CRY HAVOC (Jack Frey Book 1)

by Mike Morris

  "But the Nostros don't carry blunt weapons. Their blades are razor sharp and honed to a vicious tip. I have seen their swords pass through two men wearing armor with a single stroke."

  Jack peered at the weapon. His nose was all but pressed against the glass. Any doubts he had in the Nostros's existence wavered as he stared at the blade. No man could lift that weapon. Red specks littered the steel. At first he thought it was some rust on the blade but when he looked closer, the truth chilled him to the bone.

  "Master Snow, is this blood on the sword?" he asked, a quiver in his voice.

  "Everything here was taken from one battlefield or another," the teacher answered.

  "It looks too big for a man to wield, sir," said Thomas.

  "Indeed. Something more dangerous carries it. A Nostros. Come, let me show you some armor." The teacher moved further into the room. There were several sets in the room but Master Snow led the group to one near the center. A mannequin wore it but it was not in the proportions of a human. Broader and taller than any man, a hand alone was bigger than Jack's head. He shuddered at the thought of being in this creature's grasp. The helmet was shaped like a monster from Jack's worst nightmare, curled steel horns and a visor of snarling teeth. Spikes covered the shoulder plates as well as the gauntlets.

  "This was captured in Lasteros during the last Crusade, some time around 625. Our last attempt to take the fight to the demons. Our forces were decimated. If the Nostros had attacked Abios then, the last of mankind would have fallen. But they didn't. They did not have the means to cross the ocean that separates us from the Middle Kingdoms."

  "Why's that?" asked a boy called Jeremiah.

  "The Nostros are faster than us. Stronger than us. More ferocious than we could ever hope to be. They can die, from sword or bullet but, even so, are notoriously hard to kill. However our greatest defense is the sun. The demons burn under it. Armor offers them protection from our weapons but it is of limited defense against the sun. By night, they are all but invincible but, by day, they are as vulnerable as a newborn babe.

  "To cross our ocean takes more than a day and a half under the fastest wind. To make the journey, the demons must face up to twelve hours exposed to the sun. The journey is not worth the risk to them."

  "So why don't we just attack them during the day?" asked Jack.

  "Because they have a human army to fight for them and protect them. A human army who can fight in the sun or under the moon. Each time we have battled the humans by day and then fallen to the Nostros when dusk strikes." A faraway look came across Master Snow's face. "And a Nostros can turn anyone into their slave by feeding on their blood and making their victim drink some of their own. No one can resist the turning. We've welcomed men back from the front lines only to have them attack their brothers, their friends." The teacher shook the memory from his mind but a hint of sadness remained. "There is nothing worse than having to kill someone close to you who has become infected by the demons."

  "Why do the humans fight for the demons?" asked Brendan. "Surely they should be on our side."

  "The people of the Middle Kingdoms are a conquered race. Generation after generation bred under Nostros rule. Most live in fear. Some know no better. Perhaps their friends and family are hostage. It is not as easy as you may think to rise up against your masters. And of course, some wish to be Turned. To become like the Nostros, incredibly strong and all but immortal. It is a powerful incentive for a few.

  "Now, I think I promised to show you what a Nostros looks like in the flesh."

  In the center of the room was an obsidian stone casket that came up to Jack's chest. There was a glass cover to the casket but still Jack jumped back. He forced himself to approach it again. Around him, other pupils had similar reactions. He reached out, grasping the smooth, cold stone and pulled himself up to the side. He was being stupid. The thing was dead. There was no danger.

  Inside was a monster. It was twice as big as any man with skin as white as snow. Scars crisscrossed the body, some no more than scratches with others bearing the signs of wounds closed by stitches. It was certainly no stranger to battle. But it was the head that scared Jack more than anything. A head clearly separated from the rest of the body.

  The Nostros' face was more like a cat's than a man's. The eyes were dark and oval. Its nose was short and snout-like. Its ears pointed. It's jaw jutted forward with jagged teeth and four large fangs that looked capable of tearing anything apart with ease.

  Master Snow leaned over Jack's shoulder, startling him once more. "I see you are admiring the demon's teeth. What makes humans so valuable to the Nostros is that they live off our blood and our flesh. Their teeth are designed to rip.

  This is why we wear the black leather collars around our necks. It is our last defense if a Nostros gets too close." He waited while the statement sunk into the minds of his pupils.

  "Kill them from a distance with a pistol or rifle. At worst, make sure you have a strong blade and pray that God will look after you. Allow one of these bastard creatures too close and they will rip out your throat. It's not a good way to die."

  Chatter broke out amongst the boys but Jack's attention was fixated on the corpse before him. How could anyone be expected to defeat such a creature?

  "Now do you believe the evil we face?" asked Master Snow. "Are you convinced?"

  15

  705 PN

  The boys spent three hours each day in a single line in Master Snow's courtyard, no matter what the weather and, under his careful eye, completed intricate patterns of movements in slow motion. The teacher walked up and down the line correcting each and every mistake, prodding the student with his cane as he did so. At first, Jack found the lessons slow and boring but he started to enjoy concentrating on the simplicity of every movement. His body changed shape as it was forced to work in new ways. Jack discovered a balance within himself that enabled him to run faster and fight better. It also created a calm to replace the anger he had carried around within himself.

  "I want you to feel every muscle in your body. Understand how it works. It is a beautiful machine created by God," said Master Snow. "It talks to you. Listen to it speak. Know when it is weak. Know when it is hungry. Only by listening to it can you learn how to command it."

  The boys laughed at Master Snow behind his back. "How can my body talk to me?" said Erik. "He's soft in his head."

  "Your body speaks every time you get hungry judging by the noise coming out your stomach last night," said Thomas.

  Jack joined in the jokes but he understood what Master Snow talked about. There were moments when he could sense each muscle, each joint moving. His body adapted to the new things being asked of it. All the things troubling his mind would drift away for the hours with Master Snow, as he thought about nothing other than the task at hand.

  "Do not worry about the snow falling or the sun shining. They are distractions. Concentrate only on the movement. The world could be crumbling around you but it does not matter. Only the movement is of importance," said Master Snow, tapping a rhythm with his cane against the snow. "Only when your muscles know what to do without you thinking, can you concern yourself with other things."

  "This is stupid," said Bryan under his breath. "I thought we were going to learn how to fight?"

  At the other end of the courtyard, Master Snow stopped. "A baby has to learn how to crawl before he walks, young sir. Needs to learn how to walk before he can run. You’re that baby."

  The whole group laughed as color filled Bryan's cheeks.

  Master Snow turned to the rest of the class. He tapped his cane against the stone. "Now begin again. First stance everybody."

  Jack slid his feet into the first position and shifted his weight between them. He didn't underestimate the priests. He saw that there was much he could learn from them.

  "So how goes the escape plan?" asked Brendan over dinner that night. The meal was a beef stew and a good one at that. Jack looked over at the kitchen and saw Brother Michae
l at work. He always enjoyed Brother Michael's meals. There was going to be a good week of food ahead until it was another's turn.

  "Jack?" said Brendan.

  "What?"

  "I asked how goes the escape plan?" Brendan tucked a slice of carrot into his mouth and chewed while he waited for his brother to reply. It was his idea of a joke — to always ask Jack about escaping. He didn’t believe his brother would ever do it and he continued to tease him about it over the years.

  But nothing had changed Jack’s mind. He was as stubborn as a mule as his Mum used to say. Jack dropped his voice to no more than a whisper and leaned closer to his brother. "The old man who guards the Western Gate sleeps every night while he is supposed to be on guard duty." He’d never stopped trying to discover Whitehaven's weak spots, leaving the dormitory at night to explore the grounds and observe everything.

  "So we can just walk out that gate?"

  "Yes. I think so. They seem a bit more weary at night, but if we leave any time during the day, I don't think anyone would stop us." The truth was as Jacob had first told them. The doors were not locked and the guards cared about stopping anyone getting in, not preventing them from leaving.

  "What then? Walk back to Brixteth?"

  "It took us three days by cart. I reckon we could walk it in ten days." Jack pushed his spoon around his bowl, reluctant to finish it as it was so good. He ate a half of a spoonful, trying to taste all the different flavors before swallowing.

  Brendan caught the look on his face. "What about food while we're walking?"

  Jack placed his spoon gently down. "The kitchen's not locked either. We could fill a sack of food from there. Take a couple of water skins. Should see us well enough."

  Brendan scraped the last dregs of stew from his own bowl, slurped them down in one mouthful and smacked his lips. "So we go tonight?"

  "Do you want to go tonight?" asked Jack. He raised an eyebrow at his brother. He’d never asked that question before.

  "You've got it all worked out. Why wait?"

  Jack looked down at his stew again. "Marcus gets his collar this week. I was thinking maybe after that."

  Brendan stood up from the bench, picking up his empty bowl. "Sure little brother. After Marcus takes his vows. No rush after all." He ruffled Jack's hair. "Enjoy your stew. Don't let it get cold."

  Jack told himself he still wanted to leave. In the scant free time he had to himself, escape was all he thought about but — if he was being honest — he enjoyed the process more than anything. He still found it hard being surrounded by so many people all the time so, while the others slept, he stole an hour here and there to creep around the rooftops or sneak through the grounds. Watching the priests without being seen gave him a thrill.

  However, the reality was Jack had never been happier. Life was simple. He was always warm and well fed. He enjoyed the company of the other boys and the time spent studying with Master Snow compensated for the problems he had in the academic classes. It was certainly better than breaking into people's houses and worrying about the hangman.

  Jack wasn't lying when he said he wished to see Marcus pass his trials. Marcus had become a good friend to the new boys since their first year. He was always happy to answer any question or show them how things worked in the monastery. His help started that very first night when the boys had to put sheets on their beds. Neither Brendan nor Jack had made a bed before so Marcus patiently showed them how to fold each sheet with the perfect corners the Order demanded.

  "Why does it need to be perfect?" asked Jack. "I'm only going to mess the bed up again once I sleep in it tonight."

  "Many reasons. Discipline. Pride. How we look reflects on how we see ourselves. Caring for ourselves is the starting point to caring for others. Smart uniform, clean boots, tidy bed shows we can attend to the small things, that we can look after ourselves and therefore, after others.

  "It also shows that you are part of the group. One person not trying lets down everyone who makes the effort. It says that they don't want to belong. If Thomas, for example, left everything dirty and in a mess, it would tell me that he didn't care for you or Brendan or Eric or any of the others. If he can let me down over such small things, how could I trust him if my life depended on him?"

  "You can tell all that from a folded sheet?"

  Marcus winked at him. "And so much more. So much more."

  Marcus didn't attend classes anymore like the younger students. He and the other senior students spent most of their time out on exercise, practicing advance battle skills in small units of four. They never spoke of what they did when they were back in the dormitories so rumors naturally spread like wildfire.

  "They have to spend days out in the countryside with no food or water," said Eric one morning before Master Hicks' class, "before coming back here."

  "What's so difficult about that?" asked Bryan.

  "They’re hunted by the priests the whole time. If they get caught, they get kicked out of the monastery." Eric looked up and down the corridor before continuing. "Beaten first I heard, then expelled."

  "I heard they send fifty Dogs after them. No one can escape that," said Thomas.

  "They wouldn't have any new priests if they made it too difficult," said Jack.

  "That's not even the hard part," replied Eric. "The hard part is when they get back here."

  "What happens?" asked Bryan and Jack together.

  "They have to fight other priests with whatever weapons they find while they are outside," said Eric.

  "The priests leave them weapons to find though," added Thomas. "It's not like they have to fight with a tree branch or something."

  "But what if they don't find them?" said Bryan.

  "Then they fight bare-handed," answered Thomas.

  Master Hicks arrived to shoo them into class before Jack could ask any more questions. All through the lesson, he could not stop thinking about Marcus fighting the priests. There wasn't one he fancied taking on in a brawl, not even old Hicks..

  "Aren't you worried?" he asked Marcus the next time he saw him.

  "Only a dead man or a fool isn't worried doing something like this. But that's what keeps me sharp."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Fear tells us we're alive, that we need to be careful. Use it well and it protects us from making mistakes or letting our attention drift. It makes us think over the best way to deal with a situation instead of just rushing in head first without a plan."

  "So being afraid is good?"

  "Only if we don't let it paralyze us. It needs controlling like any other emotion. And the thing I've found is that being afraid of something is normally a lot worse than just going and dealing with something. Our minds can make it a hundred times scarier than reality. Best just get on and deal with the situation. Remember what I said — train hard now, fight easy later."

  "I wish you luck."

  "Thank you. Hopefully I won't need it but you'll just have to come and see for yourself when I collect my collar. Just remember to cheer for me, eh?"

  "I will. I promise."

  A week later, the whole monastery gathered in the main courtyard around the large stone cauldron. The flames leapt and danced in the morning breeze, taking some of the chill out of the air. The Abbott stood patiently in front of it. Marcus and the rest of the final year students were marched in, halting before him. They seemed to stand taller, proud of their achievements under the crisp blue morning sky. It wouldn't be long before snow filled the grounds.

  Whatever tasks Marcus had done, he’d survived them and that made Jack feel better about what he would one day face.

  The Abbott looked around the assembled students, a smile on his face. "It is fitting that those about to take their vows to join the Order of the First Knights stand here in front of the Eternal Flame. Engraved are the words: 'Honor all those who have fallen in the land of the dead.' For it is here we remember everyone who has fought for our brotherhood and given the ultimate sacrifice in the defense of o
ur lands in the battle against the forces of evil, no matter what form they take." The Abbott paused, letting his words sink in. "Inscribed in stone are their names so they may never be forgotten for as long as our race survives. Men like Jeremy Oakwood who died in the siege of Castallan of 575, saving the lives of six of his brothers or Paul Longstaff, who was fatally wounded in 623 in Hornchurch, investigating a coven of witches. All good men.

  "Today we have twenty brave souls standing proudly before you, ready to wear the collar that protects us as well as symbolizes our servitude to God and all His work. We have watched them grow from children into warriors true of heart and strong of arm. Abios's finest."

  The spectators cheered while Marcus and the other graduates stood at attention. Jack joined in as loudly as he could because he knew how much this moment meant to his friend. No matter what he felt about life in Whitehaven, he was proud of his friend’s achievement.

  When the cries died down, a priest stepped up to the Abbott with several collars across his arms.

  "Marcus Tanner, I call you forth," said the Abbott and the first of the students marched forward, halting in front of the old priest. Everyone watched Marcus drop to one knee. "Do you swear to devote your life to the service of God and all His works on earth?"

  "I do," replied Marcus.

  "Do you swear your allegiance to The Order Of The First Knights, forsaking all others?"

  "I do."

  "Do you swear to fight against the demon hoards of the Nostros?"

  "I do."