Tales of the Dawn

First Tale

Watchful Peace 

Year 30 of the Dawn, Age of Freedom 

    Fire raged throughout the city; thick clouds of black smoke hanging heavily about the besieged land. Orcs, alongside their goblin and hobgoblin kin, swarmed through the city as carrion birds swarm over the dying, slaying anyone that they came across. A lone woman fled through the ravaged streets, orcs in close pursuit. She ducked through an alleyway, hoping to escape her pursuers, only to stop dead at the sight of debris piled up at the far end, effectively blocking her path. 

    The orcs advanced slowly, relishing the woman's fear as she was backed up against the debris behind her.  

    "Oh, won't anyone save me?" the woman said, swooning against the nearby wall. 

    Suddenly, a loud, clear voice rang out in laughter. The orcs turned to behold a great knight. Mighty was his stature, and keen was his gaze. In his left hand he wielded a silver sword, and in his right a heavy shield.  

    "Have no fear, my lady," he said, mirth in his eyes. "I will smite these monsters for you." He brandished his sword, and the orcs fell on their faces, groveling at his feet. 

    "My hero!" the woman cried, rushing over to embrace the knight. 

    "I was just doing my duty," the knight responded, looking into her eyes. 

    "Might I know the name of my savior?" she asked. 

    "Hear my name, and remember it well," he said, "For I am the greatest knight these lands have ever known. I am Sir Roy of Harshire!" 

    He yelped suddenly, jumping up and clutching at his backside. 

    "Ow! Annette, what are you doing?" 

    A young girl walked in front of him. She had sharp blue eyes, like the deep waters of the ocean after a great storm. Her long, silver hair flowed down her back. Her ears were pointed. She was frowning at him. 

    "I am tired of always playing 'save the damsel in distress'. Let's play something else." 

    He was no longer Sir Roy, Hero of Kingdoms in the midst of a great battle, but merely Roy the farmhand, standing in an open field. The sun shone brightly, the light streaming through the cloudless sky into the verdant green land below. Some way in the distance a row of great and tall trees marched into across the land on both sides of Roy's vision; therein lay the Deep Wood, an unknown place he wasn't allowed to go. 

    "I don't want to play princess with you," Roy said, scoffing at the mere thought of such a girlish notion. 

    "I don't want to be a princess!" Annette said indignantly. "I want to be a hero too. I just don't want to be someone who seeks honor and glory through battle. I want to help people. I dedicate my life to healing the hurts of this world." 

    "That doesn't sound nearly as fun," Roy said, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, you elves have a lot more time in your lives to dedicate to that sort of thing than us humans." 

    "Don't talk like that," Annette said, angrily punching his arm. "You're my best friend, Roy. I don't like the thought that I will have to live without you." She turned away from him, eyes beginning to well with tears. 

    Roy frowned, sensing that he had inadvertently struck something within his friend. She and her family had come to the village when they were both young children of five winters. Now, seven years later, they had become very close.  

    "I'm sorry, Annette," he said, reaching a hand out to her shoulder. 

    "It's alright," she said, turning back around. She wiped the tears from her face, but her voice was thick with emotion. "I hate this. The other elves warned my family about coming to a human settlement. Perhaps we should have listened." 

    "Annette," Roy said, suddenly feeling both uncomfortable and guilty for making Annette feel this way. "It's okay. You shouldn't think that way. Look! The sun is still shining, the weather is still good, and most importantly, I am still here. Come on, we can play what you want." 

    "I don't think I want to play anymore," she said, still glum. "Let's go home." 

    "All right," Roy said, patting his elven friend on the shoulder. "Let's go home." 

*** 

    Harshire was a small village, founded shortly after the Great Rebellion thirty years prior. The great Whitecap Mountains rose just to the north, grand and opulent in their splendor. The Meruem flowed from those peaks, a mighty river snaking along the western outskirts of the village before angling further west and winding out of sight. The Deep Wood lay to the east; an ancient and impenetrable forest that few dared venture into, and fewer still emerged unscathed. Sequestered away from the rest of burgeoning civilizations, the only way in or out of Harshire was a single road to the south which ran for many miles before finally reaching a crossroads in more open land. 

    The walk back to Harshire was spent in silence; Annette was still upset, and Roy was hesitant to bother her lest he upset her further. He walked Annette to her house near the center of the village - a modest wooden home that seemed a mansion to the less fortunate people of Harshire - and she entered without so much as a glance in his direction. Her mother appeared in the doorway before he could leave. casting an inquisitive look his way.  

    Annelle had the same piercing blue eyes as her daughter, and the same silvery hair, though hers was much shorter than her daughter's, only reaching to her shoulders. She was poised and elegant, blessed by the grace of her people, and it seemed to humans that a light emanated from within her, bringing forth a feeling of grandeur and beauty and of age that mortals could scarcely begin to comprehend. Many could - and indeed had - mistaken her as merely Annette's older sister; But Annelle was older, far older. Roy always felt uneasy around her. 

    "What has happened to make my daughter so somber?" her voice, too, was beautiful and melodic, as though song was ever threatening to burst forth from her even as she spoke. 

    "I... I'm not really sure," Roy stammered bashfully, running a hand through his hair. "I was just saying how nice it must be to live as long as you elves do." 

    Annelle placed a hand on his shoulder, her face softening as she bent down to his level. 

    "Did you know that when we moved here, the other elves told it that it would be a horrible idea? They said humans were untrustworthy, hasty and rash because of the short limit of their lives. I wonder if they also fear getting too close to humans; that they fear such a parting when they have long centuries left to toil on. Men envy us our longevity, but I feel it is a curse. A curse to lose those closest to us again and again through the long years, uncounted and unremembered." 

    Roy felt ashamed. Never had he thought of the sorrow that many elves were laden with, oftentimes for centuries longer than he would even live. He thought that perhaps the lifespan of elves wasn't as glamorous as the other humans made it out to be. Still, the knowledge that he would pass away before Annette hurt him deeply, and the thought that she may, in her long years, forget him stung deep inside. Annelle, perhaps sensing his discomfort, smiled at him. 

    "It does not do to dwell on such matters, Roy. The Green Mother has plans for all of us. It is not the due of the farmer to question the rain, or the drought, or the snow. It is merely his due to do what he can, given his circumstances." 

    Somehow, the thought didn't serve to make Roy feel much better. Annelle straightened up, walking to the door before looking towards him once more. 

    "Do not worry. I will talk to Annette. She will be her usual self tomorrow," she said, smiling once again. "Now you had better be home yourself. Your father will be looking for you." 

    Roy paled as the realization that he had shirked his chores that morning to play with Annette hit him like a ton of bricks, and he suddenly dreaded the trouble that he would be in when he got home. He was sure Miss Annelle didn't mind the curse he uttered before turning away from her and sprinting through the village. Roy and his family lived on a small farm on the eastern edge of the village, and it was not long before the familiar wooden house came into view.  

    It was small, with few windows and even fewer rooms. Puffs of smoke drifted lazily from the small chimney. An old wooden fence wound around the large field that was situated just beyond the house. Within the field grew wheat, barley, potatoes, and other crops that Roy tended to alongside his father. 

    Roy paid this no mind, however, hurrying inside and closing the door. The inside was sparse, with little furniture to speak of, and the simple floor was made solely of dirt.  

    "Mother?" Roy called into the house. 

    "Roy, is that you?" his mother's head poked around the doorframe to their kitchen. Her blonde hair was tied back, and though her face was becoming lined with care, her blue eyes were as bright as ever. She was frowning at him. 

    "I'm sorry I was late," Roy said quickly. "I just got sidetracked-"  

    "Playing with Annette again?" her face softened slightly but remained stern. "You know you can play with her, Roy, but your chores must come first." 

    Roy mumbled a quick apology, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.  

    "Your father has finished all of the chores for today," his mother said. "Even yours. But that doesn't mean that you can be lazy all day. Mr. Gren has asked for us to bring him some eggs this evening. It seems that business at the tavern has picked up more than he thought it would. You will bring them to him." 

    "But I just came from the village," Roy protested. He did not much like the tavern. It was too dark and stuffy for his tastes.  

    "It won't hurt you, Roy. Maybe next time you won't slack off on your chores. Run along now, before it gets dark." 

    The tavern was one of the oldest buildings in the village. At over twenty years old, it was remarkably well-kept. The outside was clean and looked new. The inside, however, was quite the opposite. It was kept dimly lit by the candles sparsely placed around the few rickety old tables that populated the main room. A thick smoke hung throughout, courtesy of the many patrons already beginning to fill the tavern. 

    Roy tried not to cough too hard as he made his way past the groups of drinking men. Coming to the bar that lay at the far end of the room, he hoisted himself up, placing the container of eggs that he carried onto the stool next to him, and waited. Presently, a man came hurrying around the tavern. He was a large man, with a smooth face and a receding hairline. Despite the stress and the sweat that was visible on his face, he looked to be a kindly man. Spotting Roy, he hurried over.  

    "Ah, young Roy," he said with a jovial smile. "Did you bring my eggs?" 

    "I sure did, Mr. Gren," Roy said, returning the smile. Reaching onto the stool, he presented Mr. Gren with the eggs his mother had given him. 

    "Thank you very much, young sir," Mr. Gren said, taking the eggs and beginning to move back onto the floor. "Would you like me to get you anything while you're here?" he asked. 

    "No thanks," Roy said, getting back to his feet. "I need to get home." 

    "Just know that you're always welcome," Mr. Gren said, turning his attention back to running his tavern. 

    Roy was just walking towards the door when a gruff voice stopped him. 

    "The sun is going down, darkness falls. Very dangerous is the dark, especially for the young like you." 

    Roy started, turning to look back at the table he had just passed. A lone figure was seated at the table, a tankard clutched protectively in his hands. He was short, of dwarf kind, and his braided black hair fell past his shoulders. His similarly braided beard reached below the table, down to his belly. His cloak was pulled tight about him, and his eyes shone with the light of the candles scattered throughout the tavern as he looked at Roy. 

    "Mr. Berik," Roy said with a slight smile. Berik was old, even for a dwarf, and spent his days as a storyteller of sorts. Nobody knew why he chose not to live amongst his own kind, and Berik was not keen on answering the question. Roy, however, always liked the old dwarf's stories, and Berik had always been kind to him. "I didn't mean to be out so late," he said, approaching the table where Berik was seated. "Mom said I could run into the wrong sort of people if I'm out too late." 

    "It is not people you should be afraid of," Berik said somberly. A glint was in his eyes as he spoke. Roy felt strangely curious 

    "What do you mean?" he asked. "What is there to be afraid of if not bad people?" 

    "What is there to be afraid of?" Berik thundered, slamming his fist into the table. Roy started at the outburst from the usually stoic dwarf. There was anger in Berik's face, and a light of hatred and fear was in his eyes. "Fear the monsters of the night! The kind who will take you from your bed in the darkness, who will slaughter your children and feast upon their flesh as they make you watch. The kind that razes entire villages and enslaves their population or uses the, as sacrifices for their dark masters. Slave masters and defilers, curse them!" 

    Berik, seeming to regain his self-control, stopped shouting. In his anger, he had risen from his seat, and he seemed now to be acutely aware of all the looks that he was receiving. Looking around, Berik sat back down, sighing in resignation. He was now calm, though Roy thought that his gaze was still somewhat distant, and sad. 

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    "Forgive me, young Roy," Berik said at last. "It isn't right for me to judge your parents so. They are young; they do not know what it was like during the Dark Years." Berik's voice had steadily gotten quieter as he spoke, and Roy had to lean over the table and strain to hear.  

    "What was it like during the Dark Years?" Roy asked, equally hushed. 

    Berik's eyes were sharp as he met Roy's gaze. 

    "It is a dark memory of a terrible time, living with monsters under the Dark Ones." 

    "But who were the Dark Ones?" 

    "I shan't speak of it," Berik said quietly. "It doesn't do to speak of such things in the dark of night. Still, I would not speak of such things even if it was bright outside and all the village be bathed in the glow of the sun. It was not long ago now that we were all slaves. We must always fear the dark, Roy. Always." 

    With that sobering remark, Berik shooed Roy out of the tavern, bidding him to return home with haste. Roy couldn't stop thinking about what Berik had said, and glanced nervously about as he trudged home, afraid that at any moment some creature might burst forth from the dark spaces between houses and drag him off into the night.  

    Despite his fear, Roy arrived home without incident. As he lay on his small cot, he contemplated once more Berik's words at the tavern. Times have changed, he decided. There are no monsters anymore. Despite his optimistic thoughts, Roy slept uneasily throughout the night. A loud rustling in the grass woke him near to morning, though Roy told himself it was only the wind; still, he lay awake until the sun rose.  

    Roy was exhausted when he set about his chores but knew better than to abandon his work again. As he worked, he felt uneasy. He couldn't shake the feeling that something bad would soon happen. He kept a wary eye on the woods. It was at midday that his father noticed how fatigued he was. 

    "Why don't you go get a drink of water and go sit in the shade for a bit?" his father told him when they had finished pulling out a particularly stubborn weed.  

    Roy made no complaint, making his way to his family's well as quickly as he was able. After slaking his thirst, Roy walked over to the side of his house, intent on resting in the shade. This plan was put on hold, however, as he saw a young girl with silvery hair turn the corner towards him. 

    "Annette?" he asked, somewhat sheepishly. 

    "Hello, Roy," Annette replied, equally nervous.  

    They stood silently for a moment, each pair of eyes casting about for anything to visually hold onto, anything to distract them from the other person. An uncomfortable silence passed. 

    "I'm sorry," Annette said at length. 

    "I'm the one who should be sorry," Roy said, eyes downturned. "I caused you to be sad, and so I'm sorry." 

    "Even still, I should not have acted the way that I did," Annette said sadly. "Can you forgive me?" 

    Roy turned his face up to look at Annette, bewildered.  

    "Of course! Why would you even ask that?" 

    Annette's sorrowful look softened, and her eyes glistened. She rushed forward, embracing Roy tightly.  

    "You're the best friend I have ever had in the whole world," she choked out. "I don't know what I would do without you." 

    Roy stood uncomfortably. He had never seen Annette so rattled before. His arms awkwardly came up to return the hug, patting her back every so often. 

    "There, there," he said. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks; suddenly he was happy that Annette couldn't see his face. 

    Eventually, Annette pulled away, dabbing at her eyes. Roy could feel the dampness on his shirt. 

    "Friends?" he asked. 

    Annette wiped her eyes on last time before giving a small smile.  

    "Friends." 

    They spent the rest of the afternoon walking through the fields that surrounded Roy's house, glad to be with one another again. Roy's past fatigue, and the worries associated with it, were swiftly forgotten, swept away like autumn leaves in a cool breeze. Annette stopped abruptly, looking up. Roy threw a curious look her way before looking forward himself.     

    Mighty oaks stood before him, rank and file as far as he could see either left or right. Deeper into the wood, the trees faded into the shadowy gloom cast down from the thick canopy above. Roy became nervous. Berik's words rang hauntingly through his mind. 

    "We shouldn't be here," he said, taking a step away from the Deep Wood. 

    "Why not?" Annette asked, a mischievous look entering her eyes. "Are you afraid?" 

    Roy cast a quick glance to Annette before nervously looking back into the dark of the forest.  

    "No," he said after a brief pause. "But what if there are monsters in there?" 

    Annette looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

    "It's been thirty years since any monsters have been seen, Roy. They're probably all extinct." 

    "So what if they're ex-extinct," Roy replied, the word unfamiliar to him. "What if they're out there?" 

    Annette giggled, taking his arm and leading him to the Deep Wood. 

    "Don't be such a scaredy cat. We'll go in and look around for only a minute and be out quickly." 

    "Alright," Roy said with trepidation. 

     They slowly began to move forward. The trees themselves were thick and tall, relics of an ancient past entrenched in battle against the march of civilization. They cast a great shadow beneath them, and the light of the sun was almost completely extinguished as Roy and Annette proceeded in their exploration. Roy had expected to hear the song of birds and the chatter of squirrels in this forest, but it was quiet. No sound of life could be heard within the Deep Wood. The only sounds were from the breath of the two children and the crackling and crunching of the countless leaves that littered the ground underfoot.  

    They advanced slowly, deeper into the forest. It seemed that with every step they took, the weaker the light of the sun became. The air became heavier, threatening to stifle the air in their lungs. What once were mighty trees became thin and gnarled, ancient watchers with sinister intent. 

    "Wait," Roy said, causing Annette to stop. "We've come far enough. Let's turn back," he glanced quickly from side to side, a sense of unease growing in his gut with every step he took. 

    "Yes," Annette agreed quietly. Her sudden thirst for exploration seemed to have died. 

    They turned around, only to stop once again. 

    "Which way did we come from?" Roy asked, heart beating madly. Annette shrugged wordlessly. 

    Every direction seemed the same to them, and the two children looked around with a growing desperation for the way out. The thick air, perhaps sensing weakness, pressed down on them harder than ever. What little sunlight that still filtered through the trees grew pale and strained. Roy began to panic, his breath coming in quick bursts. His heart beat maddeningly, pounding in his ears, and he could feel sweat begin to drip from his brow. A quick glance beside him showed that Annette was faring no better. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed, a stark contrast to normal Elvish grace. 

    Roy searched desperately for the direction they had come from, but the trees themselves seemed to be closing in around them. His head was light and he felt dizzy. 

    "Look out!" Annette shrieked.  

    Roy tried to turn around as quickly as he could, but was not quick enough. Something heavy bashed into his head, and everything went dark. 

*** 

    Roy awoke to a world of pain. His head pounded and his entire body hurt. Opening his eyes only caused him to squeeze them shut again. The light was dim, but to his sensitives eyes it was almost enough to blind him. He worried for Annette. 

    Dimly he became aware of the sound of voices speaking nearby. This small amount of hope soon vanished as quickly as it had come. The voices were harsh and rough, as if someone was grinding stones together. There was no warmth in these voices, and though he knew not what was said, Roy could feel it all the way in his bones that his captors held ill intentions. 

    A sudden cry caused Roy to open his eyes once more, though the light sent painful jolts through his head. Black spots swam in his vision, but there was no mistaking what he saw in front of him.  

    Annette stood against a tree; her body tied to it with rope. Her tear-stained face was red and twisted into a painful grimace. They were in a clearing, Roy noted, though the light still only weakly fought through the surrounding forest. A campfire lay between Roy and Annette, its flames burning brightly, casting a red tint through the clearing. There were several figures surrounding Annette, and it was with the light from the fire that Roy finally saw their captors. 

    Green, mottled skin the likes of which Roy had seen on snakes. Rough-hewn faces with pointed teeth, and fangs that grew out of their mouths. They were short, shorter than Roy, and wore ragged clothes made with little care or skill. Creatures that had not been seen in three decades, since the allied races had won the Great Rebellion. Creatures which many considered vanished from the world.  

    Goblins. Each of them carried a weapon in their hands. Daggers, clubs, and spears. One even held a scimitar. The goblins were gleefully poking and prodding at Annette with their knives, causing her to once more cry out in pain. Roy, fearful, knew that he had to do something fast. As he tried to stand, however, Roy realized with growing horror that he, too, was bound; pushed to the side and momentarily forgotten about as the goblins had their fun with more exciting prey. 

    "Now ain't this just terrible," said the goblin with the scimitar. He was bigger than the others, almost as tall as Roy, and apparently capable of the common speech, though his horrible voice made a crude mockery of language. He approached Annette, drumming his fingers across the blade he carried. "A poor, helpless li'l birdie that's flown too far from her nest." He laughed then, a horrible, barking sound that made Roy want to cover his ears. The other goblins joined in, and for some time, the clearing rang with their fell voices as they joked with one another, poking Annette here and there for the occasional scream of pain. 

    Roy thought desperately for some way for him and Annette to get out of this horrible situation. He racked his brains, but no solution came. He struggled against his bonds, but they held tight. 

    "Well would you look at this," the scimitar goblin said.  

    Roy's blood ran cold. Everyone in the clearing was looking at him. 

    "Seems our dazed bird is finally awake. Boys, bring 'em here so he can spend some time with his nice lady friend." 

    Roy struggled, but the goblins were surprisingly strong. Their sharp nails dug into his skin as they roughly lifted him to his feet. Cackling, the goblins led him across the clearing to stand beside Annette, where he also was bound to the tree.  

    "Roy, I'm so sorry," Annette said, sobbing. "I should never have made you come here." 

    "Don't be sorry," Roy said, feeling tears welling up within his own eyes. "I should have stopped us before we went into this accursed forest. It's all my fault."     

    The harsh laughter of the goblins sounded again in the clearing.  

    "Aw," the scimitar goblin said with a sneer, reaching up and pinching Roy's cheek painfully. "Seems we have a little hero here, boys. Should we show him how we feel about heroes?" he grinned wickedly amid the cacophony of goblin laughter.  

    With a feral yell, he lifted his sword, and with an evil light in his eyes, drove it directly into Annette's chest.  

    "Annette!" Roy screamed, renewing his fight against the bonds that held him. 

    Annette's breath came in ragged gasps, blood dripping from her mouth down her chin, and bathing the goblin's scimitar crimson through the hole that was made in her chest.  

    "Roy," she gasped, fighting for every breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." And she was silent. 

    "It isn't your fault. Annette listen to me. It's my fault, not yours. Annette!"  

    Though he yelled and screamed until his throat was raw and his voice was hoarse, Annette made no answer. Her head hung limply upon her chest. She was gone. 

    Tears streamed down Roy's face. He felt as if a great weight was wrapped around him, crushing him and driving the air from his lungs. His head spun. He felt almost as if he was an outsider, peering in on the tragedy of other people from away from it all, far out of reach. He was swiftly brought back to the present.  

    "It seems young love isn't meant to last, after all," the scimitar goblin said, still sneering at him.     

    Suddenly all of Roy's sorrow vanished. It was disorienting, as though he had been in a horrible storm, and now everything within was once more tranquil and calm. This was only the eye of the storm, and just as fast as his despair had vanished a new emotion enveloped him. Raw, unadulterated hatred. A fury unlike anything he had ever known welled up inside of him. He grit his teeth and began fighting against his bonds again. The goblin's sneer quickly faded as the sinew of the ropes binding Roy began to fray. With a guttural cry, Roy broke free from his bonds. 

    The goblins all stared in shock and horror. Roy wasted no time in charging directly at the one who had slain his friend. The goblin, after a moment's hesitation, smirked. Fast as a darting snake, he had moved out of Roy's way and savagely brought down the pommel of his sword into Roy's head. 

    Roy's whole world erupted into pain and he collapsed to the ground. The anger that was fueling him slowly ebbed away as he fought just to stay conscious. He grunted as he was suddenly yanked up by his hair, and he came face to face with the scimitar goblin. Each stared at the other, both full of hatred and the desire to destroy. 

    "Trying to act all noble, eh?" the goblin growled. "Thought you would be able to save the day? Well, it was all for nothing. You were too late to save your friend, and you're too late to save yourself, human filth," the goblin spit in his face, letting his head fall into the dirt. 

    Before Roy could move, the goblin began brutally kicking him in the side. Roy coughed blood out of his mouth, curling into a ball in order to protect himself as much as possible. He thought he felt something break inside of him after a particularly vicious kick. 

    "Life used to be great, did you know?" the goblin asked, finally stopping his assault. "Everything was better under the great Dark Ones. You humans cowered under our boots and fled at our sight. We were given proper respect by your kind as you slave masters, and the Dark Ones honored us greatly. But after that damned Rebellion," he spat venomously, "We were forced to cower in the dark, fighting amongst ourselves for the smallest of scraps, while your people flourished and grew fat. Humans, elves, dwarves. It makes no difference to us. We want all of you dead under our feet." The goblin began pacing the clearing, clearly agitated. 

    "Your kind grew soft in these years of peace. Some of you don't even believe we exist anymore. Well, we do exist, and while you were stuffing your faces and lazing about, we multiplied. We festered in our anger and now we are ready to take back what is rightfully ours. And we will enjoy crushing all of you, believe me," the goblin said, snarling. 

    "You will... never... break us," Roy said, struggling just to stay conscious.  

    The goblin once more locked eyes with Roy. 

    "We shall see," he said at last, lifting his scimitar.  

    A sudden yelp echoed through the clearing, causing both Roy and the goblin leader to turn their attention away from each other. One of the other goblins lay on the ground, a single black arrow protruding from its skull. 

    "What?" the goblin leader said into the ensuing silence. 

    All hell broke loose. Another arrow whistled out from the trees, catching another goblin in the neck. With a sound like the crack of thunder, Berik burst through the trees, a large black warhammer in his hands. Next to him came Roy's own father wielding a pitchfork, and Annette's father with a large, regal bow. The goblins stood no chance. Though they tried to fight back, they were no match for the rage of the man, elf, and dwarf. Annette's father shot another through the eye, and Roy's dad pinned one to the ground with his pitchfork through its chest.  

    Berik strode straight for the leader, who slashed at him with his sword. The sward parried the blow and brought his mighty warhammer down upon his foe. Blood spurted out from the goblin's body as he was crushed into the ground.  

    "Tend to the kid!" Berik shouted to Roy's father, eyes scanning for more enemies. 

    His father nodded, pulling his weapon from the corpse of his opponent. He sprinted to Roy, dropping to his knees and cradling his head in his arms. 

    "Roy, are you alright? Roy, answer me!" his father sounded desperate. 

    "Father?" Roy said weakly, gasping for breath. He had never seen his father look as happy as he did now. 

    "Roy," he said, voice breaking with emotion. "It's all gonna be okay now. I've got you. It's alright," he said, hugging Roy as tightly as he dared. 

    Roy felt fresh tears falling down his face and into his father's shoulder. 

    "No, it isn't," he said simply. 

*** 

    The sun was setting, its orange hues signaling its farewell from the horizon. No clouds were in the sky, the world either unknowing or uncaring for the grief that wrapped itself around Harshire. The funeral procession emerged from the Deep Wood. 

    Annette's parents stood at the helm, her mother openly weeping, clutching at Annette's father as a drowning person clutches at a lifeline. Her father stood rigid, trying his best to hide his emotions behind a mask of calm. The mask was breaking. Roy stood off to the side, watching. 

    "You didn't want to join?" Berik asked from beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

    "You aren't joining either," Roy said. 

    "Fair enough." 

    "It isn't like she's really there, anyways," Roy said, looking at the small cot being carried by men of Harshire, with a cloth draped over it. "Annette never got to leave the forest." 

    Berik turned to him with pity in his eyes. 

    "It isn't your fault that she didn't make it, Roy," the dwarf said gently. 

    "Yes it is," Roy said matter-of-factly. Although I am not the only one to blame." 

    At Berik's curious look, Roy turned to face the Deep Wood.  

    "It was their fault as well. Those vermin and wretches that live in the dark places of the world. Goblins, hobgoblins, orcs. They're all the same to me. I swear to you now, Berik, I will make them pay. I am going to kill them all." 

    A single tear ran down Berik's face.