Lucien wiped the sweat off his brow, flicking it onto the dirt road beneath him. It had been a few hours since he had left Locham, the sun now blazing high above his head. He had chosen to stick to the dirt road that would lead him to the next village over. It wasn’t the most direct route to Whitmore, but it was the safest.

If he wanted to, he could’ve chosen to cut directly northeast through the wilderness straight to his destination. But given how long it was going to take, he would much rather take the safer route over saving a day or two at most.

He also chose this route because it would let him warn several villages on the way. And gather more supplies when he inevitably ran low.

His feet were aching, but he kept going. He wanted to make as much progress as possible before nightfall. He would have more than enough time to rest then. He wouldn’t be able to make it to the next village by then, so he would have to find a place to camp, but he knew that before setting off.

He guessed that it would still take a couple more days to get there by foot. It was not his first time making this journey, but it wasn’t often that he had to make the journey without a horse and carriage, so he wasn’t certain that his guess was correct. He would have a better idea of how long it would take the further along he went.

Another hour passed in mind-numbing boredom as he walked along the road. Not much had changed in the past hour. It was still the same dirt path, surrounded by open plains. The lands connecting Locham to the rest of the province were fairly boring once you left the surrounding area of the Eternal forest.

There was the occasional river or small forest, dwarfed in comparison to the forests surrounding Locham, but still plentiful enough to provide for the animals that called these lands home. Other than that, The rest of the land was sprawling flat plains, which Locham was quite thankful for.

They were already sequestered away enough as is due to their proximity to the border. If the lands to the north were difficult to traverse, then they would’ve been practically isolated from the rest of the kingdom.

The widespread plains did provide Lucien with one major benefit however, and that was the ability to see anything before it even had the chance to come close to him. The first thing he saw coming his way wasn’t a predator hoping to take advantage of the lone and injured wanderer, but was instead a wagon bounding down the dirt road towards him, lead by two horses.

From this distance, Lucien couldn’t make out who was riding on it, nor what it was transporting. But he did know where it was going. There were no other villages out this way besides Locham. The merchant would have to turn around and find another way to make a living. With Locham gone, they would have to consider other options.

As the wagon drew closer, Lucien saw the old man leading the wagon. Lucien had met the man before. He and his daughter would occasionally set up a stall in the village market selling wooden carvings and knickknacks for the children to play with.

They were always popular among the children of the village. Delilah had pleaded with him to buy her something on multiple occasions, so he had spoken with the pair before. The smile on her face when he inevitably gave in was always worth it.

At the same time that he had noticed the old man, the old man had noticed him as well. The wagon came to a stop not far from Lucien. The old man squinted at him before being overcome with shock.

“Lucien? What happened to you?” His eyes were locked onto the missing arm in shock, until he snapped out of it and scorned himself for staring.

He followed the man’s gaze down to his missing arm, a sad smile on his face. “How much time do you have?” Lucien asked.

“I have all the time in the world for a friend in need. Miriam my dear, come help Lucien up.”

Before Lucien could decline, a woman came out from the back of the wagon. In her mid thirties, Miriam was about a decade younger than Lucien. Her calloused hands, bulky frame, and short cropped hair was somewhat uncommon for women in the area, but not enough for her to stand out and be ostracised for it. It leant herself more towards physical labour, which she quite enjoyed.

Of the father daughter pair, she was the one responsible for collecting the lumber they used and for carrying the heavier items. Paul, on the other hand, was responsible for the more delicate work. He was the one who did all the crafting. His deft hands able to make some truly fantastic works of art.

Miriam helped Lucien up to the spot beside Paul, the pity in her eyes unable to escape Lucien’s notice, but he didn’t comment on it. Sitting in the seat next to Paul, he saw Miriam get back inside the wagon to watch over everything before Paul picked up the reins.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Just as he was about to get the horses moving, Lucien reached out and stopped him with a shake of his head. Paul looked at him in confusion, before something clicked into place and he paled slightly. His wrinkled hands squeezed tightly around the reins until his knuckles went white.

Sensing the serious atmosphere, Miriam poked her head out to check on them.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“It’s... a long story,” Lucien said. “You should head back.”

Miriam was taken aback, but ultimately didn’t say anything.

Paul nodded simply as he turned the wagon around and started the return trip early. Nobody spoke for a while. Their hearts were heavy. They knew something had happened, and from the look on Lucien’s face, they knew it couldn’t have been anything good.

The only sound was that of the horses’ hooves battering against the dirt road, and the wheels of the wagon clacking along. A steady heartbeat underpinning the nauseating atmosphere. The father-daughter pair’s minds ran rampant with worry, grief, and fear.

Travelling along the road, which was normally so easy for her, now left Miriam feeling sick. Her stomach twisted itself into knots as her mind wandered. Flashes of all the friendly faces and smiling children of Locham played through her mind as her heart uncomfortable raced in time with the horses’ hooves.

Paul was handling it somewhat better, but his gaze was lost somewhere off in the distance. And his knuckles were still pale as he had not relinquished his tight grip on the reins.

They were worried. But more importantly, they were scared. Locham wasn’t far from them. What if whatever had happened there happened at their village too? They knew those people. They were friends, people they treated as family, and yet they would never be able to see them again.

They couldn’t bear the silence anymore, and without turning his head, Paul began to speak. “How many survived?”

“Just two of us.” Lucien didn’t turn to face Paul. His eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings in case anything or anyone tried to attack them. He had to stay focused. He had to be prepared.

By now, Miriam had poked her head out through the front of the wagon to join their conversation. “Two? Who else got out? And where are they?”

Lucien leant back into his seat and looked up into the sky as he breathed out. “Roddy is still alive out there. They took him away.” Lucien’s fist was tightly clenched. “I’ll find him. And I’ll bring him back.

The others fell silent, knowing how difficult this must have been for him. They didn’t ask anymore questions for now. And Miriam ducked her head back into the wagon to watch over their products.

The wagon travelled along the dirt road back to their home. Nothing disturbed them, and even the horses seemed infected by the solemn atmosphere.

The sun began to set, and still the village was nowhere in sight. The wagon had met up with Lucien a bit past the halfway point between the two villages, so they were still an hour or two away. Deciding it wasn’t safe to continue driving, they pulled off to the side of the road and made camp.

Paul unhooked the horses from the wagon, fed them and gave them water, and then combed through their hair. Miriam set up a campfire, while Lucien laid out some bedrolls for the three of them.

With the campfire lit, the three sat around it for warmth while the horses splayed themselves out on the grass nearby, a leash attached to their necks making sure they didn’t go too far. Miriam pulled out a loaf of hard bread and a waterskin and passed them to Lucien to have the first bite. It wasn’t much, but the three would be back in the safety of the village soon enough, and they could have a proper meal then.

Breaking off a piece of bread was a bit of a struggle for him with just one hand, especially considering the loaf was as hard as a brick, but he managed. Holding the loaf in his hand, he bit one end of it, and while gripping it with clenched teeth, he pulled from both ends until a bit snapped off. Washing it down with a bit of water, he passed it around to Paul.

The group remained silent, still not having talked much since what Lucien said earlier. The crackling of the fire being the most dominant sound in the night. When the bread came back around to him, Miriam snapped off a piece and handed it to him so that he wouldn’t have to do it himself.

Finishing the bread, the group sat there, warming themselves up at the fire. Eventually, Lucien spoke. He opened up about what happened, taking them through what happened that day while sparing them the gory details. But it still sent a shiver down their spines.

Miriam was already in tears by the time he got around to the marketplace, and Paul was barely holding himself together. His old shoulders were shaking, and he looked miserable. Lucien himself was also tearing up. Something about it felt different compared to when he told the story to Aerin. Maybe it was because they were familiar faces that it all felt so much more real.

There was an air of magic and mysticism to his conversation with Aerin. The Endless Forest, the calming grass that bent to her will. It all felt unreal, and helped him tell the story a bit easier. But none of that magic existed here.

It all felt too real here. Like he was living it all over again. It hit him harder than any physical blow he had ever taken in his life, and he almost couldn’t bring himself to finish the story. But he knew that he had to, and so he did.

By the time the story was over, there were no more tears left to be shed. Instead, Miriam and Paul were filled with righteous anger. The bandits had gone too far! They had heard stories from travelling merchants who had come from other villages that had been attacked, but none of them felt as close to home as this.

It made them worry about their family and friends back home. Lucien hadn’t been gone for that long when his village was razed to the ground. What if the bandits had set their sights on their home? It would already be too late for them. Their minds were filled with worry. Their friends and family could already be gone, and they were only a couple hours away from finding out. They wanted to set the wagon back up and race through the night to make sure they were safe, but they knew that wasn’t realistic. They wouldn’t be able to make a difference.