The Dragon and the Snake

Thomas looked at the ground around him and watched what happened. The only thing that he could not tell was what words passed between those that had only recently stood here. For days he had been tracking one source of information to this lonely farmstead but when he had arrived there had only been death waiting for him. His contact had run afoul of his prey and now Thomas, in the shade of an old barn, was looking over the evidence to help catch the man.

From the way the grass bent, the earth dinted and the blood sprayed he could see . . .

. . . Jeorge continued to clean his sword. Both it and his long dagger had seen heavy use recently and he needed to make sure that they were clean and ready. He sat on a barrel inside a barn. It was old and run down but not so bad that it didn’t keep the wind and rain out. The floor still had hay and leftovers of the animals that had been housed there. To one side was bales of hay stacked high against the wall. On the other side was a half stable with a sleeping loft above it. It had been there that Jeorge had spent the night. The family that had occupied the farmstead had recently moved to another and for the time being the place was deserted. This was perfect for what he had in mind. He had made sure that a safe message had been sent to Thomas along with several other false ones that would mislead anyone but the Imperial Auditor.

The sound of his hands working deftly and continuously over the blades and that of the birds in the nearby trees was the only sound to be heard. It had rained recently though not enough to cause puddles in the ground. Everywhere still had an overcast look and feel of rain and the sun was setting. This failing light still shone through the barn doors giving enough light for the task at hand.

Jeorge continued to perform his actions, but he quested his senses out around him and opened his mouth slightly to hear better. The only sound were the ones he was making and the birds. What had happened to the insects that had been noisy a moment ago? Using an old trick he worked through the sounds that he could hear, even the smaller ones that were more like whispers on the wind. There was definitely something new mixed in with the others however intangible it was. He took a deep steadying breath and moved his sword into his left hand and his dagger into his right. Thomas knew better than to sneak up on him. He put his back to the wall and edged along it until he came to one of the open barn doors. There he waited for some time before kneeling and poking his head out and pulling it back in again. He frowned at what he saw and looked around inside the barn. Jeorge was not easily put off but what he had seen perplexed him. Shaking himself he stood up and stepped around the doorway, weapons to his sides.

'I had not expected to see you here, my friend,' he said.

In front of him stood a tall man dressed in dark travelling clothes, a black cloak and large straw hat. The man stood still and silent.

'I had not thought to see you again after last time. What brings you here?' Jeorge tried again.

The cloaked man took a step forward, his cloak moving back to reveal a sword at his side.

'Ah, well I am glad to see you all the same. This is a dangerous world and friends are hard to come by,' Jeorge said and threw the dagger in his right arm. As it flew with deadly aim he switched hands with his sword and charged forward. The cloaked man drew his sword and hit the spinning blade mid-air and made it veer off and embed into the soft ground. His returning strike caught Jeorge's stab, and the men clashed briefly before separating.

'I don't know what I've done or why you've come but I never thought that you would come to kill me.'

The cloaked man shrugged and moved his sword out so that Jeorge could see it clearly.

'Oh, I see,' were his last words before they attacked each other again. Within two strikes the cloaked man had beat down Jeorge's sword and cut into his arm. The ensuing third strike killed him.

The cloaked man moved his sword through the air and the blood sprayed off onto the body of Jeorge. He wiped the blade clean before sheathing it and walking off . . .

....Thomas shook his head. He knew Jeorge's skill with a sword and knew that he would not have been easy to kill. But the number of footfalls on the ground suggested that he was bested quickly.

I knew you had been sighted in the area, he thought to himself remembering information about a cloak wearing swordsmen, did you have anything to do with this?

***

The cloaked figure walked through the rain. Heavy drops falling off his straw hat and cloak. The only distinguishable feature is a long-wrapped item on his back and one side of his cloak held up by the tip of a sword case.

The road is wet and muddy, water streams off down the side. The ground runs up slightly on either side and tall trees fold over. He stops walking and the hat turns slightly in each direction. There comes the sound of a body crashing through the woods, a scream and someone jumps out while cutting down with a sword. The cloaked man responds by deftly stepping forward and clear of the strike. The following upward diagonal slash is stopped by a swing to the swordsman's wrist. There is a blur of movement, and they are struck by a twisting open palm strike that dislocates the jaw. A sweep strike and the attacker slams into the earth. The wet mud saving his head from concussion though doing nothing for his crushed throat.

With more caution than the first, four figures step out of the woods surrounding the cloaked man.

'You've got nowhere to hide!' A tall, barrel chested man wielding large maces in each hand calls out.

The cloaked man turns and walks over to the nearest tree. After a moment of searching, finds what he is looking for and returns to the middle of the road, his hands working unhurriedly on the stick he had found. In a voice dark and filled with deathly calm he speaks while he cleans the stick.

'You can leave. Alive or dead. It's your choice.'

'Ha, there's four of us and one of you,' said a man to the right, a slight build with long limbs and hefting a spear.

'Yeah, watcha going to do to us with that?' Chimed in another. A female, short and holding two knives. 'Smack our bottoms?'

The last of the four, tall and muscular pulls his scabbard out slightly from the belt around his waist.

'We know who you are,' he said above the rain. 'There's no escape for you.'

The cloaked man turns his head slightly to the man behind him.

'Looking to escape? That's not me.'

As if on cue lightening starts to flash across the sky as the storm worsens. With a yell everyone but the swordsman rushes at the cloaked figure. In the span of a few bursts of lightening all three are sprawled on the ground, if not dead then close to it. The swordsman stares in shock, words trying to form but no legible sound comes out. Gathering what senses he could, he draws his blade and charges forward. One more flash of lightening and another body slumps to the earth.

The cloaked man throws his stick away embedding it in the mud and continues on his way.

Thomas scanned the road. The smears, footprints and other details telling him exactly what happened. He did not need to be told how many fought here or the outcome. His fingers wrapped around a stick stuck in the ground and pulled it out. Dried blood was smeared on it at the tip.

You're certainly making friends that's for sure, Thomas thought to himself.

He pulled his travelling cloak over his shoulders and continued his journey.