not see the usefulness in objects of beauty or comfort - those were naught but weight that bore you down. A strong horse and a well-balanced dagger? Those were priceless.
As the seven of them rode unto the village, they made no effort to mute the pounding of their steeds' hooves. There were no war cries, however. Such was wasted energy, as their enemy needed little invitation to come forth and greet them.
In manner of welcome, a human or two peeked out of doors and then quickly locked themselves back in their abodes. Xcor ignored them. Instead, he scanned the squat stone houses and the center square and the fortified trading shops, searching for a bipedal form that was as pale as a ghost and stank like a corpse coated in treacle.
His father rode up to him and smiled with a vicious edge. "Mayhap afterward we shall enjoy the fruits of the gardens herein."
"Mayhap," Xcor murmured as his stallion tossed its head. Verily, he wasn't much interested in bedding females or forcing males to submit, but his sire was not one to be denied even in whims of leisure.
Using hand signals, Xcor directed three of their band to the left, where there was a small structure with a cross atop its peaked roof. He and the others would take the right. His father would do what he pleased. As always.
Forcing the stallions to remain at a walk was a chore that challenged even the stoutest of arms, but he was used to the tug-of-war and sat solidly in his saddle. With grim purpose, his eyes penetrated the shadows thrown by the moonlight, seeking, probing -
The group of slayers that stepped free from the lee of the smithy had weapons aplenty.
"Five," Zypher growled. "Blessed be this night."
"Three," Xcor cut in. "Two are but humans as yet - although killing that pair ... 'twill be a pleasure as well."
"Which shall you take, m'lord?" his brother-in-arms said, with a deference that had been earned, not granted as part of some birthright.
"The humans," Xcor said, shifting forward and bracing for the moment he gave his stallion its head. "If there are other lessers about, that shall draw them out further."
Spurring on his great beast and melding into his saddle, he smiled as the lessers stood their ground in their chain mail and weaponries. The two humans beside them were not going to remain as steadfast, however. Although the pair were likewise kitted for fighting, they would turn and run at the first flash of fangs, spooking like plow horses from a cannon blast.
Which was why he abruptly bore off to the right no more than three strides into the gallop. Behind the farrier's cottage, he hauled up on the reins and threw himself free of his steed. His stallion was a wild cur, but was obedient when it came to a dismount and would await -
A human female burst forth from the back door, her white nightgown a brilliant streak in the darkness as she scrambled to find footing in the mud. The instant she saw him, she froze in terror.
Logical response: He was twice her size, if not three times as large, and dressed not for sleep, as she was, but for war. As her hand rose to her throat, he sniffed the air and caught her scent. Mmm, mayhap his father had a point about enjoying the garden ...
As the thought occurred, he let out a low growl that galvanized her feet into a panicked run, and at the sight of her fleeing, the predator in him came to the fore. With bloodthirst curling in his gut, he was reminded that it had been a matter of weeks since he'd fed from a member of his species, and though this lass was but human, she could well suffice for tonight.
Unfortunately, there was no time for the diversion the now - although his father would surely catch her afterward. If Xcor needed some blood to tide him over, he would get it from this woman, or another.
Turning his back on her escape, he planted his feet and unsheathed his weapon of choice: Although daggers had their doing, he preferred the scythe, long handled and modified for a holster that strapped upon his back. He was an expert at wielding the heavy weight, and he smiled whilst he worked the vicious, curved blade in the wind, waiting to play net to the pair of fish who were sure to swim -