Seamus rubbed his reddening cheek, which stung lightly. The young woman in front of him rubbed her hand, which she had used to slap the young man.
“I’m not leaving my shop behind. I’m not letting those marauders burn it down,” she stated as she crossed her arms. She had been a tough case for Seamus, who had been searching buildings for anyone holding out. He was to evacuate them and send them to the town hall. At first, Seamus thought his job unnecessary since he had found no one—at least, until now.
The woman had nearly killed Seamus with her homemade traps, which comprised a bucket full of stones over the door, a rigged crossbow, and a flailing ax. Surprisingly, she didn’t sell weapons at her actual shop. The shopkeeper had slapped Seamus for triggering her traps and slapped him again after he had told her to evacuate.
“The marauders are going to burn it down, regardless! You can’t hope to take them all on!” Seamus argued, a bit annoyed at the woman’s refusal.
“Are you dense? What makes you think those marauders are going to get here? In this part of town?” She shot back. Seamus felt his eye twitch, his hand gesturing towards the door that led outside.
“Have you not been listening?” He asked, knowing damn well that she had to have heard the distant fireballs and explosions. The woman looked hesitant but shook her head.
“I’m not leaving this shop. I’m dead without it, anyway.” She held her ground.
Seamus furrowed his brow. The shopkeeper couldn’t have been more than his own age. There was no way someone as young as her could own a shop, right?
“Who actually owns this shop?” Seamus asked. The woman looked uncomfortable, her adamant attitude dissipating slowly.
“My father. But I haven’t seen him since he went out with the town guards last night,” the shopkeeper revealed.
Seamus had heard about Felix's attempted plan and knew that the town guards wouldn’t have had a chance of sneaking past the marauders. She seemed to realize this, too, as her voice was somber and her eyes distant.
“This shop is all I have left. Without it, I am nothing,” she said once more. Seamus could understand, even if he, too, had truly nothing to live for. He didn’t even know why he had escaped the marauders in the first place since they had killed everyone he had ever known. Seamus had no friends, no one who actually cared for him.
‘Not true… I found James and Dahlia… They’re my friends, right?’
Seamus had wondered about that for the last couple of days, knowing they were the only ones who cared about him. It felt weird to call them friends, as they had never acknowledged it before.
‘Loyal friends never have to announce their companionship.’ His father had said.
Seamus was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the woman’s words until she had shaken him.
“Hide! I can hear voices outside!” She hissed, fear in her eyes as she pulled him behind the counter. Seamus’ eyes widened, snapping back into reality at her words.
‘Maybe it’s James? Or Felix? Maybe they’re just coming to tell me they won and–’
Obnoxious voices cut Seamus’ thoughts, yelling out from the doorway. He peeked over the counter, seeing four marauders barge into the store. Most of them were half-dressed and barely armored, like bandits. Only one of them wore full leather armor with mail visible under it. He held a long ax, trailing it across the floor as he yelled at his men to calm down.
Seamus wanted to get out of there. His instincts were screaming at him to run for it, to get to safety. He desperately looked around for an exit before he finally spotted a door in the dark backroom. Seamus’ heart dropped when he realized it was too exposed and open. Anyone would spot him immediately.
Many things ran through his mind, his cowardly thoughts sifting through every possibility. They ranged from attempting to hide to running away regardless. He was so caught up in an escape plan that he nearly forgot about the young woman next to him—the shopkeeper, who was paralyzed with fear and indecision.
He couldn’t leave her behind, not with these marauding bastards. He remembered the atrocities he had seen back on that fateful day. The day he had lost it all. He knew what these men were capable of, and he couldn’t bear to leave Kate in the same horrible fate as the women of his clan.
Seamus had run away from so much. Left behind so many people. His cowardice had kept him alive, sure, but it left him with nothing more than guilt and a crippling fear of death. Maybe this time, he could right his wrongs and do something other than run away.
“What’s your name?” Seamus whispered.
“Kate,” the shopkeeper answered, her expression turning to confusion. “Do you have a plan?”
Seamus took a deep breath. He peeked over the counter and watched as the marauders scoured the other side of the shop.
“Kate, I’m going to hold them off. You sneak off and get to safety,” Seamus whispered. He began to slowly and silently unsheathe his sword. His hands shook slightly as he did so, his nerves on the edge of slipping. Still, Seamus kept himself calm. He would not let any more people die because of his cowardice.
Kate hesitated, looking up at him with frightful eyes. “I already told you I can’t–”
“They’ll do worse than kill you,” Seamus muttered. “Believe me, run.”
Kate was silent for a moment, her hands clenching into angry fists. Yet she did not argue. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” She asked.
“I’ll be fine… I won’t let them get to you,” Seamus promised. He held his sword’s handle so tightly that his knuckles went white. He could hear the voices of the marauders grow nearer.
“I’m going to stand up now. When they focus on me, you sneak off and get out,” Seamus whispered. He gave one last look at Kate before he stood up. The young man walked out of his hiding spot, his focus on the group of marauders.
Seamus took his stance, the same one he had practiced hundreds of times before. Yet his hands shook violently as he held his weapon in front of him. It was a pitiful sight but the best Seamus could muster.
“Hey!” he shouted as he stepped towards the group of marauders. They all went quiet, their gazes moving to focus on him. Their expressions turned to amusement, almost on the verge of laughing as Seamus wobbled sporadically. Seamus could feel every single one of his instincts screaming at him to run, his legs buckling under his weight.
“He’s shaking!” someone pointed out.
“This is just hilarious! Look at you! All teeth, but no fight.” One marauder commented.
“Isn’t that the shithead we were supposed to nab? Seamus Halvorson?” Another chimed in, stepping forward with his rusted blade.
“Maybe. He fits the description,” the tall one said, rubbing his shaven face.
“Does that mean we can’t kill him?” One asked, disappointed.
“Yes… but they said alive… not intact,” the tall one added. There was a malicious grin on his face. Seamus’s heart dropped, fear overtaking him as he remembered the bodies he had seen on that cursed ship. How mutilated and bloodied they were as they begged for death.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
‘Calm yourself!’
Seamus tried to fight his nerves, his body tensing up.
“I’ll fight you all!” He stated. That earned another rouse of laughter from the marauders.
“Fight like that?” The tall one pointed out. He gestured to Seamus’ knees, which were wobbling uncontrollably.
“You won’t last a second,” one added.
“I’m gonna have a lot of fun with this one. He looks like a screamer!” Another commented.
Seamus tried to steel himself, to keep himself stalwart. Yet he was sweating like crazy, his chest tightening like a vise.
“Ears, nose, there’s a lot to gain from this…”
They were toying with him, not even taking his threat seriously. The marauders simply jeered and taunted, awaiting Seamus to make the first move. The young man attempted to take deep breaths to calm himself, but he only hyperventilated. His breathing quickened, his heart beating growing loud in his ears. His heart rate continued rising, his adrenaline pumping through his veins.
‘Just keep calm,’ a voice deep inside muttered. It was calm, collective, and soothing. ‘Relax and allow your instinct to take hold…’
Seamus’ body slowly relaxed, almost as if he was falling asleep. The world around him turned silent and still. He couldn’t help it as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The young man had reached his breaking point, his conscious mind slipping into stasis.
----------------------------------------
Jarkin frowned as he stared at the kid before him, who had gone limp after hearing his suggestion of torture. The idiot had fainted, probably out of fear. His body was still somehow standing, sword clenched in his right hand.
“You fucking scared him to death!” Ivor laughed before Fern grumbled.
“You have to be kidding! I was looking forward to breaking him. Fainting takes the fun out of it.”
Jarkin sighed as the marauders argued and bickered. He raised his hand to shut them up.
“Bren, check if the coward really is Seamus Halvorson.” He looked at the fat marauder, who groaned as he lumbered over.
“Do you think he’s the same asshole who planted those snares?” Ivor asked.
“Probably,” Jarkin muttered. They had encountered snare traps and others like it along the way. It had snared only Fern, who had to be cut out of the trap. Since then, they have had a keen eye out for them, dismantling all the ones they came across. Jarkin watched as the idiot Bren grabbed the young man by the hair, lifting his head up to see if he had the birthmark. Seamus’s face was like a dead man’s, his green eyes blank and half-closed. His small birthmark was clearly visible, confirming who he was.
“All right, let’s get him—” Bren stopped mid-sentence, a huge grin forming. Well, what do we have here?!” he shouted, moving to grab something from behind the counter.
Jarkin heard a woman yelling and screaming. He watched as Bren pulled some young girl out from behind the counter.
“Trying to sneak off?” He laughed.
The young woman tried to fight back, to no avail. The marauder was unaffected by her flailing fists, his hands moving to undo his trousers.
“Bren!” Jarkin shouted, stopping the disgusting idiot in his tracks. “Get Halvorson! You can deal with her after we’re done with the job.”
Bren frowned in response.
“But–”
“No buts! Keep it in your fucking pants,” Jarkin hissed. He knew these men were useful as arrow fodder and underlings, but it disgusted him how they committed such acts. Such were savages, he guessed.
Bren grimaced and looked back at the woman.
“I’ll be back for you–”
A glob of spit hit his face, interrupting him. Bren’s expression twisted in anger as he raised his fist.
“You bitch! I’ll–”
Bren was cut off by the sudden sound of flesh tearing. Jarkin blinked in surprise.
Blood was everywhere, spattering all over Bren and the woman. The marauder’s hand was a detached stump, his clenched fist landing on the ground before Jarkin. Bren stared at the stump with horror as he stood up.
“Wha–?”
There was a sudden flash of steel, and Bren’s throat now sported a wide, red smile. The marauder clutched at his bleeding throat, dark crimson spilling as he fell to the ground. Jarkin watched the entire scene before finally realizing what had happened.
His eyes focused on Seamus, who still hung limply in his spot. The only difference was that his sword was dripping a dark red substance. Jarkin felt strange now, his heart beating faster as he looked back at Bren, who was struggling weakly to stop the bleeding.
‘Did he do this?’
Jarkin stared at Halvorson, unsure if the unconscious man was really to blame.
‘But how…?’
He shook his head, dispelling any doubts.
“Ivor! Fern! Get Halvorson, now!” Jarkin ordered. The two marauders seemed hesitant. They were clearly debating whether it was safe to get near Halvorson.
“Get him now! Else it’ll be your head I give to Deimos!” Jarkin shouted.
That worked. Ivor and Fern cautiously approached the young man, their sword and ax raised and ready. Halvorson leaned forward in response, his arms tensing up. With no warning, he rushed to the two approaching men. He went for Ivor first, his sword swinging quickly at the marauder. Ivor barely blocked with his sword, holding off the strike.
Fern swung his ax right after, aiming to hit the young man from his left. What should’ve been a solid strike did nothing but harmlessly cut through some hair. Jarkin couldn’t even believe what he saw. Halvorson had effortlessly dodged the attack, his movements unlike anything the marauder had seen.
‘He’s so quick… How?’
Before Jarkin knew it, Fern was stumbling like a drunk, his ax falling to the ground. Halvorson’s sword had eviscerated the marauder’s stomach, spilling his guts out. With no mercy, the young man left Fern to stumble for a bit before he fell down to die on the floor.
Ivor yelled as he tried to stab Halvorson. The young man simply parried the attack with his own sword. Sparks flew from the contact of blades, leaving Ivor open. Halvorson’s blade flashed quickly. The young man was still as Ivor’s body fell limp. Jarkin could only watch as the other marauder’s bloodied lower jaw fell to the wooden floor right before the rest of his body joined.
It was all so quick and sudden that Jarkin had to take a moment to process it all. Halvorson had moved so quickly and fluently that it was like watching a Lumen Knight take care of business. It was a level of skill and speed that did not befit a young man, let alone a coward.
Jarkin gritted his teeth and gripped his long ax tightly. It was just a trick. That was it. Halvorson was using technique and magic trickery to do his fights. Besides, Ivor and Fern were only arrow fodder. Nothing like Jarkin himself. No, Jarkin was a warrior. Hardened by the Outsider Wars and his years as a raider. He would never lose to someone relying on cheap magic and tactics to win.
‘Fuck Deimos. Fuck Havor. I’m going to kill this little bastard no matter what!’
Jarkin angrily raised his ax and came at Halvorson in a rush. The young man reacted, his sword coming at Jarkin in a flash of bloodied steel. Jarkin expected the attack this time, his hands raising his long ax shaft to guard. He planned to block the attack and bring the ax head upon Halvorson’s head right after, ending him then and there.
It was the perfect plan.
Just as Jarkin predicted, Halvorson’s sword contacted his ax’s shaft. Wood and metal chips flew as the sword swung to the ground, leaving the younger man open to attack.
‘I got you now!’
Unfortunately, Jarkin was dead wrong. Just as he was about to bring down his ax, the shaft broke in two, a clean cut down the middle.
Jarkin stared at the cut, his eyes widening as warm blood trickled down his neck and chest. The taste of metal filled his mouth as he dropped the broken ax. He tried to pick up the ax head, but his body lost its balance and fell to the stained ground. Somehow, some way, Seamus Halvorson had cut through his ax, slicing his throat open.
Jarkin could feel how blurry the world had gotten. Before he hit the ground, the marauder caught a glimpse of Seamus’s eyes. They were nothing like before. The young man’s gaze was focused and resolute, with no hint of fear in it. Instead, it was full of killer instinct, emotionless and cold. Jarkin saw a hint of a grin on Seamus’ lips, which sent shivers down the marauder’s spine.
‘So this is Yorn’s son… How could I have been so foolish?’
Jarkin stared at the young man, wondering why and how Seamus had killed four of them, all without a single scratch. He would never know as he bled to death on the wooden floor of the shop, his body growing cold.
The last thing he saw was Seamus’ eyes rolling up again, his grin faltering as his body went limp again. Jarkin watched Seamus fall to the ground, the world slowly darkening around him.