the Nightguard

Garreth Jace awoke suddenly to the sharp ringing of a bell, accompanied by a mans voice.

“Wake up. Come on, up. The lot of you, get up.” said the gruff, official voice that Garreth recognized as that of the Guard Captain. Garreth roused himself. Through the small windows throughout the barracks he could see that it was still dark, probably not long past midnight. The Guard captain continued to call for the trainees to wake up.

Garreth briskly swung his legs over his bed and flattened out his covers before dressing himself. The others around him were already doing so, donning their Nightguard uniforms in the shadowy light of the Guard Captain’s torch.

Garreth stood and put on his own uniform, a grey tunic emblazoned with the symbol of Iriadel over his heart. He fumbled under his bed in the halflight of the torch for his sword belt. His fingers brushed over the simple leather belt, and retrieved it. He strapped it loosely around his waist, knowing that later he would have to remove it in order to put on the Nightguards armor, which was little more than a heavy leather vest and gloves. With the empty scabbard at his waist, the Nightguards uniform donned, he stood at the end of his own bed, waiting for the order of dismissal. The Guard Captain waited for silence to fall before beginning to call orders.

“Archery drills in the courtyard. Equip accordingly. By now you all know the drill.” In the light of his torch, the Guard Captain’s hand was barely visible as he reached down to a pocket on his belt. “Furthermore,” he continued, smiling proudly as he withdrew a small folded piece of parchment. “We have nightguards among us.”

Garreth’s heart skipped. He involuntarily drew a shaky breath, a smile threatening to surface on what was supposed to be his “stoic face”. Has it been three months? he thought.

The Guard Captain, ever the stickler for customs, slowly and deliberately unfolded the parchment. The sound of ruffling paper was the only sound in the barracks. For Garreth, this was nerve wracking. Finally, he began to read.

“‘The following trainees have undergone three full months of intense preparation and training in order to become part of the Nightguard of our great city, Iriadel, and have thus proven their skills, and their resolve, to meet the standards befitting a Nightguard. The promoted recruits are named:’” before calling out the names, he folded the parchment and tucked it into his belt. “Jordan Friar!” he announced proudly.

The boy named Jordan Friar stepped forward. He didn’t hesitate, but he was noticeably nervous, at least to Garreth. Garreth was shaking himself, his fingers tapping furiously on his leg as he struggled to contain his excitement.

After a brief pause, the Guard Captain looked around the room. He locked eyes with Garreth, and grinned. “Garreth Jace!” the guard captain beamed at him. The urge to jump and start yelling yes! yes! was overwhelming, but Garreth contained himself. He, too, calmly stepped forward. None of the other recruits clapped, or made any sound or indication that they had even heard the Guard Captain. Each bore a mask of indifference that didn’t do much to dampen Garreth’s elation. Although it probably wasn’t necessary, the Guard Captain still felt the need to call attention.

“Those two that I just named, you are to report directly to the South-wing armory upon dismissal. There you will be equipped for duty as proper Nightguards. All others are to report to the courtyard for archery drills after having equipped yourself at the armory.” The Guard Captain struggled to maintain an air of intelligence and authority. “Dismissed.”

The recruits made their way towards the door, walking deliberately and in an orderly fashion towards the courtyard and the armory. Garreth, and the boy named Jordan, made their way around the barracks and towards the South Wing. Garreth was still grinning stupidly while they walked. I am a Nightguard.

Garreth looked over at Jordan. Jordan was much older looking than Garreth. He was taller and broader, and had the scruffy beginning of a beard jutting from the end of his chin. His hair was long and dark, tied back out of his face. His expression was grim and thoughtful, his eyes slightly downcast.

“Hey.” Garreth said suddenly. Jordan didn’t look up. “You’re ready for this.” Garreth tried his best to be reassuring.

“I don’t know…” Jordan began.

“I wasn’t asking. I’m telling you: you are trained, and you are ready. We’re Nightguards now!” Garreth punched his arm awkwardly. He had never spoken to Jordan, but he figured now was as good a time to start as any.

This time Jordan did look up at him. Garreth tried to smile encouragingly. Jordan stared back. “How old are you Garreth.”

“I’m fifteen.” Garreth answered. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen. Garreth…” Jordan faltered.

“We are Nightguards!” Garreth said again. He wanted to say why are you not excited?

“Nightguards have to kill people.” Jordan said. “They have to shoot people…” His voice was nervous, almost fearful, and his expression was hollow.

“All Nightguards have to do is keep people from getting in through the sewers and wells and all the other little… passages.” Garreth said.

“By shooting them…” Jordan said.

“I don’t expect we’ll have to kill people.”

As soon as he had said it, he regretted it. Jordan’s head snapped up to look at Garreth. “We train for hours every night to learn how to shoot with accuracy in the dark. We shoot to kill.” Jordan growled. “We might have to kill someone tonight. Are you excited to be killing people all night every night?”

“Don’t think like that!” Garreth said, forcing optimism. It was too late. The images were already floating through his mind, his imagination making them more vivid. He could see himself bent over the form of a man, wrenching a crossbow bolt from his chest, and another… He involuntarily began to wipe his hands on his tunic rid them of the blood he’d imagined.

“Look. We’re here.” Jordan said sullenly. “I’m sorry, ok?”

“Don’t… don’t worry about it.” Garreth said, forcing himself to stop rubbing his tunic.

The South-wing Barracks were similar to the barracks back at the courtyard. It was a broad rectangular building made of timber, with two fairly large oak doors with iron knockers and handles. The doors were open, and Garreth could see without entering that it was even organized in the same way; armor and shields on one side, and weapons on the other. He also noticed that the weapons were of a greater quality by far than the training weapons. That, and they were sharp, battle ready.

He entered with Jordan, and nearly jumped as a man’s voice called to them from right next to them. Out from the shadows, impossibly silent, came a middle aged man with greasy black hair slicked back, and a short stubbly beard. He smiled warmly at them.

“You must be the two rookies I’ll be babysitting for the next few days.” He said sarcastically. “No point in dallying. There’s some vacant armor over there,” he pointed vaguely towards some sets of black studded leather vests. “Find some that sort of fit you, and grab a sword and a crossbow.”

Jordan and Garreth looked at each other, and then unsurely made their way towards the armor that didn’t have names etched into them. It took a minute for Garreth to find armor that fitted, and even longer for Jordan. In a few minutes they were both fully armed and ready for duty.

“Took you long enough.” said the man, who’s easy smile mocked them still. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “I forgot to get your names!”

Garreth and Jordan started to give their names, but the man held his hand up. “Don’t tell me now, I’ll ask when it’s important.” He looked at the both of them and smiled again. “You can call me Doran. Right this way!” He led them to a staircase going down in the corner of the armory. It looked to go underground. It only went down a few metres before leveling out. Underneath the armory was a long narrow tunnel; a hallway, Garreth realized. They walked for a while, and made many turns, at each of which Doran felt the need to specify “Left here!” or “Hang a right!” The way was dark, and the only light was from a torch that doran held.

Finally, they came to a small room, which had several long slits across stone brick walls, and a ladder against one side going up and out through a trap door. “Where are we?” Garreth asked.

“This is called a bunker. For whatever reason you don’t get to see them in training. Shame, that.” Doran sighed as he tossed the torch into a bucket of water, that must have been there for that very purpose.

“Where is the bunker?” Jordan asked.

“Around you!” Doran replied, as though it were obvious. Jordan gave him a look through the darkness, and Doran snapped his fingers. “Right! look out of the firing slits here. See that? That’s the south wall to Iriadel. What most people don’t know, is that it used to be a means to evacuate the city, but that was during the old rule.”

“How did they evacuate the city?” Garreth said. “I don’t see a gate.”

“There’s a tunneling network, separate from the ones we took to get here. It was planned that, in case of enemy invasion, some clever citizens who slipped from sight could use this passage to go seek aid.” Doran said. “So basically, it’s a way in and out of the city.”

“And we’re guarding it?” Jordan asked skeptically. “Three people have to guard a tiny trapdoor?”

“It’s very dark out, and we’re going to need all of our eyes.” Doran said. With a smile, he loaded his crossbow. “Pick a spot on the wall, and look out for anything that moves.” He went over to the spot closest to the wall. Jordan went to the opposite side. Garreth decided it would be best for him to take a position in the other corner of the bunker, making a triangle between them.

For a very long time there was nothing. Several times Garreth had tried to make conversation, but Doran quickly shushed him. Garreth turned to look at him, and he was peering down the bolt of his crossbow, as though anticipating something. Finally, to Garreth’s surprise, Jordan spoke.

“Nothing’s out here.” he said in a low voice. “It’s quiet. There’s not even any wind…”

“Don’t worry,” said Doran. Garreth noted that he was grinning broadly. “There’s always one…”

An hour passed in silence, and darkness. The forest around the wall made no sound, no rustling leaves, no footsteps. Garreth doubted that if someone had passed by the bunker, even walked over it, he wouldn’t have seen them.

Another silent hour passed.

And another.

And more hours passed by, until Garreth heard something. Doran had begun to laugh quietly to himself.

“There’s always one… two this time! Alright then.” then without a word to Garreth or Jordan, there was a loud snap! as he fired his crossbow. Far off towards the wall there was another sound, like a man choking on a scream.

He just shot someone. Garreth’s heart fell into his stomach. He was struck dumb as Doran made his way up and out the trap door. As the trapdoor began to close, there was a piercing shriek. Even in the darkness, Jordan was visibly pale, his face a mask of horror and fear. Garreth made his way up the ladder, and Jordan followed suit.

In the dark of the forest this late at night, Garreth had to listen for Doran, and Jordan, in order to know where they were. Every few seconds there would be another shriek. There was a scraping sound, as Doran lit a torch.

“Told you.” He said, grinning madly at Jordan.

As they drew nearer to their destination, Garreth could hear someone sobbing. It sounded to be a girl. A very, very young girl, probably no older than five. He heard her before he saw her.

“Papa… someone’s coming papa. Maybe they can help.” she said between sobs and gasps. As they rounded a tree, her form was visible in the torchlight. She was small, thin, with dark, messy hair. She was bent over something on the ground, shaking it with both hands. Garreth’s stomach flipped when he realized what it was. It was the form of a man, lying face down, blood making a puddle under him from a wound in his back from which a crossbow bolt protruded. He was undoubtedly dead. Doran handed Garreth the torch. Garreth looked at Doran, who, to his horror, had loaded another bolt into his crossbow.

“What are you doing?” Garreth asked. Jordan noticed to, and he was shaking. Jordan had lost his voice, as he stared in terrified disgust at Doran as he raised his crossbow. “Doran, she’s a little girl!”

“Sorry, kid.” Doran said. In the light of the torch, Garreth no longer saw Doran. In the shadows his face seemed to contort, his wicked smile and mad eyes made him look like a beast, or a devil. “No exceptions.”

“Papa…” the little girl began in a small, frightened voice.

Snap!

Her head snapped back with great force, as the bolt pierced her skull right between her eyes, which stared blankly up at the sky, as if to ask why? as the life left them. A small puddle of blood formed in the grass under her head. Garreth’s stomach did another flip, and his knees grew weak. He nearly dropped the torch. Behind him, there was a retching sound as Jordan emptied his stomach behind a tree. Garreth heard his breaths come shakily. A hand fell on his shoulder.

“There’s always at least one.” Doran said, still smiling. That disgusting, horrible smile. “Let’s get back to the bunker.” and Doran took the torch back.

Jordan and Garreth walked in silence as Doran led the way back to the bunker. Every so often they would make eye contact with each other, each with the same thought on their minds: Nightguards have to kill people. Jordan was still shaking, and Garreth himself stumbled once on the way back to the bunker. When they got back, and the trapdoor closed, no one spoke.

Another hour passed silently by, and Doran lit another torch. “Sun’s coming up.” He said. “That means sleep for the Nightguards.”

Garreth felt lightheaded as the word Nightguards echoed in his head. You are a Nightguard.

Doran led them to their new barracks. Their chests had already been moved here, and the beds were neatly made. “Rest up!” Doran said cheerfully. Other nightguards rolled groggily in their sleep at the sound of his voice. “Get some sleep!”

They didn’t. They couldn’t. How could either of them sleep? After what they had seen, neither of them could even speak. Garreth feared to sleep… He closed his eyes once, and Dorans demonic smile burned the insides of his eyelids.

Sorry kid. No exceptions.

Snap!

After a few hours, Garreth finally gave in to fatigue. Sleep took him, and he slept restlessly.

The days in July were very long, so Garreth wasn’t surprised that when he woke, it was still daytime. Jordans bed was empty, as he looked, and most of the other nightguards were still sleeping. There was one that was still awake, though it appeared that he had just woken up.

“You’re one of the rookies that got stuck with Doran, aren’t you?” He asked after a moment. Garreth nodded. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite. You don’t start until…” he thought for a minute. “Ten? Yeah. You’ve got until ten, since the days are long this time of year.”

“What time is it now?” Garreth said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“It’s seven in the evening.”

“Really?” Garreth asked, alarmed.

“Nightguards tend to sleep for a very long time, since they need to be rested. Otherwhise they fall asleep on the job.” said the man matter-of-factly. “Go take a walk, so you’re not all groggy when you start.”

“Alright…” Garreth said. He dressed himself simply and left the barracks without another word. The images from the previous night still burned vividly in his mind. No exceptions.

He decided to walk through the market district, which was near the guards camp within the city walls. He had only ever been to the market district a couple times, since his parents were fairly wealthy. They lived in the noble district, but rarely did much of anything.

The first thing that Garreth noticed was the smell, and the noise. The streets were crowded with beggars, dirty filthy people dressed in rags holding their hands out and grasping the legs of his pants as he tried to get away.

“Alms! Alms for an old man!” one said.

“Please…” said another. Garreth didn’t take the time to pay them any heed, just trying to get from their reach. From every building and every stand were men and women yelling about their products. A fight had broken out in a tavern, and the scuffle could be heard from outside. For three hours he wandered around, taking in just how bad it must have been here. So many beggars… So many poor…

He returned to the barracks just as Doran was opening the door. “Ah!” he said. “There you are! Can’t find your friend, so we’ll just get started. Dress yourself for work, boy!”

Garreth pulled his tunic over his head and made his way to the armory. The whole process seemed to melt together, as in his mind a mixture of thoughts ran through his head. No exceptions… there’s always one… Nightguards have to kill people… where is Jordan?

Before he realized it, Doran had already flung their torch into the water bucket. They were plunged into darkness. Doran took his usual position, and Garreth took his.

And many silent hours passed. This, Garreth guessed, was a common theme to work as a Nightguard. No distractions. No noise. No light. No exceptions. No exceptions.

A shadow passed through the forest. Without thinking he took aim. His breath quickened, his heart pounded. He leveled his crossbow… There!

Snap!

There was a cry of pain. It was a mans voice. Garreth had hit him. Doran, silent as always, clapped him on the shoulder and made him jump. “Sounds like you got him. Let’s hope he can’t still run.”

Doran lit a torch and clambered up the ladder, Garreth following suit. They made towards the sound that the scream had come from, and for a while there was nothing. Then Doran stopped. “He fell here.” he said. Sure enough, there was blood on the grass where he was pointing. “Then he dragged himself--”

Snap! From somewhere off to the right, a crossbow had fired. “ARGH!” Doran yelled as a crossbow bolt pierced his right shoulder, causing him to drop the torch. His head whipped around, and Garreth looked, too.

A man, whose bloody leg was pierced by what could only be Garreth’s crossbow bolt, had leveled his own crossbow at Doran and shot. Doran raised his own crossbow and aimed straight at the mans head. A spark of recognition passed through Doran’s eyes, and Garreth saw that this man did look very familiar.

It was Jordan.

“I’m sorry Jordan.” Doran began wickedly. “No exceptions…”

“NO!” Garreth acted on instinct, and drew his sword, but Doran had already fired. The bolt went through Jordan’s skull in the same way it had the little girls. Garreth swung his sword, but Doran jumped back quickly. Drawing his own sword, he smiled wickedly.

“We never get to use these…” he said. Like a serpent, he lunged forward and made to thrust at Garreth’s heart, a blow that he had only just been able to parry. In a flurry of blows Doran pushed Garreth back. He was no match for Doran. He was only just able to block his furious blows. Even with a crossbow in his shoulder, Doran fought like a demon. He feinted up, and instead cut through Garreth’s knee. Garreth cried out, and fell to the ground. Something heavy crushed his wrist. Garreth realized that Doran had stepped on his sword arm. He leveled his sword over Garreth’s heart.

“I’m sorry, kid.” Doran smiled wickedly, a mad, evil glint in his eye. “No exceptions.”

No exceptions. Garreth let out a single, silent sob as Doran raised the sword, and plunged it into his chest.

7