Ace of prey

The cold night wind wiped Devon's face as he struggled to look past the darkness. He held the lamp higher this time trying to locate where Guilford was.

A little ahead, not too far, a shadow moved, a movement that could only be caught with a trained eye. Devon was focused now. His hand subconsciously reached under his coat and clutched the hilt of his Genoese knife. Devon blew out the candle in his lamp and hung it on the wall on the hook he had now learnt to locate so well in dark.

He took light steps backwards careful not to make any sound and hid in the alley where not even the moonlight dared to enter. He carefully took his Genoese knife out of his pocket and made the worst mistake anyone ever could. Apparently, his methods are not to be used in the moonlight. The metal caught the moonlight in it giving a big signal of Devon's presence.

Something tickled in Devon's ear. It was the slightest of the sounds Devon could hear, he was sure it came from behind but Devon did not show any signs he had heard it. His feet vibrated as the creature behind him took steps closer to him. He could feel the vibration in the earth, he was thankful the night was quiet. He felt heat behind his neck as the creature moved closer. Devon could not depend on his vision at this moment, but he had never really depended on it.

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he heard the worst scream in the world. It was a non-human voice. Devon turned back as quick as an arrow and brought his knife down. His attack was stopped midway as the figure blocked his knife with a much larger and sharper sword. Devon could not make out what the figure was but he would soon find out in the morning.

On second thought...

He used his other hand to bring out one of the twin swords he had hidden under his coat. In a flash, he flipped his knife and hooked it on his belt with expertise. Whoever the attacker was, he seemed inclined to not allow Devon to beat him in the battle. The attacker spun around and kicked Devon hard in his chest. Devon grunted but got back up. The attacker brought his sword down but Devon already had his twin swords in his hands. He blocked the attack with ease as his swords formed an x making it impossible for the attacker to find a way towards him. The attacker brought his sword back. Devon did not waste any time as he moved his sword in an arc but the attacker twisted his arm so the sword clattered on the ground and then the sword in his other hand but Devon already had his Genoese knife.

He spun around and kicked Devon in his jaw. This was the worst downfall his dignity had ever had. With sudden rage, Devon kicked him on his sternum. The attacker grunted and tried to balance himself. Devon couldn't help but smile.

Finally, something works on him.

He did not wait for him to lunge back at Devon though. Before he could pull himself together, Devon made a run for him with his Genoese knife and made a deep cut on his neck. Devon was disappointed, he had aimed to separate his throat from the rest of his body. The attacker shouted and moved his blade with such ease it looked like a flash of lightning. The blade moved in an arc and made a deep cut on Devon's chest. Blood seeped through it and soaked the white shirt he wore under his red coat. Devon brought his knife towards him holding it in different positions to make it easier to fight with him. His twin swords were strong and he knew his twin swords would be easier to use and less risky but this was not a fight he could win without risk. His Genoese knife fits well in his hand and the cuts it made were clean and professional.

In seconds, the attacker had blocked Devon's blow and kicked him hard in his chest. Devon was sent flying out of the alley. Devon noticed the attacker had, in total, three moves apart from his sword skills but he twisted them around so his moves were unpredictable.

The attacker came out. It was a man just as Devon predicted, but he looked like an Ace. Devon pushed that thought aside and got up. His spade blade in his hands now. Devon threw it as fast as he could. Devon had always been fast and a very good shot, though not as good as Guilford who excelled in archery, he made it work. Not even the flash of the blade was seen as his small spade blade buried itself into the attacker's head where most of the damage was inflicted. It was something that Devon read somewhere 'if the head was gone there was absolutely nothing left in the body, even if it manages to function well'. He figured Death was better.

The attacker choked for a while until he finally fell to the ground. Devon retrieved the blade and wiped it on his sleeve.

"Guilford!" Devon shouted as he followed the familiar scent of his friend. It was the scent of smoke and raspberry, the most unique one.

"right here!" came the faintest of the voices from another alleyway. Devon took the lamp he had hung on the wall and followed Guilford's voice. As Devon made a sharp turn, the yellow light from the lamp lit the alleyway. He could see a man lying on the ground, his body motionless. Beside him was Guilford, he was clutching his stomach.

"I met one too," Devon said as he bends down to help him up. Guilford took Devon's lamp from him while Devon provided support. "where did you get hurt?"

"right here, on my abdomen. I'll be fine in a few hours though," he said as blood seeped from his cut. Guilford grunted.

"Come rest at my house tonight. It's closer. We'll go and report this to the royals next morning." he could feel Guilford nod.

"what would I do without you?" he asked.

Devon chuckled "bleed until you die?" even in this state, Guilford had the energy to punch him hard enough to hurt. "now now, Guilford. You do not want to be left on the streets."

Guilford snorted.

•••••

Guilford grunted as Devon carefully pulled the broken sword piece out of his body using the bone forceps.

It was part of their training. Devon had gotten used to seeing blood over time though there had been a time when he had gotten sick from the mere spill of blood. It was part of his training to become numb to most of the things that happened around him. A numbness he did not like. There was one thing though that Devon doubted he would ever get numb to. It was the slaves. He would never forget what he had been through in his days as a neener. Only hope had kept him going. He wondered if he hadn't had hope. Would he still be alive?

Guilford moved towards the kitchen while wrapping his wound with the spare cloth Devon had given him. "who do you think those men were?" he asked staring out of the window in his kitchen, his eyes looking distant "I think they were spies" Devon put a shirt over his now bandaged chest.

"Spies? Why do you think?" Devon tried to rub the blood away from his coat sleeve. When it didn't, he finally gave up and soaked it in water.

This better be dry by tomorrow.

"well, it felt like the killer was searching for something in my pocket. I mean it felt like he was trying to do something else, but I think he was searching for something..."

Devon chuckled "so did the weird-man-who-made-you-erotic have violet eyes? Or at least blond hair?"

Guilford rolled his eyes but replied nevertheless "I couldn't see in the dark. Why do you ask?"

Devon balanced himself on the table. He had never fought with an Ace before, they were honourable beings, and fighting with their kind was not something he had seen them do before. "The man I fought...he looked like an Ace"

"It somehow does make sense, only aces can fight the way they did, fighting isn't a cup of tea for everyone," He said, now looking at Devon with worried eyes

"Why do you look so bothered?"

He looked up at him "A neener of hearts told me, our kind killed her family"

Devon frowned "I don't understand why that would make you sad"

Guilford sighed "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I've come to hate my kind. I somehow feel that despite all the respect we have and all the fear that is spread against us, nobody wants us around. And the royals treat us as their pawns due to our sworn loyalty"

Devon sighed and kept the bone forceps into the bowl of water he got. "you should go and clean up. There's a spring in the next cave. Nobody goes there." Devon helped Guilford walk.

"What if a decent lady comes there and sees me all bloody and naked?" he asked as he borrowed Devon's clothes without his permission.

Devon rolled his eyes "Did I not mention the part where nobody goes there?"

He turned to Devon with a mischievous glint in his eyes "are you sure?" he asked slowly as if waiting for something to tick in Devon's brain. Nothing did. Devon did not know what this was about.

"Guilford I bathe there every day," Devon said. Guilford looked disappointed at that. Devon did not know whether it was because what he wanted to click in Devon's brain hadn't clicked or because no nice lady would be there to witness him in the spring.

He rubbed the back of his neck "I...uh, I..."

"What?"

"What about your wound"

"What wound?" Devon asked.

Guilford pointed at his chest "That wound"

"oh..." Devon remembered now. He looked down at his shirt which was almost red with blood "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Anyway I've to clean all this before it freezes there" he pointed towards the blood spread on the table where Guilford was a while ago.

"Devon do remember my proposal to join with the slaves?" Guilford asks now.

"Mm"

"Well? What do you think?"

Yes. He wanted to "no. It's not wise. And it's incredibly stupid. Stop being so sentimental about it all"

Guilford's lips pursed tight "of course, what are you good for apart from killing"

Devon was apologetic "What-?" Guilford was gone. Devon closed his eyes and sat on the cold marble floor of his house. The door was closed with such force even the candle blew out. It was now dark all around.

Devon picked the matchbox from the table and lit the candle again.

The house was lit by its yellow glow now, as Devon placed it back inside the lamp. He took a wet cloth and rubbed all the blood from the table. On the floor, he poured some water and soaked it with the cloth. After the cleaning of blood was done, he cleaned his surgical instruments and placed them back where they belonged. He then arranged a bed on the floor for himself so Guilford could sleep on his more comfortable one.

Devon tried to think of things he could but his mind only took him back to one thing: why wasn't Guilford back yet?

It was almost more than an hour already, not even women bathed for that long.

The time on the clock seemed to do something to flip every organ in Devon's system.

• • •

Devon was right. The water was hot and there wasn't anyone around. The night seemed quite yet unsettling.

Guilford looked around, something seemed to be screaming in his nerves. Something was making him extra jumpy this night. He removed his Ace's coat and rolled the sleeves of his white shirt upwards.

He then continued to bend down and splash water on his face. The prickling in his nerves might be because of what had happened earlier in the night. That might also be the reason why he acted the way he did with Devon.

He washed his face, then pulled his shirt upwards and removed the cloth Devon had tied around his wound. His wound was bare now, the cold air was making it hurt more.

Instead of going inside the spring, Guilford took the cloth and after wetting it, proceeded to dab it on his wound. He did not know much about treating wounds, because, unlike Devon, he had never paid any attention in his training, but the hot water give him pleasure.

He felt a click next to him and he snapped his head in the direction of the sound. His sharp violet eyes looked around, searching for movement. He got up, his chest bare and looked around.

He had just decided that there was no one when his body was drowned in the water as he struggled to get out until he found himself losing consciousness.

• • •

Devon gave up on patience. He was going there anyway even if Guilford did not want to see him.

He walked out of his house towards the spring using shortcuts to be there earlier. He finally reached that familiar cave he bathed in. The smell of water and steam hit him instantly and with that . . . blood.

Devon entered to see a man standing over Guilford lying on the floor soaked in blood. His clothes were wet but it looked like he fought well. Flames burned inside Devon as he brought his Genoese knife out and lunged at the man in the black robe faster than he ever thought he could be, slashing him twice in his heart.

The man was dead in less than two seconds. What a painless death it was. Devon ought to make him bleed every day but perhaps killing him was a way of showing mercy to him. Devon would have been proud of his show of mercy if Guilford hadn't been hurt that badly. Devon wasn't satisfied with the quick death he gave the man.

Beside him, Guilford made the slowest sound and even that seemed to consume almost all of his energy. Devon knelt beside him and sighed pulling his shirt and trying it around Guilford's chest.

He failed to have Guilford's back this time.