The air was thick with the scent of dead leaves, and the bright orange trees stood out against the vast pink that was the sky. There was little life left in these woods, as winter gradually took over. The bears have started hibernating, the wolves search for new territory to hunt, the squirrels hide in the undergrowth. Slowly traipsing through these woods was a rather large boy, tall in stature, broad of shoulder, and quite rotund. His hair, thick and matted all over, was a deep brown, resembling the dark oaks nearby. He was rather scruffy looking, wearing what looks like a potato sack as a shirt, he leads a small party down a woodland trail.
The boy, his skinned stained grey from his chores, heads down the trail. Behind him are three other men, none as tall as the boy but all were armed with some form of bladed weapon. The tallest of the men was still a good 2 feet shorter than the boy, but was a head taller than the other two. He was thick, with a large upper body and long arms. His hair tied in a short ponytail that barely touches his neck. The smallest of the three was also the widest, with short, muscular arms and thick thighs. His hair was loose, reaching his lower back. The middle of the three was covered head-to-toe in leather armour, and a hood. He had no care for outward appearances, and as such the boy had no idea what he actually looked like. This boy was a slave to these men, sold at a young age, he only knew life as a slave.
“Come on boy!” the tallest of the three men shouted, “You’d better be leading us the right way, you want to eat tonight don’t you!”
“Aye he wants to eat,” said the shortest “Look at the size of him, he always wants to eat!”
The two men burst out with laughter, which echoes through the otherwise silent forest. The path leads down into a small valley, with long, and winding paths covered in moss. Walking through safely would require a snail's pace. Within this valley lay a stream that gives life to many vibrant plants at its edge. The boy points at the end of the valley, where a tree stump sits.
“It’s there” he says, in a rather monotone voice.
The men push past the boy, knocking him down into a small alcove of the valley.
“Try not to hurt yourself now, we ain’t got the copper to fix you up!” said the smallest man.
The three men walk towards the stump, and inspect the area around it. The stump sits upon solid basalt, no vegetation within a five-foot radius. The roots penetrate deep into the rock, splitting it in twane. The rings of the stump glow a dim amber, as if it’s constantly dripping sap. One of the men uses a dagger to dig a groove into the stump, only for it to snap against the wood.
“This is it boys!” he exclaims “We fucking found it!” The three men start congratulating each other, and hold each other close. They turn to the boy, who by now has stood up and awaited their next order.
“You better not have told anyone else ‘bout this you little shit! If I find out you ‘ave, then its your cock I’ll cut off next!” The boy winces at the thought, he had disobeyed the men three times in his life. The first, they cut his hair, a harmless act but they meant it as a warning. To be bald in this world means to have no power, hair is a status symbol, only Lords and Nobles can afford to have long, silky hair. The second time, they cut the lobes of his ears off, just to teach him a lesson. But the third time, that was what made him so obedient.
The boy was starved for a week, and had tried to sneak a small bite of bread away from the men. When they caught him, they tied him down and started slicing away at his stomach skin. Strip, by strip they slowly tore it off.
“We’re just making you lighter!” they would say as the boy tried to muffle his screams.
The boy had no name, he was referred to as just ‘Boy’. A young man now, of 22 years, plucked as a newborn to pay a debt, and sold to the highest bidder. A measly 4 copper pieces bought his life. Tiny as a baby, he grew to over 7 feet by the time he was 12, dwarfing even the Goliaths up north. Now standing at well over 8 and a half feet, he was a sight to behold. The men who bought him considered him a lucky token, and refused all offers to buy him, going as high as 10 gold.
“Listen boy, do you even know what we found?” the smallest says as he approaches the boy, pulling a fresh dagger out and pressing it against the boys neck. He has to reach well above himself to even get the blade close to his neck.
“No.” the boy replies, not even flinching. “Good, then you won’t know what to tell anyone.” the blade is pulled away, and sheathed. “We’re gonna be drinking tonight lads!”
The party returns to the camp, having marked the location of this valley. The men were private mercenaries, a sort of saboteur group, who specialise in sneaking into enemy encampments and destroying any supplies. But, they found bandit work more lucrative, and they only escaped punishment due to their indispensability as saboteurs. The boy did all the manual labour at the camp, setting up and packing away tents, cooking, cleaning, weapon and armour upkeep. Whilst the men did the ‘fun’ tasks, patrolling, hunting, executions.
The men partied until dark. Drinking, eating, bringing back prostitutes. All while the boy cooked their food, brought them more ale, carried off the unconscious women.
“Boy” the middle man said drunkenly “Come here.”
The boy approached, slouched over as to not make eye contact, “Yes?”
“Do you enjoy it here with us?” he said, slurring every word,
“Yes, of course I do.” the boy replied, sounding more monotone.
The man strikes the boy, punching him in his gut. The boy winces and falls to one-knee out of breath. The man stands up, the middle of the three. He was the quietest of the men, but the most bloodthirsty and aggressive. “Stand up boy!” he shouts.
The boy does as he is commanded, and stands up, still slouched over as to be less inviting to beatings. “Y-yes?” he says shakily.
“You know why we keep you around, and don’t just sell you on?” the man says, as the other two look on intrigued
“No, I don’t” the boy replies, regaining his composure,
“It’s because these two dumb-fucks think you’re a lucky charm!” the man laughs, “Hell, we don’t even tell you our names!”
The other two men join in on the laughter, they have owned the boy for over a decade, and he still doesn’t know their names. They continue to laugh, leaving tears in their eyes.
“Personally,” the man continues “I think that’s a pile of shit, but you’re a big lad, so we use you to carry stuff.”
“By big, we mean fat!” the smaller man chimes in which causes an even bigger uproar of laughter.
“How about this, for your years of loyal servitude, you can have one hit. Hmm?” the middle man said, silencing the other two. “You get to hit any one of us, once, anywhere you like, and we won’t do anything back.”
The other two men pause for a second, look at each other, and stand up.
“Are-are you sure?” the tallest one asks, “I mean, you don’t have to.”
“Oh yeah, I want him to.” the middle replies.
“No, I don’t want to.” the boy finally chirps up,
“Why not?” the small one asks “We hit you a lot, why not repay the favour?” his words also started to slur.
The three men slowly approached the boy, closing him in.
“Don’t you want to hit us, boy?”
“Yeah, boy, punch me.”
“Do it boy, let that anger out.”
The boy falls to his knees, his breath getting shorter and shallow. The men lean over him, crowding him, until he passes out.
The boy awakens, several hours later. Covered in orange, and brown leaves, he stays laying, looking up at the sky. The orange hue of the sunset mixing with the dying leaves. The boy listens to the sounds of nature, almost gone. A single bird chirps looking for a mate, some leaves rustle in the distance from some small creature scurrying to its home. It’s peaceful, and the boy revels in it.
The snap of a twig startles the boy, he jumps to his feet and starts his morning chores. Two of the three men passed out near their tents. He takes all their weapons and starts running a whetstone down their blades. These men had a penchant for sharp things, whether they be blades, drink, or tongues. The boy was a very fast learner, figuring out how best to sharpen blades without ruining their integrity. After the blades were sharpened, he would see to breakfast.
The boy knew nothing of life outside of this camp, even though the camp never stays in one place for long. The very few people he met looked at him with disdain, as if he was below them. But he was content, he was fed, clothed, and given shelter.
He skinned, gutted, and prepared yesterday's kill. A large elk, brought down by a dozen crossbow bolts. He inspected the elk, and said a sort of prayer for it. He knew of the Gods, but didn’t care for them. Breakfast was elk stew, with whatever vegetables he could find.
The third man re-appeared, bloodsoaked. “Boy!” he screamed “Get me some fucking ale now!”, his voice tearing at his throat. The boy ran, and gave him his ale. His shouts waking the other two.
“What the fu-” the smallest man started, but was stopped when he saw the bloodstained leather armour “Are we under attack?!” he reached for his knives.
“Fucking no! You think you’d be alive if we were! Some fucker was at the valley, so I had to deal with ‘im.” he said, giving the boy a glare.
“I didn’t tell anyone. I swear it.” the boy replies, kneeling. He normally did this stance when he told the utter truth. It prepared him for any beatings.
“Get the fuck up, and fix me.” The man revealed a stab wound on his left thigh.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The boy got up and grabbed whatever first aid was available, as the man slunked down and removed his leather leggings. The boy looked in awe as he saw more scars than skin. Slashes, punctures, even burns. The boy cleaned the wound best he could, and gave the man more ale. He started burning the wound, as the man screamed. Finally he sewed up the hole, almost 2 inches thick.
“You need a Meddyg to take a look.” the boy said, tying the thread off “I’m not trained enough to stop infection.”
“Fuck the Meddygs, thieving bastards will run us dry.” the man said, spitting at the boys feet
The tallest man finally chimes in with a hearty laugh, “Guess you’re glad we have the boy now!”, the smaller man laughs with him. The middle man gives them a glare before downing his ale.
“Fuck off boy, don’t just stand there staring. Where’s breakfast?”
“I just finished making it.” the boy gestures to the cauldron over the firepit
“Is it fucking stew, if its fucking stew I’m going to kill someone, I’m fucking sick of stew!” the man shouts.
The boy just stands there meekly, not knowing how to respond. The only meal he can make with the food they provide is stew, in fact the only meal he knows how to prepare is stew. The man limps over, grabs the spoon, and takes a mouthful.
“You know what, it’s not half-bad. You just saved yourself from another beating, boy.”
The boy breathes a sigh of relief, although he may be content with his living conditions he doesn’t like violence, in any way. He hasn’t had a proper beating in years due to his obedience.
“Any news about the capital?” the tall man asks.
“Nothing, the fat fuckers just keep to themselves.” the middle man replies, “No news from the north either, the druids took over a ruin but other than that no movement.”
“Which ruins? The fire one?” the smaller man chimes in, now interested.
“Yeah, stupid fuckers, they think theres some powerful book there, the guilds sent a party north to find out.”
Both men sit up, finally sober, and look tense.
“Wait, the guild recruited again?” the smaller man asks,
“Yeah, and even Gruffudd talked to the new recruits. Sent them personally I hear.”
The boy is sitting in his small tent, polishing the tall man's armour. He’s interested in this group they mention, and this Gruffudd.
“We’re a stone's throw from Coeden, why do you care about the north?” the tall man asks,
“That’s where they recruited, which means there’s more ‘northmen’ in the guild now.” he replies, emphasising ‘northmen’.
The ‘northmen’ are comprised of the more, non-human, looking races. Lizardfolk, Ddraigeni, Goliaths, and Orcs to name a few. The south is for more ‘normal’ races. Humans, Dwarves, Elves. These men are sometimes hired to ‘neutralise’ northern threats, and are particularly fond of killing these ‘northmen’.
“Ey, more work for us.” the smallest man says,
“Yeah, but less work for you. Lazy-shit.” both men reply, almost in perfect sync
A hearty laugh breaks out, and for a moment the boy seems almost happy. The laughter fades, as the men get up and eat.
“Boy!” the middle man shouts, “Tear the camp down, we’re moving today.”
“Yes, of course.” the boy replies.
It takes several hours to pack up the entire camp. They pile everything into, and onto one backpack, which the boy carries.
“We’re heading for that valley again.” The tall man says, “Lead the way.”
The boy heads off, his footing unsteady. The small man pushes the boy, causing him to tip over. The men break out into laughter again, but the boy says nothing. He picks himself up and cleans himself off.
It takes several hours to get to the valley, the boy theorises that it sits perfectly in the middle of the forest. The men stop about 500 metres away from the valley, and grab the boy by his rucksack.
“Wait here, we’ll give you the signal.” the middle man whispers, “And for fucks sake, be quiet.”
They shove the boy down behind a rock formation and quietly head out. The boy hears some rustling of leaves, some muffled screams, and blades being drawn. He sits, silently, almost praying.
About ten minutes pass, and he hears the howl of a wolf, the signal. He gets up and walks towards the valley, seeing many bodies strewn about, most in rough cloth. The three men await him at the mouth of the valley, a pile of swords, axes, and hammers at their feet.
“Think you can carry these?” the small man laughs, as he kicks the pile, spreading the weapons about.
“If I can bundle them together with rope, then yes.” the boy replies in a drone-like tone.
“You heard the boy, tie up the weapons!” the tall man says to the small man “and be quick about it!” The tall and middle man both chuckle as the small man picks up the mess he made.
“Help me boy!” he shouts
It takes a while to pack up the weapons, and put them on the boy, but they eventually manage it. The boy leads them down into the valley again. It’s extremely steep, with moss covering the footings. The walk isn’t very long, but it's treacherous, which causes anyone travelling there to move at a snail's pace.
Although the boy may seem lumbering and oafish, he is very quick on his feet and nimble. Well, for his size anyway. He hardly seems to be affected by the moss as he just walks down the path.
“Oi! Slow down for us, boy!” the tall man shouts, his voice echoing through the valley. The boy hadn’t noticed how far ahead he had gotten, a good 100 metres ahead. He takes a note of his surroundings and looks for anything noteworthy. He notices a hole nearby, about 4 inches wide, pitch black. He takes a stone and drops it into it. He hears the rock bounce of the edges for a good 5 minutes before it stops.
“Boy! We’re here now, so stop fucking about.” The small man grabs him by the shoulder
“It’s just over here, around that corner.” The boy replies.
The boy leads again, noting the steps he makes to the others, pointing out that there’s no moss where he steps. They finally make it back to the stump. It still glows amber, the mushrooms on the wall giving off a dim light. The stream is still running, but all the plants have either withered away, or just disappeared.
“Someone’s been here.” The boy notes, “The plants are gone.”
“They probably died, don’t be so fucking scared of everything.” The small man replies, as he steps forward. He’s stopped by the middle man.
“He’s right, look.” he points out an almost evaporated patch of water in the shape of a boot on the rock, “It’s not one of ours.”
The three men draw blades, the tall man uses a large greatsword that requires two hands to use. The small man prefers little blades, and lots of them. The middle man prefers a shorter, thicker blade, the perfect weapon for any scenario. The tall man steps forward, into a light beam from the cracked ceiling.
“There’s nowhere to hide in here, they must’ve scarpered.” he says, relaxing his guard.
“Even if you think there’s nowhere to hide, there’s always a place to hide.” the middle man replies, gesturing to raise his weapon.
The boy took a step back, and hid around the corner, both to keep watch and stay out of their way. He waits for several minutes, hearing the occasional step from his group.
“All clear!” the middle man shouts “Get your arse over here!”
The boy rushes back, seeing them all pushed up to the end of the narrow corridor.
“What’s the plan?” the small man asks “How’re we gonna get this out of here.”
“We don’t, we just need a little bit of it as proof.” the tall man replies, pulling out a chisel and hammer, “Watch, and learn.”
He places the chisel onto the stump, in between the flesh and bark. He takes the hammer and gives the chisel a little tap. Nothing happens. He taps it a bit harder. Still no effect, and so he uses all his might to slam the hammer into the chisel. The chisel snaps off at the handle, sending the metal bit flying into the stream.
“Watch, and learn he says” the small man laughs, “I watched, but what did I learn?”
“So, that rumours a fucking lie. I paid good silver for that. I’m gonna kill that fucking dwarf.”
“Oi, watch it now” the small man steps forward, “Don’t go talkin’ bout no dwarves now.”
The boy looked on questioningly. He had no idea what they were trying to do.
“What, you worried ‘bout the boy finding out?” The tall man replied.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” The small man says sharply.
“Both of you shut the fuck up, just get the job done.” The middle man chimes in.
“You got any ideas then?” The tall man asks pointedly towards the middle man.
“I heard that only tools of nature work, maybe something not metal?” He replies, almost intelligently.
The small man pulls out a flint knife, old, the sheath made of cracked, dirty leather. He steps towards the stump and tries to slice a bit of the bark off. The knife cuts through it like butter, and the bark falls into the tall man's hand.
“Good fucking job!” the middle man exclaims “We’re gonna be fucking rolling in it!”
“Let’s get the fuck out then.” the tall man puts the bark into a small leather pouch, then shoves it into the boys hands, “Take care of this, you lose it, you lose your life.”
This threat was different from every other the boy had endured, this wasn’t a threat just for the sake of it. This threat had meaning behind it. He made sure to squeeze the pouch with every ounce of strength he had, and not to let go.
They left the valley, going back the exact route they entered. Outside the valley they were met with a strange sight. All of the undergrowth had receded a metre, leaves and all. The bodies had also disappeared. The entrance to the valley had no vegetation near it.
“That’s fucking spooky, maybe we should put it back?” The middle man asked,
“Fuck that, we got this fair and fucking square, spirits be fucked.” The tall man replied,
“I’m with ‘im on this one.” The small man concurred.
The boy inspected around, and spotted movement in the corner of his eye. By the time he looked there was nothing, just silence. The forest was almost frozen in time. The air had cooled to a point where you could see their breath.
“I need some ale in me. Get us the fuck to a city boy.” The middle man grabs the boy by a shoulder and pushes him forward.
“The nearest city is Croeden, and it’s four hours west. The valley’s in the exact middle of the forest, we’re four hours away from everywhere.” The boy replies meekly.
“Four fucking hours?!” The middle man replied, “You mean to say, I have to go four fucking hours walking, with this limp?”
The boy started walking towards Croeden, and the men follow shortly behind. They had been in the valley for longer than they expected. The treacherous path causing a slow journey, the sun had begun to set halfway into their journey. Not a word uttered the entire way, apart from several grunts of pain. The air had cooled even more, causing the ends of their hair to freeze, and their body heat to steam.
“How long have we been walking?” The middle man asks, “My leg is on fucking fire.”
“Two and a half hours, we’re over half way there.” The boy replies, not even looking back.
“Fuck that, carry me. Both of you fucks.” The middle man gestures to the other men.
“Listen right, it’s your own fault for getting injured. Now deal with it, or be left behind.” The small man replies, continuing forward.
The boy stopped for a moment. He turned and walked towards the middle man.
“I’ll carry you, I can do it.” The boy said, as he took the backpack into his arms. “You can jump on my back.” He knelt.
The men stopped, the tall and small men laughed at the offer, but the middle man took him on it, and jumped on his back. “This way, we’ll make it in time for ale. Bastards.” the middle man said, as the boy walked forward.
This show of strength surprised the men. Although the boy is large, they all thought him weak, fat, and slow. In the last two days he had shown them how wrong they were. They continued forward through the forest, eventually hearing the sound of a bustling town.