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“Stranger in the Night”

by Alice Montrose

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The tavern was dark, and smelled of ale, smoke and sweat. It seemed like half the town had gathered there after sunset, afraid of the dangers the night brought.

‘And rightfully so,’ the black-clad stranger reasoned, ignoring the persistent stares he received from most of the women and some of the men. Even with his face hid by the hood of his large cloak – whose folds also covered the rest of his body and the slender sword at his side – his height and lean build made him stand out in the crowd.

He noted the three men that had followed him around for half the day sitting at a table in the darkest corner, watching him intensely. Were they the ones he was looking for?

No, apparently not. They were after something else…

He suddenly hated being in this place, having to constantly be on his guard and protecting these fools from something they were not even aware it could be hiding among them. The ones he hunted were not that stupid, after all.

The stranger sighed, and forced himself to move. He made his way towards the wooden counter, to order a drink.

The three richly-clad men followed his every move with great interest. Duke Janis of Aenix, his Captain of the Guards and his councillor were returning home from the capital city of Bendis, and had stopped in this village for a couple of days, having nothing better to do with their time. And after noticing the stranger coming out of the temple at noon, it seemed their little holiday had turned into something interesting. It was no secret that the Duke was attracted to beauty and mystery, and spent a lot of money collecting rare objects and pursuing interesting people. And, having noticed this particular foreigner, the nobleman found himself greatly attracted to the mystery he represented.

“He has the grace of a dancer,” the Duke whispered to his two companions. Then, he turned to the inn-keeper, who had just personally delivered the rich dinner they had ordered. “That man,” he discretely pointed towards the counter, “who is he? Where does he come from?”

The stout man followed his directions, and his face went blank. “Y-Your Excellency… I cannot tell you who he is.

“But surely, he must have given you his name!” the captain intervened. The red-haired officer did not like the whole situation; there was something eerie about the stranger that unsettled him greatly.

“No, Milord, he did not. All I can tell you is that he is here in the company of a woman. They arrived yesterday and requested a room. The room is on the woman’s name, not his. That is all I know, I swear!”

The Duke dismissed the innkeeper and returned to watching the stranger. Not having bothered to remove his hood or gloves, he was sipping from a glass of dark wine, apparently oblivious to any stare he received from the half-drunk patrons.

‘He looks so different from all this junk,’ Duke Janis thought. ‘So composed and aristocratic… It would be a pity to lose him to some stinking peasant!’

He tried to eat something, but his eyes returned again and again to the calm figure by the tavern’s counter. He thought he had caught a glimpse of dark eyes looking back at him, but the next second it was gone, and he could not be sure if it had been an illusion or not. ‘I wonder if he is as handsome as I think he is…’

Meanwhile, the stranger took in his surroundings, searching for something only he could find. “Where are you hiding?” he challenged silently. Of course, nobody answered.

The door opened to allow entrance to an olive-skinned woman around 30 years of age. She was nothing like the fair beauties of the place; in fact, she seemed strong and secure of her actions – which included studying all the patrons with a hawk-like gaze. Her brownish hair was pulled back in a heavy plait, and a faint scar on her left cheek marred what would have otherwise been a lovely face. She wore men’s hunting clothes; a heavy sword, a bow and a quiver filled with arrows completed her warrior image. She looked around once more, and headed straight for the black-clad foreigner.

The man placed the half-empty glass on the counter and opened his arms to her. He gathered her to him and embraced her. “My little angel,” he whispered in her ear, “you are late. I was beginning to worry.”

Over at his table, the Duke of Aenix frowned. “I sincerely hope that woman is not his lover. Because, if she is, I might change my opinion about his apparent good taste.”

The woman seemed to return the affectionate embrace then she pulled away. She motioned for the servant girl to bring her some wine as well. She turned and smiled back at her companion, the scar giving her a ghastly look.

“Excellency,” Captain Tremaine dared, “I think you should reconsider. We know nothing about him, and the woman is acting like a bodyguard. He may be some noble travelling incognito…”

“I know all the noblemen of this confederacy. None of them looks anything like this man,” the Duke snapped.

Back at the counter, the woman leaned back near her friend, a hand on the hilt of her sword. “Any luck yet?”

“I see none in here. But there are too many people – I might be mistaken. What about the information you managed to dig up?”

“Three victims, so far. A girl and two boys, all young and more or less talented. A painter, a singer, an actor’s apprentice. No corpses were found yet.”

“We’re probably dealing with a local, then.” he said dryly. She did not miss what he implied.

“I do not deny it, the people of this region seem to have an inclination for –” she coughed, “males… but we could be chasing a female, after all.”

“I wonder which is worse.”

“Is that why you’re not taking off your hood?” she asked politely.

He laughed. “Part of it, yes. But you should know me better by now, Angelina.”

She smiled again, and he took her hand in his, squeezing it lightly. His gaze searched the room again and stopped on an older woman standing at the feet of what seemed an improvised stage. His grip tightened a little.

“That woman was at the temple today. She asked the Goddess to protect her ‘baby’.”

The Temple of Selena was the place where most offers and sacrifices were brought by those who needed immediate protection.

“And her child is…?” Angelina asked him. He only nodded towards the stage.

The lights had been dimmed and the whole place was in darkness for a few minutes, until candles were lit all around the wooden platform. On it laid the lithe body of a young boy. A hypnotic music filled the room, as the boy slowly rose and began his dance.

“A floor show? Really!”

He laughed silently, and bowed to briefly touch his lips on hers. Her eyes widened in surprise – a long time had passed since he had last done that. A whisper in her ear as he pulled back, caressing her face with soft leather-gloved fingers, told her what she needed to know.

“The blond man in the right corner has been watching me all day. His clothes say he is of noble origins. I have no doubt this little display is meant solely for him. Now, I have narrowed down the choice to the grey-haired man near the street window, and that wispy girl that is watching the boy from the kitchen door.”

She sighed. “You’re the one with demon sight…”

“Please try to remember that I am not infallible.” His nostrils flared – though invisible in the dark, she heard the sound. “But I can feel their scent in the air. Whoever it is, it is getting ready to transform.”

Her hand tightened on her sword. “I’m ready,” she said in a determined voice.

“Patience, my little angel. Patience,” he said on an amused tone, focusing on the moving form of the boy. He was a true dancer, not one of those who fooled the crowds from villages pretending to be one. A faint smile crossed his lips – the boy’s energy made him a potential target.

Then he decided to return the nobleman’s insistent gaze – he knew what the man wanted, but he was not planning on taking up such a proposal. However, he was somewhat intrigued that the young man had guessed through his disguise that he was no regular traveller; the man was rather good-looking, but...

Laures grinned – if the patrons of the tavern would know the truth about him…

Duke Janis took a moment to turn his head from the artful display on the improvised stage to find the stranger looking back at him. He could not make out the man’s features in the darkness, yet he thought he had seen pale flesh as the man bowed to whisper in the woman’s ear again. Whatever it was, she stiffened, then she caught his arm and, rising on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss on his cheek.

They both moved away from the counter, in different directions. Janis was afraid he would lose sight of the man, so he rose from his table as well and made his way through the crowd to finally meet the foreigner face to face near the heavy wooden door and block his path.

“Where to so hastily?” he asked seductively.

“Get out of my way, please.”

The nobleman became rigid at the sound of the low, yet commanding voice. A chill ran down his spine, though he could not decide whether in alarm or lust.

“If it is pleasure you seek – or perhaps a better companion for the night…” The nobleman let his voice trail off, but the suggestion had been explicit enough. He could not explain what it was that was drawing him to this man, whose face he had never seen. He could be ugly, or a brute, for all Janis knew. And still, he wanted him.

The stranger began to move, trying to get past him. The nobleman grabbed a shoulder covered in thick cloth and pulled him back. “At least you could give me an answer.”

He felt the man’s body stiffen. Then the torches in the room suddenly flared intensely, and the duke felt himself being pushed away with such a force he knocked over various drunken villagers and then landed on the rough wood floor.

He looked up in amazement, to see the hooded stranger looking at a grey-haired villager in the middle of the room. There was something about the bulky ploughman – something odd. The man had… horns?

He was being helped up. “Your Excellency, are you all right?” Malcolm, his councillor, asked as he and Captain Tremaine helped him stand.

“What is going on in here?” he managed to ask, before a sharp cry interrupted him.

A ploughman was changing – but into what, nobody could tell. Panicked men and women ran away from him to take shelter near the walls of the room, like they would find some protection there. Only the stranger in black clothes remained still, watching the creature complete its transformation and thus revealing its true nature.

It had the head and horns of a bull, but there all resemblance ended. Its body grew and became the shade of dirt, and its hands and feet transformed into clawed paws. A nightmare creature with orange eyes and ferocious fangs, which now advanced slowly towards the stage where the dancing boy had performed. The poor child was still there, petrified, watching the creature approach.

An arrow flew and hit the creature’s shoulder, making it growl and turn to face its source. The brown-haired woman stood on the other side of the wooden platform, bow in hand, prepared to shoot again. Duke Janis and his companions stood horrified, watching the creature slightly change its course. The woman shot again, arrow piercing through an orange eye. A painful roar rose then, as a huge clawed member launched forward to kill the woman –

– only to meet a cold steel blade that cut through with little effort. The mysterious man had moved so swiftly nobody had noticed, and had cut the creature’s arm off. It fell on the ground, and a sickening green-brown liquid began to flow from it and the creature’s body.

The woman jumped out of the way, grabbing a torch in the process.

With another growl, the creature blindly launched itself against its male opponent. Moving fast and secure on his feet, the man somehow managed to keep his distance, drawing the thing away from its victim and at the same time delivering several serious blows with his sword. The last stroke severed the horned head, and the body crushed on the floor, the dark liquid forming a puddle.

The woman approached now, and threw the torch on the corpse. A white flame burst up, and then it was gone just as fast, leaving nothing but a pile of black powder and an extinguished torch where the creature’s body had fell.

The stranger remained stiff, blade in his right hand, looking down at the floor through lowered eyelids. His cloak lay abandoned on the wooden floor, and now everybody could see his face.

Duke Janis drew his breath. The man was incredibly attractive. He had a lean strong body, encased in a silk shirt, leather leggings and sleeveless tunic, and soft boots and gloves, all in black. His pale skin glowed slightly in the torchlight, giving him a look of outwordliness. Dark eyes, a high brow and a smooth unblemished face were framed by lustrous hair that fell free on his shoulders in a pitch black curtain.

‘Who are you?’ Janis thought, enraptured by such beauty. He now knew he had to have this man, no matter what.

“Laures, is everything alright?” the woman with the scarred face asked him in a low voice.

That seemed to pull him out of his reveries. He turned to her, and cupped her face in his free hand, speaking loudly enough to be heard by the terrified patrons. “I am well, my angel, perfectly well.” He smiled – and then looked around the room again. “Where is the boy?”

She froze. “I thought he was with his mother.”

The man she had called Laures narrowed his eyes. His nostrils flared, as if he was testing the air. “The serving woman?” he asked coldly.

Meeting his companion’s clueless gaze, he stiffened. “Merda! Questo proprio non ci serviva (*)!” he spoke in a language so unfamiliar that the duke tried hard to recall if he had ever heard anything like it before. He had not – and he would have given anything to understand what those words had meant.

Laures looked sharply at the woman. “Stay here, Angelina. Make sure these people are safe. If I do not return by sunrise, you will know that I am dead.” He then turned to the inn-keeper, who had finally dared to peak out from under the counter. “What is the way to the catacombs?”

The chubby man’s voice trembled as he replied. “Right next to the Temple of Selena. The entrance is in the mausoleum. But, milord…”

The man did not wait for him to finish the sentence. He was out of the tavern and into the night.

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~ To Be Continued ~

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Translations:

(*) Merda! Questo proprio non ci serviva! = S**t! We really didn't need this!

also, the name 'Angelina' could translate as 'little angel'