Dead by claw

Darkness descended onto the land and evil lurked everywhere. Or so it seemed, at least, in the imagination of the small boy wielding his sword. It was a simple wooden sword, one every small boy would have. One day however he would inherit his fathers sword and Dukedom.

“How are you feeling, my boy?” the man walking up to him said. “Practicing your sword again? I’ll ask your father tomorrow if we can’t start real lessons.” The man ruffled his hair and moved towards the doorway leading out of the small courtyard. Rounding the corner, he walked down the corridor. Upon passing a statue, he heard faint clicking. He stopped. Looking around, he didn’t notice anything out of place.

‘I must be getting paranoid.’ He thought. ‘This business is getting to me. Oh well, the palace is safe. If anything gets through its defenses we might as well quit now.’ He continued walking. At first he hadn’t noticed it, but now he could hear a faint sound. It almost sounded like laughter. He stopped again and searched the hall. He found nothing. The sound steadily grew to a hysterical laugh, filling the entire hall.

"Guards! Where are the damn hall guards? Guards!" he shouted. A slow but sure response echoed through the hall.

“Humans bright and shiny, their blood red and warm. They said ‘oh… blimy’ and sounded no alarm.” A hysterical cackle followed the erie rhyme.

“Show yourself! Guards!” The man began running through the hall. He skidded to a halt when he saw a sword lying uselessly on the floor.

“Guards!” he called again. Muttering a curse under his breath, he turned round to run back to his Baron’s son, when he felt something. He looked at his hand and saw a tiny mark. A small drop came down on his upturned hand. Almost not daring to look he turned his eyes upward. He barely had the time to jump aside as something thudded into the ground where he had stood. He recognized it as having been one of the guards. He ran for the small boy.

Nearing the door, it fell shut in front of his eyes.

"Take that, you foul animal!" the young boy cried out as he plunged his sword at an imaginary foe. The boy sighed as he climbed up a small wall and sat down. He wished something would happen. Knowing little of his fathers' struggle, he knew he fought evil. Dabaren, his instructor had said to him that his father waged war on his evil enemies. He thought it unlikely that they were any kind of threat.

“After all, " he thought out loud, “everyone knows evil is stupid.” In his little mind he felt some words.

“I beg to differ…” A moment later a thin red line appeared cutting across the boy’s throat.

The life of a small child still draining away, a creature as dark as night itself appeared out of nowhere.

“How foolish you all are.” it said. It whiped it’s claw on a piece of a shirt and left. With terror the boy recognized his fathers shirt, as he lost consciousness for the last time.