I Know Not (The Story of Fox Crow) Read Online Free PDF Page A

caught in my mind and funneled into my chest where it built up power, echo after echo; a crescendo that shattered the hardened fortresses of ice within me.
          My soul emerged red and raw, bleeding and screaming like a newborn babe. I trembled and fell, random shocks running through me. A stabbing pain thundered from between my shoulder blades and I fell to my knees, retching bitter bile and half digested cheese. My stomach convulsed and sent a torrent onto the forest turf. My head erupted in blinding misery before a cool rain washed it from behind my eyes. It felt like something inside me had been freed from a prison. It was dark, and it was dangerous, but it was controlled. Were I thrown from a cliff face over the pitiful massacre, I could not have been directed there more quickly, or more inevitably. I was allowed only three breaths to take stock as five defenders fought ten masked men.
          My hand tightened upon my sword, then loosened as I took a deep breath.
          I knew then that I wasn’t a hero because a hero steps forth, challenging all comers with sword in hand. He howls the name of his family, or his lady, or his god. Of course the next thing he does is die messily; but at least he will be forever remembered in song and stage as the man who played his part to type. I, on the other hand, struck from behind, and without warning. My flared blade took the Coward, the one hanging back letting everyone else do the work while avoiding possibility of injury, in the leg. It sheared muscle from its moorings and I felt the grinding slide of the steel across bone seep up my weapon and into my arm. It was a very familiar sensation. He fell backward, mute with shock and instantly pale with blood loss.
          Then it was my time to kill again, and my body did it as easily as breathing. The next was sent sprawling as quickly, my sword entering his side just below his ribcage. The blade was held correctly, parallel to the ground, so when he turned in surprise to face me he neatly slit his own stomach from back to navel. A vicious kick to his chest dislodged the Phantom Angel and sent him sprawling into a pile of his own entrails.
          It’s always comforting when a partner knows the steps to your favorite dance . This one, however, let loose a scream that would give a moral man nightmares. Two men dead in four heartbeats, but now the rest were aware of me and they turned.
          Time seemed to expand like a confectioner’s ribbon. I had time to see the woman in the rich, blue dress being released and the bandit that had been holding her come at me on my right side. I had time to see that even the five guards knew: when the dung–headed murderers turn their back on you, even if it is to face the long–haired wild man who bursts from the bush, YOU KILL THEM. You kill them by striking at their backs, fronts or whatever side he presents to you. You kill them and you do it without flinching. That is how you will live, and they will not.
          I could say I valiantly battled all eight to the death (hopefully theirs) but that would be a lie. I back–pedaled, putting space in between them and I as the five carriage guards struck, killing three and heavily wounding two. The other three came at me. Then I knew from the whispering of the Fog that there is a special tactic for fighting three armed men: Don’t, you will die.
          I ran at the one who had been dragging the woman from the carriage by her hair, a few paces away from the others. Just a few paces turned three-on-one into one-on-one, for just a single second. As long as a second is all you need, this plan works.
          It is a well–known fact that once a sword is in motion, it will continue in motion with very little effort lest it meet an obstacle. So as I bolted I set mine to spinning, my wrist twirling it with minute corrections as I sought a proper strike. It not a well–known fact that idiots who watch stage