It has been 30 minutes or so since I started running. The trees keep passing along me. The wind howls in my ear as the distance between me and the manor grows. I know not where to go, I don’t even know where I am going, but it is of no concern to me, because now I can do whatever I want.
No longer was I shackled by a lord, being forced to do difficult and sometimes humiliating tasks, only to be rewarded with beatings, and in the worst days, torture, for a simple slip of my feet. There would be no one to force me into a shithole of a cell, to grovel at their feet begging forgiveness, just so I could eat week old bread and hopefully some grub.
Bringing my thoughts back to the moment, I look forward. Far ahead of me is a light, very dim, but definitely there. Seeing this, I stop my run, and look carefully at the light. Fear swells up in me, as I question the origin of the light.
Are they slave hunters?
I wonder if they are people sent by the guards to capture the runaway slaves. I discard the thought, there were none left alive to be able to warn the nearby settlements. Even if there were, it would still take them over 2 hours to reach them on horseback. I bend down to try and decrease the sound I make, while I slowly approach the source of the light. I hide behind a tree, tilting my body to see.
Ahead of me in a small clearing in the middle of the forest, there are two tents, one directly in front of the other, both facing the fireplace. Sitting on a small log is a man with his back to me, he is wearing light leather armour. His belt is filled with pockets and what looks to be a dagger. In the far corner of the camp fire is a bow and a quill beside one another.
No chains around, most likely they are regular hunters. I can’t see the other one, maybe inside the tent, sleeping. They don’t seem to know what happened though.
With that thought I prepare to leave, there is no point in attracting unwanted attention. I turn around to continue on my way. As my foot lands on the ground a small, but audible, bell resonates nearby.
Crap, a warning trap!
The man turns around quickly. As he begins to move in my direction, I hold in breath, waiting for his next actions. With footsteps approaching my tree, I hear the sound of steel sliding against leather, he likely removed his dagger. Fear was again rising in me; I have no weapon to protect myself. In my desperation I keep feeling around the ground for a rock or maybe a stick, anything! I feel the rough and hard surface of a rock, its big, maybe the size of my fist. The hunter is even closer now.
His foot falls right beside the tree, and in a frantic movement I rush at him, with the rock in my hand.
“AAAAAHHH!” I scream from the top of my lungs, releasing the pent up stress
He looks at me with a confused expression. I see panic in his eyes just before the rock reaches his face. He falls limply on the ground, a deep wound on his forehead. He stops moving for several seconds.
Is he dead?
He made a groaning sound, and in panic he might attack me, I close in on him and smash the rock against his head. Again, and again, and again. Blood was splattering my face and my surroundings, but I continued. Again… and again. Between bated breaths I stopped to look, to truly see what I had done. His face was disfigured beyond recognition. His head caved in from the force of the blows, forming a puddle of blood and brain. In an instant I let out the contents of my stomach, but very little as much of it was gone from the last time. What came out was a dry mixture of saliva and stomach water. I quickly move away from him and in my haste I trip and fall on my back. Never taking my eyes away from the body. For a moment I just sat there and stared, tears forming in my eyes.
I… have killed another man…
I reach for my head and just hold it, as I rock back and forth, remembering. The groans he produced as I hit him, the small jerks his body made as the blows landed, his breath slowly fading.
Oh god… oh god, oh god! What have I done!
I begin to breath heavily, darkness clouds my judgement, but I never look away from the body. I hear a sound coming from the tent, and I quickly lift up my head. Another man, a bit smaller and leaner than the other comes out, wearing only a cloth shirt and pants, he probably woke up due to the commotion. I had completely forgotten about him. He looks at me with a wary expression, and then at the body of his comrade. I see the change in emotion from wariness to anger. He quickly reaches back inside the tent.
It takes me a while to understand what is happening. When I realise, I lift myself up, a glint of madness in my eyes, and rush at him, in the process I grab the knife from the still warm hands of the hunter. I use what little strength I have to scream, only a hoarse and faint noise leaves my mouth, saliva dripping from the sides. I fall on top of the tent, just as he was about leave, and we both end up crashing to the ground.
I was on top of him, and lifting up my arm I stab at his face. He quickly lifts his left hand and stops my attempt, but I keep forcing it. Without me realising, his other, free, hand is holding a dagger, and quickly stabs my right side. I scream from the pain and fall towards his left. He begins to slowly lift himself, and gradually moves towards the bow and quiver.
Still recovering more from the shock than from the pain, I lift myself and manage to grab his foot before he gets too far. With a quick slice, I cut the tendon right above the heel. He loses his balance, more from the pain than from the lack of support, and falls face first. I use my free hand grab his clothes and move myself up his body. When I grab onto the edge of his shirt, I use my knife hand to stab at his back. He screams in pain, more so when I use the stuck knife as a grip to pull me up. His consciousness was beginning to fade from the pain. In one movement I remove the knife from his back and use it to stab through his throat.
He chokes as the blood clogs his throat, producing gargling noises, with red bubbles coming out of the wound. He moves in a last futile attempt to reach the quiver. His hand only centimetres away from an arrow. Finally, he stops breathing as his hand drops. I lift myself up to a sitting position and rest against the small log. The knife is still stuck in my side. Removing the knife from the throat of the dead hunter, I use it to cut a piece of his shirt. With my other hand I gripped the blade stuck at my side and, breathing heavily and quickly, I gradually pull out. Heaving and grunting, the knife comes out at a snail’s pace, until loosening it enough to pull it out.
Grinding my teeth to hold in a scream, I grab the piece of cloth and tie it around my stomach and over the wound, a very improvised first aid, but for now it had to do. Dropping the weapon on the floor, I look around. Two corpses, one murderer. With solemn feelings I close my eyes, tired from the running, from the fight, from the loss of blood, and from my guilty conscious. While thinking about the disturbing images of the fight and the mutilated bodies of my victims, I fall into deep slumber.
I am haunted by visions of the dead coming back. They are moving on the ground. The man I first killed is next to me, only moving a bit. I take a closer look, only to have him grab my face and release a chilling scream.
“I am sorry! I am so, so sorry!” I yell at him, or maybe at myself.
As I repeat these words the other man suddenly lifts up. Looking back at the man holding my head, he was gone. When I lifted my head up, the other was gone as well. I look around myself, it is so dark. Whisper glide through the air, getting louder and louder. And then silence. Eerie, empty, silence. A song for death.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
I wake up to the sounds of birds and the wind rustling the trees. The sun has yet to break dawn. Looking around the images are doubled, a slight headache befalls me. Adjusting myself, I notice the sweat, must have happened during my sleep. I try to stand but a pain follows. I forgot about the wound from last night. Last night?
I recover my memory and remember what I had done, gagging in the process. Looking at the corpses, they have begun to decompose as a bittersweet yet vile odour permeated in the air. I try to vomit but there is nothing left. Calming myself I scan the surroundings to think about my next step.
One of the tents is still standing, the other is on the ground because of my struggle with the second hunter. The fireplace is now a pile of ashes. From the remains of the destroyed tent I notice a bulge sticking out, maybe a supply pack. I struggle to my feet, I take about a minute to do such a simple task, while I still use my hands to cover my wound, not putting too much pressure on my right side to avoid reopening the cut.
Limping with naked feet towards the tent, I remove the thick linen sheet. There is a medium sized bag filled with pockets, and some leather armour that belonged to the other hunter. Searching through it I find 5 medium pieces of tough jerky, and a water skin. Without thinking too much I devour the pieces and gulp down the water. The fact I hand not eaten or drank since yesterday only became apparent to me now, the constant vomiting did not help to ease the hunger nor the thirst. Looking down, only 2 pieces of jerky remain while the water skin was emptied.
Somewhat satiated, I keep looking through the bag. Inside I find a small pouch, when I grabbed it, a jingling sound came out, a coin pouch. This will be very helpful if I get to the town… no, when I get to the town. Opening the pouch, I count the currency, 50 copper and 2 silver. This was a reasonable amount; I could probably rent a room for a couple of nights in an inn. Included was a healing potion and some bandages, along with what seemed to be a bear trap.
This was quite lucky, during one of the days I was cleaning the hall floor alone, I overheard the lord of the manor mention how expensive a healing potion was. The flask was the size of my open palm, I would say it has only a small effect since a group of hunters could buy so much, maybe to treat minor wounds and broken bones. I drink to heal my wound, but all it does is clog it, not strong enough to heal such a deep wound. The bandages would be necessary to change the dressing of the wound. Other things inside included a box of matches, a sewing kit, and a whetstone. Putting everything inside the bag I turned around, now came the difficult part.
Putting on the armour was an almost arduous task as the slightest movement or pressure on my right side was rewarded with a small shot of pain. After 10 minutes, I was now dressed in better material and leather armour to protect myself and hide the wound, I sheath the hunters knife. Turning around I make my way towards the bow and quiver. The quiver seems to have 20 or so arrows and next to it is a simple wooden bow. I pick both up and strap them to my back as I move towards the bag. I grabbed the jerky, bandages and healing potion and put them into different pockets around the belt. The coin pouches were put inside my breast pocket. I would be in town in an hour or two, I could get the rest there. With everything done, it was time to take care of the bodies.
It would be unwise to let the bodies in the open and exposed, the smell might attract nearby predators, and that would lead to them devouring the corpses. It was also my fault they died, if I was just a bit more careful with my surroundings, they would still be alive.
I have to stop thinking this way, what is done is done… In the future, I might have to kill again.
Now with a bit more resolve, I move closer to the corpses, and begin my work. After about an hour, I have the bodies, the tents, and the bag on top a pile of dry leaves and wood. I use the box of matches to light them up. As the fire grows in strength, it consumes the bodies of the hunters. Although I am not a man of faith, I look up and offer a small prayer to the gods in hope they would find rest in their next life, and to forgive my sins. With a solemn thought, I turn in the direction I was heading last night, and make my way to town.
After over 2 hours of travel, the trees begin to clear away until I am facing a large open plain. To my right is a dirt road leading away from the forest towards a small grey bundle far into the horizon. Above the mound are pillars of smoke, giving hint of civilization. I was nearing my destination.
After another hour I finally come to halt, standing before me is a large open steel gate, about 3 meters in height guards posted in each side wearing the chain mail and the city tabard over it. Looking to the sides you can see a 5-meter stone wall that surrounds the town. Around me I see a crowd of humans and some dwarves with small glimpses of elves coming and going. I can see trade caravans on the sides of the road, looking further inside the walls there are many trades looking to sell their wares in an open market, all in all a bustling trade town.
The sense of excitement and happiness is however only a disguise. In the trade caravans, cages are seen in one of the wagons, the contents are men, women and children. The men are displayed in chains, with the trader hitting them with a baton to show they are of ‘tough quality’. The women are no better, displayed naked to show their assets, the female children are much the same. The boys are sold as bonuses if you purchase their mothers. Inside the town, many of the store owners are using slaves to do their heavy work, usually males, as females are either for personal use or as advertisements for the store. But this is to be expected.
The Kingdom of Gueneven has been at war with the neighbouring Corelan Republic for the past 100 years, thus forcing captured Corelan civilians into slavery. The Kingdom has made it illegal to turn Gueneven citizens into slaves, however that law is flimsily maintained. Our trade relations with the dwarves and elves has prohibited turning their people into slaves, but nothing a bit of money cannot do. Nothing is said about the orcs and goblins, a mutually hated race.
The Corelan Republic, from what I know, is far worse, turning any person into a slave as long as it is within ‘legal’ reason, such as criminals, prisoners of war, and ‘law breaking’ minorities, usually other races like orcs, goblins, elves, dwarves, and in rare occasions the draken. Followers of less popular religious institutions are not safe either. They have no relations with any other race as they are self-sufficient, promoting a common belief of racial superiority.
Without noticing I slip on a pebble, drawing me back to reality. My attempt to re-balance myself sent a pain through my side, the wound likely reopened. I fall on my knees as people start to look with curiosity and pity. Grinding my teeth, I lift myself off the ground. Giving a quick glimpse at the caravans again, I trudge along the road towards the town, thinking about last night’s activity. I am to weak to do anything, and that angers me the most.
Sigh… I cower at the memory of my murders, how could I hope to help others.
With a sombre thought, I pass the gates, the guards turn their heads in my direction. This will not be an easy life.
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Author's Note:
First fight scene, hope it caught the attention of the reader. The last part served as a small glimpse of the world, in the future I hope to create a map.
Chapter's will be uploaded weekly, usually on Sunday, but it might be earlier, and all chapters aside from interludes will contain 3000+ words.
Hope you enjoy the chapter, and hope you will continue reading in the future.