Tommand never thought that his life would take him here. Skulking behind the tree line like some scared and starving animal, reduced to the status of a common highwayman. His hands shook as he listened carefully, ignoring the song of birds above him while he looked down the path ahead of him. It was an offshoot of the main road between Elksbrooke and Clesa. By Tommand’s guess, just lightly traveled enough to find someone worth robbing without putting himself at any unnecessary risk. He wanted someone with coin, or food, or anything that would help him until he could find a place to settle down.

Tommand hated the thought of taking money or supplies from someone like this, but he was too afraid to find honest work, at least for the time being. He had heard stories of deserters being found in villages days away from their hometown, and he wanted to be as far from his old life as possible before he rested.

As time went on, what felt like hours, Tommand thought about the life he left behind. His family, his friends, and Mary. The girl who ran the tannery with her father, and the first girl he kissed. He was able to push the thoughts of them all out of his head on the cold nights. He had convinced himself that after the battle was over and the dead were counted, that he would have been outed for having fled the fighting. If they were like anyone else in the republic, they would already be cursing his name. His own kin probably disowned him by now.

He would miss them, and remember them until the end, but that part of his life was over.

“Just a few more days of this.” Tommand said to himself under his breath, a habit he had picked up after weeks of being alone.

“Just make it a few more days, find work on a farm somewhere, and start over fresh.”

Tommand’s mutterings soon stopped, as another voice made itself heard. It was soft and gentle, the melodic singing of a woman.

The bloom, the bloom, the sprouting trees

The gentle wind, the gentle breeze

Tommand felt sick about what he was about to do, but he was a desperate man. He waited, still as he could be beneath the brush, the cloak he had taken with him giving him some cover. He got a better look at his target as she approached. She looked rich enough. She wore a dark red traveling cloak, long enough to cover her body and keep her arms hidden. She looked middle-aged, with wavy blond hair resting on her shoulders. He tried to keep down the fungus he had eaten for breakfast, and waited.

As soon as the woman was inches away from his hiding spot, he leapt out. The short sword that he kept all this time held tightly, knuckles white around the hilt. He faced her and saw the surprised expression that took hold of her face. Good thing he was covering his own with a mask, he was sure he didn’t look as menacing as he would like under it.

“Money. Food. Water. Anything, hand it over.” He said, mustering all the authority he could manage. “Don’t make the same mistake as the last one!” He shouted, gesturing towards the woman with the end of his blade.

There, of course, was no last one. But this woman didn’t need to know that.

Tommand watched as she started to fluster, fumbling with the pouch hanging at her side.

“Ok, here. I — I have some coins here…” She stammered, trying to compose herself. His stomach twisted with guilt as he truly began to understand just how much fear he was causing, the kind of damage he was putting out into the world. He hated himself for it.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Tommand looked down as she reached into the pouch, noticing that the woman’s hands were burned. Both were patchy in color, with flesh warped and wrinkled. Just as Tommand was wondering what this woman did to burn herself so horribly, she moved. Her hand snapped from inside of her pouch and a bright light was the last thing he saw before he hit the ground. His eyes stung terribly, and he brought his hands to them to try and shield them from any further harm. After a brief moment of groaning in the dirt, he tried to open them. He saw only the faintest hint of blue from the sky above him, and he started to panic.

“What–” He choked out, eyes still aching terribly. “What did you do?”

His question was more of confusion than any fear. It was mid-day, what could she have done to produce a light so intense? Was it even light, or did this woman toss some powder into his eyes? Whatever she had done, she wouldn’t say, remaining silent as Tommand heard footsteps circling him.

All of these thoughts rushed through the brigand’s mind in a matter of seconds before he realized just how vulnerable he was. Blinded, laying in the dirt with a strange woman who he had just tried to rob.

“Please, I’m sorry!” He said, stumbling to sit up, only seeing bare outlines of everything as his vision stayed blurry. He could make out the greenery, the blue sky, and the red cloak of the woman who disabled him. Tommand tried to stand, but felt something catch his ankle, keeping him sitting on the ground. Was it the woman? No, it felt nothing like a hand, and whatever it was grew tighter every second. And he soon felt another, tightening around his wrist. He reached for it, recognizing the sensation of a tree root starting to constrict him. It writhed around his limb like a snake squeezing the life out of its prey, and it was pulling his arm downward.

Tommand starting to cry out in terror as more and more roots began to bind him. He could do nothing but futilely struggle as they pulled him down to the earth until he laid flat. He shut his eyes tight, out of reflex more than anything, and waited.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Was all he could say, like a child being scolded by their parent for having misbehaved. How could he have been so stupid? How many times had his father told him that crime was a death sentence, that the only way to get anywhere in life was through hard work? He could hear him now, echoing in his head.

Idiot! Look at what you’ve gotten yourself into!

Tommand could only feel regret. Regret for trying to rob this woman, regret for running from the battle, regret for even enlisting in the first place.

He finally opened his eyes, praying that he had sight again, that the woman would be gone so that he could find some way out of this. Only one of these prayers would come true, as Tommand could finally see well enough to understand what was happening to him. Glaring down, sneering like one would at a rat who had the audacity to make its presence known, was the woman he mistook for being a helpless traveler. Tommand had never been more afraid in his life, not even the battle he fled from instilled such a terror in him. At least in the chaos of the fighting, he had the chance to turn and run. To leave the smell of blood and the screams of the dying behind him, until his legs gave out and he slipped into unconsciousness.

But here, he was helpless.

Tommand watched as the woman gestured with her hand, a simple wave as if she was brushing him away. The man was suddenly very aware of his weight, as everything above him seemed to move further and further away, and the roots that bound him pulled down into the earth. Tommand started flailing, rubbing his skin raw as he tried to break himself free of his arboreal binds. He screamed into the sky, a desperate and primal bid for rescue as the sounds of crumbling dirt and stone filled his ears. Another root began to worm its way out of the earth and found itself between the bandit’s teeth as his cries for mercy were silenced. The dirt began to creep around his body, weighing on his chest as he took in one last breath through his nose, clenching his eyes and bracing himself to be engulfed.

Above him, the woman did not stay to witness what unfolded. She took several steps away, seemingly put off balance. She cursed under her breath, reaching into her pouch and taking out a small vial filled with a brackish liquid. She brought it to her lips and drank, shuddering as she put the vial back in her bag.

And then she began to sing again, returning to her journey as if nothing of significance had occurred.

What once was barren, now brings life

A new beginning, from times of strife