Nightwatch

Zahra Linsky

On Carlisle’s third shift off from nightwatch, she donned her boots and cloak and delicately shut the barracks door behind her. This far between shift changes, no one would catch her. They couldn’t order her back to bed for rest. 

Godsdammit—whatever pain irked her would heal faster if she could just get outside and move. That damn captain. 

Carlisle slipped between narrow armory hallways until a wall, three times high as she was tall, greeted her with glowing moss. She sunk her fingers within branching green buds and smiled. At least someone wanted to see her. 

The moss shrunk away, as did the overlapping vines. A shallow cave hardly half Carlisle’s height deepened through thick rock until it became a worthy gate. She stepped through. 

On the other side of the wall, dusty dirt turned to worn grass, brassy from late summer heat. The perimeter of the knights’ barracks normally was patrolled regularly, but ever since the celestial beast was first sighted, the captain prioritized the townspeople. Carlisle sighed. There wasn’t any way to argue with that reasoning, but something within her felt unsettled. The wall wouldn’t even be thick enough to protect against such a beast. 

She watched the ground as she walked through the center road of the city. For the past few years, nighttime had been so quiet. Maybe the townspeople were afraid their sound would wake the beast, though that’d be the case in the daytime, too. But during nighttime, Carlisle didn’t have to see the city so alive, as it was all those years ago. She didn’t need to be reminded of the celestial beast’s first attack. 

No one wanted to be. 

Gradually, the cobble path she darted her eyes between turned into rich soil and thin flora. She looked up. 

The forest close to town used to be well-worn from hunters’ footsteps, but now those ancient paths were nothing more than thick patches of overgrown weeds. There wasn’t any real reason to fear hunting, though. You were just as likely to be attacked by the beast within the city as you were within the forest. Sightings of its shining white coat have gotten few and far apart recently, anyway. 

Carlisle stopped once the familiar glowing fungi began lining the ground at her feet. She didn’t glance around her in search of any watchful soldiers—she kept her eyes on the ground and felt for a tether. 

A single tug on the thread of binding, and her hound—her multi-eyed familiar,  Mir—assimilated into existence. The forest formed him through roots and soil and decaying leaves, an offering to its sole patroller, its nightwatcher, its guardian. Carlisle knelt and rubbed Mir’s fluffy black fur, careful not to poke any of his open eyes. They flickered throughout his being. 

His hearty bark hurt her ears at first, but for the first time in over a week, Carlisle’s body relaxed. Her body was moving and she breathed in clear air. That was enough. 

Mir dragged Carlisle through thick spans of bushes, his eyes flickering between his forehead, shoulders, and thighs. He didn’t know why she walked these ancient paths. He only knew of skittering lizards and squirrels jumping between trees. His paws reached far above her head when he stood on his hind legs, stretching in an attempt to bite at swaying vines. 

Wherever his attention was caught, he took her. Before their contract, Carlisle had always thought familiars were supposed to be noble beasts—creatures who could defeat demonic beasts with swipes of their paws or frigid breaths. She didn’t expect her first summon to be such a… pet. 

Though she had to pull Mir away from bioluminescent mushrooms a few too many times, Carlisle felt relaxed as she patrolled deeper into the forest. At this point, she’d probably only get back to camp shortly before the lauds-hour shift began. 

A shrill shriek pierced her eardrums. She glanced up from the ache to the branches looming above her: a lizard-type demonic beast, onyx skin and all. Annoying bastards. She clunkily swiped her sword above her head and knocked the lizard to the ground. Mir ripped off its tail before it skittered away. 

That would have been the last of it if Mir wasn’t some kind of hunting dog. His many eyes focused on the faint reflections of light from the lizard’s skin as it wove back and forth between folded trunks and bushes. 

She ran behind Mir and tried ignoring the bone-deep pain that shot through her legs and to her core with every step. “You idiot!” 

Mir, like most dogs, did not listen. He dragged Carlisle behind him through their tether, oblivious to the disappearance of the glowing light mushrooms provided disappearing. With so many eyes, he wasn’t tied down by lack of light, but Carlisle was only human. She focused everything she had on the feeling of unease teasing her at her fingertips and the faint sounds of the midnight woods. Moonlight shone through patches in the canopy, guiding her to her next checkpoint. 

Checkpoint after checkpoint, Carlisle identified the murky feeling crawling up her wrists: something was wrong and something was bloody. She tugged at Mir’s thread, but he did not stop. He didn’t sense fear bubbling into her throat or realize that the lizard he followed was nothing more than bait. 

He led her deeper into the looming forest. 

Four years ago, the town’s stone walls had broken down before townspeople even began to scream. Easen wrapped his fingers around the grip of his sword as he traced the perimeter of the town with rushed steps. He led Carlisle through the throes of a frantic crowd. 

Only when they climbed over crumbled bricks did the knight and her partner know why the crowd ran away: a celestial beast swatted at branches and humans like flies. Its looming figure shadowed Easen and Carlisle’s figures. 

Her first nighttime patrol and her legs were already locked in place. 

“This way, you fucking overgrown cat!” Easen yelled. He backed toward the edge of the forest, stepping between trees. The beast turned to him, revealing its purple gums and cream teeth. The taunts led the two into the forest’s interior. 

Carlisle followed them at a distance, her legs wobbling with each step. Their fighting left her little-to-no openings—the simple swish of the beast’s tail cracked trees. But she had to strike. 

She lunged with her sword low to the ground. The blade wedged itself into the crook of the beast’s hind leg. It glanced back with glazed eyes before it kicked her away. It had a more worthy foe to face. 

When she touched her hand to her stomach, her palm came up bloody. She pressed her arms tight against her stomach. If her intestines spilled out, it’d all be over. 

Easen braced his sword with his left hand. Red dripped from his chapped lips and his arms shook, but his body remained steady. His body was laced with scratches yet none reached further than skin-deep. He was strong—one of the strongest knights of their generation. He stuck his longsword deep into the beast’s neck before retrieving it and clashing against claws once more. “Carlisle, get away!” 

Carlisle’s bones told her she would not win in this state, nor would she be able to kill it. It’d be an honorable death. After all, leaving any wound on the celestial beast would prevent it from killing more townspeople. 

But Carlisle didn’t want to die. She was young and her body was agile. Easen would have to wait for her to return with support. 

She clutched her dripping wound. Each clang of Easen’s sword against the celestial beast’s claws became quieter as Carlisle rushed to the forest’s edge. 

Memories ached within her injury, throbbing with each beat of her heart. Awareness burned through her skin and to her muscles, a flare that hurt long after her injury had healed. She could not be rid of it, no matter how hard she tried. The feeling only grew stronger. 

As the years went by, the pain seemed to grow an awareness. When she was happy, her ribs ached. When she was sad, she got a stitch in her side. When she was afraid—now Carlisle knew. Fear was fire scorching her intestines. Fear was clutching her stomach and pinching her hips, hoping that any other sensation would arrive. 

But the fear only grew deeper into her core. 

Three of Mir’s eyes flickered to watch Carlisle walk in pain. He knew her gait changed, and that she was struggling, but she didn’t ask for help, so he followed the murky air. Carlisle silently thanked him; acknowledgment made her feel like she was a coward once more. Mir tugged harder on their thread, leading her to where the air was thick with blood. 

A forestcousin—spirit of the woods—lay on their side with labored breaths. Sweaty hair lay slick against their forehead. Carlisle rushed to kneel behind them and tugged a pouch of bandages and ointment open. The wounds—she scanned the spirit’s body, lifting cloth sticky with blood. 

Risen from yellow-green skin, claw marks dug deep into their hip. Carlisle poured a random flask on the wound—water or alcohol, whichever it ended up being, it couldn’t hurt—and rubbed ointment into the shorn muscle. 

The forestcousin hissed. “Stop, please. I can recover on my own.” 

“You’re going to die if I leave you alone.” She nodded to Mir, who put his paw under the spirit’s head. Wounds were painful in the moment, but if you survive and they fester, the pain magnifies. Carlisle almost touched her waist when she remembered that she had to stop the bleeding. 

She wrapped the bandages tight around the forestcousin’s hip, perhaps too tight or not tight enough. The training she had wasn’t enough when there was someone bleeding out in front of her. 

Once the shirt Carlisle tied around the spirit’s body no longer became soaked through with blood, she took a breath. Few beings tested guardians of the forest, especially this deep into their domain. 

The forestcousin took sharp breaths as Carlisle set them onto Mir. “It’s what you’re thinking, Knight. It came for me when I was tending to a grove, swiping at my belly. I only escaped by depleting all my power. The forest doesn’t want me dead just yet.” 

The celestial beast. Saying it aloud would feel like acknowledging that she is heading for her death. That would be a coward’s thing to do. 

Carlisle’s hands shook as she pulled her sword out of her sheath. She had rudimentary sword mana, something she trained for years to achieve since Easen died, but it wouldn’t be enough. Losing him turned her into a workaholic who can never be strong enough, but even that would fail against a celestial beast. 

“It isn’t worth the fight—we should run away while we can,” the forestcousin said. “Bring your knights next time.” 

“The beast will be back and it will be stronger. It doesn’t matter how many people fight it—it’ll still win. Now or never,” Carlisle snapped. 

Mir whined and pawed at her thigh. The forestcousin wrapped their arms around his torso, tying herself down. Many people had faced the celestial beast in the past, and the spirit soon realized Carlisle was one of them. 

“If you were lucky enough to get away with your life and limbs intact last time, I don’t think I’d be able to convince you to back down.” The forestcousin sighed as they tugged on Carlisle’s trousers, pulling her arms within reach. “Celestial beasts can only be fatally injured if they’re bathed in the blood of the Earth.” 

Vines shot from the ground and wrapped around Carlisle’s wrists and ankles, purple foliage made traps. The forestcousin loosened her grip on her blade. 

“Stop—you’ve bled too much already,” Carlisle pleaded. 

The spirit looked up, smiling. “My apologies.” 

The sword cut through the spirit’s skin like water. The deep green of venous blood dripped onto the blade, smeared by nimble fingers. The forestcousin made a fist once their blood coated every inch of the sword. 

Carlisle bit her lip. She gave into the restraints, relaxing her joints. Even her magical hound couldn’t do anything against the celestial beast, even if he is a spirit himself. Demonic spirits are beings of another realm, but they needed the blood of Earth-bound guardians. 

When the grip was back in her hand and the vines had receded back into the earth, Carlisle followed the trail of blood the forestcousin left. 

Out of the entire subjugation party, Carlisle was the only one who dared approach Easen’s body. She caressed his head with the most delicate movements her calloused hands could muster and placed his head upon her lap. His cheeks were flushed a brilliant pink, the last sign of the devotion he put into defeating such a beast before his death. 

Though celestial beasts were divine, they weren’t anything more but another predator made by gods. They fought, they killed, they feasted. Carlisle knew she shouldn’t have expected more from such a creature, but here was an innocent man torn from gut to thigh. His blood soaked into her fabric trousers, chilling her skin and drying into the corners of her knees. 

She should have been the one to die. Easen had been a confident knight, one who easily bounced back from injuries and made swift decisions. His decision had saved her life and ended his. He should have asked for help. Carlisle would rather die beside him than live on as the knight who let her partner die. She should’ve pushed back when he told her to run. 

She closed her partner’s eyes. 

Cowardice shook in Carlisle’s bones and hands as she walked with her sword outstretched in front of her, knuckles white. 

A celestial beast may have come from the heavens, but it was no more than another creature that played with humanity at the gods’ whims. Like all animals, it had a role among the gods’ plans, but to be a celestial beast was to have heavenly power. Yet it was still an animal. It had a weakness. It bled. 

Back in the barracks, they’d make fun of her if she mentioned that she wanted to be the one to kill it. After all, she had fled the last time she saw it. Let her last partner die. Forfeited her mission just because she valued her own life over her duty. Her limbs were strong and swift in controlled situations, but, even if they didn’t know why, everyone knew she’d been avoiding a real fight since Easen died. 

She grimaced. 

Carlisle continued along the blood trail, careful not to step in its viridian shade and the blooms that sprung from it. Glowing fungi collected around the dried edges, though it hadn’t been long since the forestcousin had escaped. These were the qualities of the blood of Earth that prevented the celestial beast from regenerating, she realized. Grasses would spring from her blade if it touched soil—if it touched the beast, the power of the Earth would prevent it from using the will of the heavens. 

“Dame Knight, are you sure you want to throw away your one chance at escape?” 

With her free hand, Carlisle pointed at her scarred belly. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I remained a coward when redemption is so near.” 

The confidence in her words was laughable. 

The pain in her abdomen grew scathing the further she followed the trail. The drying blood was beginning to become near-imperceptible, if not for Mir’s keen eyes flickering over each blade of grass and sprig of bark. He and Carlisle jumped over the branches and roots that the forestcousin left as barriers. 

Mir forced his body between her and the next root. He whined, collecting all his eyes to his puppy-dog face and the tail pointed ahead of her. He knew. 

She knew the beast drew near when the hum in her blood felt as if the heavens wanted to rip her apart, with her heartbeat as the weapon. 

The celestial beast started as a glance of white between deciduous leaves. Its movement was lush and lithe, a being that did not come about through nature. Its creation was forcible. It resembled neither tiger nor bear. Amber eyes that glanced through the botanical barriers. 

Her sword grew still, as did her legs. Her stomach roared in fear—a warning that only her ever-enduring pain could give. If she did not kill it, she would die. It already saw her. 

One choice remained: fight. 

Carlisle slipped through the barriers and into a grove marred by claw marks, some superficial and some not. Great hind legs lined with golden fur slipped between gaps in the trees—every step growing closer. She twisted to follow the trail of white, even if all she had were glimpses. Once her sword reached the back right stance, she took a breath. 

A grand maw lingered high above. The teeth—too numerous to count. The ridges of the celestial beast’s mouth loomed so close to her head. 

A lump of fear in her throat left her gasping for air. But the only air she breathed was the humid, sticky breath of a beast who’d just gotten another taste of blood. It lined the gates of his maw and stained his teeth pink. Her sword dropped out of a trained stance into no more than a plaything between slack fingers. 

She was sprinting before her mind had decided her next movement. Her ability to weave between the trees at such high speeds clearly put her near the top of the knightly rankings, but this had been within her power for years. It had done her nothing when Easen was killed. With this cowardly instinct of hers, Carlisle was no more than a mere foal laid before a bear. Or, better yet, a horse that abandoned it master at a mere spook. 

Through the wind rushing past, she heard a howl. Her boots skidded against the hard earth. 

Mir and the forestcousin. She’d nearly forgotten their presence that lay only a hundred feet away. If she ran away now, she’d surely lead them to their deaths. She thought she had found a resolution when she walked over here, but cowardice pierced at her heart. 

Carlisle spun on her heel and readied her sword high, swiping past the tree on her right. It should’ve pierced the skin, but instead recoil coursed through her fingers and up her arm. A swipe strong enough to cut through a warrior’s abdomen wasn’t enough against the celestial beast. Good to know. 

It pawed at her like a cat with claws as sharp as a bog iron sword. Her waist narrowly curved out of its reach. 

She bounded backward, stepping between the thick roots of elder trees. Mana hummed within her alongside her bloodstream, thin threads of life she focused power into until the sword in her hands glowed a milky blue. Her sword mana was nowhere near the level of a swordmaster, but it had to do. 

If she had this last time, then Easen wouldn’t have died.  

She blocked the beast’s next pounce with her newly strengthened blade. The weight of its claws shook her bones. 

Placing her left palm flat against the blade, she summoned her remaining strength to push the claws backward. The force put all her weight on the balls of her feet, throwing her off balance. Once more, she had to jump backward to avoid the immense weight of its attack. Her sword painted a broad blue arc across the celestial beast’s eyes and through a tree. 

It roared in pain, and streams of azure dripped from an amber eye. 

Carlisle leapt toward its left. A deft stab reached its shoulder before it swiped at her once more. Crimson blood dripped from her arm, but skin hadn’t been flayed. Blood for blood. But her wound was shallow. The celestial beast would never see from that eye again. The next knight it fought against would have an upper hand. 

She grinned. 

Adrenaline rushed through her veins as she engaged the beast further. The world rushed around her in blurs of green and silver, clash after clash. With each passing second, Carlisle’s eyes opened wider and her slashes grew more confident. Who knew sacrificing oneself could be so fun? 

She’d wanted to survive and take revenge for Easen, but all she hoped for now was that Mir would take the forestcousin far away from here. He could return to the spirit’s realm once everything was over. 

But her foot caught on the underside of a climbing root. She stumbled backwards, hitting her head hard against bark. 

“You bastard,” she growled. 

Her arms trembled as she lifted the point of her blade to the beast’s neck, parting soft fur to reveal blue-stained skin. It writhed at the touch of the cool blade. The celestial beast, however, only dipped its head further down. 

Hot breath bloomed across her face once more. 

She swallowed as the beast lifted his paws in unison with her sword pressing through the uppermost layer of his skin. With closed eyes, she braced for the searing pain. 

When none came after a full second, she felt water soaking through her boots and realized why the celestial beast hadn’t made his impact yet. The soil, moistened into dirt, crawled up its legs at the forestcousin’s command. Carlisle didn’t know where she was, but the ground was overwhelmed with that murky feeling, of blood and pain. 

Carlisle jumped between tree roots, following the beast’s right side. The distance between the trees here was tight enough to guard her from half of the swiping paws without much difficulty. Weaving between the trees meant the beast had to focus on twisting its grand body. It didn’t pay attention to its paws slowly sinking into the mud. Every swipe only brought it closer to the ground. 

Just out of reach of its monstrous tail, she sprinted behind the beast. She grinned with a rush of adrenaline when the beast tried to move with brute force. It never needed to be nimble. It never needed to fight for survival. It thought its power was enough to remove any obstacles in its path. 

The beast falls to the ground, its heavy skull slamming into the mud. 

It looked like no more than an overgrown dog as Carlisle climbed its spine. The beast writhed and wobbled beneath her, but the mud clung to its fur.  

She survived because that’s what Easen wanted for her. She survived so she could kill this beast. Despite an ebbing pain in her gut, she still walked overtop this monster. 

Carlisle embedded her forestcousin-drenched sword firmly in its skull, cracking through bone and bloody fur.

Easen’s casket was no more than a modest box repurposed for his untimely death. The sun had long since risen and fallen—rosy cheeks were now pallid. 

Carlisle stood at the head of the mourners, a pine green veil drawn over her shoulders. She placed a chrysanthemum across the wash of velvet covering his torso. 

Endless whispers hummed behind her like rain: “Doesn’t she know what she did?” “We lost one of our best men.” “She’s lucky she got away with her life.” “Why did she survive when Easen died?” “Coward.” “He was worth at least ten ordinary knights. Such a shame we lost a capable one.” 

She knew. 

Carlisle knelt on the beast’s crest, with her lower body stained with azure blood. Her blade dug through layer upon layer of skin and muscle. Sinew parted from vertebrae with jagged hacking. The center of its neck was soon within reach, but an image from the battle irked her. 

When she had held her sword’s point to its neck, it revealed blue-tinged skin. The remainder of its flesh was near-white. 

She slid off the head into muddy soil. Shaving through its fur took more time than she thought when she realized the surface of the beast’s skin was uneven. With careful scratches of her blade, she revealed a scar the length of her arm. 

A warm hand touched Carlisle’s back. She jumped.  

The forestcousin waved behind her, a quiet smile on their face. “Knight, its blood has long since cooled. Violence is no longer necessary.” 

“I know,” she whispered. Her throat ached and voice wobbled. “But I watched Easen make this scar. He didn’t know about the blood of the Earth, but he tried. He really tried.” 

Carlisle’s focused posture crumpled, and she leaned forward onto a dry patch of the beast’s head. “It’s the same beast, yet it died at the hands of a coward.” 

Her body ached with the exhilaration of battle and survival, but relief settled in her gut. A light feeling—one she hadn’t known before. 

Carlisle had the monstrous head of the celestial beast slung over her shoulder and a forestcousin on her familiar when she walked into the barracks through the secret gate.  

Dawn broke over the horizon, stretching rose gold beams through the trees. Carlisle basked in the warmth as she parted a sea of knights to the training yard. Murmuring words spread throughout the crowd. 

But silence found a home among the training yard when Carlisle displayed the crudely beheaded beast for all to see. The coward killed the monster and avenged her partner. 

Though her tattered trousers and shirtless torso were soaked through with the blood of the heavens, she’d never felt more free. 

Zahra Linsky is an editor of Pitch and a chemistry major at Cedar Crest College. Her debut anthology, What Arrives After Treefall, is an exploration of her love of nature through the lens of abandonment. She has been recognized for her writing by YoungArts and Scholastic Art & Writing. Her favorite way to spend an afternoon is cuddling with her dogs outside.

Theresa Bui is a junior majoring in Environmental Conservation and minoring in Religious Studies. She is a self-taught and hobbyist digital artist specializing in photo manipulation (a.k.a. photo composite and photo montage) using Adobe Photoshop.