Note: All 30 days of night material and characters belong to Steve Niles and Ben Templesmith. I do not own any of them.

Darkness Seduced

England 1076 A.D.

The darkness pressed upon the night like nothing else on this earth not easing the soldiers that stood guard over their lords and the people of the towns. Small lights from fires filled the plains that stretched vastly beneath the moonlit sky like beacons to the heavens. Beneath the tenseness of the night was the jovial songs and talk amongst the camp of Crusaders. This was only the first of many Crusades to come in England's long bloody history.

Rhea Draco felt sure of that fact. Watching the encampment, women were not allowed in the Crusades but that didn't mean they couldn't fight. Or be just as strategic and battle worthy. On the contrary, Rhea had grown up a single child to a knight and blacksmithing father. Out of her cousins who took to being squires she was far better than their skill.

Rhea was average height for a young woman of sixteen. Five Eight, slender, instead of wearing dresses she took to wearing pants and long boots that went to the knee. Tunic shirt that of a sword wielder yet made softer by the corset cincher. Despite how she dressed it could not hide all her charms and at times even accentuated them. She was fairer skinned then most people making her tan pale kissed. Face soft but oval and structured showing youth but that she was no longer the youth of a child. A straight nose and delicate arch to her eyebrows only helped frame her extremely blue eyes.

They had been often compared to that of a wolf. Lips soft pale red with the barest touch of a pout to them, her ears were pierced with a twin cuff in her left ear, courtesy of the mystics she had met that had come from Jerusalem. The wife who seemed a Gypsy of some kind to Rhea had said her destiny would forever be in her hands and one day she would have to choose between the darkness and the light.

She wasn't sure what she meant by it but Rhea had none the less taken to training her mind and body to that like her father. Her bangs streaked lightly with the breeze, her long auburn hair tied up and back with the family crest in leather like a clip. The moonlight caressed gently off the thin chain mail that peeked underneath her shirt. Swords at her side she always carried three since her return from China with her mother. It had been a great advantage to go see the trading routes she had been able to learn under several monks. Even still it hadn't come without hardship.

She still bore the scars from training; the teachers had been crueler in their efforts to break her. A warrior was not a woman's place. She had made it her place. Rhea checked her horse and rode off across the hills to return to the outpost village her father stood lookout for. It was a rush to feel the cold wind rush against and past her. Arriving all seemed quiet as it should be.

She on the other hand knew that wasn't always the case and sure enough the small three man group of Muslims that had been prisoner caught in the last battle had broken free. Taking the bow she notched the arrow she wrapped in material tilting toward the torch the material caught fire. Pulling back on the bow string her eyes narrowed in practiced aim. Delicate fingers let go as her hand went out and behind her. The arrow loosed and flew to the post catching fire to it alerted sentries that the call went out and other fires lit.

Unknown to Rhea a tall dark figure watched from the darkness having disposed of the guard that had originally been guarding the prisoners. His chin stained in blood. He moved to the side and watched the women, curious. No woman these days dressed as she did, nor carried weapons. She checked her horse and cut them off trying to buy time for the sentries. They wouldn't make it in time and she dismounted standing in front of them that the men were confused.

Yet disbelief etched their weathered battle worn features as she unsheathed a sword. The Katana was lighter then the two handed broadsword. Pointed away from them but laying against her arm, blade facing outward in a stance of some kind. Her gloved fingers straightened then curled around the handled hilt. Gripping as a cold look made her blue eyes fiercely sharp and a bit shaded making the blue a bit darker from the flicker of firelight.

Others moved around the Tall dark figure and he held out his hand not saying a word, no light reflected in his obsidian eyes when the moonlight caressed across a pale face to rival her light. The man was tall, he looked anywhere from his late thirties to early mid forties. Still in his prime, his dark locks short cut that faded into soft grey at the start of his ears and continued to become almost white. Face strong and showing a touch of wisdom only age and life lived could grant. He got up on the slight shed roofing, hands resting against the wood his nails like talons to rival some kind of bear. Tilting his head as he watched her, her that dressed unlike a woman and wielding a weapon.

She showed no fear. Who was this mortal creature? The others bellow him remained silent and watched as he did; it was rare to see a fight like this. One came at her with a broadsword stolen from somewhere and she did not flinch. No she ran at him swords clashed and the man slipped in the mud and dirt from the force she threw behind it. Muscles flexing like velvet steel she spun around on her heel from the momentum bringing the blade down diagonally. Still as was the man who stared and fell to his knees. Eyes looking up at her, glazed over in shock and death. Dropping dead and still, eyes dilated and transfixed forever on nothing.

Blood misted on her face which was like dark rain under the moons sway. They could smell it linger in the air. She hadn't flinched in taking the man's life the leader above on the roof shivered but not out of disgust or fear. Soft anticipation sung through his being watching her causing a smile to grace his stained lips revealing teeth to put a shark to shame. Obsidian eyes alight and intent.

She moved, and did feint the other two that came at her, she was trained. She kicked out hitting one squarely in the chest knocking the wind out of him she moved and cut downward and in the same instant flicked her wrist reversing the course of the blade and went upward also kicking away the man. He almost tumbled back but he stopped himself looking at his shaking hands and arms. The bands he had wrapped around them had fallen away cut as where his arms from wrist to the bend of the elbow. Blood flowed in a torrent like a storm from slit veins. She took a stance one foot sliding back the other planted and had one hand out to the side other holding the sword raised moonlight reflected off its surface.

The Turk yelled in a howl of pain and fury at the woman gripping the sword and ran at her and she dropped to her knees plunging the sword up and home it came out the man's back through the chest. Blood caressed in a bloom across his shirt as it flowed freely from his mouth as he gurgled to breathe. Bracing herself Rhea stood against the growing weight as the man died and shoved her shoulder against him hearing flesh slide from the metal as flesh and bits of bodily fluids and gore hit the earth like hail. Could smell and drown in copper as she tasted salt in her mouth and nothing else when she breathed. Steam rose in the cold night air from the body as blood pooled watering the earth in its red substance.

Rhea breathed deeply to catch her breath and fought the tightening in her gut. She would not throw up, gripping the sword she ran at the other man and they clashed, blades ringing out until she ducked and spun around unsheathing her other sword in the process. Stopping in mid slide, arms out swords pointing back as red caressed off its surface. The Turk fell as his head slid from his shoulders. Looking over her shoulder only her eyes were seen but the head stared back at her.

Mouth agape with silent horror eyes blinking. The body twitched as neck muscles pumped and blood flowed out pumping in time with the heart that still beat. Rhea felt a shiver as hair stood on end she gripped her swords to keep from shivering physically as she heard steps she sheathed them and got on her horse checking it and around the building. Leaving the small village town, she fled into the woods. Unaware and unseen the dark ones took off after her.

The hunt had begun.