Forester felt a chill and pulled his arms in to warm himself. There was a cold night wind blowing in off the ocean that made goosebumps stand out on his skin. He crouched with his back to a stack of heavy plastic crates and tried to keep his body in the shadows. 

He'd followed Gareth from Sarafina's house after they'd taken Eva. It hadn't been hard. They'd pushed her into a dark green van with patches of rust on the doors that made it look like it had been dragged out of the ocean. Forester had followed them in his own car down the coast towards the port area, where the fishing trawlers unloaded their catches for processing. 

He'd almost lost them when they reached the docks. He'd had to leave his car behind, near the entrance. It was too conspicuous to for him to follow them into the facility itself without other cars to hide amongst. Eventually, he found the van parked outside a decrepit building with a peeling, sun-bleached sign on the roof that said Wayne's Seafood Wholesale and Cold Storage. From the look of it, Wayne's hadn't been in business for a long time. 

Forester examined the front of the building, trying to think about his next move. He looked at his watch and watched the seconds tick by, while thoughts whirled and twisted through his head like a swarm of mosquitoes. With every second that passed, it was more likely that he would be too late. He had an image of Eva's tiny corpse in front of him, contorted and broken like a discarded doll. 

He rolled up the sleeves of his jacket and rubbed his face. His palms were damp with sweat and his stomach was churning like a washing machine. 

He drew his sword partially from its sheath and looked at the blade. It was the only piece of equipment he'd brought with him. He hadn't expected to end up on the docks planning a hostage rescue tonight. The sword had been a present from his parents when he'd been accepted as an apprentice with Silverwater. It still felt strangely unreal to him. It wasn't like any other tool, like a hammer or screwdriver; it had it's own magic about it. He made sure he looked after it. He kept the blade sharp and the handle wrappings tight. He's been on three missions since joining Silverwater and he'd never had to draw it. 

Forester pushed the sword back into its sheath, then stood up and ran for the door of the building. The windows were dark. If there was someone watching, they'd be able to see him, but he couldn't see any other way to make his approach. As he reached the entrance, he pressed himself against the wall. The door was made of aluminium and glass panels. It was crusted with dirt and cobwebs that made the glass almost opaque, and there was a star of cracks in the bottom panel. Forester peered through the grime and tried to make out any movement in the darkness. 

There was nothing. No movements and no shouts of warning. The only sound was his own heavy breathing.

Forester placed his hand on the handle and pushed the door open carefully. He winced as the bottom of the door scraped against the dirty tile floor. 

Inside the building, the air still carried the faint smell of fish. The metal counters that would once have held trays of ice and seafood stood empty, and there were patches of tiles missing from the floor that exposed the concrete slab beneath. 

Forester walked through the room quickly, towards a doorway at the back covered by a set of yellowed plastic curtains. He slipped past the curtains and paused to take stock of his surroundings.

He was surprised at the size of the room he was standing in. There were rows of metal benches in front of him stretching back into the darkness. Plastic hoses hung from the ceiling, and there were large drain gratings evenly spaced out along the tiled floor. Forester guessed that this was probably where they had once cleaned and processed the seafood before it was pushed out to the shop floor. 

He took a step forward and winced as the lights running along the ceiling flickered to life. He shielded his eyes as he suddenly found himself bathed in cold, fluorescent light. 

'What do you know; it's Sarafina's knight sneaking around in the darkness. Come out of the shadows, knight, they don't suit you.' 

Forester squinted through the glare. Gareth was standing at the end of the room in front of a giant stainless steel industrial freezer. He was gripping Eva roughly by her upper arm. She hung limply, like her muscles were made of soft rubber. Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, and occasionally her head rolled back as if it was attached to her body by loose strings. 

There was a group of people standing on either side of Gareth. Forester counted seven, not including Gareth himself. They had a look of the gutter about them. Forester guessed that they were enforcers. Their stance, and the way they looked at him, told him they were used to violence. Two of them stood out as the leaders, or at least the most unsettling in the group. There was a woman with a drawn, waxy look about her that shuffled her feet as if she was having trouble standing still, and a man with a roughly drawn tattoo running down the side of his face that looked self administered. The man was holding a heavy iron ball on a chain as if it was weightless. He looked at Forester like he was a frozen carcass hanging from a hook. 

'What have you done to her?' said Forester. 

Gareth's face was hard. 'Nothing. Yet.' 

'Why is she standing like that?' 

Gareth looked down at Eva. She hung from his grip, swinging back and forth to a rhythm that only she could hear. 

'I gave her something to quiet her down. The little kid was going nuts in the car. She's as crazy as her sister.' 

Forester drew his sword. The enforcers around Gareth perked up as the blade cleared the scabbard, like hunting dogs scenting blood. He started to walk towards Gareth down the central aisle between the metal tables. 

'Give her to me.' 

Gareth rubbed his chin and looked at Forester speculatively. There was a heavy gold watch around his wrist that stood out against his spray tanned skin. The enforcers around him began to spread out. Forester tried to stay aware of them and keep a relaxed grip on his sword. His fingers were tingling, as if the blood was draining out of them. 

'You can't intimidate me, kid,' said Gareth. 'I've done things to people that would make you wet yourself.' 

'I don't care. I'm not leaving without her.' 

'That attitude of yours doesn't mean you're brave; it just means you don't know enough about me.' 

Forester licked his lips. His mouth was dry, and his feet felt like they were filled with lead. A small part of his brain was screaming at him to run, but he forced it down and kept walking. Gareth's enforcers continued to spread out until they were covering his flanks. There were rows of metal tables separating them from him, but he knew that his escape route would be cut off soon. 

Gareth was just a few steps ahead of him now. He looked more curious than concerned, as if Forester was approaching him with a slightly bizarre business proposal. As Forester got closer, he saw that Eva's eyes were glazed over. She looked at him uncomprehendingly before her head lolled forward again. He stopped a few steps away from Gareth and pointed his sword at him. 

'I'm leaving here with Eva,' he said. 

'Silverwater must be churning them out stupider and stupider,' said Gareth. 'Now you've walked in here and let us surround you, what's your plan for getting out of this alive, knight?' 

'I don't care if I die, but I'll bet you care about your own skin. You were so confident surrounded by your enforcers that you let me get close enough to attack you. Is it worth your life just to punish Sarafina?' 

Gareth stepped forward and rested his finger on the point of Forester's sword. He didn't seem to noticed that he was still holding Eva. She dangled in his grip like a soft toy. 

'You're trembling. I can feel it through the blade. Do you have what it takes to jam this into another man? To watch him flop around like a fish on a harpoon?' 

'This can be a learning experience for me.' 

Gareth stepped back with an angry snarl. It seemed alien on his otherwise handsome features.

'I've seen a million do gooder punks like you. They all come in with a head full of stories and self-righteous moralising, but you know what? No one even remembers where they're buried.' 

'Say what you like, I'm the one with the sword.' 

Gareth gave Eva's arm a tug as she tried to wander away. 

'You never had a chance at me kid. This was my game all along.' 

Forester kept his sword pointed at Gareth and stepped forward. He reached out for Eva, trying to take hold of her free hand. 

'Shut up and give her to me.' 

He froze as he felt a heavy blade rest gently on his shoulder. There was no sound. He hadn't seen any movement. He'd been concentrating so hard, yet somehow someone was behind him. 

'Dieter,' said Gareth. 'Take his sword.' 

A black gloved hand reached forward and firmly removed the sword from Forester's grip. He turned his head carefully to look at the person who'd appeared behind him. 

The bottom half of his face was hidden by a black cloth mask, but even through the material Forester could see the rough hewn outlines of his cheekbones and jaw. He had a heavy brow that cast a shadow over his eyes, and deep sunken cheeks. He was holding the wooden handle of a sickle attached to a long chain. Its heavy, curved blade rested on Forester's shoulder as an ominous promise of things to come. It slid closer to Forester's neck as Dieter saw him examining his face. 

Forester looked away.

Gareth's enforcers were closing in on him. Dieter reversed the blade and handed Forester's sword to one of them. Gareth stepped forward, now that Forester was disarmed, and Dieter retreated as silently as he had appeared. 

'It's a crying shame that you're going to end up like all the others after all that,' said Gareth. 'Oh well.' 

Gareth hit Forester in the stomach with a punch that sunk deep into his body and made his guts twist together like snakes. He doubled over clutching his abdomen. A string of spittle dribbled out of his mouth onto the tile floor as he struggled not to vomit. 

Gareth let go of Eva. She took two unsteady steps and sat down heavily on the floor. All his attention was on Forester now. He undid the clasp on his watch carefully and slipped it into his pocket. 

'Go on and lock the door,' he said.

Two of his enforcers peeled off and walked through the plastic curtained doorway at the other end of the room that led back out to the front entrance. 

'I was like you once,' said Gareth. 'I was a protector for a little bit, but I was smart. I got my training and got out. I didn't have any illusions about what I was doing. You're not saving the world or being a hero. You're doing a miserable job for miserable pay and being treated like dirt by everyone you meet. They'll tell you all this stuff about honour and duty, but face it kid, you're a servant.' 

Forester sunk to one knee. He was holding his stomach, waiting for the disabling waves of pain to subside. He felt like he was going to vomit and wondered if he'd see blood. 

'I'm honest,' he croaked. 

He wanted to say more, but a wave of nausea overwhelmed him. He clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself throwing up. 

Gareth barked out a laugh.

'You were poor and honest, and now you're going to be dead and honest. Call me crazy, but from where I'm standing, that sounds like a deal I'd kick to the curb.' 

Gareth motioned with his hand and one of his enforcers placed the handle of Forester's sword into his empty palm. He lifted it up and examined it under the light. 

'Not a scratch on the thing. I was right about you,' he looked down at Forester and gave him a grin that was part gameshow host and part salesman. 'How about we give this blade its first taste of blood?' 

He placed the tip of the sword against Forester's cheek and drew if slowly down his face. A droplet of blood swelled from the cut and left a streak of red down Forester's cheek. It reached his jawline and dripped on to the floor. Gareth left the point where it was for a moment, then Forester felt it move from his face to his neck. 

'Maybe you'll get lucky and wake up as me in another life.'

Forester closed his eyes. 

'Just make it quick.' 

Forester prepared for the sword to enter his neck, imagining the intense pain followed by the creeping darkness. He was thinking about his final, agonising moments, when suddenly his thoughts were torn apart by the sound of screaming. The scream echoed around the him, reflecting off the walls and ceiling until it filled the room. It was a disturbing, primal sound full of agony and fear. It ran down his spine like acid, but worst of all, it didn't stop. 

Forester opened his eyes, and for just a second he saw a flicker of fear in Gareth's face. 

'What the hell is that?'