Dag
We had been on the road for weeks.
It was the life chosen for us by the God, to be blessed with a grant of land. However, it would have been bloody nice if it was, say, within a hundred kilometers of a town other than Mayfield. The Swiftand family, my family, hailed from Gehenea. Gehenea is a small state, but it is part of the larger Xerian Empire. My father was a renowned war hero and a respected member of the council, so of course the corrupt Gehenean Council 'gifted' him a fief out past the badlands. They only did that just to get him out of the city because he was the only politician who could not be bought. To refuse to even visit would have been a slight too great for the council to ignore. I was glad to be out that snakes' nest they call The Capital.
I loved exploring the countryside, even if danger lurked around every bend. I had my bow to protect me and mine. Father gifted it to me for my fifteenth birthyear;he knew that I aspired to become a ranger. The Two Fusili brothers(three if you count Helga, their brutish sister) travelling with my family told me that their cousin was a ranger who patrolled the northern border of The Empire. They told me that their cousin had seen an Ice Wraith with his own eyes. The wraith had gleaming silver eyes, and a cloak made out of white fox pelts to go along with its white skin. It looked like a man, but it seemed to glide across the snow, not even leaving footprints. The twins said that wraiths eat the hearts of living creatures. Of course I didn't believe their fool story. Wraiths, faeries, and other 'magic' creatures simply did not exist. Even if they did, how could their cousin escape with his life after seeing a creature which could glide across the earth.
When I asked the siblings this, Helga simply told me, "Tha's what 'ey learn when 'ey become rangers."
I normally would not mind the siblings spinning tall-tales, but my younger sister, Sylvia, believed everything that came out of their fool mouths. Every night our little caravan ate around the campfire, the trio always came up with some fae story to entertain my sister.
Most of their stories had something to do with the Forbidden North.
Past the northern border of The Empire lay the Forbidden North. No one was allowed to enter except rangers. The shroud of secrecy surrounding the north led most bumpkins, such as the Fusili siblings, to believe that the Forbidden North was home to monsters or ferocious barbarians. I knew these legends were simple fallacies. Several summers past, I had pestered my father about the northlands for weeks. He had eventually given in to my constant pressure and told me what he knew of the north. He told me that there was a clan of nomadic people who thrived in the harsh, freezing climate. Father told me that the few encounters The Empire had with these people, one of their warriors was able to decimate a squadron of ten Gehenean Knights before he died. It was no small wonder The Empire sought to keep tabs on these people. When I had asked my father how he knew this, his eyes grew cloudy and distant and he refused to speak of it more.
Today had been a good morning. I awoke and ate a hearty breakfast of salted meat and eggs while hitching both horses to both carriages. Father said we were around a week's worth of travel away from our new home, a town called Mayfield. My Aunt already lived there with her family, so we would arrive to a warm hearth.
Soon, we were on the road and as I walked along the carriage my mother and sister rested in, I began to look for something to shoot. I heard my father call back from the front of the caravan that we would be stopping in order to collect water and give the horses a break.
We stopped next to a large, dense collection of trees and a flowing creek. It looked out of place in the windy, grassy landscape. As we stopped, I saw a pheasant perched on a nearby branch. I quickly strung my bow with practiced efficiency. I selected one of my arrows from my quiver and notched it on the bowstring. I drew back the arrow to my cheek, and exhaled as I let my arrow fly. The pheasant plummeted from its perch in a shower of feathers. I knew Sylvia loved to watch me shoot so I quickly gathered my prize and went to go show my younger sister. The only problem was that she was nowhere to be found. I headed over to where the adults were resting and asked them where my sister was. As I was doing so, we heard a familiar, girlish wail pierce the adjacent grove of trees. Father and I immediately plunged into the thick grove.
The rush of stinging branches soon opened up into a clearing and I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw Sylvia standing unharmed in the center. Father practically ran over to my sister as I was left catching my breath. That was when I noticed the huge mass of fur lying next to my sister. As I went to get a closer inspection, father told me in a shaky voice, "Dag, we need to leave...Now!" The way he spoke seemed to imply that we were in danger. With my sister in his arms, we returned to our caravan.
"Keep your eyes on the trees Dag. Wolves travel in packs," My father told me as he hurriedly saddled the horses.
Wolves? I realized then that the mass of fur must have been the body of a wolf lying next to my sister. What happened? Sylvia was still crying, and soon we were on the road again. As we travelled Sylvia finally stopped crying enough to explain what had gone down in the secluded clearing.
"I wa' *hic* esploring in the forest*hic*, and then I saw two huge, scary do-*hic*-gs. It tried to eat me, but then a ghost*hic* killed one of them and chased the other one away," Sylvia managed to spit out between sobs.
She refused to talk for the remainder of the trip whenever my father pressed her for more answers. Sometimes my sister could be insufferable.
After we had travelled around six kilometers, we finally stopped to set up camp for the night. The trade route we were on followed the same creek from earlier that day. Soon, my sister was changed out of her smelly clothes and we sat around a fire cooking my pheasant. It was not much, however, almost anything was better than salted meat and dry rations. Helga and her Brothers, Eric and Dav, were spinning a story about a drunken giant which seemed to pick up Sylvia's spirits. I even found myself laughing when Helga did what I thought was a perfect drunk giant impression.
My mother and father had been talking quietly the entire time. Finally, after the siblings finished with their tale, father had an unusual announcement. We were going to be taking shifts keeping a lookout. Now that we knew there were hill-wolves nearby, father said that we could not take any more chances. Luckily, I was to have the first shift.
As everyone went to bed to rest until their shift, I settled myself on top of one of the carriages and looked up at the moon. There was not much to keep me busy, so I decided to try and make pictures with the stars. This was one of my sister's favorite pastimes and pass the time it did.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
As we began our trek the next morning, I felt as if we were being watched. It was not something I could easily explain, but I felt like the pheasant sitting on a low branch, oblivious to the incoming arrow. It was likely just that I was spooked from the events of the previous day, but the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. Perhaps it was the fact that our caravan was constantly being circled by dread-hawks. Whenever we saw the massive birds, we usually travelled with caution. I do not think my small bow would do much good against a hundred pounds of beak and talons which could fly at speeds upwards of one hundred kilometers per hour.
It soon became dusk, and while the light of day was quickly fading, my unease was not. I was walking at the front of the caravan with father, keeping a careful eye on the surrounding wilderness. We were walking through a sparse forest. Today the landscape seemed less hilly.
I asked my father, "Why don't we have a caravan? We may be a relatively poor family, but you are a noble father."
While I was awake last night, I had been thinking. We had several retainers living at our old estate. We ought to have at least a small pavilion to sleep in rather than beneath wagons.
My father smiled like he knew some hidden truth and replied, "This was actually your mother's idea. The members of council obviously want me gone for good. What better attempt at my life than deep in the wilderness with no witnesses. They would not expect nobles to travel in such a fashion, and in any case, we Swiftands can handle a few nights under the stars." I paled at his explanation.
A shrill whistle sounded up ahead as several startled crows took flight. It did not sound like any bird I knew of. I tried to peer down the winding road we were following, but the sparse trees were still enough to block my view.
That is when father called for everyone to halt. He was looking intently down the path and his knuckles were white around the pommel of his gladius. As I turned back to look down the path, I saw around seven heavily armed men standing abreast. They were completely blocking the road and they looked impatient. Father urgently told us to wait as he moved to approach the intimidating men. I looked back and the triplets all had their cudgels in their beefy hands and were moving protectively around the wagons. Tension was thick in the air as father went to speak with the grim-looking men.
They had been negotiating for several minutes now. Sylvia was clutching the hem of my mother's dress as her watery eyes were locked on the scene unfolding in front of us.
I could only hear snippets of tense conversation, "This here toll-road...", "Bloody pay up...", "My wife and children...". From my father's demeanor, I could tell that things were not going our way. One of the men cast a leering glance over at my mother. Two of the men began to laugh at some comment made by the leader. My father who was growing increasingly frustrated by the way things were going, placed a hand on the pommel of his sword.
After this seemingly insignificant action, all hell broke loose.
All of the men seemed to draw their swords at once. The hiss of steel vacating its scabbard rang throughout the woods. As the men levelled their weapons towards my father, a relatively large stone hurtled through the air towards the men. It made contact with the shoulder of one of the men with a wet 'Thwack'. As the man dropped his weapon and cried out, everyone looked to where the rock originated.
A most uncouth sight greeted the wide eyes of everyone, including myself.
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Nameless
I stepped out from behind my tree to confront the gaze of the people on the road several meters away. Everyone's face was a mix of shock and incredulity as they registered my presence.
Although I would have wished to make contact with the people I was following under different circumstances, it was obvious that things were spiralling out of control. The seven men who were confronting my group reminded me of the pack of wolves I had faced one month prior. They seemed fierce and the fact that they were unfazed by one of their own recieving a critical injury spoke volumes of their combat experience. One of the armed men shouted something at me in their language as they quickly forgot the old man and turned to face the bigger threat.
The six men left their companion on the ground cradling his shattered elbow as they advanced towards me with a predatory hatred and what seemed to be amusement in their eyes. It must have been because I lacked garments of any kind. I waited in the trees for them to approach because obstacles would made it harder for them to effectively use their hand-and-a-half swords. The six men slowly circled around me. One man growled more unintelligable words at me. I raised my hands and set my feet.
The only way I would survive this encounter would be to appear much weaker than I was. I imagined a rabbit surrounded by wolves as I made my knees shake and contorted my face into a mask of terror. One man to my left began to laugh as he strode forward and aimed his steel-tipped boot towards my stomach. I could tell exactly what the man was going to do by seeing where his eyes flicked to. This would have been so much easier if I had two eyes.
I pivoted around his kick and caught his leg in my right armpit. My left elbow struck the side of his kneecap, shredding cartilage and twisting his leg in a curious angle. Surprised shouts came from all around me as I flipped the speechless man onto his back. In their panic, one of the men to my right swung his sword at my face. I easily ducked as his weapon became embedded itself the trunk of an adjacent tree. My fist delivered a powerful blow to the soft flesh of his groin, producing an unmanly squeak from my opponent. I hastily shoved him to the dirt and wrenched his weapon out of the tree.
A man behind me was winding up for a powerful overhand swing. As I moved to block the attack, I saw another foe from my side prepare for a forward thrust with his sword. I threw my weapon at the man preparing to impale me, knowing it would likely just distract him. I then addressed the man who was now bringing down his sword to try and smash my skull into a paste. I side-stepped his swing and gave the man a quick punch to the throat, collapsing his trachea. The man dropped his sword in order to clutch his throat and gag. I snatched the weapon before it hit the ground and deftly parried a thrust aimed to my torso by another man. The three remaining men backed off and circled around me, the first hint of fear in their eyes. The only sounds heard were the chirping of birds and groans of pain.
With a sword in hand, I moved to finish what I had started.
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Dag
Who was that boy?
A pale, naked, and wild-haired youth had appeared to intervene in the swiftly degrading situation. While the toll-men were just as suprised as everyone else, they probably saw it as an opportunity to test the edge of their swords. As soon as the men moved to confront the boy, father had drawn his sword. Of course, that was how my father was.
Father shouted back to the Fusili twins, "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help save the poor lad!"
I heard a choked scream come from where the men had gone into the wilderness. Whoever that person was, they needed my help. I already wanted to shoot these men after they leered at mother. My bow was already strung and I grabbed my quiver from the wagon as I raced to get a vantage point of where the cry originated. I heard my father shouting at me as I raced towards the sound of clashing steel, but I knew I could shoot well enough to kill. I got closer to the carnage and I was astounded. There were three men on the ground, two of them were curled up in pain and the other was not moving. The boy with the white hair was holding a sword and was dancing around the attacks of all three men with ease. The white-haired boy was smiling the entire time, giving him a crazy look. The lunatic's blade sliced through the hand of one of his attackers, causing the man to drop his sword and several fingers along with it.
The boy looked as if he was gliding around every attack, just like a wraith from the twins' Fae Stories. Perhaps some of their stories were not completely untrue...