Chapter 37 What Was That?!
They had barely finished their discussion when the sound had drawn closer still, and by moving their torches, they could now make out the silhouette of a man in the bushes. Oscar drew his sword slowly.
The forest remained oppressive. Yet the silence stretched between them, and the man said nothing. Neither did Oscar.
What was there to say?
It was Abélie who spoke, in a very small voice.
"Hello… Who are you?"
Once again, the man did not react, and Oscar's instincts urged him to flee. The young man forced himself to breathe nonetheless, his sword still raised.
"Who are you?"
Still no answer. Looking closely — made difficult by the perpetual flickering of the torch — the man had a pallid complexion and a vacant stare. His clothes, in tatters, were filthy, and his body was covered in scratches and bruises. Oscar, his free arm held out in front of the young majordomo, silently ordered her to step back.
Yet something shifted in the man's gaze, and with a growl like that of a beast, he threw himself forward, hands outstretched, toward Abélie. His erratic movements caught Oscar off guard as he shielded the young woman with his arm.
The man was unarmed.
That did not stop him from sinking his rotten teeth into the young lord's forearm, to the astonishment of them both. Abélie let out a piercing cry. Oscar recoiled; the man drove his teeth a little deeper into his arm.
The majordomo seized a stick from the ground, and she rose before delivering a shattering – if clumsy – blow to the assailant. It had little effect, but a powerful kick from the young Lord finished driving the individual a few short metres back. He lost a tooth in the process. The young woman panicked at the sight of blood soaking her employer's sleeve, but Oscar paid it little mind, for the assailant was getting back up.
He still showed no reaction. In his eyes flickered moments of pure savagery amid the most total apathy. This was far from the young man's usual opponents, and an icy shiver ran down his spine.
Perhaps coming to this forest had not been such a good idea after all.
Abélie was speaking to him and rummaging through her pockets in search of a makeshift bandage, but already the young man was lunging toward the man. He had not planned to kill but had prepared himself for it upon entering this forest, "supposedly" inhabited by bandits. But who was this man? He had not the faintest idea, and deep down, little part of him cared. His instincts were simply screaming that he was dangerous.
The assailant rose with staggering movements, his gaze now fixed on Oscar. There was nothing in that gaze, save for a certain fixation now. The individual, motionless for a second, lunged toward Oscar the next. He was fast — almost as fast as Sir Rossi — and the movement was hard to predict.
Dodging was growing difficult while shielding Abélie, and Oscar had to use his sword to block him. The man's emaciated arms and earth-blackened nails gripped the young lord's jacket all the same as the blade's edge drove into his chest. The individual's strength caught Oscar off guard as the fabric, of fine make, tore beneath the assailant's crooked fingers. Their combined weight threw off his footing, and Oscar had to drop to one knee to avoid falling. The man pressed down harder and harder, his teeth snapping frantically ten centimetres from the young lord's face as the sword cut through his flesh. In a flash of clarity, Oscar shifted his weight to the right, wrenching himself free of the assailant as the latter crashed to the ground. Oscar nearly fell with him, swept up in his fall, but seized the opportunity to drive his sword into the base of his shoulder. The creature — for it was clearly not a human — let out a dreadful gurgling sound, without ceasing to move. Both arms were already reaching up toward the sky, but Oscar severed the head with one swift stroke.
For a few seconds, no sound reached his ears… Then life resumed its course. The wind blew between the trees. Abélie was saying words the young man did not immediately understand… And above all else, his heart began hammering in his temples once more. He exhaled – the adrenaline was ebbing slightly. His sword was driven deep into the ground, a few centimetres from the now-severed head of the creature.
Abélie came to kneel beside him, panicked as she attempted to examine his wounds. Oscar felt no pain, only the necessity to act. And the creature had not wounded him gravely — only his arm had been struck. He also had a few scratches where the nails had dug in, but nothing requiring urgent attention.
He shook his head and rose to his feet, his hearing finally clearer.
"My Lord, we must treat this wound!"
"We must move and get out of this forest. This is surely…" he hesitated, glancing at the creature, "…that, the 'brigands'. Come on, let's go now."
Despite the majordomo's protests, they set off again fairly quickly. Oscar cast one last glance at the lifeless creature before pressing on into the darkness.