Page 7 of Marked

Blair was back at the forge faster than she cared to admit. After leaving the tavern, she thought Damien could have potential answers. Anyone who needed a weapon would have been in his forge, maybe he had heard conversations between them.

The drinks she had finished earlier made her movements slower. She tried to suppress a giggle as she walked up to the familiar door and fought to open it. The door creaked in protest as she pushed it, but she paused midway leaving it slightly closed.

Through the crack in the door, Blair could see the glow from the furnace.

The rhythmic clang of metal echoed through the air, a sound as familiar to her village as the wind.

Instead of walking in completely, she took a moment to watch him work.

His face was set in complete concentration over the precise strikes he made and the force of his blows.

She had never seen a trade like this, where every effort was for a reason.

Damien stood, his muscular frame bent over the fire, pulling a long, glowing bar of metal from the furnace with a pair of tongs.

She imagined the calluses on his hands, the heat they probably encountered from working so close to the fire.

She squinted closely, watching him move with ease as he shaped the metal.

Heat quickly flooded her face, and she internally cursed herself, blaming it on the temperature inside the building.

As he held the metal in place and began to pound and shape it, his black gloves stood out in stark contrast to the color of his skin, which glistened with sweat.

As he worked, the shadows cast from the light began to stir, dancing on the walls in the foyer.

She watched wordlessly as he molded and shaped the iron, stopping every few moments to assess his creation.

As she steadied her breathing and braced the door to push it open fully, the gloves on his hands caught her attention.

The leather adorning his hands started to move.

At first, it was subtle, like the dim light was causing them to appear longer, stretching down his arms. However, they then began to become erratic, twitching and shifting as if they were alive.

Slowly, the gloves dissipated, and tendrils of darkness took their place, twisting up from his hands.

They looped around his arms, growing until they met his shoulders.

What the..

The more he focused on his work, the harder they coiled and thrashed. He took notice of them, eyeing his shoulder, and let out an audible grunt.

As he dropped his hammer and took a step back from the metal, the angry shadows settled. After a few moments, he moved back to his position, and they formed over his hands again. A black wave moving across his skin, fitting perfectly like a specialized pair of gloves .

Blair felt bile rise in her throat and she grabbed the door for support, hoping her body would settle.

She continued to watch as he picking up the hammer and removed the last dents in the metal, shaping the final touches.

Once done, he inhaled deeply through his nose, closing his eyes.

With this, the shadows shuddered and slid up his arms, disappearing within the sleeves of his tunic.

Glad to be holding the door, Blair bit down on her tongue.

Everything was real. The shadows were real.

She swayed, trying to calm her nerves as her breath caught in her throat.

Rubbing her eyes, she looked again. This wasn’t possible.

She had to have imagined that. She blinked ferociously to try to rationalize what she had just seen.

Damien didn't seem to notice her presence through the door or the panic that was crippling her; his focus was entirely on the next piece of metal that he was crafting. The moment the darkness had retreated, he had picked up another tool and began to warm it in the fire.

Blair’s body was frozen as she mindlessly watched his arms move. She held her breath as the gloves of shadows soon returned, tightening and shifting as if responding to his movements.

Her mind raced back to the present as alarms blared in her head. This was not ordinary. Was she seeing things ? No human could control shadows like that. She wasn't sure what was happening, but it was something far beyond understanding. It was too much.

She instinctively pulled away from the door slowly.

The crack from the doorway might have been small, but it had allowed her to catch a glimpse of something she couldn't unsee.

A mixture of the alcohol and her adrenaline caused her to stumble.

She grabbed at the door, her vision becoming blurry.

The door to the forge creaked slightly at her tugging force, and Blair froze again.

Had he heard her? Was he coming toward the door?

The thought sent a wave of panic through her. Her breathing grew shallow as she glanced around the area for a place to hide, but there was nowhere, nothing along this bare road. She made an impulsive decision then as her instincts kicked in. She turned and bolted.

She ran without looking back, her boots pounding against the ground.

The sounds of her footsteps intermingling with the clangs that had resumed from the forge.

She couldn't think, couldn't stop. She had to get away from whatever she had just witnessed.

As she turned into the town square, she ran straight into the back of a man.

She looked up and apologized as he scowled at her and walked away.

Using the wall next to her to support her, she shook her head, trying to clear her senses.

Looking up, she noticed how many people were surrounding the area.

It was a small crowd made up of most of the townspeople.

She straightened and stood, begging her eyes to focus. Running had not been the best decision.

"These are hunters," a loud, deep voice announced at the front of the crowd. Blair turned her head to the sound, her view partially blocked by the lines of people in front of her. She moved to the back of the crowd, walking until she found a large stone facing the square. She stood on it and looked over the mass of people at three figures. Two of them were behind the other, and they all stood in front of a black stallion. The man responsible for the voice was the one in the front. He wore a purple robe ordained with the insignia from the Northern Kingdom. She quickly recognized him as one of the land’s Barons.

Although rarely seen in town, they handled any business associated with the King.

The announcer repeated himself, and Blair's eyes moved to him, "There will be men like this now stationed in SilverDawn and other surrounding towns.

We call them The Hunters and they will be patrolling to watch for any danger.

" With those words, the two men behind him stepped to the front.

They were both abnormally tall, their faces hidden by a hood, but both were dressed in black cloaks trimmed with silver.

Blair could just make out The King's logo on the back of their cloak as it rippled in the wind.

"The King sends them with his promise that they will protect you."

She eyed the men, her heartbeat in her ears as her gaze then tracked back from the path she had come from. Seeing no signs of Damien, she moved her attention back to the people in front of her.

"They are instructed to patrol all areas.

They will ask questions as they deem necessary and report any suspicious activity back to me.

" With that, the crowd murmured quietly.

The reaction was a mix of curiosity and fear.

The host nodded to the two men before bowing to the crowd and mounting his horse.

Without saying anything more, he pulled the reins and veered the horse away from the town square .

Blair watched as the two strange men stood there, almost like statues. Within a couple of minutes, the crowd had started to disperse, eyeing them suspiciously as they walked by.

Once again glancing toward Damien’s forge, she convinced herself he had not seen her.

She turned in the opposite direction, toward the safety of her home.

Her walk was fast, pushing herself when she could but the drinks making her movements hard.

Passing the peddlers and pots of flowers, she moved to a slight jog.

Once she hit the tavern, she knew she wasn’t that far from the serenity of her front door.

By the time she reached her cottage, the air in her lungs burned.

As she stepped over her doorframe, she shut the door with a quick tug and placed her back against the cool, solid wood and slid to the ground.

Although her brain had already started to replay the events of the night, she willed it to slow. Her mind was still foggy, as she tried to force it to process.

First, whatever that was with Damien. She closed her eyes and envisioned Damien.

The merchant's stories played over the memory of what she saw in the forge.

Was he one of them? One of the things that may have hurt that stranger?

Next, she thought of the new security detail for SilverDawn.

Why would the Baron announce them? Why would they show up now?

She couldn't help the feeling that they were tied together.

She stood, steadying herself as she locked the door from the inside.

Her body then turned and moved toward her bedroom.

Welcoming the comfort and warmth of her bed, she retreated under the covers.

Although now surrounded by solace, she stared out of her room in the direction of her front door.

As the minutes went by, she was able to convince herself that she was fine and no danger had followed her.