The mare's ironshod hooves bit into the hard packed dirt of the road, flinging clumps of it into the air in her wake along with the flecks of foam flying from her sides. The smell of blood mixed with the black smoke billowing across the street as a timber cracked inside the old building, but in a moment they were through the screen of smoke and the mare had drawn even with the stumbling man.<br/><br/>The rider struck a sweeping blow, arm wrenching in its socket with the force of the beheading and the mare lurched forward, dancing in place nervously as she was brought about. In the middle of the street, the last of the small group he'd been chasing through the burning village slumped to his knees to join his head in the filthy street. Bedr drew the bloodied blade of the gleaming steel falchion along the cloth threaded through the tooled leather belt about his waist. It was stiff with the blood of several others already.<br/><br/>This horse was more nervous than the last had been, at first, but there was little he could do about that now save miss the animal. She had been a fine creature, almost certainly related to the horses his people raised in their far land. The sweating chestnut creature between his thighs was little more than a nag in comparison, heavily built to support the weight of the cursed armor and the chains bound to the hilt of his falchion, wound tight about his arm.<br/><br/>He had grown accustomed to the weight, as he had grown accustomed to the chains and the deep seated saddle. Women and children ran screaming somewhere nearby, their protectors no doubt slain by the frantic sounds of their flight. When one high pitched cry, ringing clear above the din of the slaughter, cut short suddenly, Bedr turned away. The garish red light of the sullen flames eating at a barn nearby caught his attention first, and for the space of a few heartbeats he simply stared. The flames' light caught at the edges of his armor, the monstrous runes engraved along the edges of each plate seeming engaged in the nauseating dance of each flickering tongue of fire. The barn was quiet save for the low roar of the flames. The animals inside had died as quickly and surely as those who owned them.<br/><br/>Something moved at the edge of the flame, dark enough to catch his attention, and Bedr turned his head to pin the suddenly terrified boy with the force of his attention. They all stood staring, at first. They always did, unable to help themselves in the face of their death. Some managed defiance, most managed only terror. This boy seemed fixed between both with his arms spread out to either side protectively. There was someone behind him, but Bedr paid the slighter shadow no attention, caught in the boy's eyes. They were nearly the same startling shade of gray as his own, witch eyes set in a face darkened by dirt and soot. It was easy to imagine his skin the same smooth tan as his own. And for a moment his fingers curled tighter about the reins in his hand until the leather creaked.<br/><br/>With a sharp tug, the mare was up, dancing on her hind legs as if maddened by fire and desperate to unseat her rider. When Bedr allowed her to drop, the boy and his shadow were gone.