Chapter 12: 12 : Blood Flakes

The bay stallion screamed—high, panicked—its cry knifing through the Polock farmhouse walls. Crockery clattered inside; Harbin lurched to the kitchen window that overlooked the barn.

Bram was already out the front door, boots thudding across the yard.

Will, astride Daisy just beyond the barn’s rear corner, fought to steady the horse. The animal crab-stepped, whites of its eyes showing as torch-glow swung across the front drive.

Inside the house voices rose in confusion.

“Stay here. I will deal with it.” Harbin bristled. “That’s my stallion and my property.”

Osric’s reply carried enough steel to shave bone: “Test me, and the foal you cherish finds a new home by dawn.”

The collector strode into the yard, cloak snapping.

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Bram rounded the barn first, lantern jouncing in one hand, rage in the other. Will tugged Daisy’s head, desperate to turn into the night, but the stallion half-reared at Bram’s shout.

“Will!”

Bram hurled himself, catching Will’s belt. Horse and riders lurched; Will’s fingers slipped from the mane. Daisy bolted, Bram dangling, Will clutching reins by mere loops of leather.

They careened behind the barn, darkness swallowing lantern-light. Daisy’s hooves tore wet turf; then Bram’s weight dragged them off balance. Horse and both brothers crashed into tall grass, breath and curses knocked skyward.

Bram rolled atop Will, fist cocked. “Where’s Pa? Where’s Pa?” he snarled, each question a blow no fist landed. Will twisted, boot heel driving into Bram’s thigh. Bram reeled; Will’s kick snapped up, catching his jaw. Grass and breath both scattered.

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They scrambled upright opposite one another—moonlight glinting on a fallen blade between them. Garret’s short sword.

Bram’s hand found it first. Dry blood flaked from the fuller as he lifted it, eyes huge. Moonlight silvered the crust. Horror curved into fury.

“You devil,” Bram panted. “You killed Ma and now you killed Pa!”

He charged, sword hissing.

Will dodged, felt steel kiss linen and skin—just a nick along his ribs, hot and thin. Pain sharpened reflex; he darted right, then lunged inside Bram’s reach, smashing a fist into his brother’s face. Cartilage crunched; Bram staggered, blood filming his nostrils.

But hatred propped him back up. He wiped red across his sleeve, saw Garret’s boots on Will’s feet, and roared. “Those too? You’re carrion!”

He raised the sword for a killing thrust.

“Enough.”

The single word cut through grass-whisper and blood-pulse alike. Osric stepped from Bram’s shadow.

Bram’s head turned, fury half-blind. “He murdered—” The protest died in a wet cough. Steel jutted from his chest, point blossoming dark beneath the sternum. For a heartbeat brother and sword were one thing, swaying in the night.

Will’s breath turned to ash as Bram looked down at the metal sprouting from him—bewilderment eclipsing rage. His knees buckled. Osric slid the rapier clear with a sound like tearing cloth; Garret’s sword slipped from Bram’s grip, thudding into grass a blink before Bram followed it.

Silence roared. Somewhere beyond the barn a goat bleated, absurdly ordinary.

Osric’s voice returned, calm as a banker’s. “Resist, and I take your life next, boy.”

Will found himself rooted, pulse louder than Daisy’s fading hoofbeats. Bram’s body lay between them, blood seeping into soil that didn’t care whose it was.

A shuffle on the far side of the barn snapped Osric’s head around. Someone was hurrying toward the commotion—small feet, lighter than Harbin’s tread.

“Will?”

Ricket’s wavering call drifted nearer.

Osric’s eyes narrowed. One witness was inconvenience; two was liability. He stepped over Bram, rapier dark and dripping.