to breathe. Irrational, undeserved hate overloaded his senses as he picked up something staring at him and everyone else from the roof. Mannat didn’t dare raise his head to confirm his suspicion. They were not prepared to fight little Butcher. It had grown stronger. His miasma was on the brink of crystallizing and forming the core of his being. That was the reason why Mannat couldn’t sense him, as he was limited in his ability to sense mana inside others.
He wanted to warn everyone but decided to keep the knowledge to himself. The others hadn’t noticed him yet. Perhaps, that was the only reason he hadn’t attacked them yet. They were not prepared to fight him. Little Butcher would have slaughtered them.
Mannat gritted his teeth and stepped toward the room. It was not easy for him to defy his instinct and senses knowing death waited for him inside. Little Butcher was watching him every move.
“Promise, you will return home after you are done here,” Mannat told Gande. “It’s not safe out here at night.”
Gande snorted in response. “You worry about yourself. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
Mannat wanted to run away, but fought his instincts and asked one more thing. “Can you tell me why you are doing this?”
Gande seemed to understand what he meant. She looked straight at him and said, “I’m his mother. I can’t let him starve.”
“What if he hurts you?”
“He won’t.” She said.
Mannat nodded. “We’ll be leaving first,” He said and walked away.
The others looked at him in surprise. He was retreating and calling them out. They didn’t know what was happening, but they knew one thing: Mannat could sense Little Butcher via his miasma. Pandit didn’t understand this, but he followed his father when Khargosh called him.
Raesh stood guard at the door until everyone was out before he also decided to retreat. He believed it was the right thing to do. He curtly nodded to Gande and followed the others out of the butchery.
“So what happened inside?” Raesh asked Mannat after leaving the shop.
Mannat didn’t hide anything. “Little butcher was inside the room.”
If that got him everyone’s stares, then his next words made them inhale sharply.
“He was on the ceiling, right above our heads. We weren’t safe inside and I didn’t want to risk setting him off.”
Pandit jumped back. “What!” Surprised, shocked, fearful, he looked at the building. Goosebumps erupted over his arms. “MA!” he cried and scrambled toward the shop before Raesh caught him and hugged him tightly. The boy flailed and screamed, but failed to escape Raesh’s arms no matter how he acted.
“She’s safe, Pandit. Your brother—” ‘or what is left of him’, Mannat wanted to say but held his tongue “—was only there for the rabbit. He didn’t attack us, even though he could have killed us all. Everyone would have panicked if I had told you about him and he would have sensed your fear. I think this was the reason Gande didn’t say anything either.”
“You did the right thing,” Khargosh said, but he was gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. “What now?”
“Let’s get the armors,” Raesh said. Pandit was reluctant to leave, but Raesh picked him over his shoulder and took him away.
They returned ten minutes later wearing mix and matched armors. Raesh wore a bucket helmet to protect his head and armor he slapped together from unpolished iron plates. He also held a large half-finished and undecorated iron shield in his hand. It was a work in progress and retained its forge marks.
Pandit had picked up Raesh’s double-handed broadsword. He wore old chainmail for protection over Mannat’s leather apron and iron greaves to protect his legs. Mannat and Khargosh wore armors made of boar skin since they would be staying in the back and relatively out of danger.
Gande was waiting for them at the door when they returned to the butcher shop. Pandit rushed to her yelling, “Ma!” and hugged her.
“All right, stop clinging to me. You are not a baby anymore.” Gande berated him but didn’t push him away. Pandit chuckled when she hugged him back.
“Where is he?” Khargosh solemnly asked her, and that ended the moment of affection between Pandit and Gande. She told him, “He’s in the workshop. I bolted the door shut.”
She didn’t tell them what to do. She had made up her mind.
“Be careful,” was all she said.
The four adopted the same formation as last time with Raesh at the front and Khargosh at the very back when they entered the butchery. Mannat carried the lantern this time around.
They arrived at the workshop through the corridor. A single deadbolt was barely holding the wide door closed. They could hear low growls and chewing noises from behind the door. This time they were at an advantage. The door was the only way to enter and exit the workshop. They knew what they were dealing with, and they had come prepared.
“Get ready. I’m opening the door.” Raesh said and got on his haunches to defend, holding the shield at the front. He flicked the bolt and gently pushed the door open with his shield. A shriek rang inside the workshop. A cold wind blew at their faces. The lantern light barely illuminated the dark workshop when a metallic ding echoed at the head of their formation.
“What?” Pandit gasped as Raesh grunted and took a step back. The iron shield hummed in his hands.
“It’s not over!” Raesh yelled at the same time as something sharp like claws grated against the shield’s body. Sparks ensued from the oval shield, sparkling Little Butchers deformed face in light for a few seconds.
The lantern light radiated the room beyond Raesh. The workshop space wasn’t pitch black, and they could barely see his figure moving in the dim shroud of light. Little Butcher shrieked and the metallic ringing, the scratching, and grinding got louder.
Raesh sweated profusely as Little Butcher tried to break his shield. Each blow that he defended would send drops of sweat flying off his forehead. Each blow he faced forced him to adjust his feet. Each blow tired him, leeched his strength, and brought him closer to failure. It wasn’t long before he realized he was the only one who was growing weaker.
“I can’t hold him for much longer! DO SOMETHING!”
“HOLD THE LANTERN, PANDIT! SHINE THE LIGHT ON HIM!” Mannat shoved the lantern to Pandit and raised both his arms. He waited until Little butcher was in his sight and shot two whirling cascades of mana at him, pushing him back.
Little Butcher wasn’t blown away. He didn’t fall down and roll on the ground, but roared when the lantern light fell upon him.
Curses and gasps flew between the four men at the sight of him.
Little Butcher looked bigger and meaner than before. Not an inch of skin covered his body and the outline of his dreadfully solid muscles was visible under the coat of his jet-black hair. His eyes burned darker than the shade of darkness around him. The white of his cranium was the only color visible on his entire body. Even his fangs, which had grown finger long, were black as ash and hung out without lips to hide them for the world to fear. He looked nothing short of a nightmare.
The Witch was right. Flesh dies and bonds break. Miasma changes people.
