Chapter 46 Brother Death
Chapter forty-six
Brother Death
Sam
Our little sanctuary seems to be getting more visitors.
I think to myself grumpily. I grunt as I haul yet another intruder to the cave that I had stowed the first. Scouts to be exact, seeing as they are woefully unprepared for combat.
Any true warrior would be adept at both masking and fighting, but these men rely far too much on their cloaking abilities and a heavy weapon.
Once both those tools are taken from them, they are simple to incapacitate.
Making it to the cave, I untie the rope I secured to my waist before this night's watch.
Dragging the man inside, I start securing him across from the first asshole.
Which is why I have to start making sure I train Alaceandra on both the use of her dagger and of her body.
I would hate to have her be so pitiful once disarmed.
I hang him by the arms in the cave. I hope this fucker is alone, but I severely doubt it.
I left the first meathead far too long after he witnessed Alaceandra's abilities.
If he sent off a message to whomever sent him, these new scouts mean that she is indeed their person of interest and that does not bode well for the length of our stay here.
I will have to discuss with the group about leaving here soon.
Although it would be easier knowing where to go if I could figure out just who sent them.
I turn to my first captive and notice that he is conscious, although he is pretending otherwise.
I hold back a laugh and grab one of my daggers.
Using it to delicately slice a strip of skin from the man's forearm I watch as he jerks away from me, his charade forgotten.
"Ah looks like you are awake," I say sarcastically, spinning the bloody dagger in my palm.
"What the fuck!" the man yells.
I ignore him and watch as a thin streak of blood travels down his arm. "Want to explain what you are doing here?"
"Who are you?" I nick another cut along his other forearm, and he yelps in pain. "What the fuck, man!" the bonehead screams.
I slice him again. "I can do this all day, you cannot. I would suggest that you start talking." I keep my tone aloof, but the darkness inside of me purrs as the blood pools on the floor. I smile at the awakening of my old friend.
"You think a few cuts are going to get me to talk?" He spits at me. "You will have to do better than that."
I sigh. "If you insist." My eyes darken and a tendril of inky blackness leaves me.
I let it wrap around the man. All at once a hundred tiny cuts open up across his form.
I watch as his deepest fears become reality behind his closed eyes.
His screams echo throughout the cave, shrill and desperate.
After a minute I release him. He slumps against his chains.
Guess that was a tad too much then. They do say the minds terrors are a lot more powerful than that of the physical form.
I let out an annoyed noise. Even still these men are far too weak.
Deep laughter rattles from the man behind me. "Seems you have matured in power since the last we spoke, Frater Mortis."
I still and allow my darkness to surround me like armor, shrouding my face in shadow. Turning, I face the other captive. My voice is ice. "I see you are still not above inhabiting the bodies of your cannon fodder."
"Old habits." The man speaks, but the way his mouth moves is unnatural. Like noise is being forced from his body rather than it being freely voiced. The man's eyes have gone white, his skin pallid and he twitches with each ragged breath.
"What are you doing sending your men here?"
"You think I do not have curiosities of my own? After you left your kingdom for her-"
"You will not speak of her." Tendrils of darkness swirl around me, poised to strike, but I know I would only be hurting the form he is inhabiting, not the man himself.
More laughter. "Touchy, touchy. It seems your plans of slow pursual have not proved fruitful, Frater. Everyone knows she has come into her powers. It is only a matter of time..."
"You will do nothing," I growl.
"We will see… Until then." The man jerks his head down in a bow. Then he is gone. I check the pulse on the captives only to find none. They are dead. Fuck.