Evan watched as his men began to pick themselves up from the ground after the Gear's attacks. He didn't expect him to be so strong. He looked too light, too human to be that powerful. The Gear had fooled him.
They climbed to their knees, some staggering. One helped pick the other up by the arm. He watched one man pick himself up and throw up blood onto the ground.
"Yeah," one said. "We're okay over here."
"Jag, you alright?" Evan walked to the man on his knees who had thrown up. He was one of his strongest fighters and yet here he was throwing up blood after getting hit by magic. The Gear must have hit him with his most powerful attack, with an arrow ironically. The Gear must have sensed more than a shock would knock the man down.
Jag spit more blood from his mouth before he wiped the corner of his mouth and looked up at him. He was a tall man, taller than him. He had short brown hair in a military cut and bright green eyes. He shook his head. "I can't go after him. He hit me too hard." He spat out some more blood.
"No one's going after him," Evan said, and held out a hand to him. "The way he ran off like that, he's expecting us to chase him."
"He was wearing a Holy Knight's uniform," one said. "What was he doing with that?"
"I don't know," Evan said while he pulled Jag to his feet. "A trick. He's a smart Gear, I'll give him that. He seems naive, though. He's gotta be a young one." He frowned and looked to the front door. He didn't want to think of how close the Gear had been to finding what he came for. "You men get inside. We need to move the female. He might come back if he figures it out where we've had her here."
He patted Jag on the back and gave him a light push towards the door. Slowly, the taller man began to lumber his way back inside. Evan placed his hands on his hips and stared down the direction where the humanoid Gear escaped, then looked around himself. He soon noticed a dark bay mare standing nearby, reins but no saddle.
Narrowing his eyes, he walked to the mare, which seemed fairly tame. She let him take the reins but tried to pull away a bit.
"This his?" he asked the group beginning to make their way inside. At least two of them stopped and looked back at him.
One shrugged. "I don't know. I guess."
"Ours now," the other man said with a grin.
"Yeah," Evan said and put his hand on the mare's neck. "Must be." He turned his head to the two. "Rene, take the horse to the stables. Like Kain said, she's ours now."
Then, the bells rang, frantic and loud. He felt the mare pull at the noise, but he kept the mare under control before she could panic. He patted the horse's neck to try to calm her while he listened to the warning bells. He hadn't heard them since the Crusades and it felt like going back in time at the sound of them.
He watched as some lights came on and a few people stepped outside, despite the warning. Before, people would have scattered for shelters and locked their doors, now they looked out their doors curiously like it was a fire nearby instead of the warning of a Gear raid.
While he passed the mare to Rene, he saw a man make his way out of his home a few paces away from the station and move towards him. He was in his robe, his hands in his pockets, slippers on his feet. His arms hugged his body as he made his way towards him. "Evan, what's going on? Why are the bells going off? Is there a Gear here?"
"Yeah," he said flatly. "There's two of them. One of them made it into the streets. Want me to tell you what he looks like?" He grinned.
------
He yawned and scratched at his thigh. He had been called a madman, even by his own men, for going to the Black Forest, which he had been told was haunted before he left. Haunted or not, there was a reported Gear in that forest, and he was going to see if it was true or not. After hearing a woman's story of being attacked by a hostile Gear, he had to see what was really there. He insisted on going alone, but he came prepared.
His grip around Furaiken loosened but he caught it the moment he began to feel it slip from his glove. He jerked it back in a tighter grip while the leather of his gloves reasserted itself around the blue handle again.
I almost dropped her. He rubbed at his eyes. I'm tired. But even when I was tired during the Crusades I never came that close to dropping her. But then again, I was never alone.
He looked down on the moving ground from under him, eyeing the trail a moment from atop his horse. They were still on the trail, thank God. For a brief moment he thought he had gone off the trail, but no, it was still under him. Good old Indigo wouldn't let him go off course. The only reason he brought the stallion was because he was told the best way to go through these woods was on horseback. He heard it was near impossible on foot. And dangerous.
He was actually glad he brought the stallion. He hadn't rode him in a long time. He had him since the war, but didn't retire him. The stallion was now a mounted police horse.
He pulled his head back and laughed at the oddity of it. He, a Holy Knight had turned police officer himself. He supposed he wanted his trusty steed to come with him.
He slapped himself across the cheek after catching himself laughing at that.
If he was this tired, then how would he stand a chance against the rumored Gear if he did find it?
I'm not going to stop to rest that's for sure, he told himself. Not yet.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, remembering how those long trips during the Crusades just battered his mind and body, how he would sometimes find himself falling asleep on Indigo's back, managing to sit upright or slumped slightly over the back of his neck. Oh how this very trip reminded him of those days. . . .
He found himself almost nodding off, and snapped his head up again until he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Ow." He placed a hand at the back of his neck and rubbed it.
After a while, his ears began to pick up a sound that reminded him of running water. It turned him a bit more alert, tempting him with the promise of cold water that would wake him, but he still remained on the trail. There was no use to go off the trail and get lost. But the more he rode on, the louder it became, the crystalline sound of water running against the rocks.
A stream somewhere. He had recalled hearing of a stream in the woman's story. She said the Gear had thrown her in it.
He narrowed his burning his eyes and looked around himself, trying to pinpoint its exact location. He was close now. He knew it. But it sounded like it was coming from all around him. He turned his head in every which direction.
"You hear that, Indy?"
He was tempted to go off the trail to find it, but the woman had told him that if he followed the trail it would lead him straight to the place where she found the Gear. He frowned, but let himself listen to rationality. He was almost there. He had to be patient.
He squinted as he saw a glimmer of light within the woods at his side. He thought at first it was just a patch of snow, but it was shining like moonlight dancing on water's surface. And that's what it was. His eyes widened with relief when he finally realized what it was.
"There it is."
He slipped down Indigo's back and walked off the trail, towards the glimmer. It had been the stream he heard, and possibly the one the woman had talked about. His boots nearly slipped on the ice that had formed around the edge of the stream, but he kept his footing. He took half a step back to keep himself from falling on the ice and making an ass of himself, and crouched down. He placed his weapon beside him before he removed his gloves and stuck his hands into the icy water, cupping them to collect a handful of it. He brought his hands up and splashed the water into his face. He gasped at the cold that struck his face like a hammer and closed his eyes. When he did, he heard a twig snap from behind him.
He jerked his head over his shoulder with his face dripping of water. It made him look like he was sweating. "Indy?" His eyes searched through the dark woods.
He didn't see the horse, but he had a feeling the cause of the sound was the stallion. No need to get fired up yet.
He looked down on Furaiken beside him before he reached his hands down into the stream again to collect another handful to ease his dry mouth. As he moved his hands down to the water, he caught a menacing reflection over his shoulder. It seemed to just appear there, its dark face staring down on him. It was neither man or any animal he had ever seen. He wasn't sure what it was at first. Its head was long and narrow like a deer, with horns curving forward from the sides of its head. Its red eyes stared down on him as if it were waiting for the right moment to snap its jaws into him. He got a glimpse of white, jagged teeth.
He quickly snatched up his sword by the handle, and with a pivot of his shoulders, he swung the blade. But when he swiped at the air, there was nothing behind him at all. There was no monster, no Gear, nothing but air.
He blinked as he looked behind himself, then down on the ground. There were no tracks or any sign an animal had been there behind him.
"Indy?"
It couldn't have been Indigo. Indigo didn't look like that, not even in a wavering reflection. Not even the water could distort his looks so he came out looking like some devil. He placed a hand upon his face and shook his head. Had he imagined it?
I'm tired but not insane.
He stood up and looked around him. Still no sign.
He licked his lips before he turned around and headed back to the trail. When he finally set foot back on the trail again, he heard something that reminded him of a howl of laughter. "Hhaaa!"
He snapped himself around, his uniform twisting a moment as he spun around. Nothing was behind him, but he felt something was here.
Was this the Gear the woman was talking about?
Something told him it wasn't.
If there had been a Gear behind him, it would have attacked him the moment he saw its reflection. Gears didn't play mind-games. They just attacked. And most of all, they didn't just vanish out of thin air.
He shook his head and looked down the trail. He saw Indigo grazing by the side of the broken trail, completely oblivious to what had happened. He clenched his jaw and his grip around Furaiken tightened as he went for his horse. He pulled on his reins and hurled himself upon the saddle again. He pulled the horse's head up, and by then, he heard another, "Hhaaa!"
He looked around quickly, waiting for something to come out of those woods after him. He even heard something moving, twigs and branches breaking from under a moving body. His heart began to pound, and his eyes searched for whatever it was, but he couldn't see it—whatever it was.
He swallowed and even began to consider that maybe this place was haunted after all. There was definitely something in these woods—
"Hhaaa!"
As his eyes searched for the source of the voice, he then heard a low howl echo through the woods on the other side of him. He snapped his head around and cast his eyes towards the bare trees. His heart seemed to jump up his throat. "Shit." He looked back and forth to his left then his right over and over, just waiting to see something step out of those woods.
Silence returned.
He couldn't help but feel a bad vibes about this place. But he couldn't let whatever was in those woods get to him. He had to continue his mission.
He swallowed hard, and signaled Indigo forward. "Come on, Indy." He kept his eyes out on both sides of him, but thankfully, the sounds never came back, and whatever was in there didn't follow. It left him to follow the rest of the trail. It lead him to the clearing the woman had talked about. He looked down as Indigo approached an old but stable bridge that crossed the stream and back to solid ground again. He looked around himself, marking the woods on his left with his eyes, the stream before it, the exact same stream the woman had reported being thrown in, and another patch of woods ahead of him.
He soon turned his head to a small cabin. The woman had mentioned that, too. He had asked her if anyone lived there but she never gave him a straight answer.
"Hmm." He eyed it before he slid off of Indigo's back, with the bottom of his boots landing upon a patch of half melted snow. He slid his free hand off of the saddle and began to step away from the bay stallion.
His eyes became fixed upon the charming cabin a few meters away from him. He studied it a moment from a distance, trying to determine from his position if anyone lived there or not. He couldn't tell. There was just one way to find out.
He started towards it and stopped before the front door. He knocked, but didn't receive an answer. He listened for movement, and heard nothing.
He sighed and rested a hand against the knob. He stared down on it, and while biting his lower lip, he gave it a light twist.
It gave. As soon as he knew it, the door opened, showing him the inside of the cabin. Well, if no one lived here, then it wasn't home invasion. And besides, he was a police officer. He had the badge to prove it. There would be no problems.
"Hello? Anyone here? Police."
Upon stepping inside, he noticed the cabin wasn't vacant. It was lightly furnished and neatly kept. He saw in the den, a silhouette of a stuffed chair. A darkened hearth was nearby it, against the wall, with dead ashes inside its belly. A small stack of wood sat nearby. The walls and floors were bare otherwise. But there was something that stood out to his police instincts. It drew him near.
He walked closer to the hearth and looked up above the mantle where two hooks curved out of the wall like talons. He narrowed his eyes then looked down on a white sheet that laid on the floor by his feet. It seemed out of place laying there.
He looked around again. "Anyone here?"
He turned his head and looked down into a narrow and short hallway that lead to an open door. He gave his winter dry lips a coat of his tongue before he started towards it, and went inside. His eyes struggled for light. The window on the side of the room wasn't enough to let him see the details, just like the den.
Maybe there was a light somewhere. He reached an arm around and felt upon the wall.
Nothing there.
He inhaled deeply before venturing further into the dark room. It wasn't long before he tripped over something, nearly sending him flailing to the floor. He caught himself, thankfully, with one hand grappling whatever he had tripped over. His fingers explored the edges of it a moment, then wandered into the bottom. An empty wooden box.
Well, he wasn't going to get anywhere fast by poking around in the dark, so he carefully stood up and went for the open doorway and ventured back into the den. He found himself eyeing up the mantle. He reached a bare hand up and felt along the edge of it, finding it surprisingly clean, no dust or dirt. His hand soon bumped against something and let his hand grapple it, feeling what seemed like a small box. He shook it, and listened to the contents clatter against one another. His lips formed into a smile. A match box.
He slid it open and picked out a match stick. A finger felt against the edge of the box, then gave it a strike. Sparks flew against the edge of the box, and the tip of the match came to life with a tiny flame. His eyes focused as light surrounded the flame. He looked around himself with help of the flame, walking around the den and even into the neighboring kitchen. Someone had been here. It was too clean and kept to have been vacant for years. There was no dirt.
But had this person witnessed the attack?
He struck another match against the box after the first went out.
He had a feeling the owner of this cabin had seen something. He wondered if he had seen the Gear he had been sent here for.
No use waiting. I could find myself waiting for days, even months, if I'm lucky.
Now what?
Keep looking, he told himself.
With that decision working itself in his head, he blew the dying match out and snapped the box closed. He returned it to the mantle and headed for the door. As he made it outside again, he heard a low, deep howl in the woods across from him, the same sort of howl he had heard before. He found himself staring at the trees.
He stood there, as if waiting for something to step out of those woods. That howl, he had never heard anything howl like that before. Not a wolf, not even a Gear.
"What are you?" he whispered to the woods, his eyes narrowing.
He stared into those dark woods for a long moment until the thing stopped. Only the sounds of the crickets and the wind brushing through the trees remained.
He sighed and shook his head. "A place like this, I don't see how a man can stay sane."
Just then, he found himself thinking of that thing he saw in the water's reflection as he stepped away from the cabin. Just what was that thing?
He suddenly stopped in his tracks as he thought, "What if that was the thing that attack her?" He slid his hands into his pockets. "She could have mistaken it for a Gear. It was near here. She never said what this Gear looked like. What if. . ."
It had to been. It almost had the look of a Gear, even if he hadn't gotten a full glimpse of it, only its head. That hideous gray head, those horns. . . It was small, but he had seen Gears the size of elk and deer before. Not all of them were ten times his size.
"Had to been. Right?"
He glanced toward his horse which was nosing around the grass.
"There are no Gears here," he said aloud, looking like he was talking to his horse. "Just that. . .whatever it was. Did you see it, Indy?" He watched as the horse continued to graze. He smiled. "Of course you didn't."
He took a step back and sat down on a step to the cabin, and rested his arms against his knees. He ducked his head moment, with a curtain of light blonde hair falling in his face. He sighed, watching his breath frost and drift from his mouth. "False alarm." He laughed lightly. "Thank God." He looked up to his horse again. "Let's get out of here, Indy."