Fear the Night
The Noxian troop slowed. Hard and heavy had been the march this day. With Darius at the lead, none could afford to slack. The man was unyielding and lived all too easily up to his name as the Hand of Noxus.
A field of open plains and tall grass. It meant that someone would be standing watch. No choice. Darius might stand watch, but he would not be alone in it. He gave no choice.
The elites did not question but immediately followed the procedure without hesitation. The lesser soldiers hesitated or moved at a much slower pace. Still all moved to make ready to rest. The march tomorrow would be brutal as well. It mattered not the elements, what mattered was that they move back towards the capital.
There was nothing much else to be known. Soldiers of Noxus were only to pave their roads and lives with victory, nothing more.
. . . . . .
The watch was not the best of choices. She was young and knew of the stories, but Darius was far too intimidating to easily follow. She was weary from the war and just wished to rest her spirit. The threat of Darius was not enough to keep her eyes from shutting.
The dark in the field began to dance. No fireflies or insects. Just the falling of a feather.
. . . . . .
The grass whispered and swayed. But there was no wind. In fact, there was nothing. Nothing to indicate anything, therefore… absence. Silence overwhelming.
That was actually the scary part; there was nothing at all. One should have expected trouble. But nothing happened through the whole of the night. Just the disciplining of the sleeping watcher. And the discovery of a helmet. An empty helmet, and leftover bedroll.
. . . . . .
Darius drove hard as ever, giving no indication to the events of the night, or any concern. The younger soldiers were not as the elites, though one might have noted a flicker in their eyes as the scanned the terrain more carefully and frequently. The trainees were nervous but fought to not show it.
Caw… caw. Caw-caw-caw.
. . . . . .
Nothing disturbed the setting up of camp. But the elites did not have an easy time of getting the rest to easily stop looking around with concern as they muttered about the missing soldier.
Darius finally stated with his usual flatness, "It does not matter. We shall stand watch, around our camp, and any foe who may strike shall learn to not test us." As usual, it was without arrogance or any sort emotion. It was the hardness that made a true threat out of him to the enemies of Noxus.
Still one young mind worried that whatever could silently take a soldier in the middle of the camp at night might come for him next. Not comforting in the least. Perhaps that was why he stood watch first.
. . . . . .
Hsssshhhhhh. Ssssssshhhhhhh. The wind whispered across the plains. The young man was not happy with the watch. He hated being made to do it. Especially when there was not much light. The stars and moon were good, but somehow it was swallowed up by the vastness of the open terrain. When would this open countryside finally end?
Huh? He brushed his face in confusion. The soft thing flitted on the silent wind near the flames of the fire… and was consumed with a quiet poof. A feather.
A slight flapping and shape glided and landed near the pit. In its glow it looked at the night watchman and chilled him with its steady eyes. A bird. A crow.
. . . . . .
A more miserable night than the last for the recruits and trainees, the night watchman missing, without any trace or clue this time, and even the elites a little confused. Darius had muttered something about possible treason, but that it was foolish since the open terrain offered nowhere to run or hide.
The stop this time was near a forsaken, small village. Double the watch. No exceptions, and with a potential place for ambush, it only made sense to everyone. The pair talked to keep calm and awake.
"It's like we're supposed to fear the night," whispered one at the end.
"I don't know, but I long for a fight. This madness of disappearing soldiers is something I simply cannot stand."
"I wish I understood this," growled the soldier. "Magic, I understand, but this doesn't seem like magic. And how could an assassin so easily sneak into the camp and make off with a soldier without any indication of their presence? That's… too good. Inhuman in fact."
"An excellent word for it. But they took single targets. One cannot play that hand but so many times before they are caught."
. . . . . .
Darius awoke for his turn at watch. He didn't wake another. He intended to stand alone to draw out the enemy. But there was only one man on watch when he came. The other was simply absent. The soldier was shaken and visibly trembling.
"What happened? Why have you not spoken of what has occurred?" Darius said in his usual unshakable manner. His hand grabbing the other's shoulder was what startled him out of his trance with a startled exclamation.
"It-it-it it took him, took him, took him. It came, took, took, took…" Darius clubbed him across the face and sent him flying into the nearest building.
The man looked fearfully up at Darius as he reached towards his back. Whump! The ax embedded in the earth held the man's eyes before the voice of the Hand of Noxus drew his gaze up to the hardened man. "You will enter the village. You will search for the killer. And then, when you have found the body, you will personally carry it all the way with you back to the capital as proof of your failure to prevent the enemy from making a fool of you."
When the man began to visibly sweat at the mention of the searching, Darius grabbed the handle of the ax. "You will search or die. You will kill whoever it is that killed your comrade. Your disgrace that you have not made a stand. Better to die with dignity than simply retreat. You will not allow this to simply be."
"Y-y-y-you don't want to know what happened. T-t-t-t-t-to see it." The soldier quietly got up his eyes warily on Darius. The General's eyes brooked no argument or choice.
With a dry swallow the soldier turned toward the darkened buildings. "I… will go." But his heart was not the task. He was certain he would never find the body.
"The scarecrow took him," he whispered fearfully to himself.
. . . . . .
Darius watched the man walk off into the dark. He might come back, or he might not. It mattered not if it brought enemy out. He scanned buildings. An assassin. But assassins did only so well in direct confrontations.
Then there was a scream of chilling cold to freeze the blood. Everyone was up at the second and third that sounded like the noise was literally being ripped out of the man's own chest. The third was the worst because it was so… wrong. Metallic, harsh and nerve-scraping somehow.
What could make such sound? Nothing human. So, Darius observed, it is a machine or some magical creation that they have dispatched against us.
"Torches," he ordered. "Search high and low. We shall not leave until the assassin is dead."
The recruits were more fearful than the elites, but went about their orders, particularly when the General himself lit a light and stepped towards the darkened structures. The fear fled slightly. They were Noxians. They must not retreat; they must go forward. Ever forward without hesitation. It was why the Hand of Noxus was as strong as he was.
Grimly one of the younger soldiers entered a house. So strange. It was empty. Dust choking the place, yet there was far too much of it when this place was open to the wind. In fact, some of the thick black dust looked more like… ash. What could have happened here?
His foot tripped over something - kicked it actually - so that it skidded off into a patch of moonlight from a broken window.
A bone.
It was a human bone. In fact, there were skeletons in this house. His stomach threatened to heave. What would cause this? "So… fragile," squeaked some voice in tones of rust. It stabbed and twisted in the man's mind causing sweat to bead his brow. Was that even a voice? It sounded like something that was trying to imitate but failing miserably.
His eyes darted as he sought the enemy. Where? Where?! He must see it to strike it! "Its in the house!" rasped the noise in another room upstairs. He immediately charged the stairs. Kill it. Kill it! Kill it whatever it was! Kill it now! To stop that awful sound!
Kwa-chunk! Ka-krtsshhshshshshhhh! He crashed into something metallic and fell into the room in a tangle. He immediately rallied and swung his spear through the mass, and it crumbled into fine powder. His weapon fell from his hand as he plunged his hands in disbelief into the pile.
It was just fine sand. Just… "It's just a scarecrow." His eyes snapped to a corner in surprise. A figure lay curled up in it. Then it exploded into gangly limbs and flailed them as it danced about the room's interior with the spear hitting nothing. And oh! That awful rusting squeaking and shrieking! The man was in pain from the noise. Then the figure crouched and produced a rusted scythe. "IT WON'T DIE!" shrieked the thing and then it leapt at him.
. . . . . .
Darius heard the blood-curdling scream and promptly set fire to the house. The house exploded. Something it shouldn't have possibly been capable of and choking dust and ashes fell in a cloud over the whole place. Figures manifested in the midst of the cloud only to be cut down, collapsing back into small clouds of choking immaterial.
Screaming and laughter. A gangly, metallic figure with a scythe jerking and flying about like a puppet attached to strings. Blood and dust. Figures vanishing. Commands being issued and yelled by the lesser experienced, while the veterans sought the source in vain. The ashes and flames danced madly and seemed to spiral into all manner of outlines and forms.
The flames spread and the conflict grew more intense with voices being confused and thrown so that chaos reigned while the soldiers were violently slaughtered until only one remained. Darius stood outlined in the inferno's light while the dark figure of the scarecrow leapt from the curtain of flames into the circle's midst.
The general and the creature fought relentlessly. Darius was a veteran of combat and proved it with every swing of his giant axe. The creature had no discipline, just wild swings and that terrible howling laughter. Finally, Darius roared in a thunderous voice, "Enough!" With a mighty spin he blasted the flames away and leveled the burning remains of the houses.
The scarecrow crouched and leapt, then it and Darius had their weapons locked. The two stared at each other, Darius dispassionately and without any emotion. Then the scarecrow, stopped straining and simply glared at the Noxian general. Then it jumped back and looked mad as it crouched and continued to stare. "You," it rasped. "You not scared. Others are but you." It turned away and a crow came to rest on its shoulder. "No more fun. Besides…"
Darius coldly watched the scarecrow. "You kill the men but refuse to fight or have anything to do with me. A coward is what you are."
The thing looked back. Then it rushed him, and the air was full of crows and cawing as the flocks of them settled upon the dead. It stared him in the face and said, "No fear, no point in kill. Besides, you taken. Smell other. Leave you for that."
Darius stared back. "Take another smell and you will find you are misguided. The scent of mages and poisons may be upon me but little more. War yes, fear no. I care nothing for it anyway. But whatever you are, is of no importance. If you leave now, then you should run so far my blade can never find you."
Harsh, squeaking laughter. "If only knew. Not for me, for other, but you fool. I not able to die."
Scrunch! The axe cleaved the scarecrow asunder into many pieces. The foul pulsing in the cage in the center exploded and whatever it was began to pull and yank at the pieces. It began pull itself back together. The Noxian General had never seen anything like it. It was grotesque yet fascinating.
"Me not die like you." It 'straightened' up back into its gross hunched position with the awful scythe. "You die though. Horrible to." With that, and an awful cackle, it was surrounded by the birds in a cloud and vanished.
Darius was left to depart in the morning towards his intended destination alone with nothing to bury. A small seed of doubts lingered in his mind, but he was a harsh citizen of Noxus and so pushed it away. He never knew that the scarecrow spoke of the demon it smelled that was with Jericho Swain. Or that it referenced the potential destruction of Noxus and Darius at the hands of its brother.
. . . . . .
Ten great kings took ten great thrones,
Nine crowns adorned nine heads.
One left to scratch upon their mounds,
The crow, alive and dead.
— old Demacian poem, author unknown