[Erevan Burkwood][Session 2 - Level 1][Part 1]

[Erevan Burkwood] sat in deep snow, bundled in fur clothing, as tears streamed down his face. His curly black hair whipped in the frosty wind along with ash and embers. Blood slowly trickled from a cut across his cheek, it was fresh, and it was stained black.

Before him was his father’s workshop and it was burning down. Inside were the experiments of his father and the siege weapons they crafted. Along with three bodies of hunters. Out in the snow blood seeped into the earth. One body lay nearby with a huge hole punched through the heavy armor they wore. Another body was further behind, pinned to a tree by a ballista bolt.

Next to the teen lay the corpse of his father. He slowly removed his fathers helm. An iron casing with slits for eyes and a brim above them to keep snow out of his vision. Erevan’s body tensed and he ground his teeth as he saw the blank and open eyes of his father.

“I’m sorry Dad,” Erevan said, “I won’t let the Burkwoods die.”

Erevan pulled on his father’s helm before he moved away from his corpse. He headed to his sled, already loaded with the equipment they took hunting. Both ballistae were knocked off the cart in the explosion.

The teen set up one ballista finding it in an irreparable condition, damaged, and singed. He let it fall back into the snow before he moved on to the next one. The other wasn’t damaged nearly as much. It would still work.

He muttered an incantation, his muscles in his shoulders glowed a dull blue for a second before the magic faded into the flesh. The spell lightened the load for Erevan as he grabbed the reins of the sled and dragged it away from the property.

Erevan took one last look at his childhood home where his father had raised and trained him. There was little left for him here and no safety from The Hunters if they discovered what happened. His best chance was leaving now and getting as much distance as possible.

Burkwood looked up at the sun above him and the surrounding mountains. He pointed his finger at the sky and brought it down in what he hoped was towards the nearest town. With a clear direction in mind he started his journey.

Erevan dragged his sled across the snowy wastes. He could feel the cold stinging his face, ice crystals forming at the corners of his eyes, as he remembered why he was crying in the first place it all came back to him. He gripped his fists tight on the sled, pulling it forward, he screamed out in anguish.

The young man sniffled, on the verge of a breakdown, Erevan made it to the edge of the forest. He couldn’t feel his legs nor his face. There wasn’t any time to stop though, if he kept moving it would keep him warm enough.

Erevan navigated through the forest. He pulled his sled around trees and across flattened snow. Many of the trees were knocked over, branches snapped off of others, and scars left through the land. Something large, or several things, had come through the forest.

He knew there was a reason this area in particular was called The Giant’s Forest. It was the quickest route, and the teen knew his odds of survival were extremely low if he took the werewolf infested pass, the giant filled forest, or attempted to cross the undead and yeti riddled mountains. There was not a single decent choice.

Traveling through the icy lands, Burkwood arrived at a low stone wall, and sighed with relief seeing it was not Giant sized. He found an entrance and explored what was protected by the wall. There was a pool of water with steam rising off of it, a natural hot spring, and it didn’t take long for Erevan to start stripping down.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Burkwood rested his body in the spring, relaxing. Spreading his arms against the stone as he closed his eyes. His muscles ached and bruises had formed across his nose, left eye, and around his shoulders.

Something crawled across his left side. Erevan opened one eye, careful not to move. A purple and black centipede curled down, crawling across his chest, inspecting him. Erevan’s eyes darted to the stinger at the end of the bug. This creature in particular couldn’t kill him, but would cause extreme swelling if it stung him.

The young man closed his eyes gently and concentrated on the bug. Allowing his mind to clear, he attempted to detach his mental connection to the ballista, but the arcane bond his father had made on it proved strong.

Erevan barely pushed through the bond, felt his telekinetic power grip the centipede, and squeeze. Green blood squirted across the area as the bug was crushed. Erevan sunk into the hot spring’s water to wash himself off.

“I’m not going to start talking to myself.” Erevan said to himself.

His thoughts were swamped and this was the first time he has ever felt truly alone. He had never left the homestead without his father. Now there was no telling what awaited him.

He stepped out of the springs, muttered an incantation, and a blue light shimmered across his body drying him in an instant. He put his clothes on in a hurry, worried he’d freeze to death otherwise.

Burkwood entered The Giant’s Forest once more and continued traveling. The forest became sparser and sparser as he walked. He heard a distant rumbling, knowing it must be one of them, the giants.

The teen finally exited the woods and started to pull his sled through a marsh. The travel was slower as he navigated around bodies of ice. There was no telling how much weight they can hold and how deep the water below would be.

Stepping through some tall reeds, Burkwood heard a metal click before the teeth of a bear trap slammed around his leg. One of the teeth broke off, another bent, as they hit the front metal plate above his ankle. The teeth in the back sunk through the leather padding into his flesh.

Burkwood let out a scream before he bit down on his sleeve. Tears streamed down his face as he slowly bent down. He could feel himself twitching from the pain, but managed to pull the trap open. He pulled his leg out of it before tossing the trap to the side.

The teen fell back on his ass in the mud. His hands hovered around the wound for a second as he tried to look at how bad it was. Pulling his hands away he crawled back to the sled and dug into a hunters pack.

Erevan unsheathed a hunting knife and cut the back of his greave off and peeled away the pant leg. He tied a tourniquet above the injury, easily tying it tight enough, before grabbing a canteen of alcohol. He poured it on the wound and let out a stifled cry. He pressed a mesh to the wound until the bleeding started to slow. He threw the mesh aside, pressed gauze pads to it, and then wrapped his leg in a tight bandage.

He pulled out a splint his father had prepared and slipped it on. He slipped the tourniquet off, feeling certain he wouldn't lose the leg. He tightened it before standing. Having lost his concentration he recast the spell to lighten his load. The teen continued to pull his sled and pressed on through the marsh though his progress was slowed.

“I’m over this already.” Erevan muttered to himself.

He began to limp, the blood around his wound had frozen. The skin was turning blue, but Erevan kept marching on despite the pain. Erevan felt as if he would have to make camp to rectify the situation before it killed him.

Erevan stayed in the marsh resting for the night. Having found a spot hidden in the reeds, with enough space for him to light a campfire, and throw down a bedroll. He set to work unpeeling the bandage once it had dethawed by the fire. He washed it again with some clean water, reapplied the bandages, and spoke softly.

“Dad, if you are out there watching, don’t let me die because of idiot Hunters laying traps out in the middle of fucking no where. Sorry I cursed.” He sighed once he was done.

The teen found himself squirming into his bedroll. He got as close as he could to his campfire. And in the dark winter night he fell asleep staring up at thousands of stars that were looking down at him.