9 — Red

‘No…don’t take this away…’

A red flash blinded his eyes. 

Beached boats… hundreds of footprints, deep in wet sand. 

Smoke… Ash… Screams…

Curved swords laced with warm blood.

Cassian tore himself free from the intruding echo. He blinked, then looked around him. 

The family stood frozen. Greta held Carla tight. The little girl frowned confused, fear layered beneath her furrowed brows. Meanwhile Liam tugged at his father’s tunic. 

“Father, what is that sound?” He asked, pointing into the vast darkness of the forest. 

The thuds came from every direction. Scattered. No coordination or reason. Or maybe there was. Maybe they were scattered to search between the trees. Riding spread out because they didn’t know yet where they were.

Cassian’s eyes snapped to the fire. He moved. His fingers grabbed the large fur pelt they had used for seating and threw it over the flames, stomping violently to kill it. 

“Cassian?” Hans stepped toward him, a hand hovering as if wanting to help, but he wasn’t sure how. 

Cassian turned. “Red Cloaks.” 

Greta frowned, pulling her daughter even closer. “Red Cloaks? Here?”

“They’re moving fast,” Cassian muttered, freeing Nyxen from the skinny tree her reins were tied to. 

An echoing cackle shot through the forest, grabbing all of their gazes immediately. The thuds were growing louder. 

“You need to leave. Now,” Cassian said, bringing Nyxen over and handing her reins to Hans. “Please.”

Hans met his eyes. The soft, bright glint in them slowly faded into something grey and dull. Hans looked to his family, then back at Cassian. With a half-breath he grabbed his son first. Lifted him up onto Nyxen’s back. Then tore Carla free from Greta’s embrace and put her behind Liam. 

His hands went to Greta’s cheeks, cupping them as he stared into her green eyes. He brushed her hair back behind her ear. 

“Take them away,” he whispered, “whatever happens, do not turn back. Do not come looking for me. Bring them safely home and I will meet you there, do you understand?”

“Hans–”
“Get them home,” his voice cracked, “please.”

Cassian’s stomach twisted while he watched them.

“Now, go…”

Greta sniffled as she got seated on the cart, reins loosely in her hands. 

Hans kissed her hard. As if it were going to be their last in this life. 

“You will be okay,” Hans said, his eyes shifting from Greta to the children, “All of you.”

Reluctantly, Greta’s hands whipped the reins. The horse tugged on the cart, while the family couldn’t take their eyes away from them. 

Hans’s shaky breath slowed. It turned sharper. “Thank you, Cassian.”

“For what?” 

Hans sniffled, watching the cart drift away between the trees. “For thinking of my family.”

‘Family.’

The word had a different meaning when Hans spoke it. It felt warm. Heavy in the heart. Important. 

Cassian clenched his jaw and nodded. 

Hans shifted. Something inside him hardened. He walked up to the tree stump he had used to cut firewood. A felling axe wedged deep into its wood. His fingers wrapped around the handle, then he ripped it out. 

“Let’s buy them some time.”

Cassian nodded again. His hands drew daggers and twirled them. He felt Hans’s uneven breaths leave his mouth shakingly. 

“Steady, Hans…” he whispered, “they are almost upon us.”

From the front, left and right. The thuds grew heavier. Cassian could feel it in the ground now. Not a fast rhythm, but a steady one. Like they were scouring every inch. However, with the dead fire behind them, they had one advantage. Darkness. 

“Use the trees,” Cassian instructed, his grip around the daggers tightening. “Don’t run from them. They will catch you.”
Hans swallowed. 

“Make them come to you.”

Shapes flashed between the trees. 

Air caught in Cassian’s throat as his eyes snapped to each flash. 

Branches cracked to his left. Bushes rustled behind. 

Then.

A cackling laughter tore through the air. 

Hans shifted beside him, adjusting his grip on the axe. 

“How many?” he whispered. 

Cassian closed his eyes. 

One. 

Two. 

Four.

Six…

“Many…” 

Branches exploded as a horse burst out of the treeline. A large man atop a massive horse. A red cloak hung from his shoulders and made a hood, casting a shadow over his face. Only a wide grin visible. 

He raised his sword—a jagged blade that curved backward—as his eyes lifted to meet Cassian’s. 

“Akh-shorah!” He shouted.

He alerted his group of their location? A threat? The words were not familiar. 

A group of cackles and hoofbeats approached from between the trees, charging. They laughed and screamed, out of joy. As if the ensuing violence was a game. 

Hans stood frozen. 

The Red Cloak in front of them moved. 

“The trees!” Cassian pushed Hans to cover behind a thick trunk. 

A spear punched into the ground where Hans stood a moment before. The shaft buried deep into the dirt. It caught Cassian’s eye. 

He recognized the carvings on it. Same make as the one Raziel made him echo. 

Hans stared. 

The Red Cloak approached fast, his horse growing larger as it charged. 

Cassian waited. Not yet… Closer… Closer… Now.

Cassian ducked under the Red Cloak’s swing. His dagger flashed as the blade dug deep into the horse’s foreleg.

A horrible squeal tore through the forest as it crashed into the ground. It writhed and kicked in a burning agony. Then with a squelch, the Red Cloak ended it with his sword to its neck. He stood slowly from behind it. His eyes glinted with something primal. Excitement. Anticipation. 

Cassian frowned. The lump in his throat grew at the size of the man. He was multiple heads taller, and broad enough to make Cassian feel like a child again.

Then the man moved.

Fast.

Too fast for a man that size.

Cassian held his breath as he leaned back. The curved blade cut empty air. The wind brushed his face. His eyes widened. Had he been slower, he would be dead. 

His stomach dropped. This was not a lesson. This was real. One slip, and it would be over. 

Cassian stepped under an arcing blow, and pivoted, his eyes never left the Red Cloak. His breath quickened. 

A horse burst out of the trees behind the massive man, spear lowered and heading for Hans. 

“Hans—” Cassian caught a blow with his daggers. The force brought him down to a knee. He strained hard, forced exhales left his mouth through tight lips. 

The Red Cloak smiled. He only used one arm, but the force behind it was suffocating. 

Cassian yelled, twisting the blade away, using the momentum to throw his dagger. It plunged deep into the rider’s eye, sending him screaming into the ground. The horse panicked and went up on its hindlegs, kicking air wildly. 

“Only one dagger left,” The Red Cloak hissed in a thick accent.

Cassian’s eyes hardened, he clenched tightly around the remaining dagger.

The frozen merchant finally reacted. 

Hans ran up to the squirming rider—clutching at the dagger in his skull. Hans roared as he brought the axe down. Then again. And again. The screaming had stopped but Hans swung again. 

Cassian and the Red Cloak glared at each other, ignoring the commotion. 

Then the man smiled. 

“Vaelthorne…” he realized, “the odd one.”

Cassian frowned. 

“Who are you?” Cassian hissed. 

The man smiled again. 

Then lunged forward.

Cassian slapped the wrist aside with his free hand, then his dagger answered. 

The Red Cloak weaved his head out of the way, then a massive fist thundered into Cassian’s jaw. 

White exploded across his vision as he crashed into the ground. Cassian shook his head free from the daze. He rolled away from the sword that stabbed into the ground. 

The large man chuckled. “Like a cornered rat.”

Cassian forced himself upright. He spat blood from his aching mouth. His head pounded violently. Almost as hard as his chest. 

“They told me your blood was that of killers.” The man licked his lips. “But all I see is prey.”

“Just shut up.”

The man moved, cackling like it was a game.  

Cassian ducked under his swing and stepped into his reach. His dagger slid between the ribs fast, then he twisted. 

The Red Cloak screamed and thrashed violently, sending Cassian into the ground. Blood bubbled from his lips and ran down his chin. Yet he kept coming, without any sign of slowing. His hand shot forward. Fingers clenched hard around the boy’s throat.

Cassian gasped hoarsely, grabbing at the man’s arm. 

Bloodshot eyes stared down at him. 

Hans screamed, his axe descending. It crashed into the side of the man’s neck. Bone cracked. 

The man slumped, his fingers loosened around Cassian’s throat and moved to the axe in his neck. He gurgled. Then fell into the dirt. 

Cassian collected air. 

“Oh gods…”  Hans whispered. His eyes moved to the rider and then to the man in front of them. “I killed them…”

Cassian’s head snapped to a horse’s whinny behind the trees. 

“No time.” He pushed Hans out of his trance. He ripped his dagger free from the corpse, then fetched his other from the skull of the dead rider. “Move!”

They moved between the trees, redirecting when hoofbeats came too close. Hans’s heavy stomps contrasted Cassian’s light feet.

Hans stumbled.

Cassian grabbed his arm, straining to keep him on his feet. “Keep moving!”

Another cackle echoed as they came to a clearing. Louder this time.

’Shit.’

Cassian looked back. 

Three riders emerged between the trees.

Five.

Cassian’s stomach sank. His eyes snapped into the clearing and back at the riders. 

Hans looked at Cassian and Cassian returned the look. 

They were trapped. 

If they went into the clearing they would be run down. If they stayed in the forest they would be surrounded. 

“Cassian…” Hans said softly. “Go.”

Cassian ignored him. He cursed to himself, his eyes shooting in every direction looking for an escape. Any possible answer to get them out of there.

There was no path. No cover. No escape. 

“Cassian.” Hans said again. 

A ditch. Rocks. Anything?

”Cassian!” He yelled, grabbing the boy’s shoulders. “There is no other way! 

“No… no. There has to be.”

“You cannot save us both. You will be harder to catch on your own. I see the way you move. I know you are more than you let on. You will be okay if I don’t slow you down.” Hans’s eyes showed something different now. Acceptance maybe. 

“Your family—“

“I will see them again,” Hans remarked.

Cassian opened his mouth to speak. 

Hans pushed him into the clearing. “Run! Now is your only chance. Go!”

Then he turned, axe raised. 

“Tell them I love them,” Hans said through his broken voice without looking.

Cassian’s legs moved against his will. He went into a sprint through the tall grass, cursing. His mind fought against him, but his body moved anyway. 

Metal clashed. Horses whinnied. Laughter echoed. Then silence.

Cassian ran harder.

A single thud.  

Hans did what he could. 

Cassian’s chest twisted painfully. But he did not look back. His legs strained through the terrain as he cursed. The trees on the other side neared, but so did the hoofbeats behind him. 

The laughter returned. 

“Run, little crow. Run!”

”Where is your papa now?”

Cassian panted violently. His arms swung wildly as he forced himself forward. 

“Look at him go!” 

They were not far behind him, but they didn’t come closer. They chose to stay behind, watching. Like it was a show. Against his will, he turned over his shoulder. 

Five riders cantered behind him. One of them stood, a leg on the saddle, the other in the stirrups. He waved his arms in a circle, egging Cassian on. 

They all cackled and grinned at him, watching his every move with an unsettling interest. 

However, one of them—the rider furthest back—sat in silence. 

Cassian forced himself through the treeline, breaking branches with his elbows. 

The laughter didn’t disappear, they stayed at the same distance behind him. They knew where he was and they enjoyed it. 

No matter how many turns he made, or rocks he jumped over, they were always right behind. 

The ground began to slope downwards as branches whipped his face. Then the trees vanished. He ran into empty air. 

“Shit!” Cassian’s boots skidded to a halt by the edge of a dead end cliff. 

He drew his blades and turned, forced to face them.

The riders spread out, herding him like a sheep. They laughed from under red hoods. 

His heart hammered into his ribs as he breathed heavily. The daggers trembled in his grip. He reacted to every movement, his eyes snapping fast between every horse and rider. 

Cassian looked down at his daggers, then back up at the men surrounding him. Slowly, the trembling calmed. 

He closed his eyes. He stopped listening. Instead, scoured his mind. 

‘Come on… come on…’

He closed his eyes harder. 

Then red flashed. 

He watched through another man’s eyes, hunting down a young boy through the forest. 

The euphoria. 

His heart beat hard in his chest. Not out of fear. Excitement. 

He felt the thrill of the chase, the chuckling, the singing. 

Then the cliffside. 

He saw himself. 

Eyes closed and Raziel’s daggers in a tight grip. 

A smirk stretched on his face as he dismounted. The curved blade rang as he pulled it from its sheath. The steel caught the moonlight. Now standing directly in front of himself, another chuckle left his lips. 

Cassian moved. 

Hot liquid sprayed across his face. 

The laughter ceased.

He exhaled softly and opened his eyes. The dagger was plunged deep into the man’s throat. 

The rider’s eyes widened, blood spilling from his mouth as he grabbed at Cassian. 

Cassian brushed off his weak hands and ripped out his dagger. He watched the large man slump to the ground in front of them, then looked up at the rest. 

For the first time, they were quiet. The grins were gone. 

A silence swept over the cliffside. Only the soft howling of the wind floating through the trees behind them. 

The dead man twitched once. Then went still. 

Cassian stood over the body, watching every single one of them. 

None moved. 

“You scared of a boy?” One exclaimed, getting off his horse.

The Red Cloak charged. 

Cassian saw the shoulders dip.

Red flashed. 

Excitement.

Confidence.

For a moment he found himself in the man’s body. 

A low swing, then high. 

A feint. 

Cassian blinked out of the echo. 

He did not flinch. The first move came as he had seen it. 

Then he moved before the real attack. The blade cut the air behind his back.

The Red Cloak’s grin faltered. 

Cassian stepped into range, driving his dagger into the man’s stomach.

The man folded around the wound with a sharp gasp. 

Cassian freed his dagger and plunged it back in before the Red Cloak could react.

The man stumbled back, hands clutching at his wound. Blood leaked through his fingers. He dropped to his knees, breathless and squirming. Confusion painted across his face. As if he didn’t understand what had happened. 

“Enough.” The largest of them rode forth between them. 

In an instant, the remaining Red Cloaks bowed their heads. Complete silence consumed the cliffside. 

His horse, black as night and taller than any of the other steeds in their party. Its hairy hooves moved dirt with every step. Its eyes gleamed almost red. This horse was not like the others. 

The large Red Cloak lifted his eyes from under his hood. Malice in his pupils. But not a fiery one. It was more a silent and lethal kind. 

“So our reports were correct,” he started. His voice was gravely but precise. ”Tell me, boy, is Duke Vaelthorne losing his grip?” 

Cassian simply stared back through his cold eyes. 

“I can see he trained you ruthlessly. A child your size taking down a handful of my men like they were mere grunts…is impressive,” he said, dismounting his horse. Then walked to face Cassian. “Would you like to try your luck with me?” 

Cassian considered. He scanned the large man who stood at least three heads taller than him. Arms like boulders, and a sword bigger than he had ever seen hung from his shoulder harness. 

He could win. 

“I was wondering if the stories were exaggerated.” The large man looked around at the dead. Then back at Cassian. “They were not.”

A gust of wind flashed over Cassian. His eyes widened. 

The large man hadn’t moved. At least he didn’t notice that he did. But something had happened. 

One of Raziel’s daggers fell out of his grip and into the grass by his feet. 

Cassian frowned. He looked down to see red trailing down his finger tips. Except one. 

He raised his hand to look closer. Then the pain came. 

It shot through his hand like fire. His index finger was now a stump, oozing with crimson. 

Cassian clutched at it, but out of pride, he didn’t scream. Only a strained grunt as he staggered. His stomach tightened. He hadn’t seen the swing, nor heard it. Only felt it when it was too late. 

The large man watched him silently. No amusement. No laughter or cackle. He was different from the others. 

“Raziel trained you well,” he finally said. Then leaned closer. His appearance was clearer now. Under bushy eyebrows showed a bearded face. Rugged and rough, like he had seen more battles than any one ever should. “But not well enough.”

Cassian winced, looking up at him. 

“Who are you?” Cassian muttered through the pain. 

The large man straightened himself. Then a small smirk formed. ”In another life your family might have called me friend. But your father broke that bond long ago.”

Cassian furrowed his brows. “You knew him?”

“I did. Before the crown turned him into a dog.” A darkness swept across the man’s eyes. “I knew Hetark before he started sacrificing lives for pointless political agendas.”

The large man regarded Cassian for a moment. 

“And look at him now. He has run out of nameless men to sacrifice, so his own son is next,” the man chuckled mockingly, “Raziel and him have really stooped that low?”

Cassian narrowed his eyes. “Watch your tongue.”

“They really beat it into you, huh?” The man spat. “Blind loyalty.”

”I serve them out of my own will—“

“Serve is it?” The man interrupted, a smirk stretching across his face. “If they valued you as one of their own, you wouldn’t serve anyone, crow.”

Cassian growled. 

“Look at you,” the man grabbed a handful of Cassian’s hair hard, “A mindless killer. Robbed of your principles and pride. Stripped down to nothing but a blade.”

Cassian slapped his hand away. “You know nothing about me.”

The man laughed. “I know more about you than you realize.” He gestured to his men without looking. “Take him. I would like to speak with the crow.”

Cassian’s eyes darted between the Red Cloaks, stepping back.

They circled him, approaching slowly with swords aimed at him. 

He flailed his dagger wildly. An attempt to keep them away only to be subdued by a man out of his view. 

Cassian felt his head being pushed into the grass by the full weight of the Red Cloak. 

The leader watched, expressionless. 

“Just kill me and be done with it!” Cassian screamed from the ground. 

The large man crouched beside him. “If I wanted you dead, I would’ve taken more than a finger.” He studied Cassian closer. “No… to hurt Hetark, killing you wouldn’t be nearly enough.”

Cassian strained against the grip that pinned him. 

“But you will help me do it.”