The scene was a whirlwind of fear and confusion. The once peaceful town was now filled with chaos, with people of all ages shouting and children crying. The smell of smoke filled the air as flames swallowed homes. The sound of fighting was heard from all directions. Wyatt found himself standing on cobblestoned streets, feeling lost and afraid as he tried to make sense of the entire mess. Hawk looked around them and instinctively positioned himself to protect the boy. The two were no longer sure whether or not to trust this stranger's words. A man they once called a friend had completely transformed into someone else.
"Do not worry," Xhiamas said as one of their members approached and provided him with clothing similar to theirs. "I, nor any of my partners here wish you no harm." Hawk fumed at what he had heard. "No harm? Look around you!" He screamed at the man, furious. "All you've done is nothing but terrorize these poor people!"
Xhiamas simply laughed at the idea, which Hawk found insulting. Wyatt could feel his anger but like him, there was nothing else he could do.
"Wyatt, Hawk--do not be so quick to judge us. Open your eyes and take a closer look at what is going on around you." The stranger smiled as the two looked around, hoping to figure out what he had meant.
One of the strange men approached Xhiamas and gave him clothing similar to theirs. He then spoke something to him in a calm, yet hurried tone. "Have patience, brother. We have to enlighten our friends first." He replied.
The two looked all around them, but Wyatt observed something that Hawk failed to notice at first glance. "The buildings being burned," he began to speak. "They're mostly used by the guards--you're burning down the armories and barracks." He concluded. "But, why?" Wyatt asked him, puzzled.
"Hah, let me explain. Ehh..perhaps we got off on the wrong foot here, mainly because of the...suddenness of things," Xhiamas replied, who now was slowly walking around the cobblestone court, somewhat unbothered by everything. A squadron of guards was seen rushing towards them. Xhiamas barked an order in a foreign tongue, to which his men quickly responded by fighting off the advancing wave.
"We, my friends, are known by different names. However--here in Primera, we are known as the Wandering Arrows," the stranger explained. "Our organization is known across different continents as troublemakers, anarchists, thieves; you name it, it is most likely we've already been regarded as such." He continued.
"However, that is only what the rich and powerful say," he stopped and faced them with a serious look in his eyes. "In this cruel world of ours, only those with power and money have control over life and even the truth as well--you both are witnesses to this. You have been wronged in your ways, as have I," Hawk and Wyatt looked at him, conflicted as his powerful words held truth. "We undertook a vow to correct any wrongdoings. That, my friends, is our only purpose." Xhiamas said.
Hawk approached Xhiamas, who was still staring at them, waiting for a response. "Then why all this?" he asked. "Why go to such lengths to correct wrongdoings?" His voice filled with sadness and confusion.
"Because, my friend, to truly make a difference, one must be willing to sacrifice things that they hold precious--even if this causes pain to oneself," Xhiamas replied, gripping Hawk's shoulder. "I do not wish to cause suffering for these people, for they have suffered enough already. But I believe after what happened today, they will grow." He continued.
Wyatt looked at Xhiamas, and despite the sudden change, he saw a glimpse of his former cellmate. Gregory never left after all. He thought to himself.
"Rest easy. If you are worried about innocent people, I have already ordered my men to leave them be and keep the rowdy prisoners in check--along with the guards." Xhiamas said.
"How would they know which one is which?" Wyatt asked, curious about what he had heard. Out of nowhere, a hooded member of the Arrows appeared, his face covered by a red cloth. He unveiled himself to Hawk and Wyatt, and the two were shocked that they recognized the member as one of the prisoners found in another cell in the prison.
"You would be surprised at how far ahead we plan these things," Xhiamas chuckled as he issued an order to the member, who nodded and disappeared as quickly as he emerged. "I have a proposition for you two, along with Cassian. Let us continue this discussion at your home--come, let us make haste." He said as the three of them began to run.
Soon afterward, they found themselves back at the forgery which they found was fortunately unharmed. Wyatt immediately ran to find his father and Cassian. "Father! Where are you?" the boy shouted amidst the continued chaos.
"Cassian? Where are you two? It's us! We're back!" It took a moment, but eventually, the trio heard a noise inside the Blackwood house. They rushed toward the sound and found the two--armed and ready for a fight.
"Thank the Divines, it's just you three," Dale said as he lowered his weapon and approached the trio. "What's going on out there?" Cassian asked, with a sword still in hand. Wyatt and Hawk looked at Xhiamas in response to the question, which prompted Dale and Cassian to look as well. The blacksmith inspected Xhiamas, and the group observed a conflicted look had formed on his face.
"You..." The blacksmith said as he fixed his gaze on the stranger, recognizing his foreign clothing. "You're an Arrow?" He asked.
"Yes. I am what you think I am, Dale Blackwood," Xhiamas replied. "I've heard of you a long time ago--I was still young back then. It is my honor to meet the fabled hero of Rosetown." He continued with a sense of respect in his tone.
"...You know of me?" Dale asked, humbled but also confused. "Of course. Your story is well known amongst our ranks--saving countless innocent lives many autumn moons ago during the war is an act that we believe is worthy of acknowledgment." Xhiamas replied as he turned his attention to the entire group.
"Listen well, my friends," he said as he studied the looks of everyone present in the room. "You may have many questions, all of which will be answered--I assure you. However, the time or place does not provide such an opportunity. This leads me to a proposition." Xhiamas turned to his cellmates. "Hawk, Cassian, and you, Wyatt--I invite you to join our ranks and become one of us." the trio stared at the man dumbfounded while Dale approached him and grabbed his golden-brown scarf.
"What are you playing at?" The blacksmith asked, staring daggers at him as Xhiamas was lifted off the ground with ease.
"I am merely giving my friends a second chance at life. A greater purpose, if you will. From the time I spent with them in prison, I deem them worthy to be members of our organization. I will vouch for them. Me, along with a few others--this, I assure you, Dale Blackwood." Xhiamas looked at the blacksmith. "If you are concerned about your son's safety, do not worry. I will do what I must to prepare him for the journey ahead." He assured Dale.
The blacksmith hesitated for a moment but eventually loosened his grip. He then looked at the trio that were waiting for his word. A few moments passed, then it seemed that his mind was made. "It would be best for the two of you to go with him.." Dale said, pointing out Cassian and Hawk.
"..You too, Wyatt. I fear this place is no longer safe for all of you. The moment that when this madness quiets down, Lord Mikhael is sure to be forced to take action--if he's not already doing something as we speak." he continued as Wyatt looked at him, defeated.
The boy stood silent as the rest gathered what they could to prepare themselves. Hawk armed himself with a blue-colored bow and a quiver full of arrows as Cassian was already ready with a sword with gold carvings on the blade and hilt.
"I've heard tales about your work, blacksmith, and I will admit that they are true," Xhiamas commented on Dale's handiwork. "They're beautiful and well-made. This would fetch a nice price on the market from where I hail from," he continued.
"I thought you were..what do you call them..an Arrow?" Cassian said. "How would you know how trade and finance would work?" he asked him.
"With what we do, you will experience and learn things you never thought you could do. Who knows? Maybe I am a better physician than you are, my friend." Xhiamas quipped as Hawk held Cassian back.
"You'll get used to him. For now, let's focus on getting out of here alive first," Hawk said as they exited the house with the scout. Wyatt stood unmoved in the same spot, confused and afraid of what might happen next.
Is this what Godric felt when he ran for his life? He thought. A loud thud brought him back to his senses. He scanned the room and found his father uncovering a section of the stone wall, clutching a long, heavy item wrapped in a dusty white cloth.
Wyatt watched his father unveil the item and reveal a majestic steel war hammer. It had two ends, the flat side looking heavy enough to dent any armor and bones. The other side had a spiked tip, one that had a crimson color to it, signifying that both the wielder and the victim had seen their share of violence. Finally, what stood out the most was a symbol etched onto the metal, just in the middle of both sides of the hammer.
It was a war axe of foreign design. Wyatt stood mesmerized at the sight of his father wielding such a mighty weapon, handling it as if it were a mere extension of his body.
"...What is this?" Wyatt finally asked his father. "This is a relic of my past. A ghost that I had buried. A memory I swore to have burned." Dale replied with a hint of regret in his voice. "Back when I was young, I lost everything except my talent. I was a broken monster of a man, and decided to forge this weapon out of pure hate."
He continued as he seemingly fell into a deep gaze. "Pride, arrogance, recklessness--these things bring nothing but ruin. It was before the civil war had started. My parents were killed by strangers, and I was left alone--orphaned, with nothing but the Blackwood name and the forge." He explained to Wyatt.
"I used this...thing in a pathetic reason to defend our people, but what I truly believed in was to use this to break down every soldier who stood in our way. I wanted them to suffer more than I had. I wanted to release every bit of anger that swelled inside me growing up." Wyatt stood frozen at his father's words. The man he looked up to suddenly turned into someone completely different.
"A critical moment came during the war when we were ambushed here in Rosetown. My comrades at the time were brave and heeded every command to keep everything in order, but I was the exception." the blacksmith said. "Due to my actions, we did indeed win the battle, but at the cost of countless lives," he continued, his voice almost breaking off.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
"Only a few souls remain alive to tell what truly happened that day, on why I vowed to never again be consumed by hatred. Apart from the death of my parents, this is one memory that is burned in the deepest pits of my mind." He continued.
"What do you mean by that?" Wyatt asked, perplexed.
"I never did tell you about your mother, didn't I?" Dale responded in return.
Wyatt stood in silence, for the boy was afraid of what his father might say next. "We met each other during the war when I was wounded in a skirmish. She found me, a broken-down mess of humanity. Despite my flaws and imperfections, she had nursed me back to life." the blacksmith said softly as if he were reminiscing fond memories.
"Months went by, then you came along, son. My life had meaning again," he approached Wyatt with the weapon in tow. "When the town was attacked, you cried out. At that moment, I couldn't bear to see the two precious things I had left, and so I did what needed to be done--I became the monster I once was." the blacksmith continued.
"The town was ablaze. It was chaotic and brutal. It felt like you were experiencing the seventh hell on earth. I swung at everything I saw on that night. There was no possible way to distinguish friend or foe--at least, in my eyes, that was my excuse. What was important to me was that the two of you were safe." Dale recounted the unwanted memories.
"The battle was almost over, and only a few able-bodied men were left standing, myself included," he said. "Our leader barked orders to stay in formation, but I lashed out at the enemy like a man possessed. This weapon does things to you, my boy." he stared at the war hammer.
"Eventually, the battle ended, and my comrades stared at me in shock as I was able to take down three members of the royal guard, along with a dozen soldiers from the loyalist military. I did not leave unscathed though. Although countless blades had wounded me and left scars on my body, only one still aches to this day." Dale began to look at Wyatt as if he committed a grave sin.
"Where are you leading with this?" Wyatt asked his father as he grabbed the blacksmith's arm tightly.
No words were exchanged, but the message was clear enough.
Wyatt's heart dropped to the floor. After all these years, he finally understood why his father never spoke about her or why he was sensitive about the topic being brought up. He loosened his grip on his father's arm and took a step back. A cryptic silence fell between the two.
"H-how did it happen...?" Godric asked asked.
"It was after the final skirmish. The battle was already won and the rest of the enemy surrendered after the royal guards had died. However, they said I kept attacking and swinging at every person in sight like a man possessed--be it friend or foe." Dale said.
"Your mother...she stepped in, hoping that she could stop my rampage, and she did, but..." His voice trailed off as he stared at the curved edge of the war hammer that was soaked in dried blood. Wyatt immediately understood what had happened.
"They said I snapped back to my senses after the blow happened, and it seemed so as the next thing I remember was waking up with two men holding me back, and me, clutching your mother's body in my arms," he sat down, staring at the cold stone floor.
"Out of recklessness and frustration, I immediately took a blade and gashed my eye to blind myself for what I did that night as I knew I'd never find another blessing like her ever again--but I heard your cries, and I remembered." He looked at his son, who was still having a hard time accepting the story.
"I kept one eye to remind myself that I still had one more gift worth living for. From that moment on, I vowed to the old gods and the Divines to never be consumed by hatred again." At this point, Wyatt was confused about what to think or feel.
"Listen, I'm not asking for your forgiveness, son. I will also understand if you wish to never speak to me again after this. I've made my peace with the consequences a long time ago. The only thing I can offer you now is this, and an opportunity for a better life which Xhiamas can provide you with. I know he will take good care of you and your company." He then offered Wyatt the weapon.
"But why would you pass this on to me?" He asked his father, angry and confused.
"Because, son--this weapon, despite its' history and use, holds the memory of both me and your mother." Dale turned the weapon around with minimal effort, showcasing his hidden strength. Found on the other side parallel to the carved sigil was a green gemstone with a unique pattern, embedded in the metal.
"Somehow in some way, something found itself within this weapon and it lingers here still; something dark." Dale stared at the war hammer. "Yet, at times when I see your mother's gemstone, my heart feels at peace. She gave this to me as a remembrance whenever I was away for battle. It calmed me down during the hard times and your mother's last moments." He looked at the gemstone, sighing. "It has its risks, but I believe that this will help you somewhere along the road, as it has with me." He then gave the weapon to Wyatt, who hesitantly gripped the handle tightly.
The hammer had a strange sensation to it. The iron handle was cold to the touch. The weight was excruciatingly heavy. It felt like the sum of metal and grief combined. Wyatt looked at the intricately designed weapon, and immediately, complex emotions consumed his mind. In that instant, he then knew what his father had meant.
What is this? The young man thought. It feels as if I could take on the world. His senses sharpened, his heartbeat quickened, almost as if he had become another person; a violent one. However, he looked at the gemstone and was able to calm himself down. The bloodlust disappeared; his breathing steadied as he returned to his senses.
The blacksmith looked at him, relieved. "I'm glad it works on you as well," he then turned his attention to the weapon. "This war hammer has a terrible power, but I believe it might prove useful. As for the gemstone...I believe it's your mother's way of looking after us. Harness its' power, master it, and no one can ever harm you."
Dale hugged his son tightly. "I wish it didn't have to come to this. I wish we had more time together, but perhaps fate has other plans for you, son." Wyatt responded with a tighter hug after hearing those words from his father, who, for the first time in his life, was finally able to open up to him.
"I'm in no position to forgive you for what you did to the people you killed, Father," Wyatt responded.
"But what I can forgive you for, I do. I promise not to let you down." Wyatt continued, looking at his father, his eyes full of promise. "I know you won't. Thank you. Now go before the soldiers reach this place." After hearing his father's words, Wyatt said his goodbyes and headed outside to where the three were waiting for him.
----------------------------------------
Xhiamas whistled as soon as he saw the weapon in Wyatt's hands. "What a beauty. A family heirloom, I presume?" He asked Wyatt, who looked at him in silence and with a perplexed face. "I see. Perhaps at a later time then."
The four of them huddled together after Cassian had returned, who was sent to scout the nearby areas for any sign of trouble.
"So, what's the plan Xhiamas?" Hawk asked, to which the rest of them followed suit. "Indeed. Where exactly are we going--provided we can get out of town?" Cassian followed up.
"The plan is to meet up on the northern outskirts of House Polifio's territory," Xhiamas explained.
"From there, we will head east to one of our hideouts where we will store all the money and weaponry." He continued, inciting an angry response from Hawk. "Hold on--you're not serious about keeping all the things you stole today, right? Your people already made a huge mess!" He shouted as he grabbed Xhiamas's scarf.
"What is it with people grabbing my clothing today?" The scout let out a laugh. "Rest easy. We are not that cruel, nor are we as evil as they claim us to be. We do not use the things that we steal for our good, Hawk," he continued. "Let's just say, for now, that our connections run deeper than one might think." Hawk looked at him, doubtful, but eventually gave in. "Fine. I trust you. Are we all ready?" he asked the group, to which everyone nodded in agreement.
Their plan to escape was cut short when shouting was heard in one corner, followed by immediate silence.
"What's going on?" Dale quickly stepped out of the house, wondering what had happened. "I don't know good sir, but I'm afraid it is bad news," Xhiamas replied. "Hurry, let us go, immediately." he continued.
"Wait, run to the western exit--now!" The group looked at the blacksmith, who had a look of dread on his face. "This sensation," he gripped his chest tight. "I've experienced this before." His fears turned to reality as suddenly, the ground quaked violently, and roots sprung out of the cobblestone paths and sprawled across all directions. The group dodged and rolled their way out of harm's way, as Dale quickly grabbed a blade and hacked his way through the dense blockade of nature.
"Right this way!" The blacksmith directed at the group, who quickly followed him without hesitation as a living forest continued to follow in pursuit. "What--in the seven hells--is this?!" Cassian shouted as they all ran for their lives, evading the living mass of roots inching closer and closer.
"Nature magic!" Dale shouted over the chaos. "I never expected Lord Mikhael to break his vows just to use it to contain the chaos!"
Hawk stared back in confusion at the terror that was chasing after them. "I have no idea what's going on, but Divines, save us!" he cried out. "Shut up and run, idiot!"
Cassian shot back. "The Divines aren't gonna help us now, it's gonna be your legs that are doing all the running!" They continued running until they were almost at the edge of the town, gasping for air but luckily a good distance away from danger.
They were almost cleared for an escape, but Wyatt suddenly stumbled and dropped to the ground--the war hammer was weighing him down and taking a huge toll on the lad.
"Wyatt!" Hawk looked back and immediately went back for him who still lay on the ground fatigued and seemingly out of breath. The rest followed suit and carried the lad back to safety.
The young man was barely awake but attempted to take a look at what was happening. He faded in and out of consciousness. All he heard were voices from the group but could not make them out properly, and the rough handle of the punishing war hammer. When he came to, he turned his head back and saw that his father had separated himself from the group, standing his ground against nature itself, which was closing in on all of them at an even faster pace.
"Father!" Wyatt shouted out in a strained voice. The blacksmith stood his ground and readied his blade against the oncoming roots. "Arrow!" Dale shouted out to Xhiamas. "Take care of them for me." He said as the roots closed all around him.
Xhiamas responded with a quiet nod of respect. "I will do my best, sir blacksmith. You have my word!" He shouted back.
The group was already far out of reach and sight, but Wyatt swore to himself that he saw his father smile before the roots and foliage swallowed his father whole, which prompted the mysterious magic to stop. The group halted for a quick moment to watch what happened in stunned silence.
"Wyatt..." Cassian started to speak, but Xhiamas cut him off. "I'm sorry, but we should not stop moving. Who knows what comes after us next." This sent Cassian on edge, who pushed Xhiamas out of anger. "By the Divines--pity the lad! He just lost his father!" He screamed at Xhiamas. Hawk stepped in an attempt to intervene, but Wyatt cut them off first.
"Xhiamas is right. Now's not the time to be standing still," he said as he tried to get his bearings. Wyatt looked at the scout with a determined look as Cassian helped him stand. "After what happened today, more questions were made rather than answered. I believe that there's a lot more happening than what meets the eye, and I also believe, that you have the answers, don't you?" He asked the foreigner.
Xhiamas looked at the boy and nodded. "I do indeed, my friend. Your father asked something from me, and I will honor that request as best I can," he turned to the rest of the group. "Trust in me, and all your answers will be answered." He continued, with Wyatt sensing the sincerity in his voice.
The three looked at each other and nodded in agreement. The scout bowed his head in response. "Thank you. Now, let us be off. I'm afraid we will have to make a long detour as things did not go the way I planned them to. Onwards, to the west, we go." He said to the group as they began to walk in silence, their faith placed firmly in Xhiamas' hands, with the wind blowing quietly in the night.