Casey stood, staring up at her house, as a cold wind raised goose bumps on her arms and stones dug in to the bare soles of her feet. Her father stood shivering beside her, though a woollen robe covered his nightgown. She had watched as he had argued with the soldiers, telling them that he didn't know what was going on; didn't know why they were there, but they barely listened. Gloved hands had dragged them away to stand shaking by the horses, tight enough to ring the bare skin of her arm in red. She was scared. Olivia always managed to escape, to get out of any situation and it wasn't that she didn't trust her, but that she knew that the past had no bearing on the future. Sure Olivia had escaped before but that was then. That was boy faced soldiers and drunk guards. That was in the middle of the forest that she knew better than anyone. That was without the Black Cloak. Though the night was cold she knew it wasn't the air that had made her shiver, but the sight of him, silent and menacing atop his jet black stallion. She'd heard the tales- everyone had- of how he killed without mercy, killed anyone who got in his way, never spoke and never took off his helmet. Son to the Sheriff and brought to the castle in the dead of night, as the rumour went, he was kept apart from birth, not allowed to play with the other children. The best knight in the north but with none of the morals. No one could match him for speed or skill. He was the nightmare that parents used to frighten their children into behaving.
She stopped staring at his tall form only when a soldier fell to the ground. It took her a moment to understand what had happened but when the second arrow hit another soldier, who fell dead like the first, she knew that Olivia had started to fight back.
Finn had gone with Amanda to run from the house at the back and the sound of their fighting, steel striking steel, floated up through the floor. Elliot was waiting downstairs for the soldiers out front to be focused so intently on the window from which she was shooting that they wouldn't see him approach until it was too late. She'd hit two that she'd seen, in the neck between their chainmail and helmets. She quickly knocked another arrow, any fear she might have been feeling washed away at the adrenalin of the fight. Her back was pressed to the wall beside the window and she used her legs to propel her away and turn to fire again. The trick was not to aim. To pull the string back to the corner of your mouth and trust that the arrow would go where you willed it. She'd learnt this almost before she could walk and she'd tried to teach Finn but he simply thought too much about what he was doing, instead of doing it. The arrow hit home but the soldiers were becoming wary, using their shields and crouching low to avoid her. She'd only managed to hit an arm she thought with a grimace. One more left to kill.
Screams started to drift through the window and she knew that Elliot had run from the house and was fighting with a broad sword taller than she was. It was eight against one- though one was wounded- and she knew that as good a fighter as he was those odds were never good. Throwing her bow over her shoulder, the string resting between her breasts, she ran from the room, not knowing that in the fray the Black Cloak had entered the house.
He stood in the hall way, and she wondered briefly how she hadn't heard him on the stairs. His breast plate of silver seemed to shine though the light was dim, filtering from the open door ways that lined the corridor and his long cloak just brushed the backs of heels. The metal of his helmet allowed only his eyes to shine through and in one gloved fist he was holding a long steel sword, the head of a falcon set in the pommel with rubies for eyes. The noise of the fighting outside seemed to grow smaller to Olivia's ears, she could only hear the pumping of her blood as it rushed from her racing heart. He stood between her and the stairs and she knew she needed to get to Elliot but she was hesitant to attack. The blood red rubies seemed to glow from within and the sight to her back to the last time she had had the misfortune to set eyes on them.
It was a full moon with barely a cloud in the sky and the soft white glow lit the surrounding forest. She was running as fast as she could ever remember running, the soft dirt and twigs snapping under her toes but she knew it would never be quick enough. How could he be that fast covered in all that metal, she thought to herself, as her lungs gasped for air and she knew she couldn't keep up her pace. Her bow was over her shoulder, quiver at her side, but he was too close for her to turn and shoot so her only defence lay in the short sword hanging from her hip; the iron dull and heavy. With the footsteps behind her only growing closer she cut diagonally off the path and tried zigzagging through the trees, hoping that her knowledge of the forest would give her the edge she needed. They'd stopped a public execution over by the castle and the Black Cloak and the Sheriff's soldiers had given chase. She'd only heard the rumours about him, never saw him person, but up close he was just as ominous as she'd imagined. The scattered thorn bushes and low hanging branches didn't seem to be slowing him so running straight at an elm she turned at the last minute drawing her sword and faced him.
'You just won't quit!' she said panting, holding her sword out at her side. His only response was to draw his own steel blade, the sound the only noise in the trees, as if the animals knew to be silent.
There was a moment of stillness, both waiting for the other to make a move, before he sprung forward and swung his sword in an upward arc towards her face. She barely had time to react and the clash of metal striking metal rang through the forest as she lifted her sword for block his strike. The steel was close enough that she could see her reflection shinning in the metal. He stepped back, paused then came at her again. She parried and threw some strikes of her own but couldn't seem to get close and with every attack she was driven backwards, forced on the defence.
'They say he cut out your tongue?' she asked trying to distract him but he offered only silence in return. He barely seemed to be breathing while she was panting heavily and her arm was beginning to ache from the force of the blows. She could smell her sweat mixing with the damp odour of the moss that grew beneath the trees and branches had whipped at her face and arms drawing bloody lines in her skin.
'Perhaps he cut off your balls as well?' she said not to be deterred, 'and that's why you don't make a sound; scared you'll squeak.'
Her taunting was having no effect and it was all she could do to parry his blows, knowing that just one getting through would be enough to kill her. Walking backwards and focused on his blade so intently she barely noticed when her heels met bare air. The trees ended in a large steep drop, hanging on to the edge by their roots, which ended in the river, flowing fast and strong beneath them. She looked down, then back at the Black Cloak sword raised to offer the fatal blow before knowing the one path lead to death while the other only the risk of death. She let herself topple backwards and fell hard down the cliff, hitting roots and stones on her way down. The water was icy and the clear but freezing taste attacked her teeth as she swallowed a mouthful as she screamed. She got one last look at him, standing tall, staring at her, rubies of his sword glinting in the moonlight, before the current whisked her away.
She was shaken awake from her reprieve when he took a step forward and raised his sword to strike. She quickly drew her own blade and thought that a blitz attack might be her only way to freedom, pushing one cold foot back to give her the leverage to spring forward. However, before she could act, before a single blow could be exchanged the sound of screaming and cracking could be heard. Unlike the screams of dying soldiers this noise was higher, sharper and belonged to Casey. Unknown to the two figures, as he was fighting Elliot killed a soldier holding the burning brand. As he fell, blood spraying the wall, the fire rolled away from him to rest in the grass, dried by the summer sun, and soon the bottom of the wooden house was ablaze, the flames cracking and spitting in the night.
The Black Cloak turned towards the noise but she herself didn't have to think, Casey was in trouble and any hesitation she might have had was gone. She pushed past him before he could react and rushed down the stairs almost falling in her haste, but it still wasn't quick enough. His boots thudded on the wood and somehow he managed to get between her and the door. The stones under her feet were warm and smoke was curling between the wood, sticking to the back of her throat. He raised his sword and this time he didn't pause, spring forward and aiming for her legs. They fought harder than before and she wasn't sure if it was the fire or the force of his blows that caused sweat to drip down into her eyes. Smoke was filling the whole room, choking her and the acid taste was making her gag but she couldn't spare a thought for what was happening beyond the end of his sword. Finally, just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he turned and fled through the closed door and she was quick to follow, any thought of attacking his back overriden by the notion of clean air.
The sight that met their eyes was one of blood. Eight soldiers lay dead on the ground various limbs scattered between them but Olivia felt no joy for in amid the blood and bodies lay Elliot, one hand holding a gaping wound on his thigh together. She wanted to go to him, to help stop the bleeding but the Black Cloak was still alive and he couldn't be left that way. She turned expecting him to be beside her but in her shock at seeing Elliot he had slipped away, knowing the fight was lost. He ran to his horse, scaring the others to such an extent that they all scattered in different directions, a mass of hoof beats. With one hand he threw Casey's father to the ground before grabbing her round the waist and pulling her up into his saddle. She was screaming and cursing and trying to fight but his grip was too strong and before Olivia could take one step he was galloping away in to the night, red hair streaming behind him.