David didn't know how long the predator stared at him. He stood there, frozen in time. Then Darryl drew his sword from the sheathe right near David’s shoulder, snapping him out of it. Out in the field, Viel shouted a command, and the knights advanced again. The predator broke turned away, stared at the approaching knights then screeched again. It darted back into the darkness.

  David huddled closer to Darryl, just in case and the knights stopped their advance. The knights stopped advancing. Viel called them into a semi-circle so they could see in all directions. The sound of sharp thumps kept coming from different directions for a while, but even as the wall of fire slowly died behind the knights, and the predator did not return. After a few minutes, Brenn came back. Now that David got a closer look, the shield on Brenn’s back seemed to glisten in a way that didn’t match the torchlight shining on it.

  “How are they?” Brenn asked Darryl, paying no attention to David. “Any good?”

  Darryl scoffed and slouched. “It got away, so not very good.”

  “Will you help us track it? We could use your… talents.”

  “Nah. It’s just as I thought, that thing immediately locked onto me and I didn’t even fight. I don’t have a death wish.”

  Brenn sighed and so did David. He was quite sure the monster was looking at him, not Darryl, but he was also sure that correcting Darryl would be suspicious. The two men had no way to know the predator had saved David from the goblins and he didn’t want to be associated with a monster. Best to keep his lips tight.

  David walked over to a crate, sat just close enough that he could eavesdrop, and opened his notebook. Sir Viel barked some orders so harshly goosebumps rose on David’s arms, and the knights lined up to head back to the village. Their once polished armor was stained with blood and dirt and there were dents in their shields. Sir Viel left his soldiers at the gate and came to talk to Brenn and Darryl.

  “It’s not going to let us kill it, is it?” he grumbled.

  Brenn nodded grimly. “Are you still so sure you can find it quickly and get going?” He and Darryl glanced at each other.

  “No, but what choice do I have? Let’s hope we can get lucky.” Viel said. A short silence ensued, then he added, “I wish the Lovandels never left.”

  Darryl looked sharply at both men, but neither seemed to be paying attention.

  “Even you weren’t alive back then.” Brenn chuckled. “But I feel you. Were we always so arrogant?”

  The villagers, slowly emerged from their houses and returned to their work despite the darkness. Some looked happy to be alive, others stared at the patches of burnt ground and smoldering embers that used to be crop fields.

  For the rest of the Long Night, David read the notebook under a torch at the corner of the house he’d hit his head on. Every now and then, monsters came in waves, and the knights slaughtered them in the field. Eventually, the knights, blood dripping from their swords, were standing among piles of corpses as tall as them. Not a single casualty among them. Despite the vast number of dead monster, the golden strands never appeared, so it seemed that whatever they were, they were a human thing.

  A faint red glow eventually pushed the darkness back and David closed the notebook. The air was damp and cold, but a small crowd gathered near the gates and clustered around the knights. The usual grief David had grown to expect after a Long Night was absent.

  Sir Viel debriefed the knights. When he finished, he headed toward Brenn's house. Some of the knights followed him, surely tired after a night of combat, but Calland and his clique seemed in no rush to remove their armor. From under his chest-piece, he pulled a heavy pouch clinking with coin and lifted it high up. “Is the innkeeper here?” he shouted. “If not, bring him. We deserve a celebration!”

  The female knights around him chuckled and two rapped their arms around him. Other knights stopped in their tracks came back, cheering. Soon, the innkeeper came forward and led the knights toward the inn in the square.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Tired as he was, David shook his head, forced his eyes open and followed after the crowd. Slowly.

  When he got to the inn, the knights were already lounging at benches and tables in front of the tavern. They were mostly in high spirits, drinking, laughing and clapping one another on their backs. The villagers had brought them a cask of mead, several loaves of bread and cheese, and vegetables with some kind of dipping sauce. Yet, even from a distance, David saw signs of tension among the men and women of the order.

  “This is all you have for us? Pathetic!” Calland sneered at the innkeeper. “Do you want to make it seem like House Kira is cheap?” A few of his comrades murmured in agreement. The boisterous atmosphere of the square died down.

  “They’re doing what they can,” another younger knight muttered, but Calland’s comrades shouted him down. He shook his head, then quickly left the square.

  Even at his age, David knew alcohol was much more expensive in the village than it could ever be in a city, where they had many suppliers. Calland and his friends were just being stupid and ungrateful.

  A female knight with high cheekbones and a sharp chin stood up beside Calland, looked around the square, though perhaps it would be better to say she looked down on the square, and boomed, “They clearly don’t understand how to properly thank us.” She staggered to the door of the inn.

  She pushed through the tavern doors. A moment later, she emerged with smug smile and a small barrel under her arm.

  The pale innkeeper followed her out, but what could he even do?

  She brought the barrel back to their table, put it down with a loud thud then leaned against Calland.

  “Finally, someone who knows how to celebrate. Thanks, El!” Calland said, patting the woman on her shoulder. He helped her pry it open. The scent of strong mead wafted into the air. He filled a cup, raised it up, and bellowed, “To House Kira!”

  Around David, the villagers were exchanging uneasy glances and murmurs. Still, the knights saved their lives, so who would fight them over some mead? Even if the village didn’t have much.

  Sir Viel came down the road, wearing simple linen clothing and looking rather angry. He was led by the young knight who’d tried to settle Calland and his clique down. David breathed out in relief, mouthing silent thanks to the young knight.

  “Lady Elvera!” Viel shouted. The knights’ laughter and banter evaporated under their commander’s glare. Elvera and Calland straightened.

  “Explain yourself.”

  “I—” Elvera hesitated. “The provisions were inadequate, Commander, and the prices criminal. I merely ensured we had enough to sustain morale after—”

  “You stole from the villagers,” Viel growled. Elvera’s cheeks flushed, and Calland stepped in.

  “Stole?” he said, smirking to his comrades. “Who would ever do such a thing? We’ve just distributed some mead for the party. What’s the harm?”

  Viel glared at him. “And did you ask permission to ‘distribute’ it?”

  “Oh my, does Sir Commander suggest these grateful people would deny their saviors some mead? I thought better of them.”

  Viel looked at the innkeeper, but the man just looked at the ground and shook his head. Viel asked him, “How much for the barrel? I’ll pay for this one.” He paused. “And if Grainwick wishes to offer my knights anything more, send someone to notify me.” Then he turned to his knights. “If anyone stumbles into training tomorrow, you will curse the day you were born.” He looked at Calland. “Mark my words, I can be just as cruel as Lord Morgan.”

  Calland’s smirk disappeared, and David was glad he’d stayed awake to see it. Viel turned away and disappeared between the buildings. A few knights pushed their cups away, strayed from the tables, and asked the innkeeper for a pitcher of water. Calland’s clique, stared at the snitch with naked hostility and talked among themselves in hushed voices.

  “El, you're ruthless!” Calland burst out. He patted Elvara on the back. “I love this about you. Let's drink to it!”

  They were plotting something, but David couldn’t hear what and didn’t want to get too close to them. David wanted to believe that Viel would be there to stop whatever plans they came up with, but the thought didn’t inspire much hope. Just like when Calland approached his mom, the commander arrived and prevented things from going farther, but some damage had already been done.

  He yawned loudly. His mouth was watering at the sight of all the food. He remembered the jerky in his pouch, grabbed, and chewed on it as he walked back home. It was nearly dawn.

  Mom and Dad were already up, eating breakfast. “How were the knights?” Dad asked, chewing on flatbread. David gave him a short rundown of everything he saw, including the fracas at the tavern, but skipped everything about the notebook hidden in his pouch.

  Dad nodded as he listened, but he seemed tense. “Calland...” he mused as if chewing a particularly sour grape. “We have to keep our eyes peeled,” he said, more to himself than to David, then got up and left for the forge.

  “You look exhausted, sweetie,” Mom said, after Dad closed the doors behind him. “Were you practicing?”

  “Just a little bit,” he ran his hand through his hair. “I think I am getting good at this channeling. I could start helping you with purification. For real, this time.”

  “Alright. We’ll try it.” She slid her thumb across his cheek. “But first, catch up on sleep.”

  She left the house, and David jumped into bed, but he couldn't sleep. When he closed his eyes, the predator stared back at him from the dark. Back when the goblins attacked, it could have slaughtered him, but it hadn’t. There had to be something to it. And then there was the whole Calland situation…