The first thing Mason saw hard of the town was fire. Houses, workplaces, stables, and the Home of the Giftless were all on fire. But it wasn’t just buildings, the fire was consuming people as well. It was a terrible sight. For some, it was just their clothes on fire, and they were rolling on the ground to put the fire out. But for others, it was much worse. At the entrance of the town, there was a man, or there used to be one. There was a pair of legs lying on the ground and where the rest of the body should be, there was just ash.
Intermingled sounds rang out from the battle as Mason entered the town. No not the battle, in a battle there was some chance that both sides could win. This was a slaughter. Bodies were strewn about the ground with bloody holes in their chests.
Mason ran to the Home of the Giftless to see what remained of his home. Mason was surprised when he found the body of one of the soldiers halfway through the doorway. Mason inspected the man to see what could have possibly caused him to fall. Mason could only find one oddity from the continuous solid purple. On the side of the soldier's helmet was a dent. It was in the shape of a common household cooking essential. A frying pan.
“Looks like my adopted ma was able to do something to these soldiers,” Mason said to himself. “I bet the soldier wasn’t expecting for a pudgy, giftless, old woman to be able to wield a frying pan with so much ferocity, and skill.” Mason had to admit even though he had never liked the Mother of the Giftless, he cheered at the thought that she had dropped a soldier with only a frying pan. That was something that so far no one else with a better weapon had been able to do.
Mason only feared one thing. After the Mother of the Giftless had killed one of the soldiers, did they now see her as a threat, and if they did how many had come after her? Mason walked inside and found his answer.
Next to the wash bin was the fearless Mother of the Giftless, but she was no longer pudgy, the soldiers had been ruthless. Her limbs were strewn across the floor, and half of her body was in the wash bin. But on her face was a triumphant grin.
Mason closed his eyes at the sight. He did not expect himself to be sad at her passing, but tears leaked through his closed eyes. She was the only mentor he had known, and while she had not been kind, she had provided him with food and shelter. But beneath the sadness was an ugly anger. He would find who has killed his adopted mother, and slay them.
Mason walked over to the soldier who got a frying pan in the head. His sword was discarded a couple of feet away from him. How poetic, Mason thought. He would get to kill a man with his fallen comrade’s sword.
Mason grabbed the leather-wrapped hilt and lifted the sword off the ground… about one inch high. It was way too heavy for a There was no way he would be able to hold this sword up for even five seconds. So Mason walked out the door with a hilt in his hand, and a blade dragging behind him. That wasn't very poetic. Especially with the blade gouging a half-an-inch deep line into the ground.
By the time Mason was out of the Home of the Giftless, the slaughter had moved on more towards the middle of the town. He sighed. He would have to drag the sword into the middle of the town. But it would be worth it.
Mason walked about 500 yards and was again on the edge of the battle. Even though Mason was now carrying a sword, every single soldier still ignored him. He would make sure that they could no longer think of him as useless. Mason picked a soldier who was slowly walking towards children huddled up next to a house. Every time the children whimpered, the soldier’s smile just got bigger.
Mason started walking towards the soldier, but he was now exhausted. Dragging a sword that is almost your same weight really tires someone out. Especially when you have been malnourished your entire life and have stick-like arms.
When the two children saw Mason coming their eyes lit up, and he got a good look at their faces. They were siblings, probably. One was a boy, about 10 years old Mason assumed. He had electric blue eyes and bright blond hair. The other person was not quite a child as Mason had first assumed. It was a girl, probably around 16. She had the same electric blue eyes as her brother, but unlike him, her hair was a different color. It was as white as snow. Masons could no longer remember how to breathe.
No reason to get attached, Mason. He reasoned with himself. She’ll probably just be killed anyway. With that thought, Mason was able to take a breath again, and there was another problem. The soldier had noticed that the kid's attention had gone to something behind him. Turning around the soldier looked at Mason, then to the sword, then back to Mason. He then let out a barking laugh.
“You think this kid is going to save you?” The soldier laughed, pointing at Mason. “Aaah that's hilarious. Do you think a giftless midget who can’t even lift the sword he has is going to threaten me? Wow, your gift of intelligence must’ve been backward, because I could swat him like a fly.” The soldier paused before he said one last thing. “Since you're a little giftless kid I thought you might want to know that I killed your pudgy little giftless mother
The children looked depressed again, and everyone went back to ignoring Mason. But Mason himself just got angry. What luck! The first soldier he came across was just the one he wanted to kill. Mason grinned.
He lifted his sword off the ground to stop it from making a sound, then he ran for the soldier. With each step, Mason’s anger burned hotter. Right behind the soldier, Mason brought up his sword, but before he could swing, the soldier struck. Not at the two kids, but at Mason. The soldier’s sword moved faster than he could track. Though the sword was moving quicker than Mason could react, his anger still burned hot, and for a moment it touched something beyond the world.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
The world darkened in Mason’s eyes, and the sword slowed, not a lot but enough. But not just the sword, everything around him seemed to have slowed down. There was no time to analyze this sensation, the sword was on him. Mason ducked, and he saw the soldier's eyes widen in surprise. Not giving him time to recover, Mason heaved with all the strength that he possessed and swung.
The darkness fled, and the world resumed at its normal pace as the sword passed through the soldier’s body. There was no resistance as the sword passed through bone, armor, and flesh alike. The two halves of the soldier’s body fell to the ground with a thump. The little boy applauded.
“Ha! How’s that for giftless!” Mason shouted and looked at the kids. The little boy looked delighted and very happy that he still existed. The girl on the other hand looked terrified, but she was not looking at Mason. Instead, her gaze was traveling around the town. Looking around as well Mason noticed something that he had not before. All the sounds of battle were gone. The screams were dying down, the sound of swords clanging was gone, and the maniacal laughs had ceased. All the soldiers of King Gathoric had stopped looking at their prey, they were all looking at him.
“Oh boy!” Mason said, “That is not good.”
Then the soldiers all sprang into action. Everywhere he looked all Mason could see was soldiers running towards him. The anger that had helped Mason to kill a soldier was gone. Now there was only icy terror. Mason hurriedly looked around for any chance that he might escape. Looking and looking, he could see no escape. Mason cursed himself for his rash decision. His status as giftless is what kept all the soldiers from killing him, but now that he proved that he could harm them, they would come for him.
Not giving up trying to find a way to escape. The soldiers were circling in now, but there was one gap. In the distance, Mason could see a soldier hobbling along. It was favoring its right leg, someone had injured it. Mason dashed towards the gap hoping he would be fast enough. The soldiers kept on closing in, but Mason kept on running. The terror that cursed through him kept him moving at speeds that he had never gone before, besides when getting dragged behind carriages.
Finally, Mason’s little twig legs threw him through the gap of the soldiers, and further. The soldiers were still right behind him. Running with a speed that Mason was sure no man had ever reached he continued onwards. The only thing keeping him going was the knowledge that if he slowed down for one fraction of a second a sword would pierce through his heart.
Mason ran and ran through the town, always barely staying ahead of the soldiers. But terror alone is not enough to keep someone running forever, especially someone like him, and his legs soon began to tire. When he first began to flag, a blade slashed at his back, creating a thin line that began to bleed.
Trying to come up with a plan, Mason knew he would just have to throw himself through a door as he went around a corner. But his tired legs would have to keep him up until a street corner, and the next one was still about 10 yards away which seems like miles on rubbery legs. But he would have to make it to survive.
At about 15 feet from the corner Mason increased his pace. He thought he might pass out from exhaustion when finally the corner came. He threw himself around the corner of a seemingly random house, but a nice perk about living in the same town all your life is that you know everything about it. The house that Mason had thrown himself in front of had a door right next to the corner. Mason ran through the open door and hid himself behind the door frame just as the wave of soldiers came around the corner. All the soldiers ran past the house in a stampede but paused as the first few soldiers had stopped.
They had noticed that he was gone much too quickly. Mason had hoped for at least another minute of running soldiers so that he could find somewhere to hide in the house. The house that he had chosen was the property of an old couple, and he had been rented by these people before, so he knew that there were many places to hide in this house. Though death was imminent, Mason allowed himself a moment to breathe, but it took all his concentration not to fall over or vomit all over the floor from too much physical exertion.
“Check the four closest houses for the boy, and once you do, kill him,” Mason heard the king say. “If you don’t find him, burn the houses, wait for him to come out. And if he doesn’t just come back to me, and we will finish off the rest of the town.”
Mason could hear the soldiers splitting up to find him. Outside the house that Mason was in, soldiers grouped up and headed for him. Having no time to find a new hiding spot, Mason just pressed himself against the edge of the doorway, for once being grateful for his colorless clothes and small frame. As the soldiers entered the home of the old couple, Mason closed his eyes and willed himself to disappear, to vanish into the darkness. Once again his desperate will touched something beyond the world, and a tingling sensation came over him.
The soldiers looked around the hallway that the door led into. Mason didn't move. He stopped his longs and kept his eyes shut tight, nothing moved. He wasn’t even sure if his heart was beating. All while waiting for a blade to take off his head or pierce his stomach. Nothing ever came.
Mason heard the soldiers looking around the house for him. They broke plates, furniture, and windows. Mason could hear them eating some of the old couple’s food. But he didn’t move. Once the soldiers had left the house Mason let out a sigh of relief and sank to the floor. The soldiers had closed the door on their way out, so he didn’t have to worry about being seen through the doorway.
He let himself sit there for a few minutes just relishing the fact that he was still alive. But he knew he was in trouble when he smelled smoke. Mason let out a groan and cursed himself for forgetting that they were going to burn the houses. But all he had to do was go out a used-to-be window and hide behind the house in the small spaces between houses. For the second time in minutes, Mason was glad for his skinny frame, which was the only reason that he could fit between houses.
The soldiers started burning the homes, but only the roofs were flammable. The rest of the house was made of dried mud. So Mason did have to breathe in smoke, but not enough to be dangerous. It would have been much worse if he was still inside the house where all the smoke was trapped.
Once the fire was out, the soldiers had left, and the sounds of battle could no longer be heard throughout the town, did Mason go inside a house and lay on a cot.
“This is nice,” he murmured to himself as he drifted into a fitful sleep after a long day of pain.