22. The kindness of strangers

Rufus went to stand as a shield before the two women, grasping the pitchfork firmly in his hand.

"The Lord's Horde," Rafilae placed her hand to her mouth, while Ravenna was suddenly looking about them for any possible ways of escape. Yes, she remembered their kind. She recalled the etchings of their garb and the ruthless dogmatism which drove them to blind murder. It was their kind who chased her on her way here that rainy day, whom she had barely escaped; who led her to...

"Are you certain?" one of the robed men asked.

"As I live and breathe," the man who had previously pointed at Ravenna said. "That is the witch Denes and the others caught in Rusi. When I saw her in the market today among commotion I could not believe my eyes. She drew out the devil from one, so there's further proof." His voice was dripping with resent. "I never thought she would dare show her face around these parts after what she did."

"What is the meaning of this?" Rufus demanded.

The first man who had spoken neared the peasant. He clasped his hands together in his faded robe, his air one of distinction. He had a long dark beard and wore a faded black prior's cap on his short cropped hair. "You host a witch in your midst."

Ravenna scoffed despite herself, looking inside but there was no means of escape.

The man continued his case. "She is responsible for the deaths of men in our brotherhood who tried to capture her near Rusi. We never saw them again."

"I am no witch!" Ravenna seethed, looking pleadingly to Rufus and his wife.

Rufus did not seem convinced either. "Do you have proof of this?" he looked back to the prior.

The prior frowned, his cold eyes gaining a mad glimmer. "You know our cause. You know we will fight for the Lord with all that we are, and against anyone who stands in the way of His justice," he looked pointedly to Rufus. "I would entreat you not to interfere with God's work, lest you are prepared to face the dire consequences."

The man briefly took in the various sharp weapons the others wielded. Their gazes were cold and there was the same spark of maddened devotion in their eyes.

The children had appeared in the entrance, curious and wide eyed. Ravenna sighed upon seeing them, then lowered her head.

"No," she placed a hand on the peasant man's shoulder. She regarded the prior icily. "I will go freely." She looked to Rafilae, who was wringing her hands. "Thank you for your aid." Then Ravenna swiftly retrieved her small satchel before hands were on her shoulders, and she was being dragged away before the startled eyes of the family who had shown her kindness. It is true, everything does go in cycles the thought crossed her mind.

"What will you do to me?" she dared ask as one of the men pulled her hands to bind them. Ravenna struggled in vain, but the man forcibly revealed her wrist, still bearing marks from the incubus.

"Further proof, prior Horvath," and all gasped when they saw the reddened scars as he forcibly brought Ravenna's wrist upward. "Cavorting with vampires also, no doubt."

The one called Horvath sneered, his dark eyes set on a livid Ravenna. "We take her to the river," then his smile turned vicious. "You do what you will with her," the others grinned, looking at each other. "Throw her body in when done."

"No, please," Ravenna tried reason, struggling as her bonds were removed. "I bear nothing but knowledge, and have no skill nor anything to do with the dark arts-"

"Silence!" the prior boomed suddenly. He went into her face, taking a fistful of her hair and pulling so harshly Ravenna screeched in pain. "Where are our brethren then, hmm? There is nothing you can say or do to make me believe you, wench, save for their safe return. And even then," he gripped harder, causing her eyes to water. "You are still a filthy servant of the Enemy." He released her and bid them march ahead, Ravenna dragged in tow.

They soon left the village behind, Ravenna trying to come to terms with the fact that life was apparently not on her side. None dared intervene and there were few people out and about since evening had fallen. All feared the darkness and what lurked beyond it, and rightfully so. The tall woods soon swallowed the group, and the woman saw two of the monks had lit torches.

When Ravenna heard the murmur of water nearby she swallowed. They must have neared the river. She looked left and right, seeing nothing but gloom and asking forgiveness of master Ovidius in her mind for failing. They had taken her satchel away, reverently saying its contents were destined to be burned.

Then she was being dragged by two of them, struggling and panting towards the river bank. Her arms and legs flailed, and a powerful strike ended her wailing. Ravenna saw stars.

"Pin her down," one said, and they were about to do just that when something hissed past them.

Ravenna saw nothing in the dark, save for the torch fallen to the forest bed. Then she heard groans and muffled cries as bodies fell to the ground.

She rose swiftly to her knees, jumping to fumble onto the ground and retrieve her satchel which lay fallen nearby. Then her eyes fell on the prior and those of his men left standing.

A tall figure, bearing what she could discern was a crossbow, was facing them. She could not see who it was.

"If you value your life, you will stand down," the male voice sounded.

"End him," the prior ordered, ignoring the threat.

It all happened too fast. Whoever it was, there was no denying his skill in battle as soon the prior was left standing alone, ever pacing backwards towards the steep river bank.

"Stay back!" he cried, brandishing a long knife even as his opponent stepped ever closer, loading his crossbow.

"Jump," the presence commanded, aiming his weapon at the prior's chest.

"What?!"

"Jump," the man repeated calmly. "And you may survive. I will count to three, at which point your heart will be pierced by my last arrow. "Your decision," he offered as the prior kept looking back towards the gaping nothingness, then to the glinting eyes of the stranger.

True to his word, the man began his count, and Ravenna gasped as she saw the prior turn on his heel, skittering in the mud and leaping into the emptiness below.

Frozen with fear Ravenna went back on her arms and legs, grasping her satchel. What was happening?

It was then the stranger faced her, and drew back his hood.

In the fading light of the fallen torches she could discern a young face and light eyes, framed by long dark locks. "You need not fear me," he took one step towards her.

"Who are you, why did you help me?" her words came harsh and swift.

The man made no other move to approach her. "I am called Sandor," he began in a steady voice. "In truth, my main quarry was them-" he waved a hand towards the fallen men. "They had dues to pay, and I had been following them for a while now. And you?" his eyes bore into hers. "I doubt their hunches had anything to do with the truth, but I can imagine why they wanted you dead."

Ravenna crossed her arms around her satchel as she rose. "You do not think me a witch, then?" she dared, wishing she had her dagger close.

The one calling himself Sandor then took another step towards her, and Ravenna took a step back.

"Not until proven otherwise," the other grinned, somewhat surprising her. Then, "You seem to be lost, and not of this land by your accent. Do I strike true?"

There was no use hiding. "You do," Ravenna offered warily. "All I wanted was a quiet night during my travels, but life had other plans, it seems," she ran a hand through her disheveled hair.

Sandor seemed to ponder. "Well, I cannot imagine you would prefer to spend the rest of your night here."

Trusting strangers had brought about both ill and good. Ravenna considered her choices. "And I suppose you have some sort of proposition. Do you think me a fool, Sandor?"

"I do not know. Are you?"

She gritted her teeth.

The man turned from her to walk ahead. "My abode is half a day's travel on foot from here. Should you wish for another chance at peace, you may come with."

All sorts of warnings and fears surged through her mind, but Ravenna found herself trailing after the stranger. "How do I know you have no foul intent?"

Sandor stopped in his tracks, turning his head. "You do not. But you are free to choose, are you not?" and he resumed his stride.

Ravenna felt cornered, looking about herself, hearing the hissing of the river and the foreign stirrings hidden amid menacing boughs.

"Wait!" she cried. "Wait... Sandor," the woman quickened her pace, falling in step with him. He was quite young, taller than her and looked to be very strong. Strong enough to overpower her surely, Ravenna thought as she tried to gather as much from his manner as the darkness allowed.

"And what name will you give me?" the man broke the silence, showing no surprise at her decision.

Ravenna hugged her satchel tighter, sighing in defeat of her fears. "You may call me Ravenna."

The wolf ran. He sped across the forest, across beaten and unbeaten paths, until the invisible trace of her led him towards what he recognized was a human settlement. Of course, it made the most sense she would cross through here.

The white-grey shadow with eyes of gold approached and waded through the night as if it were one with it, gone unnoticed amid the sleeping village. Her scent and the grip of her blood was nearly faded, and he could not sense her as well as before. But he focused his will and followed the weak unseen guidance, going straight until he reached a small house at the edge of the human dwelling.

Alucard shed his wolf form and approached the door, hesitating mere moments before pounding heavily. It was not long before a slightly aged face appeared before him as the door cracked open. Tired dark eyes widened, and the door was slammed shut but not fast enough. Alucard had grasped the wood and no matter how much the man tried, he could not bring it to close.

"The woman. Where is she?" Alucard asked without preamble.

"What..." the man gasped in surprise. Alucard saw he was armed. "We are nothing but simple folk, and wish to invite no trouble into our lives. Whoever you are and whatever you seek, it is not here."

Alucard looked the man square in the face. There was no time for this. "I know her. And I know she was here. I also think the one I seek may be in danger."

The man was taken aback yet again, and Alucard felt his insides go cold at the bare truth revealed on the other's face. "Please," he tried, appealing to the shred of humanity keeping him from tackling the man and making him speak. Then he saw a child appear in the doorway, and the man swiftly bid him back inside. Alucard tempered his urge.

The peasant watched him. The unusual presence sounded as though he were of this land, and yet a creeping shadow loomed over and around him. What the man did feel was deeply unsettled, though he could not discern the other's features outright in the blackness of night. He appeared torn between the push of his instinct and his mind. "And you are not looking to harm her," the peasant said warily.

"No," Alucard spoke with all the honesty he could muster, shaking his head. "I could not, even if I tried," he added, though why he felt the need to express this to a stranger was a mystery. But then he realized why. He was desperate.

Looking behind him the man closed the door, nodding to someone who had been hidden from sight. He faced Alucard, taking in his noble appearance and the weapon he bore. Sighing deeply, he began to speak.