I'm sorry…

The words rang hollow in his head; the sweet darkness that claimed them brought no respite.

It wasn't my fault…

Why did it torture him so much?

Blood on bloodstained paws…

Just like…Just like…

"Burn. Everything…" The horrible gloating voice crowed, the order greeted by hearty laughter and cheers of beasts all too willing to destroy the simple village in which the Nightblade family had made their home.

He could see nothing, just the darkness as his mother held him in a tight hug, speaking imploringly to him, her voice whispered and rushed; desperate to give her son one chance to escape.

He was young still, but Eroket knew his father was not coming to protect them…and the booted footsteps drew closer, ever closer.

"Eroket." Her voice was firm, dark brown eyes imploring his attention, "You have to live. Do you understand me? I want you to run as far and as fast as you can from this place until you can't see it anymore. Your father and I both hoped this would never reach you, but now that it has…" Her voice broke off for one moment as there was a pounding on the door and the cruel, gloating voice snarled.

"Open it up, bitch!"

Steeling herself, his mother pressed her paws to his shoulders. "This is a result of mine and Aleran's pasts, but the fate will not be yours. Listen!" She whispered fiercely as Eroket began to look down, tears appearing in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Eroket…" She gave him one of the gentle, reassuring smiles that she would give him to comfort him in the middle of the night, "We'll always watch over you…we both love you…Now, whether you forget us or devote your life to revenge is your choice. Whatever you choose, be happy in the end. That is all we wish for."

The door splintered and the heavy footsteps drew closer.

"You gave us a tough time of it, ya little wench…"

"Commander!"

"What?" The ferret snarled, looking up to his subordinate.

"There's a kid here…" The weasel looked down at Eroket, "Dun you think…"

"No, I don't!" the ferret growled angrily, twirling a sword in his paws. Eroket recognized it instantly: it was a schianova…this scum dared to defile his father's sword.

It was stained in blood.

His mother hadn't moved, her eyes turned imploringly to her son and she mouthed the word: "Run."

The ferret commander, he was a typical physical specimen for his race; brown fur, brown eyes, well formed figure of a beast used to carrying a sword…

"Gen'ral Visla gave us our orders…" The ferret replied in a curious accent, paw shooting out to catch Eroket's mother by her neck, yanking her up. "Tis a shame…I'd have loved to git ta know ye better, wench…"

There was no laughter from his entourage. The child's frightened amber eyes grew wide as the ferret commander pulled his arm back and thrust his sword through the mother's back.

The child screamed, terror and loss overwhelming the mind that didn't know how to cope with it. Something warm splashed over him, drenching his paws in a sticky, red fluid.

"Take care of th' brat, will ya?" The ferret smirked lightly, letting the mother hang upon his blade as her life faded.

Eyes of mother and child met briefly, the soft brown eyes still imploring it: "Run…live…" And she was gone, the flame of life fading from her as the light flees a candle.

The ferret's eyes narrowed. "No volunteers?" Not a beast had raised his sword.

"'e's a kid!"
"He's a witness and he's a Nightblade!" The ferret screamed back. "If none of ya have the guts ta do it, then I'll do it m'self!"

As he began to advance on Eroket, something within the young ermine that had left him paralyzed with fear snapped.

He was bolting already, running through a gap between the ferret and the weasel. He heard the ferret's voice scream. "Ya could've gotten him, you idiots! Get some of my REAL soldiers after him!"

The young ermine ran out of the room, through the open door, through the fields, as fast as he could. The scent of smoke reached his nostrils and he turned, staring in silent terror as his home, his village…was aflame. He saw the army that had done this, standing aside and watching his home burn. He saw the huge weasel adorned in gray armor, would never forget the hideous mutilated face of General Visla…saw the curious look of the emaciated stoat-he was still near enough to see well- looking to the ground, weeping bitter tears as if he were ashamed.

"Get him!" The young ermine turned to see a small group, four soldiers, rushing towards him, weapons drawn.

These must have been the 'real soldiers' that ferret had mentioned. He had dallied too long, Eroket knew. He ran again, moving desperately through the fields. Time had lost all meaning and the seasoned warriors were not giving up.

Finally, a stray stone marked his downfall. He slipped over a stray rock, slipped! For his mother's words, for his drive to live, some stupid fluke was leaving him to death…

"You gave us a chase, ya little Nightblade brat!" One of them, a ferret hissed, advancing quickly, sword drawn, "But we ain't softies like Sariss's whelps…"

"Rek!" One of the beasts suddenly screamed, "Be'ind the kid!"

"Ahh…" He couldn't find terror enough to scream…behind him? What'd that mean!

There was a sudden flash of steel and a scream and the ferret fell back, blood gushing from a torn throat.

"We were too late…" The rough voice was choked as if with grief.

"Maybe not too late…" The second, softer voice answered. "And we were able to ambush these…get behind us, child."

Eroket scrambled to his feet, briefly gazing at his rescuers.

The large of the two was a ferret, black as pitch, with small silver streaks in his fur and piercing emerald eyes. The black cloak he wore would have been enough to hide him in the night…his companion wore a similar garment.

The second was a weasel of gray fur and eyes, wearing a strange symbol Eroket did not understand.

"Death Watchers should not be hunting where they don't belong."

"Calpathions!" One of the surviving three snarled. The word meant nothing to Eroket.

"We are." The weasel replied calmly, unsheathing a sword from his side, eyes as hard and cold as stone. "We regret not being able to arrive in time to stop you completely from doing…THAT to that village…"

"W-who are you!" One snarled, nodding to his companions. Two to three…not bad odds, they had figured….so long as they charged as one…

"You will not be alive to remember our names." The ferret replied, his voice ice.

Eroket watched as they ran forward, seeking to use numbers to their advantage. In patterns and dazzling movements he had never seen before, the ferret and weasel's movements were fast and quick; and the three attackers were suddenly dead.

"The boy…" The weasel walked to his slowly, dropping his bloodstained sword and moving to his knee, "I am Kalis Deiran…I am sorry we could not arrive sooner…you are bleeding, are you cut bad?"

Though his footpaws were ragged and worn after such running, he was not wounded and Eroket managed to nod. "T-the blood isn't mine…"

The ferret moved behind the weasel, eyes locking on Eroket's own and a sudden gasp escaped him. The weasel who identified himself put a paw on Eroket's shoulder. "I am the leader of a military force known as Calpathions…we are mercenaries but we fight the Death Watch…who I assume destroyed your home.

"Y-yes…my mother…they…this is her blood." The young ermine managed to whisper, staring at his bloodstained paws.

"Jald, your cloak."

The ferret known as Jald surrendered his cloak quickly and the weasel gently draped the huge garment around Eroket's shoulders. "You have a choice…I don't expect it to be made now or lightly; We can drop you wherever you wish to go if you have other family…or you can remain with us. And become a soldier."

"I…I…"

"Come, I'll carry you…" the weasel gently lifted him, wrapped in the warm cloak. If the ferret was cold, he didn't complain

These…these are real soldiers. They're warriors…They fight those murderers…

"I…I want to join you…" The ermine whispered softly, "I want to be trained to fight.

"After what you've been through this night, you must take time to think, child…"

"My name is Eroket. Eroket Nightblade."

The ferret and the weasel paused to look at one another.

"There's room in Talrid's unit…Sarhein's is full. The archers have just lost their commander, too."

"He's not fighting now, Jald." The weasel replied, "Nightblade, is it? A good name…our camp isn't too far and we've concealed it…I'm sorry we couldn't be in time…"

The young ermine didn't respond. Life. Vengeance. Live for what now?

Revenge…the life of a mercenary…he could not decide tonight, but there was one thing he was sure of as he looked at the bloodstained paws, marking the end of childish innocence.

"Get me some red dye…"

-

Gasping, Eroket awoke, realizing he was in a bed, bandages around his bruised ribs and the cut on his shoulder and that Jald Nightson was sitting by his bedside.

The expression of worry and care was one Eroket would never have believed possible. "J-jald…"

"Ero!" Jald whispered, "Good fates Ero, what happened to you? We found by the…by the slaughter. Falis is dead, the other heads are panicking…"

"The child!" Eroket whispered suddenly, tears forming in his eyes, "He killed him just to upset me…"

"Who?" Jald's eyes suddenly hardened. Of all the crimes in warfare, rape and child killing ranked lowest with him and he punished them with a swift sword.

"That demon…Jirik Valrik."

"You fought him? You fought Jirik Valrik and you live?" Jald's voice was incredulous.

"Who the hell do you think did this to me!" Eroket screamed angrily.

"You're not hurt badly, Eroket. There'll be no scars, no fractures…he knew where to strike just to deprive you of energy."

"He killed that kid," Eroket whispered, burying his head in his paws, breathing heavily, but tears would not come.

"He's a monster. He lives to kill; women or kids, doesn't matter to him."

"Why, why would he let me live?"

Jald was silent for a moment before he let out a great sigh. "He wants you to become like him. He wants to break you down and fight you when you live for nothing else but killing him. He's done it before."

"Never…"

"Good." Jald growled lightly and swore. "Damn it, he couldn't be alone either! Kirath would never send him on such a vague mission completely unleashed…which means…" His eyes widened, "They'll be moving on here which means we have to stop them.

Eroket swung himself into a sitting position. "I can fight how I am. I've had worse. A lot worse."

"Jirk and Kirath are the worst of the Ice Wolves. We can take the rest."

"Then I guess we'd better do so," Eroket hissed, voice tinged with hatred, "Warmongering monsters the two of them…"

Jald sighed lightly, "I need you, Eroket. Not a monster, not a bloodthirsty revenge-crazed psychotic, but you. I can understand what you're going through and I don't mean to sound callous, but I need to fully conscious and sane. You're one of the best fighters I've ever seen and I need that fighter! If you lose it, you'll be doing what he wants!"

Eroket Nightblade was silent for a moment, before he looked at his crimson paws. Blood, blood and more blood were all he seemed to collect. He had dyed them so as to remember his mother's last words, her last wishes, to remind himself of her blood on his paws. To honor her last request so he could fulfill it.

He could not be expected to anything near 'alright' now…the haunting eyes of the dead child haunted his mind still, but...it had not been his fault. As his mother's death had been the work of Jirik Iridanis's fault, this child was dead because of Jirik Valrik.

On Kirathal Frostclaw's orders, he reminded himself, mastering his cool rage as he had so many times in the past.

He could not have saved them. He could not blame himself.

But the one thing he could do: he could avenge them.