Link stirred on his bed, slowly coming to. His head felt fuzzy, as if he had slept too long. Odd sounds were coming from outside, as well as a strange smell. Understanding struck him at once; the sound was screaming and the smell was fire. People were yelling, in fear and confusion. They were under attack.
Instantly, the adrenaline was back. All the fear he had been feeling what seemed like moments before was gone, replaced by a burning desire to protect his home. He leapt from the bed, and hastily buckled his sword belt on over his shoulder. He noted his bow, still strung, leaning up against the wall next to his half-full quiver. He picked them both up and headed to the window. Pushing it open gently, he pulled himself up onto the roof.
The scene around him took his breath away. The village hall, the grandest, most secure building they had, was ablaze. The roaring flames were devouring the structure. Licking hungrily at the supporting walls, they reached high into the sky, a noxious, black smoke billowing out from them. The tiled roof strained under the weight as the outer walls of the building burnt away, leaving only the tougher oak supports. The tower had already tilted to a dangerous angle, its fabulous clock that had been there was gone, leaving just another hole for smoke to pour through. Several other buildings were on fire, and one of the village's food stores was already little more than a smouldering ruin; a whole year's harvest worth of food, lost. Its glowing embers, still glimmering balefully, were reflected in his blue eyes, stoking the furnace of his anger. The yelling and the screams, which had seemed so clear and distinct to him before, were lost beneath the roaring blazes, all blending together to become almost indistinguishable.
Gritting his teeth, he scanned around for any sign of what had started it all off. He saw bodies in the street, unmoving. His heart went out to them, and he felt sadness, as well as a touch of self-loathing, for knowing he would not go out to help them. He would never know if it was too late to help or even save them. He would never know whether they were unconscious, injured, or passed out from the smoke; if he had left them to die. Either they were in no immediate danger of further harm, or they could be harmed no further. Regardless, his meagre skills in medicine were less than some of the other villagers' and he could help much more effectively in other ways.
A young girl was huddling in a corner two streets over, arms protectively wrapped around two children. He thought he should recognise her, but couldn't tell. Though it shamed him to admit it, he no longer spent enough time with the villagers to know them all. They seemed safe enough, though, so he resumed his search. He noted, briefly, a group of people headed towards the church, which so far seemed a relative haven. He thought he saw several men keeping a watchful eye and patrolling along the path to the doors. He'd pass word down to the young woman later, if he could. She should have headed there already; the church wasn't too distant, and being the only stone building, was safer from fire than most.
He discovered her reason for hiding, and finally found what he'd been searching for at the same time; two humanoid creatures had just vacated a nearby building. He could just make out an orange glow through one of the lower floor windows. It seemed destruction was higher on their priorities than looting. He shook his head to clear it of idle thoughts. It was a time for action, speculation could come later. A cursory glance at the creatures showed him all he needed to know. The first was bearing a blazing torch, the other carrying a crude bludgeon and, more importantly, for him, neither seemed to be carrying bows. He drew his own, and as he knocked his first arrow, a sense of stillness came over him. It was not a true calm, per se, just a feeling of detachment. He could barely hear the sounds coming from all around him, nor feel the night's chill against his bare arms. In one swift movement, he drew the string back, felt the fletching against his cheek, and lined up the first creature. He could see it more clearly now. Dressed in little more than tattered rags, its dark purple skin was open to the world. The only part of its body that was well covered was its head, shrouded in a veil covering its mouth, and a thick leather cap over its scalp. Neither would save it from his arrows. He paused in between his breaths, and then released the bowstring. He didn't pause to watch his arrow fly; he needed to hit them hard and fast. Even if he missed, he wanted the element of surprise to not allow them any reaction time before his second shot struck. He was taking aim at the second when his deadly missile struck home, embedding itself deep into the creature's chest. He fired the arrow, hoping the creature would not react in time to throw off his shot. It did. The monster ducked towards the ground in a primitive, instinctual reaction of any predator being hunted. Link's luck was with him, however, and the arrow dipped low, slicing through the beast's throat. He could almost thank the Goddess as his target slumped to the floor, its lifeblood rapidly flowing from the body, leaving a corpse behind. Even at a short distance, he normally would not have made that shot, even if he tried. He needed to be more careful, though. Relying on his luck might cause trouble further down the line, trouble he could ill afford.
The girl was running towards the church, the two children in tow. They would be safe from harm- for the time being. As safe as anyone can be, tonight. He thought bitterly.
He skirted around the other side of the roof, trying to stay low, though he did not think he had caused enough trouble to attract much in the way of attention…yet. He caught sight of a small group clustered together nearby, next to what he thought was the baker's cottage. He could make out a man holding a large cane, possibly either a walking stick, or a broken off brush or rake. He stood resolutely in front of his wife, squaring off against two aggressors, with a third a short distance away. A crumpled heap lay still on the floor, presumably due to a swift blow to the head from the man's staff. The third creature pulled a sling and pebble out of a pouch at its waist, and began to spin it rapidly whilst the man did his best to fend off the others. Link hesitated a moment. Taking down any one of them would cause enough distraction to allow the man to fell another, but the last would have a clear strike. He couldn't afford to take too long deliberating, so did the first thing that came to mind and felt right. He hated to waste a precious arrow that way when he already had tragically few, but it was probably the best shot he had to save everyone. He launched his arrow deliberately between the creatures and the man. It thudded in to the hard, dry dirt of the street. The distraction worked almost perfectly; concentration broken, the sling-bearer's stone flew wide, harmlessly darting down between two nearby houses. The two other creatures spun at the sudden attack, hurriedly trying to find its origin. They had just begun to look in his direction when another of his arrows took one in its stomach, and a broad sweep and two swift strikes from the man dealt with the others. Panting with the exertion, physically, and probably mentally exhausted, the man looked up towards Link's perch. Whether the man could see him or not, he raised the tip of the cane to salute Link, and then took off into the dark with his wife.
He was starting to feel uncomfortably warm, though none of his neighbouring buildings seemed to be on fire, and the smoke was starting to affect his eyes. He was forced to blink more often than he would like, lest he see the world through a watery haze. He hoped there weren't many more monsters left, though from the damage he'd seen so far, he was beginning to doubt it. He was also beginning to wonder what their intentions could be. It seemed far too organised an attack for a simple raid, as if there were specific instructions being adhered to. Link's eyes drifted over towards the village green, where he saw a disconcerting sight. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like a group of mounted men. He blinked furiously, and rubbed the wetness out of his eyes, in case his vision was just impaired. He saw the same, one of the men seemed to even be handing out orders, and conversing with a very large creature, which stood almost as tall as the mounted man. What on earth are men even doing with these monsters, let alone commanding them? He wondered. Small groups filtered into and out of nearby streets, generally in twos and threes, passing on messages, which got relayed to the man who seemed to be leader. The numbers alarmed him. There had to be scores of the creatures. He was beginning to doubt his ability to deal with them all. Eyeing his quiver, he counted fewer than a dozen. I should go to the church, protect those that I can there.
He stood up, intending to act out his plan.
A horrified scream came from the wide street leading towards the village green.
A woman stood, transfixed, staring at the wanton destruction, and the monsters that had come in the night. The man atop his horse gestured briefly, the creatures moved to grab her. RUN! He screamed out in his mind, willing her to flee. She stood there for several painful moments, before turning away and sprinting down the street, in a straight line away from the green. He notched an arrow praying she'd dive down a side alley and allow him to fire upon her pursuers unobserved. She did not. Mad with panic, she continued on in a straight line.
He had no choice. He could not let an innocent die just to avoid detection and keep himself out of danger. The leading creatures would reach her in seconds. The first one fell, his arrow jutting out of its side. A waft of smoke caught in his throat, and his coughing convulsion sent the second arrow awry in his haste. He cursed inwardly, drawing another. The heat was almost unbearable.
The woman stumbled and hit the ground hard. They were on her within seconds, swinging wildly as she kicked out and struck back in any way she could. He unleashed arrow after arrow. He had never fired faster. It must have been longer, but it felt like seconds, and all was still. Some of the monsters had more than one arrow stuck in them, but none moved. Neither did the woman.
He felt drained dry, his heart pounding, breath coming ragged. He felt, more than saw, the mounted man's eyes upon him. He made himself stand tall, defiant. He didn't know if the man could make him out clearly, but he made himself point directly at him. You're going down. And he wanted the man to know it.
A coughing fit struck him again, and he grasped at the thatching on his roof as he stumbled. He heard wooden beams creaking. Then he saw smoke coming from directly beneath him. Flames began to lick at the roof. They had found him, quite some time ago, it seemed. He saw them on a nearby roof as something smashed near him on the roof. He saw the glass shards, and realised it was a bottle. Another struck nearer to him, covering him in a pungent liquid. He froze in fear, as a torch lazily arced through the air. The roof burst into flames instantly. He dove for the far side, but the fires still raced up and caught his arm and face.
He felt pain. The pain was a searing agony, burning down his skin. The roof, already weakened, collapsed under him from his impact, and he landed heavily on the floor below him. The room was ablaze, and filled with smoke. The heat was oppressive. Each and every breath was more painful, and harder to draw. His burnt skin, cracked, and bleeding in places, stung as he struggled to his knees. He saw the window, and dove for it, passing heedlessly through fires on the way. Being caught would be far worse. He streaked through the night's air, which, after the smoke-filled room, was so sweet for his lungs. He landed hard and felt something snapping. He hoped it wasn't him. His world was darkness and pain. Eyes blurring, he crawled almost blindly into the narrow alley the girl had hidden in earlier, and laid on his back for a few precious moments, dazed.
His head began to clear and he shoved everything aside, coming hesitantly to his feet, checking himself for anything broken. His bow fell to the floor in two parts, only the string connecting them. Sadness washed over him, as if he had just witnessed the opening act to the end of his old life. Tentatively drawing his blade, he unbuckled the leather belt slung across his chest and let the sword's sheathe fall to the ground. He slowly stretched, testing his body. He hurt so much. He felt like the fire still burnt on his skin and face, even though it had gone out in brief moments. He had not been fully dressed at the start, but now his vest was a tattered ruin, and he was covered with scrapes and abrasions from the fall. He felt ragged. His grip on the sword hilt tightened.
He was burnt, battered, bruised, and bleeding.
But not beaten yet.
