New Beginnings

This is a story I've been working on off and on for a few years, figured with all the free time I would try and see if I could actually finish it. As always, the usual disclaimer about being a novice writer and all that jazz. Regardless though, hope you enjoy it!

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The bright sunny day suddenly darkened, giving the man who called himself Jarek Giles pause.

“Catch me!” came a woman’s voice from above, so Jarek dutifully put his arms out just in time to snag a beautiful woman as she plummeted from above. All things considered, not the worst way to start a day.

Jarek looked into the woman’s clear green eyes, and was surprised by what he saw there. As previously mentioned, she was pretty, and the firmness of her body in his hands danced at the edges of his thoughts, but something in her eyes demanded his attention. Intelligence, warmth, and curiosity were all there, as well as something more resolute.

After a brief moment, almost frozen in time as the two took stock of one another, the girl leaned forward and gave him a quick, playful kiss on the cheek. “Thanks handsome, but you can put me down now” she said with a smile.

“Do I have to?” Jarek replied, and he meant it.

She laughed, a sweet, lilting sound, and nodded. “For now at least, I find I am in a bit of a hurry at the moment.”

Jarek looked up and saw several armed guards pointing down at her and shouting. “That’s unfortunate. Anything I can help with?”

The woman laughed again. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He set her down and she started to turn away, but Jarek put a hand lightly on her arm to stop her. “Can I get a name at least?”

“Only if you see me again.” With that and a wink, she dashed off.

Jarek watched her go, realizing as he did he already missed her. He shrugged his shoulders and started to continue on his way when he felt arms grab him from behind and slam him down into the dusty road. Before he could regain the breath knocked out of him, a man was sitting on his chest with his knees pinning Jarek’s arms down and a knife to his throat.

“Who are you and why did you help her?” the man demanded. He was dressed in a city guard’s uniform, which, considering how sweaty the man was, was apparently rather hot.

The initial shock of the encounter gave way to anger at his treatment, but the knife at his throat was problematic. So, Jarek decided to try his best to be diplomatic.

“The name’s Jarek, and I am just doing my best in the fight against broken limbs.”

The guard smirked. “Ah, you are just a dupe then. Well then, dupe, you won’t mind telling me which way the girl went?”

“I’ll show you if you get off me…” Jarek replied.

The guardsman pressed the flat of the blade hard against Jarek’s throat, causing him to gasp for breath. “I don’t believe you are in any position to make demands” he sneered. He held the blade a moment longer, then stood up. “Now, what direction was that again?”

Pausing only briefly to consider the ways in which the girl and the guard had treated him, Jarek pointed in the opposite direction the girl went.

“Thanks” the guard replied before punching Jarek in the stomach. “If you lied to us, we’ll be back.”

As Jarek fell to his knees to recover, the guard was joined by three others, all of whom rushed off in the wrong direction. After a couple of seconds, Jarek took small comfort in muttering “Dupe this” before climbing to his feet. He almost started walking in the direction the girl had gone, but a vague feeling of being watched told him it was a bad idea. The girl had gone north and the guards south, so Jarek decided to head west. He hated not following her, but given the situation, he figured it was best to play it safe, and he needed to not be around when the guards returned from going the wrong direction.

The road west started out busy, mostly with traders and townsfolk going to and from the city, but after a few minutes, the hustle and bustle died down and the path grew quiet. Trees lined the road, but large amounts of sunlight still managed to filter down through them. Before long, Jarek grew thirsty; he had not had time to fill his water skin before having to leave town. As luck would have it though, he heard water running in the distance, so he left the path and ventured towards the sound.

***

The river was wide but shallow, and whispered to him invitingly. He kneeled down and examined the water, which appeared clear and delicious. He paused briefly at his reflection, his mind recalling the girl calling him handsome, then cupped his hands and took several long drinks from the stream. After he had drank his fill, he dunked his whole head in the water before filling his water skin.

Once finished with the river, he stood up and turned around just in time to see five figures wearing various types of leather armor materialized from the woods. They approached slowly, and did not exactly appear friendly. Jarek sighed and stared at the sky momentarily, noticing that dark storm clouds were slowly encroaching on the sunny day and his position. Returning his attention to the earth and the five men before him, he decided to try a tactful approach. “Good evening gentlemen. This must be a popular spot for this river, let me just get out of your way…”

The foremost man raised his arm and pointed Jarek, then balled his hand into a fist. The other four surged forward, unsheathing and unstrapping various weapons as they did so. Taking that as a sign of hostility, Jarek quickly unsheathed the sword from his side and took the plane wooden shield off his back.

The first man that reached him wielded a large axe, making him considerably dangerous but also rather slow. He began to swing the large weapon, and quick as a flash, Jarek surged forward. He ducked beneath the axe, then used his forward momentum to bring the shield edge up, smashing it directly into the man’s throat. The man staggered back, clutching in vain at his shattered larynx, and Jarek continued forward, shoving his shield bodily at the next attacker. The man was pushed back a step and slipped in some river mud, giving Jarek the opening he needed to bring the blade to bear and impale him. However, the dying man grabbed the blade sticking from his chest and clung fiercely with a death grip, preventing Jarek from using it.

The next attacker, sensing victory, hefted a curved scimitar and charged full out, running at top speed to catch Jarek while he was unable to use his weapon. Jarek struggled vainly to get the sword out, but the bandit on the end of the sword would not let go. At the last possible second, just as the charging man was swinging a vertical slash, Jarek rolled to the side, coming up with the knife that the man clasping his sword had dropped. He came to his feet and hurled the knife expertly at the bandit that had rushed past him, catching him in the spine.

Jarek looked around for the other men, spotting them just as they slid into the cover of the trees. After noting the directions in which they fled, he returned his attention to the man grasping his sword, who had finally died. He pried the man’s fingers off the blade and straightened up, mentally considering his options. All of a sudden, he heard a malignant hiss, and he dove to the side just as an arrow soared out from the concealing forest. The arrow thudded painfully in his left shoulder as he dove, but he managed to dodge the kill shot. He rolled when he hit the ground and came abruptly to his feet, dropping the shield due to the pain and running in the direction from whence the arrow had come. This was probably not the best plan of action, but too much rage filled his body for him to think clearly, so he clutched his sword tightly and sought out his quarry. Another arrow flew out from the forest, hitting him in the leg but also betraying the shooter’s position. Jarek did not even feel the pain as he ran, his mind focused utterly on vanquishing his attackers.

The archer was just fitting another arrow to his bow when Jarek hit him with a fierce downward slash, ending the archer’s threat. A chill of weakness and pain coursed down his body, but he dismissed it to begin seeking his final attacker. Lightning suddenly split the sky and rain began to fall in a torrential sheet, but he continued to look around, and the next lightning flash revealed the location of the other highwayman, who was cowering beneath some bushes. Hefting his blade, Jarek let out a ferocious cry and charged.

The remaining man, who had been the leader of the group, screamed in utter terror when he realized that he had been spotted. Without a backward glance, he began to run as fast as he could, knowing that his very survival counted on it. As a result, he did not see his pursuer faint from the loss of blood and exhaustion after only a few seconds of chase.

***

Morrigan Valinor wandered along the road home with his two sons, lamenting the sudden appearance of a heavy rain. Cold and wet, he quietly cursed the heavy grey clouds above his head. A hand touched his shoulder, causing Morrigan to look behind him. One of his sons, Matthias, gave him a faint smile and shrugged.

“Nothing you can do about the rain, Dad,” he said, and Morrigan nodded solemnly.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Matthias’s smile grew broader as the youngest son Aric, who was only nine, chimed in “I think it’s refreshing.” Then he gave his father a big smile.

Morrigan could not help but return the favor at that point; his son’s omnipresent optimism always served to lift his spirits. He was about to thank his sons for cheering him up when a wrenching cry cut through the forest, scattering birds in the trees and startling wild animals in the undergrowth.

The three men looked at one another and Morrigan sighed heavily, his good mood fading quickly. His sons peered at him, waiting for his advice, so he gave them a nod of acknowledgement. Without a word, the three took off running in the direction of the scream.

***

After several long minutes, the family came upon the river and a clearing that had clearly seen the chaos of battle recently. Several bodies littered the landscape, none of them having died of pleasant causes.

Morrigan viewed the battlefield with consternation, unsure about what to think. The dead men were clearly bandits, so their loss would not exactly bring humanity to its knees. However, what or whoever had killed them had likely survived the confrontation, and Morrigan did not know if that person was friend or foe.

He heard Aric give a yell. Looking up from his thoughts, Morrigan was surprised to see how far his sons had spread across and from the battlefield while he had been thinking. In fact, he couldn’t even see Aric, who had apparently gone into the trees. Panic surged through him, and he ran towards Matthias, who appeared to be able to see Aric. He quickly reached his son, who was staring down at something in the thick loam of the forest floor.

A closer inspection revealed that it was a man, partially covered in leaves after what appeared to be a heavy fall. He was lying on his stomach, blood seeping from two grievous arrow wounds and onto the blade that he clasped in his right hand. Morrigan tried to roll the man over, but the sword prevented him from putting the man completely on his back. Upon trying to remove the weapon, the stranger grasped the handle tighter, giving Morrigan the sign of life he had been looking for. The chest rose and fell very slowly; it was clear that he had lost a lot of blood. Morrigan looked up at his sons, who stared alternately between the dying man and their father.

“We can’t just leave him here, Dad.” Matthias said.

“He’s hurt badly!” Aric added.

Morrigan grimaced at the realization he would not be able to convince his sons otherwise. It was not that he didn’t want to help the man; he was afraid of what the person would do upon his recovery as Morrigan had a pretty good idea that the dying man was the one who had killed the others in the clearing. But, there did not appear to be another choice, so setting his jaw firmly and taking off his tunic, Morrigan set to work binding the stranger’s wounds.

“Matthias, I need you to run home, get the horse and some blankets, and come back here as soon as possible. Aric, you go home with your brother; when you get there, get a fire going and boil some water. You both understand what I need you to do?”

Both boys nodded and started running the last mile home.

Morrigan got back to work at that point on the man’s wounds, cleaning them out with a water skin he always brought with him for the trip between home and his blacksmith’s forge. He also used his tunic to bind the wounds, used his belt as a tourniquet on the leg, and applied pressure with his hands on the shoulder wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

When Matthias returned, they strapped the man on the horse’s back, covered him with the blankets, and started home. The going was slow since they did not want to jostle the man too much, and by the time they got home, the stranger’s pallor had grown visibly fainter.

They placed the stranger in a bed and put it very close to the fire to keep him warm, and Morrigan changed the man’s crude bandages, adding some medicinal herbs he had stored away. When all that was completed, he looked down at his sons.

“You guys have done a great job today… At this point, it’s out of our hands; his will to survive is the only thing that is going to make him recover now.” With that, they all sat down in front of the fire and began to wait.

It took three days and three nights for the stranger to come back around. Three long days and nights of changing bandages and keeping a close, tense eye on the labored breathing and survival of the strange man. Throughout these tense days, the stranger never once opened his eyes or loosened the grip he had on his sword. It rested next to him on the bed, his hand clasped tightly about the handle.