The boy hit the ground with a thud. He spat out blood from the hit he had taken and was surprised that he lost none of his teeth.

His assailants waited for him to get up. There were three of them, older boys who demanded a cut of his earnings. They would rough him up but they wouldn’t kill him — or so he hoped.

It would have been easier to give them the money. Even if they took half, he would still have enough to get by for the day. Bending with the wind allowed trees to survive storms and hurricanes — but the men in front of him were not forces of nature.

He would bend — but he would snap back.

With his hands slightly open, he took a stance, turning his body slightly sideways and facing his assailants. He forced his eyes to focus on his attackers’ torsos instead of their eyes, allowing him to react to their blows more efficiently.

The older boys were drawing things out. They were waiting for him to succumb to his fears and just give in. He could feel his heart beating faster and blood pulsed in his temples. Now was the time.

He charged the nearest person, screaming as he did so. He ducked under the expected punch and grabbed the older boy’s right leg. Lifting him an inch from the ground and pushing would be enough to make him fall — but not stop.

The boy lifted him over his shoulders and let him fall. Slamming him to the ground would have been better, but it also took a bit of strength and time — both of which he had little of.

A kick to the groin followed by a knee to the head took out another one — but his flurry of attacks left him exposed to the third attacker.

The boy’s neck snapped sideways from the heavy punch he took. It left him dazed on the ground unable to regain his balance.

The kicks began momentarily. The boy curled up to protect his body but the damage was accumulating. He would not be able to hold on for long. Even then, he felt his consciousness slowly slipping.

“Get him up.”

He heard a deep voice command the others. It was probably Wolf. He wasn’t the biggest of the group but he was the oldest and the one in charge. The boy never bothered to learn the names of the other two. He was never planning on staying in the city anyway.

Wolf was bleeding from a wound on his head from the fall. The boy could almost grin, knowing his first attack took out the leader of the group.

The biggest of the three held him up — locking his arms above his head and holding on two his neck. The boy replayed the scene over and over in his mind. This would be the eighth time he would be beaten.

The first punch landed on his side. Pain exploded as he felt his ribs crack. Wolf was hitting harder than usual — perhaps due to the embarrassment of getting thrown to the ground by someone smaller than him.

A blow to the stomach had him wincing in pain and gasping for air. There was a determined look on the older boy’s face and a malevolent glint in his eyes.

The next punch was aimed at his face — it was the one he was waiting for. The boy turned his head downward, receiving the blow on his skull. He heard a satisfying crack as Wolf broke his hand.

The jolt from the blow loosened the grip of the boy holding him. Tired and beaten, he turned and bit his captor’s bicep — tearing off a small chunk of flesh and gaining him his freedom.

Now would be a good time to run.

The boy shook his head. If he ran now, he would be running all his life — which would probably only last a year or two if he didn’t manage to make a name in the city or leave it entirely.

He took a deep breath, trying his best to recover from his ordeal. The attacks would come soon — and harder. Wolf would want to make an example of him. He would be lucky if he was able to walk after this.

His assailants attacked. The biggest one charged while the two moved to flank him.

The boy accepted the fact that he might not survive the encounter. He was prepared to die — but he would take at least one of them with him.

He met the charging boy with a charge of his own. Time seemed to slow down. It didn’t make him any faster — but it gave him more time to think and react. He could also see details more clearly.

The boy noted a slight imbalance to his attacker’s gait, slightly favoring his right foot. It wasn’t much, but he took the risk. He turned his body as he ran, twisting into a kick as the older boy’s left foot landed on the ground.

The kick struck his attacker’s shin, making him lose his balance. The boy was disappointed that he didn’t hear the sound of breaking bone.

His attack gave the two other boys a chance to flank him. Somehow, Wolf managed to find a thick branch and was now swinging it like a club. That was a big problem.

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He turned to flee — only for the other boy to block his path. He charged at the boy, but the boy took his charge defensively — buying time for Wolf.

The swinging branch struck the side of his head. The boy was surprised he managed to stay conscious — and living, for that matter.

It didn’t matter. It would all be over soon. He could feel his life slipping away as death came to take him.

“Any one of you know a decent cobbler?”

The boy turned to the voice, thinking it was a delusion. He often heard one’s life flashed before you as you died. He always wondered how people knew that without dying themselves. All he had was a delusion and a strange question.

“I need proper shoes. The kind that could last for more than a year or two.”

It wasn’t a delusion. He could barely make out a man wearing black robes. He was barely past his teens and he had a strange look on his face — like he was tired or bored. A wizard? Their kind hardly left their towers or guildhall. Why would one be here now?

The man’s presence made the others stop. They seemed frightened of the man or something about him. Wolf and the other boy flanking him were frozen in fear. He couldn’t see his largest assailant. He probably fled the moment the wizard arrived.

“You’re an interesting one,” the man stooped low to stare at him. “If you can find me a decent cobbler, I’ll make it worth your while.”

The boy spat a mouthful of blood. He could feel death’s embrace coming for him. It would be soon.

“Two streets further, turn right,” he barely managed a whisper. “Theisen should meet your needs. His shop is near the tailor’s you won’t miss it.”

The boy closed his eyes, satisfied that his last act was helping the wizard.

“Get up now. You won’t be dying any time soon.”

He felt himself being lifted to his feet. He could barely stand but he was standing.

“Can you walk or do you need to— Ah, excuse me, can I have this?”

The strange wizard took the branch from Wolf’s frozen hands and gave it to him — gesturing to use it as a crutch or cane.

The boy was confused and slowly getting frustrated. His body was aching all over and he was bleeding from a head wound. How long did it take for people to die?

He mustered the strength to walk with the wizard, guiding him to the cobbler’s shop. Their visit lasted a few minutes, with the wizard detailing his needs to the cobbler.

It seemed like he wasn’t dying — at least not that day.

Afterward, they went to a nearby inn. The owner protested at first, but the wizard offered him five gold coins for a week’s accommodation and meals.

The boy wanted to tell the wizard that he would probably get kicked out a day after, regardless of how much he paid. The owner would simply pocket the money and throw out the trash.

If this was what he meant by making it worth his while — then the wizard was a bit naive. Then again, a proper roof and a meal or two in exchange for directions wasn’t a bad deal.

After a short meal, the wizard came up with him to his room. The boy was a bit wary — but his sponsor didn’t seem to be the type who preyed on boys.

“I said I would make it worth your while,” the wizard smiled. “I intend to keep that promise. But before that, do you have a name?”

“They call me sticks,” the boy replied.

“That’s quite apt,” the wizard laughed.

He took out something from his robes. The boy expected a pouch of coins or perhaps something valuable — he didn’t expect a dagger.

“Live through the night and your life should start anew.”

Before the boy could react, the wizard plunged the knife into his kidney. He fell to the ground, twitching in pain with the dagger still lodged in his side.

The boy looked up to glare at the wizard. He was surprised to see that there was no satisfaction or contempt in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel better in the morning. Oh, you can have the dagger.”

The boy gritted his teeth in anger as he watched the wizard close the door behind him as he left. Oddly, the feeling of death dwindled with the wizard’s departure.

He would remember the wizard’s face. If he survived the night, he would return what the wizard did to him twice over.

The night passed slowly. It felt like an eternity before the sun came up. The boy held up his hands, surprised to see the dagger. He couldn’t even remember pulling it out — his mind full of thoughts of how to get his revenge on the wizard.

***

Sticks stared at the dagger in his hand, remembering his encounter with the wizard who he now knew was called the Scourge.

It was eight years ago. Meeting the wizard changed the course of his life — giving him direction. Now, he was a veteran of many battles. He went up against soldiers, orcs, ogres, and wyverns — surviving each encounter and growing stronger.

No wizard could possibly kill him now — not even the Scourge.

His search for the wizard led him to many cities, but it was in Forge where he found traces of the wizard.

He didn’t even need to search hard. There were talks of a wizard that matched his description in the city — especially his unmistakable aura of death.

Sticks ran a finger across the dagger’s edge, remembering the feeling of having it thrust in his gut. At first, he thought the dagger was magical — but it was just an ordinary dagger that could be bought from any weaponsmith.

Still, it was the Scourge’s dagger. He awaited the day when he would return it to the wizard and pay him back for the lesson at the inn.