Nine-year-old Seamus struggled weakly, spitting out the dirt in his mouth as he tried to escape Patrick’s grip. Unfortunately, the older child, now a teenager, was much stronger than him. He was overpowering Seamus, forcing his knee onto the young child’s back.
“Fight back Halvorson!” The older kid exclaimed, laughing as he pressed Seamus’ face against the grassy ground. “Here. I’ll make it easier!” Patrick picked up Seamus without warning, the act disorienting him. The teenager called over the other two kids nearby, both of whom had been watching.
Before Seamus could even try to run, they already restrained him.
“Please… Stop…” Seamus begged. “I don’t want to–!”
Patrick punched Seamus in his stomach, causing the child to cough out in pain, which caused spit to fly out of his mouth and onto Patrick. The bully wiped his face in disgust before punching Seamus again.
“Famed son of Yorn my ass!” He shouted, kneeing Seamus. “You were probably adopted, or maybe your mom bedded a peasant,” Patrick laughed. “Like some whore.”
Seamus felt his anger boil at the insult, his arms gaining strength as he broke free of the other kid’s grasp.
“Take it back!” He shouted, moving forward at Patrick. The bully threw a punch, but Seamus dodged it without thinking, his balled-up fist hitting the teenager in the gut. Patrick gasped at the sudden hit before Seamus’ punch struck his jawbone. The teenager dropped onto the ground like a sack of potatoes, his wheezing confirming that Seamus had hit a weak point. Seamus didn’t stop there, however. He climbed on top of Patrick, his weight pinning the older kid down.
Seamus wailed at him, his fists pummeling Patrick’s face and chest.
“Take it back!” he screamed at the teenager before he was pulled off by the other two kids from earlier. Seamus’ common sense kicked in at this point. He tried to run for it but was caught shortly after his attempted retreat. He had no chance against both kids as they punched and kicked at him before Patrick joined, nose and lip bloodied from Seamus’ attacks. Seamus curled into a ball, feeling every hit make contact with his body.
It went on for a while before someone shouted out to them, “Hey! Get away from him!” That seemed to do it. Seamus felt the hits stop, followed by the sound of cursing and running footsteps.
There was silence for a moment before calm footsteps sounded out nearby. The beaten boy opened one eye. He focused on a single figure recognizable from the short sword on his back.
“Roger?” He asked, before uncurling from his ball.
“Yeah, it’s me, kid,” the man answered, extending a hand to Seamus. The young child accepted the hand, his other hand wiping away the tears that had formed in his eyes. “Are you okay?” Roger asked as he patted down Seamus’ clothes of any dirt. Seamus nodded, sniffling as he tried to act as if it was nothing.
“He’s fine, Roger, “a deeper voice said. A large shadow cast onto little Seamus. The young child looked up at the towering man who was his father, his broad figure obscured by a large fur cloak, a trophy that had been taken off of a bear. The distant fortress walls made Yorn look like a statue, intimidating and profound.
“Seamus,” his father said, his deep voice making the young child tense up. “Did you fight back?”
Seamus nodded at his father’s question.
“Did you make him bleed?” His father asked, to Roger’s dismay.
“My Lord, you–”
“I did,” Seamus interrupted, answering his father honestly. The entire altercation had started when Patrick teased Seamus to his breaking point, which devolved into the pathetic fight that had recently occurred. Yorn moved to take a knee, his dark eyes looking down at Seamus. Despite lowering himself, Yorn still towered over his son, his shadow casting over the child like a tree’s shade.
“Hm,” the man murmured, stroking his black braided beard. “You fought back, drew blood, yet ran off as soon as they started to team up on you.” Yorn shook his head, scowling.
“What?” Seamus reacted, unsure if he had heard his father right. “What was I supposed to do?” He asked, confused.
His father looked down at Seamus with cold, disappointed eyes. “Don’t be a coward,” he growled before standing up. “Even if the odds are stacked against them, a Halvorson doesn’t run from a fight. We finish them, whether it kills us or not. To do otherwise is cowardice.” Yorn turned his back, heading off toward the fortress’ harbor. The man stopped, still looking off to the walls, before calling out,
“Roger, get Seamus outfitted. I will take him with me on my next trip to Aldren. Cancel any training sessions scheduled for the next couple of weeks.”
“Yes, my Jarl,” Roger answered obediently. Yorn gave an approving nod before heading off, leaving Seamus to watch him as Roger sighed. “Your father means well, Seamus. Do not take anything he says as malice.” He tugged at Seamus’ arm. “Let us go and get you ready for your father’s trip.”
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Seamus felt the spray of ocean water speckle across his face and open book, some of it getting into his mouth.
“Ugh!” he sputtered, wiping his mouth with his sleeve as the longship rocked, his book falling onto the deck. Seamus sighed, reaching to grab the closed book. It was a gift from his mother, who had given it to him for his long strip to Aldren. Seamus had been thoroughly reading the book, which was about the Era of Restoration and its influences.
“Seamus!” Warrior Fendal called, his hands working the ropes as his blond hair swayed in the salty breeze. “Get off that book! Enjoy the open sea and fresh air! It is an experience, unlike any piece of parchment!” The warrior grinned at Seamus, not minding the salty water as it sprayed onto him.
“Fendal,” Yorn spoke from the longship’s rear. He stood upright as he held onto the back tail of the vessel. “Focus on keeping those sails in the wind and leave my son be, even if you do have a point.”
Seamus sighed once more, using his cloak to protect himself from the sea’s spray as he opened his book. However, as Seamus was looking for his lost spot, a large hand grabbed at the book, closing it up as it took it away.
“Hey!” Seamus exclaimed, looking up at his father as the man pocketed the book.
“You will get this at the end of the trip. For now, I want you to experience your surroundings.”
Seamus frowned but didn’t dare argue as he sat back down. He assigned himself to watch the black waves of the sea as the longship rocked. The child witnessed as the longship crashed against the waves, cold specks of saltwater hitting him.
“Ahead!” A man shouted, catching Seamus’s and his father’s attention. There was a huge storm ahead, dark clouds permeating the sky as they rolled closer to the longship. The young child looked back to his father, who had no reaction to the storm.
“Catch the wind and head straight through,” Yorn simply called out, the men on the longship following his orders as they shifted the sail to catch the salty wind.
“What? There’s a storm ahead!” Seamus pointed out, seeing nothing but tall waves and lightning deep into the storm. Yorn didn’t notice or care as he pulled on his cloak’s hood. The young son realized that none of the men seemed affected as they continued on their work.
Little Seamus watched as their longship approached the storm, his hands gripping tightly onto the rail to his right. He felt the deck below him lurch as rough waves rocked the longship. Seamus closed his eyes as they entered the storm, feeling the cold drops of rain hitting his face. Suddenly, he was showered in warmth. Seamus opened one eye, confused, as he saw a partially cloudy sky, the sun shining through them. He looked back, seeing the storm behind them now, its rolling waves and lightning shimmering.
“What?” The child asked, confused.
“It’s an illusory trick. Courtesy of Wizard Falrick,” Yorn explained. “Every month, he sets it up around here to keep out any unwanted intruders.” His father pulled back the hood on his cloak, exposing his swept-back black hair with hints of gray.
“Keep out what?” Little Seamus couldn’t help but ask. Yorn didn’t answer, instead opting to point ahead. The child looked to where he was pointing, noticing the island ahead. It was lush and full of life, the trees greener than the ones back home at the fortress. “Aldren…” Seamus recalled what his father had said back home.
Soon, the longship would dock at the island’s port, with Yorn, Seamus, and warrior Fendal the only ones heading out. Seamus got his book back but didn’t want to read it just yet. His eyes focused on the dense forest ahead, where snow was visible among the green grass.
“Bloom arrived early, aye?” Fendal commented as he admired the green and snowy forest with Seamus. The child nodded, keeping his book to his chest as he turned back to his father, who swiftly moved to the forest ahead.
“Isn’t there a town here?” The curious child asked, hurrying to keep up with his father’s long strides.
“Yes, but it’s much further inland,” Yorn replied simply, keeping his eyes forward as warrior Fendal walked alongside them both.
“You’ll like it, Seamus,” Fendal spoke up. “It’s a town full of your father’s best artisans and minds. They’re good people and won’t give you trouble.” Fendal gave the nervous Seamus an assuring smile, calming the child’s nerves.
They walked through the forest, their canopies and leaves green despite the snow. There were even birds chirping, their songs sounding out throughout the snowy greenery. After some more walking, Seamus could see the telltale smokestack of a blacksmith’s forge in the sky and other smaller ones. The town soon came to view, small but impressive to the child nonetheless. It was cozy, with small wooden cabins and brick homes strewn about. There weren’t even any walls, making it feel much more open and free.
Seamus watched as gnomes and humans walked around the small cobbled paths, all of them smiling and greeting each other as they headed off. Some of them saw Yorn and saluted their group, putting a fist to their heart as a greeting, while some gave a small bow to Seamus’ father. The child waved back at them, watching the townspeople go about their normal day. Seamus caught himself looking at the forge in the center of town, a couple of grime-covered humans and dwarves working around it.
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“Seamus, stay close,” Yorn said, catching the child’s attention. Seamus obeyed and stuck close to Yorn and Fendal, following them as they headed off to the other side of town, where a small hovel awaited them at the edge of the forest. Yorn knocked once on the shoddy door, waiting a few seconds before knocking again. Some clamoring was on the other side before the door opened, and a middle-aged man was on the other side. He was a gnome, a little taller than Seamus, and looked exhausted. Still, he perked up at the sight of Yorn.
“Oh, thank Horus. Come in.” The gnome stepped aside to gesture towards his home. Yorn didn’t budge.
“I want you to show me,” he said simply.
“No tea, I presume?” The gnome sighed, rubbing his eyes as he stepped out. “Never one for subtlety,” he commented.
“Just show me where it happened,” Yorn clarified. “I came here for one reason, Lowe.”
The gnome nodded, waving a hand dismissively as he walked off to a nearby dirt path. Yorn and his group followed, despite Seamus not having a clue why they were there.
“It happened last month,” Lowe spoke as they walked, leading the group east of the small town. “I’m telling you, that wizard needs to step up with his illusions. They won’t fall for that storm trick any longer.”
“I’ll do what I can with what I have. It isn’t easy for Falrick to keep the illusion up every once in a while,” Yorn responded. Seamus decided to tune their talking out, focusing instead on the trees nearby, his eyes scanning the greenery as he followed his father closely. The child then spotted what looked like movement in the forest but couldn’t make it out quite clearly.
‘A wolf? Bear?’ He wondered before suddenly bumping into his father.
Seamus looked to see that his father had stopped, his eyes focused on something ahead. Seamus peeked out, his eyes widening. They were now at what looked like another port, accompanied by its own town. The only difference, however, was that this town wasn’t full of life like the one back in the center of the island.
This town was but ash, with charred buildings and unrecognizable lumps littering the dark ground. The child stared at the horrific sight, hypnotized by it all. He looked up to his father, wondering if the man would comfort him, just like his mother would whenever Seamus got upset. Instead, Yorn scowled, his fist clenching. Even Fendal looked shocked.
“What kind of monster would do this?” The young warrior asked.
“Barbarians, that’s who,” the gnome muttered. “They found a way through the barrier. Let’s be thankful that we managed to drive them off. This could’ve been a lot worse.”
“I fucking hate this war,” Yorn growled. “How did they get this far up north? They should’ve passed by seven different outposts by this point.”
“I think they’re traveling through the Abyssal Sea, not unlike the orcs,” Lowe suggested. “It wouldn’t be far-fetched. Even Redyr’s Frue is reporting attacks in her territory.”
“Dammit. That will make it much harder to find them,” Fendal muttered.
Lowe nodded in agreement. “They haven’t returned yet, thankfully, but I worry they might soon.” The gnome looked to Yorn, who shook his head.
“We’ll send in ships to guard the island. But do not worry much longer, my friend. We’ll hunt those bastards down, even after this war is done.” Yorn sighed, shaking his head as he surveyed the burnt town. “How many dead?” He asked.
Lowe was silent for a moment before finally answering. “Everyone. Even Greta and her husband. We found one of their sons dead near the forest, an arrow in his throat. The body of their daughter couldn’t be identified because…”
Lowe hesitated, a look of grief on his face.
“Burnt bodies are never easy to recognize.”
Yorn visibly seemed to tense up, his fist clenching hard before it soon loosened. “Fendal, you and Lowe will try to identify the rest of the bodies. Perhaps we can give their families closure.” He turned to Seamus. “My son and I will go and check on the vault.”
Fendal nodded, moving with the gnome as they headed towards the way back to Aldren.
“Come, Seamus, we’ve seen enough of this,” Yorn called to the child, who nodded as he forced his sight away from the town. Seamus felt sick to his stomach, his hands shaking as they gripped his book tightly. He wanted to vomit, to cry, yet he couldn’t do so. He wasn’t sure if it was out of shock or the fear that his father might see him as a weakling. Either way, he kept his head high as he followed Yorn.
Both father and son headed off to a different path nearby, which led them through the forest. The sounds of birds caught the child’s attention, and his eyes moved to find the source as they walked. Again, Seamus could see something in the distance move, as if trying to hide from them. The boy looked up to his father, who didn’t seem to acknowledge it.
‘Perhaps it is an animal…’ Seamus concluded as father and son emerged from the forest and onto the nearby shores.
The black waves of the sea washed over the gravel, bordering the treeline with the vast ocean, a sight not uncommon throughout Valenfrost’s many islands. Seamus kept close to his father, who said nothing as they walked. The child wondered about the town and what had happened. The sight of the burnt buildings was haunting, reminding the child that the world was a cruel and dangerous place. He looked up to his father, who kept his strict, cold facade. The child had seen his father’s demeanor falter when the gnome mentioned what had happened to his Aunt Greta.
Seamus himself couldn’t believe that the woman who had given him his first cloak was gone for good, along with his Uncle Derwin and cousins. He could now see why he hadn’t seen them in so long, especially with the nature of this hidden island.
‘Why were they here?’
Seamus couldn’t help but wonder. He wanted to ask his father, but he had long ago learned that such questions were worthless to the man since Yorn had told the child to save his questions for his instructors and mother.
As Seamus was questioning whether or not to mention this to Mother, Yorn suddenly stopped. His father held out a hand to keep Seamus back, his head tilting to the forest nearby. The man scowled as he looked around before it was replaced by a small grin.
“Come out! I know you’re trying to ambush me,” he called out. Seamus looked at his father as if he was insane.
‘What is he doing?’
Before he could question further, Seamus could hear the sound of something rustling in the woods. He turned to see something move from the treeline. Five figures emerged from the bushes and trees, their hands carrying maces and curved swords. They wore baggy foreign clothes underneath strange scale-like armor. There were even a couple that wore no armor, showing off their pale bare torsos that were covered in green paint.
The most heavily armored one, the one who seemed to be the leader, stepped up, speaking to his men in a strange language. Seamus felt terrified, clutching his father’s cloak as he watched the men. His father, on the other hand, didn’t seem scared. Instead, he was smiling as he stepped up to the men.
“Are you the ones responsible for what happened to my town? To MY people?” Yorn called out loudly. Seamus could feel the vitriol laced in his voice.
The leader of the barbarians grinned under his dirty beard, his helmet obscuring most of his face. “So you are Yorn?” He asked in a thick accent, pronouncing the words all wrong. “The Terror of Valenfrost?”
Yorn gently pushed Seamus away, stepping up even closer to the barbarians. The child watched as his father was slowly surrounded by the men, all of them with their hands on their swords and maces. Seamus clutched at his book tighter, watching in suspense.
“Well dunghead?” The leader asked, stepping closer to Yorn as he pointed his finger. “Are you the–” There was suddenly a flash of steel and crimson, and the young child’s father was now closer to the other man. The child blinked at the sight. The leader, also dumbfounded, looked down at his hand. There was a red stump instead of his intact fingers and wrist, dark blood fountaining from the wound.
Dark red blood soon started to pool around the man’s dirty beard. The barbarian clutched at his throat, falling to the ground without another word. Yorn looked at the rest of the men, sighing as he dropped the other man’s sword, which he had somehow taken without anyone noticing.
“Too weak,” Yorn muttered. “But you will do.”
Two of the barbarians snapped out of their daze before they rushed at Yorn with their maces.
Father dodged the attacks with ease. He kicked the first of them away before dodging a mace swing from the second one. He grabbed at the attacker’s arm before he broke it with a quick elbow strike, which brought out a pained scream as bloody bone stuck out. A third barbarian tried to come in, but Yorn easily dodged the man’s downward sword swing. Yorn raised his foot and stomped on the barbarian’s hand, bringing him down and pinning him.
Without missing a beat, Yorn grabbed both sides of the barbarian’s steel helm and crushed it inwards. Flesh and bone crunched beneath the warped steel, the visceral visual and noise cementing into Seamus’ young mind. The first barbarian who was kicked away came back, swinging his mace at father.
Yorn saw this and countered by catching the mace’s head with an armored gauntlet. With little to no effort, he pulled the man’s mace towards him, causing the terrified attacker to jerk forward. The barbarian’s throat was soon unceremoniously gripped onto and crushed, bringing out a surprised gurgle of death. Yorn pulled and ripped a piece of bloody flesh before he dropped it onto the shore.
As Seamus watched, he noticed how hesitant the last man was, his hands shaking as he contemplated his options. The barbarian blinked, an idea forming in his mind as he noticed the child watching him. Seamus’ stomach turned upside down at the sight of the barbarian’s sick grin.
“Father!” Seamus cried, trying to back away as the crazed man swung his sword at the young child. Seamus raised his book, feeling the sharp end of the sword slash at its cover. The child fell onto the ground, looking up fearfully as the barbarian raised his curved sword.
An ax’s edge suddenly made contact with the man’s neck, burying itself halfway through. The barbarian’s eyes widened as he stumbled around before a hand grabbed at the ax’s handle. As it was being pulled back, a foot raised and kicked the body away, ripping the weapon free. Fendal stood there in place of the dead man, exhausted as sweat covered his forehead.
“Seamus!” The warrior exclaimed, panting as he looked down at the child. “Are you alright? I heard the fighting when I came back with Lowe.” He extended his hand to Seamus, who accepted it without a second thought.
“Father?” Seamus asked, his gaze looking for Yorn.
The boy’s father was currently cleaning his hands, wiping the blood onto one of the dead bodies of the barbarians, not a single emotion on his stern face.
“Good work on saving Seamus, Fendal,” Yorn simply said, walking to the last of the barbarians he took care of while Seamus was compromised. The survivor’s arm was useless as he tried to grab a weapon. It was clear that Yorn deliberately let him live.
Fendal frowned. “With all due respect, sir, you should really look after your son. He was almost killed!” The warrior pointed to the dead barbarian. Yorn shook his head as he stepped on the barbarian’s leg, pinning him down as the man tried to escape.
“He is my blood. He should be able to take care of himself,” Yorn simply said before he grabbed the hair of the dirty prisoner, dragging him off as he headed down the shore. “Take Seamus back to the longship and wait there. I have some questions for this filth.” Yorn gestured at Lowe, who had clearly followed Fendal back here. The gnome nodded and followed behind Yorn as the man walked off with their struggling prisoner. Both men left both Fendal and Seamus
“Let’s go, Seamus,” Fendal said as he headed into the forest. Seamus followed Fendal back onto the dirt path, staying quiet. Seamus shivered at the memory of his near-death experience. The blood and grisly fight he had witnessed was permanently scarred in his head. The child had never seen such violence. He shut his eyes, trying to focus on anything. He eventually looked down at his now torn book, which had saved him. While there were only a couple of pages ruined, Seamus was devastated.
‘Mother is going to be upset…’
He frowned, sighing as he clutched the book close to his chest. He could still feel his heart beat like crazy, his eyes scanning the trees nearby as he followed Fendal closely.
Some movement caught his attention, making Seamus jump as he heard the sound of leaves rustling from the wind.
“Do not worry, Seamus. As long as I’m here, nothing can hurt you.” Fendal stated, giving Seamus a reassuring smile.
“Thank you,” Seamus muttered quietly, staring at the forest once more, where he could’ve sworn he had seen a strange animal far in the distance.
“Are there any creatures with red fur?” The child asked after some time. Fendal took a couple seconds to answer.
“Some exist, like foxes, but I never saw one in Valenfrost. Why?”
Seamus shrugged. “No reason,” he answered as he focused on ahead. Seamus could’ve sworn he had seen a glimpse of what looked like red hair but decided that he was simply seeing things, as Fendal had said himself. There were no such creatures in Valenfrost.