Epilogue - Three Years Later

Egil hated being on duty on nights like tonight. He drew his cloak tighter around himself, shivering in the face of the biting rain, wincing with every clap of thunder. The roof was not exactly where he wanted to be during a thunderstorm. No one would be out on a night like this, and it was well past curfew. After the last person to be out after curfew was drawn and quartered in the main square about a month ago, no one had dared leave their homes at night. Egil stifled a chuckle as he thought of the young man's face right as the horses started to gallop. But still, rules were rules, and the rules said that he had to guard this place, and so here Egil stood, wet and miserable, on the roof of a run down shack in a thunderstorm. It wasn't the most glamorous job, but it put food on the table. Plus, the daytime duties were way more fun. If being cold once in a while was the price to pay for getting to boss around the townsfolk, take whatever he wanted from their shops and stalls, and pinch the pretty barmaid's ass every time she walked by while he drank for free, it was all worth it. What were they going to do, say no to a member of the King's army? In fact, Egil's shift was almost over, and he wasn't all that tired. Maybe he'd walk down to the brothel and get himself a couple of whores to warm his bedsheets with. They were no real competition for the barmaid, of course, but Egil didn't think he could quite get away with that, although he had seen several of his superiors have their way with whomever they wanted. Maybe in a few years he'd be able to-

A flash of flickering light from the alley two buildings down the main road of the village. Egil ran to the edge of the roof, leaning over the railing, but it was too dark, and the sleet stung his eyes as he strained to see where the light had come from. It had come so suddenly and left just as quickly, but if he had to bet, it looked like someone had lit a torch then immediately put it out. It seemed like a larger flame than a simple lantern.

"You, in the alley!" Egil called. "Who goes there?" There was no answer.

"What are you yelling about, Egil?" The trapdoor on the roof had swung open, and Egil's soon-to-be replacement, Tomas, poked his head out.

"I saw someone light a torch between those buildings," Egil reported, pointing. "At least, I think I did. I think someone's out after curfew." Tomas' face split into a grin.

"Oh really?" he said, eyes alight. "Someone didn't learn their lesson from last time, eh?"

"Looks that way. You gonna handle it?"

"Oh yeah, I'll handle it alright." Tomas's grin widened, and he swung the trapdoor closed again. A long rectangle of light spilled out onto the square, a shadow crossed it, then the light vanished once more. A moment later, Tomas was striding down the main street, his sword bare. Egil watched with mounting excitement. What would Tomas do? He was well within his rights to cut down whomever was down that alley on sight, but he might choose to take them alive. Egil hoped for the latter. He didn't want to deprive the executioner of another job, but Tomas wasn't the one to ask for mercy. Tomas slowed his pace to a creep as he approached the alley. He reached the corner of the building and paused, then leapt into the alley, his sword flashing in the dim light spilling from the tavern down the street. A few seconds passed, then-

A burst of light, much, much brighter than the one Egil had seen earlier, erupted from the alley. At the same time, a high pitched, terrible scream pierced the night, then stopped very abruptly.

"Tomas!" cried Egil, but there was no answer. The alley, which before had faded into darkness, now remained lit, a soft red glow spilling out onto the road like a bloodstain. Egil saw curtains open along the street, fearful faces filling them for a moment until they were wrenched closed again. As Egil watched, the red glow dwindled in the rain, until darkness once again overtook the village. He gripped the hilt of his sword, eyes wide, leaning forward, as though getting closer would allow his eyes to get through the darkness. A crack of lightning lit the sky, and Egil felt his heart leap into his throat. There was a figure on top of the roof near the alley Tomas had entered. It looked like a person, but it seemed to be wearing a long cloak that obscured its features.

"Who's there?!" Egil screamed, his voice high and shrill with fear. He stumbled back away from the railing, drawing his sword. There was no answer. "By order of the King, I order you to identify yourself!"

"Your false King holds no power over me," came a hissed reply from… somewhere. Egil whipped his head back and forth, searching for the source. Another bolt of lightning streaked across the dark sky. The figure was gone from where he had seen it, but Egil didn't have time to find them again.

"False King, huh?" cried Egil, his voice wavering despite his attempt at bravery. "We'll see how false he is when you're brought before him! What did you do with Tomas?"

"I'm afraid your relief will be… late to his post. He's in a dreadful state, you see." The hiss came again, closer this time, but no matter how hard Egil looked, he couldn't see through the darkness and the rain. Another crack of lightning, and Egil screamed. The figure was on the roof with him. How? How did he get up here? I didn't hear him! The lightning faded, and the figure again vanished into the darkness.

"I have no quarrel with you," came the hiss, somehow right behind him. Egil spun around, his sword slashing, but he hit nothing. "If you attempt to attack me again, I will kill you. Don't make Tomas's mistake."

"I yield, I yield!" Egil cried, dropping to his knees, his sword clattering from fingers he could not quite feel, his eyes downcast. "Don't kill me!" A flickering light appeared somewhere above him, and Egil realized the figure was standing just in front of him. He chanced a glance upward.

The figure was holding a torch in its right hand- no, wait, it wasn't holding a torch. It was holding- Egil's stomach dropped. A ball of crackling blue flame, perhaps three inches wide, was hovering just above the figure's gloved hand. The face was still obscured by the dark hood, pulled low over the man's face.

"Wise choice," came the hiss once more. "Now move. There's something in this building I need." Egil scrambled to obey. The figure swept past him, his long cloak trailing on the ground. He dismissed the flame with a shake of his right hand and bent down to open the trapdoor into the building. Now's my chance! thought Egil, his heart pounding. As quickly and as quietly as he could, he snatched his sword from where it had landed and jumped at the figure, swinging it with all his might. As he watched the blade descend to the middle of the man's back, he thought this might just be the thing that earned him his promotion that would finally allow him to bed the barmaid from down the street. What happened next was so fast that Egil's brain was several steps slow in catching up.

The first thing he realized that despite seeing his blade sink into what should have been the man's flesh, there was very little resistance as his blade went into and through the spot where his eyes told him the man must be. The next thing he knew, there was a short, shining blade coming towards him. As he felt the blade tear his neck open, his arteries pumping thick blood down his chest, he marveled at how warm it was and how little it had hurt- he had barely felt a thing. By the time Egil realized he was actually dying, his eyes had finally caught up with his surroundings, and were gazing into a face- not a man's, as he had been expecting, but that of a woman's, a stunningly beautiful woman, whose teeth were bared in a fierce snarl. The very last thing he saw, before a pressing darkness took him in its comforting embrace, was a blue ribbon, tied around the woman's arm. The ribbon, and a lock of strawberry blonde hair, stained deep scarlet with blood.