How Gods Bleed

by Shane Porteous

Through a gap in the bush large enough for Imbaka’s left eye to see through she witnessed what appeared to be a man holding a werewolf by the throat. It appeared to be a man for not a single spot of his skin was showing. He was dressed in garments of the darkest of black and the lightest of red. His clothes did not really appear to be a uniform of any kind nor were their origins obvious to look upon. They fitted him perfectly and must have been stitched for his body and his body only. He wore a cape that was slightly too long and slightly too large for his 6 foot frame. It was red, the same colour as the long gloves that were worn upon his hands. His head was covered either by some kind of mask or helmet for its material was unknown. Chain mail armor, the colour of black could be seen underneath the helmet/mask falling several inches down his neck. There was something in the air that told the group this figure was something terrible.

  Though the figure’s height was comparatively smaller than the werewolf it held, he showed no sign at all that he was struggling to keep the werewolf pinned to the tree. Morbidly the figure held the werewolf with only one hand, keeping his other hand lowered but the werewolf was doing nothing to fight back. It was as if the figure was holding onto it so tightly that it was paralyzed and helpless to defend itself. A moment later the figure grabbed its other hand around the werewolf’s leg and with a movement as swift as it was violent teared the werewolf literally in two. The werewolf didn’t even have time to howl as tendons, bones and flesh were ripped apart effortlessly. It was a gruesome sight to behold but what happened next was truly shocking.

  The cloud of blood, bone and entrails that filled the air before the figure seemed to pause for a moment before falling onto the ground before it. Not so much as a single speck of blood landed on the figure almost as if even it was afraid to get anywhere near the figure. The figure held the two bloody and lifeless pieces of its victim for a moment before throwing them an impressive distance to either side, like they were nothing but unwanted rubbish. The figure then lifted its head slightly as if in thought before suddenly turning and revealing the mask upon its face.

  Each member of the group held their breath, unsure if the figure had somehow become aware of their presence. The mask he wore was twisted and white, with dark black circles that mimicked eyes and a twisted shape that almost resembled a mouth. What the figure was staring at the group did not know as each thought of how best to defend themselves in such a vulnerable situation. Finally the figure looked away morbidly turning its head to scan the tree line before it. After another long moment the figure was gone from sight moving off of the path, fortunately away from where the group was. For a time none amongst them moved staying perfectly still and silent. The masked figure had shocked each of them with both its presence and its strength. They all wanted to ask one another if anyone amongst them had any idea who or what the figure was. But they each soon realized this was not the time or place for such things.

  When they were sure that the figure was nowhere close by the group continued crawling through the bush. By the time they had gotten out of the woods night had fallen, though they continued on walking for another hour before they decided to make camp for the evening. The sighting of the masked man had put them on edge, they did not want to ever have an encounter with any enemies on this night.

  After a fire was made and the evening meal had been eaten Zova was the first to mention the figure. “The masked man in the woods, I did not recognize his clothes, or the mask he wore as belonging to any ruler of the west.”

  The other Helluvans nodded as confused as she was. Cada Varl was surprised by this thinking the figure would be explained as the sighting of one of many legends like the Yonga Ponday or the Beret Onoon.

  “How many werewolves in the west remain in human form, especially when they are fighting other werewolves?” Hazum Ka-te had asked this like a question but he already knew the answer. Gokkus seemed just as baffled, “I do not know of any except….”

  He forced his own words to stop as a thought struck him. He looked around the group and could see the others were thinking the same thing, “Except Aneeku.” Their troubled thoughts became dark as they remembered the red masked warrior who had transformed into an unrecognizable monster.

  “Aneeku did say something about another who had told him about the powers he possessed.” Imbaka stated while looking into the fire. The group thought about the figure, the sheer strength he had possessed and most importantly how the blood did not touch him. Cada Varl could feel the eyes of Zova upon him, he looked back but neither said anything.

  “Perhaps Aneeku wasn’t as unique as we once thought,” Gokkus said in the same way someone spoke about how a disaster could have been prevented after it had happened. The group became silent as they contemplated such a possibility and frustratingly it seemed to make sense.

  Cada Varl then spoke, “I did not get as good of a look at him as I would have liked but did the masked figure wear the same shadows and cross symbol as Aneeku did?” The group now looked around to each other searching for an answer to the question.

  Each of them shook their head with Imbaka saying, “The only thing I saw was some kind of simple ring held by a simple length of black around his neck.”

  “Doesn’t prove anything either way,” Hazum Ka-te said clearly still trying to figure it out in his own mind. Other possibilities were discussed but none could be proven and after several hours of unfruitful discussion the night came to an end. The Helluvans slept surrounded by a rectangle of embers as Cada Varl stood guard, wondering who exactly the masked figure was.