Azken and Yuria pounded down back alleyways and side tunnels, pulling each other around bends and corners. They ran until Azken’s legs burned with strain and his breath came in long, ragged gulps. He could walk long distances, or climb mountain paths with ease, but running was not his strength. Once they were far away from prying eyes and securely in the secluded dark that was the heart of the market Azken stopped Yuria and sat on an abandoned store’s stoop. He gulped down the stale air of the empty section and looked around. The old heart of the market district, the location in which they found themselves, had been abandoned shortly before Azken’s birth with the founding of the new plaza. The plaza itself was constructed off of a main tunnel which ran from the primary gates of the city to the mines and royal halls where the king received diplomats and guests. All the business had gone, leaving the former heart dark and pulseless. Yuria didn’t seem phased by their run and was eagerly looking from storefront to storefront trying to figure out what each one had been while it was open based on the sign out front. He decided to focus on her current state rather than his own,

“How is it,” he gasped, still slightly short of breath, “That you are fine despite our little sprint,” he noted her short legs and felt the lingering burn in his own, “while I feel like falling if I take another step?” she thought for a moment then hopped in close,

“Pa- I mean my father and I are always running outside.” She puffed up her chest and squinted, holding one hand in front of her mouth in a mockery of a beard and mustache. “We are alone out here young Yuria,” she said in a deep voice, “We must be prepared to run from whatever threatens us.”

“Alone? Did you not travel with a caravan?”

“No, it was just father and I, the cart and ram.” Azken was aware of the dangers which lurked within the forests separating each mountain city. He had heard tales from the caravans who sold his father’s product in foreign lands, tales of the fearsome bandits and raiders who would assault and slaughter anyone unprepared to weather their attacks. To travel in a well ordered and defended caravan was one thing but alone, unheard of.

“That is quite shocking to hear.” He took a deep breath and stood up. Somewhat unsteady at first, then he recovered his footing. “I cannot stay in the city, there is no telling when the guard will come looking for me. If you and your father are not planning on leaving by dawn, I don’t think I will be able to accompany you.”

“We will be able to leave at dawn.” She looked up at him, her eyes matching his, “You put yourself into this position to save me, I must repay that.” She looked down and stood for a moment before placing one hand over her heart, “I swear it here, upon the name of my father, so long as you stand, I will be your ally. Until that time as I have repaid the debt I owe you, I will always have your back.”

“I take it your father taught you the weight that such an oath holds young Yuria?”

“He has. I am prepared to do what it takes to fulfill it.”

“Then I have no reason to deny you. Go to your father and tell him that I...” He trailed off, now aware of the weight of the agreement he had just made. A life debt was not easily negated, much less one which caused the savior so much trouble. It also occurred to Azken that he was unsure of where to go next.

“I will tell him to be ready by dawn, and that you will be joining us.”

“Thank you, and where should I meet you at that time?”

“We are staying at The Gate Side near the north gate and the stables.”

“I will see you two then, do you know how to get back to a main tunnel?”

“I can follow the path we took here.”

“Good, keep your hood up and head down.” Yuria ducked back into the darkness of the tunnel they had come from and disappeared around a bend. Azken hoped she would make it back unbothered. He felt the events of the past hour dawning on him and pushed them from his mind, holding the thoughts at bay with action. He stripped off his shirt, once a fine sign of his family’s wealth now dyed poorly with blood. It was tossed aside and Azken set about searching for something else to wear. He went from empty building to empty business, finding nothing but broken boxes and discarded waste. After the fourth such building, he came across a forgotten curtain half hanging from a barely secured rod. He pulled until the last of the fastenings came free of the wall with a pop and draped the curtain around himself in a crude imitation of a traveler’s cloak. He set out, taking a different set of tunnels to find his way home. He took great care to disguise his appearance the best he could and entered the main tunnels near home. It was the affluent part of the city, with guards patrolling the main thoroughfares and well-maintained engraved stones for those paths. Azken slipped past the guards with ease, he had spent enough time in his youth sneaking out to know when and where they would be, and skulked around a corner to the front of his family’s home. The tension which had kept him released as he slipped through the door. He collapsed against the back of it, shutting it quietly and alerting a house guard to his presence.

“Mister Azken,” the guard addressed him, “I didn’t expect you to be back so late.”

“Sorry for dropping in without warning Welter, has anyone come by looking for me?” Welter had once been a mercenary from Falken. He had saved Raf from a poor attempt on his life and belongings one night and earned permanent employment in the house.

“Your brother questioned if you had arrived when he stopped by, and your mother was concerned you would not make it for dinner.”

“Have I made it in time for dinner?”

“Yes, they should be sitting down to eat soon. Your father arrived just before you did.”

“Thank you, Welter, I’ll be down after I stop by my room for a moment. And one last favor, could you leave the armory unlocked? I need to gather some things.”

“From the armory? Are you planning to go to war?”

“Not quite, but I still have need of arms.”

“Understood sir, I will see it done.” Azken walked up the stairs and into his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and plopped his face into his pillow. He let the feelings he had suppressed come out and let them wash over him in waves. First was the shame of the killing, then the pride in protection. These two, shame and pride, fought for dominance in his mind, each one gaining supremacy before being dragged down by the other. This back and forth was interrupted by a third force, cold hard logic. It had been in self-defense, they were new hires and not essential for anything yet, they attacked his employer, they attacked a child. Azken lifted his head off the pillow and put on a fresh shirt, his face locked in a mask of stone. He would not regret his deeds, as there was no way to undo them. He would not stay and face punishment as he had been in the right. Azken went to the dinner table and sat next to his brother on one side. His father sat at the head of the table while his mother sat at the other end. The keg of Bowson’s Cross sat unbreeched in the corner with a spout and hammer sitting on a small side table next to it. Marten was the first to speak.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Azken, I’m glad to see you back and well, how did you fare after that fight in the plaza?” Raf was first to respond,

“Fight, what's this about a fight? Did you get hurt? Did you hurt anyone?” His mother, Ironea, was next. She stood up to get a better look at Azken

“You didn’t injure yourself, did you? Come here let me look at you.” Azken put his hand up at stop their questions and took a moment before responding,

“I got into a fight with some off-duty soldiers in the plaza. I killed one and got another killed.”

“You what? Son, you must turn yourself in.”

“He did not start the fight father,” Marten came to his defense, “The soldiers were attacking a young lady.”

“Then the court will judge it as such and let him off with a light sentence. To not face judgement would bring shame down upon the family.”

“I will not be staying to face judgement, father, I will be leaving the city.”

“Leaving the city? Where will you go? How will you live?”

“I found work as a guard for a cart heading north, I will be gone tomorrow.”

“Think of the family, think of the company, you cannot just leave”

“Dear, your father and I want what's best for you.”

“And what is best for you, son, is turning yourself in to the guard.” He slammed his fist down on the table, “Not running off to die in the woods between two cities like a common mercenary.” Azken slammed both hands on the table and sprang from his seat, he felt the blood pounding in his ears,

“What's best for me is up to me to decide. It certainly isn’t sitting in a jail cell or being executed, and it certainly isn't taking over the company.” His father recoiled, then rose to match him knocking over his soup bowl in the process. Both stood face to face over the table, Raf shouted back

“What's the company got to do with this, did all of this have something to do with our talk earlier?”

“No, it has been a much longer time coming.” Azken turned away from the table and began to walk away, “Marten, tell them the plan once I am gone. Although the timing and reason for my departure have changed, the end goal remains the same. Mother I am sorry for raising my voice.” He walked out of the dining room and made his way to the armory. The door had been left unlocked, so he let himself in. Azken took a chain shirt and some leathers as well as a shield and helmet. He looked at the dusty collection of axes, all emblazoned with the family crest, and turned away, returning to his room to get some rest. He stuffed the armor in a traveling bag along with some clothing and other personal effects before strapping it to the shield and setting the whole set by the door. Although he lay in bed no sleep would come to him. After around half an hour he heard a knock at the door.

“Azken, son, it's hard for me to say this, doubly so through a door. Can I come in?” He sat up as the door opened and Raf stepped into the room with something wrapped in a cloth in hand. “I talked things over with your mother, I also spoke with your brother but you two never got along well, did you. It feels like just yesterday I first took you two to see the mines. You hated it back then didn’t you, just couldn’t wait to leave.”

“Why are you here father? I will not be persuaded to stay.” Raf seemed to ignore him

“Anyway, you have always been a sure hand in a fight, and good with an axe.” He paused for a moment. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you more than a little hurt from your little skirmishes with Marten.” He paused again, “What I’m trying to say is… go.”

“What”

“And take this,” he pulled the cloth off the object, revealing a masterfully crafted hand axe with the family crest simply carved into the side of the head. “This is your grandfather’s axe. I never had cause to use it, I was never very good with it either. That aside I want you to have it. Go do great things and make the family proud.

“I... Thank you, father, I will do my best.” Azken took the axe from Raf and looked it over. It was a masterpiece of smithing.

“I’m just glad you found your calling, and that that calling is respectable. It's much better that you are out in the world as a warrior than a lay about.” Azken set the axe in the holster on the side of his pack and sat back down in bed. “Although I think I would have to accept it if you decided to become a tradesman. There's just no glory in the trades.” Raf turned and made for the door, “Stay safe and stay well son, may the ancestors protect you on your journey.” He left and shut the door, Azken rolled over into bed and shut his eyes. The mercy of sleep finally took him.

Before the Dawn Drum announced the start of a new day Azken had already woken and raised. He gathered what belongings he had packed and made for the kitchen. He ate a quick breakfast and grabbed some of his mother’s special tarts. They would hold up for weeks in his pack and provide a taste of home during the journey. On the way out he saw Marten by the front door. He was still dressed in his night clothes and holding a pouch.

“This isn't quite your desk, but take it.” Azken took the pouch and looked inside. The pouch was filled with gold coins, “Think of it as me buying you out of the company, use it to set up your new life in Marazek.”

“Thank you, brother,” Marten interrupted him,

“No sappy goodbyes, just go.” Azken grinned and tucked the pouch into his belt. He peeked out the door and scanned for guards. Seeing none, he walked out and started towards the north gate. “One last thing brother, if the guard come asking for you, I will tell them you never came home last night.” Azken waved back and broke into a trot. The Dwarfs of Haldmar were people of habit. They rose with the Dawn Drum and slept when the candle cutters turned out the lights. Thanks to this Azken made it through the tunnels and streets without seeing anyone. He raised the hood on his cloak and slipped into The Gate Side just as the Dawn Drum’s vibrations shook the city awake. Yuria was waiting in the entry hall of the inn next to a much older dwarf. He was most likely in his late hundreds, with short red hair that was just starting to turn white at the roots. His beard ran down his neck and was mostly loose except for a single braid adorned with a gold ring in the center. He wore a simple set of leather armor and had a hammer hanging from his waist. His mouth was twisted into a smile, but his eyes betrayed a wariness developed by years in the wild.

“You must be Azken Rafson, I thank you for saving my daughter. My name is Gilius Aderson, I expect that Yuria told you the details of our trip?” he bowed slightly, Azken bowed back

“She has told me that we will be traveling with just a cart up to Marazek.” Gilius cocked his head, the single braid in his beard swung like a pendulum,

“Nothing more? Few would accept such a job with so few details.”

“I had my own reasons for wanting to reach Marazek, and now I have reasons to leave the city on short notice.”

“Yes, my apologies for the situation my daughter has put you in.” he tapped Yuria in the back, pushing her towards Azken. She stumbled forward and tried unsuccessfully to rub the sleep from her eyes,

“Srry Zken” She mumbled out before yawning and latching onto her father’s arm. Gilius chuckled and patted her head,

“With that settled, let us be on the way, we have much to discuss and even more ground to cover.” He led Azken out of the inn and around to the stables where the cart and ram were waiting. Azken set his pack down in the cart and helped Yuria onto the back. She settled in next to one of three large crates. “Food and our cargo, the water is in that barrel.” He pointed out each object one after the other. They both settled onto the driver’s bench and the cart set off towards the gate. Gilius showed some papers to the guard and they were let through into a long tunnel which wound its way out of the mountain. Anticipation welled up from deep within Azken as they drew closer to the unbelievably bright cave exit. He couldn’t remember when, if he had ever been outside the city into the wilds. The sunlight was blinding as they emerged from the cave.