22. Under Attack
A howl cut through the night. A shrill sound to make one’s blood run cold. It lingered, the tone drawn out and slowly fading away.
When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell.
Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may.
After all...I can't fix stupid.
Previously: Rescued by kind hands and revived by the Ithari, Wendell discovers that not all love the workings of magic.
<— Read Previous Chapter | Read Next Chapter —>
You’d be surprised what you’re capable of doing when the situation is just right. Or wrong.
I awoke to the faint buzz of mosquitos humming near my ear. I’ve always hated that sound. Not like anyone likes it, but bugs are especially irritating. I twitched. Rolling onto my back, I yawned, opening my eyes. It still wasn’t daylight, and I squinted, the flicker of firelight catching my attention.
“I think you left too much wood on the fire,” I said.
It took me a few moments to realize what I was looking at. The faint cries and screams rode up on the chilled wind, floating to us on the hillside.
“EVAN!” I snapped.
The blacksmith stirred.
Snatching a stick next to me, I tossed it, hitting Evan in the shoulder. “The village is on fire!”
“What...?” Evan mumbled.
No, no, no. This has to be a bad dream. Pushing myself to my feet, I ran to the tree line.
The small village below, nestled quietly in the valley between forest and river, was aflame. Black smoke billowed up from its center and I could smell it. The burning homes illuminated the small specs…villagers, running back and forth.
“EVAN!” I yelled.
The blacksmith drowsily sat up.
“What are you yelling for?” Evan mumbled, stumbling to his feet. “Wait, did you say the…” but his voice trailed off as he joined me at the tree line. His face went pale.
“Mother,” he whispered.
The blacksmith threw himself down the hillside, running at a pace that almost seemed inhuman. I did all I could, frantically trying to keep up. Evan dashed between trees, jumped over rocks and slid across embankments — nothing deterring him — until he’d reached the edge of the village.
“Evan,” I called out, gripping my side, “wait!”
Emerging from the forest edge and gasping for breath, I could see flames rising high into the sky from the center of the community. The houses at the north end of the village, including Evan’s own home, were untouched. Screams grew louder. Women and children dashed into the fields and into the forest. The blacksmith ran across the orchard and into his own hovel.
I followed him.
“MOTHER!…HIRAM!…LIVI!!”
He dashed to the bedroom, quickly checked under the bed, then pushed past me and ran back outside.
Citizens frantically ran past us. Children were carried or pulled along, down the main path, through the fields. Women, children, the elderly — but there was no sign of his mother or the children.
“Where is everyone going?” Evan shouted. “The fire’s this way! Why are they running?” He stared at the flames ascending into the sky. “Come on! We have to put out these flames before they consume the town!”
We ran to his workshop and flung open the doors to the barn. “Our well is full,” Evan gasped. “We’ll need more buckets…I use two for my forge!” The tall wood slats rattled loudly against the side of the barn, startling a large black stallion and a white mare. The glow of the village fire pushed through the slats in the wall, illuminating the work area.
“I have a couple right over…” the sound of shuffling feet and blur of movement were all the warning Evan got. A pitchfork stabbed past his face and into the barn door. The sharp tines missed his chest and neck by inches. “WOAH!” he stammered, throwing his arms outward and falling backwards against the barn wall.
Hiram stood in shock, looking between me and his brother. Still gripping the handle of the pitchfork, his eyes welled with tears.
He jumped at Evan and clung to his brother.
“I’m sorry!” he sobbed, “I’m so sorry Evan, I—I didn’t mean to!” He buried his face in the blacksmith’s tunic.
Evan gripped his brother tightly, hugged him, then pulled him back into view. “Hiram, what’s going on? Why are you hiding in here? Where’s mother?”
“They’re here,” Hiram cried, “MONSTERS!” His body trembled violently.
“Hiram, look at me,” Evan said, gripping Hirum by the shoulders. He gave the boy a quick shake. “What are you talking about? What do you mean…monsters?”
A howl cut through the night. A shrill sound to make one’s blood run cold. It lingered, the tone drawn out and slowly fading away.
Evan’s head snapped up. “What was that?”
The smiley face on my shirt cringed — wide-eyed pupils, shrinking to small dots. “They found your village,” I gulped.
The blacksmith squeezed his little brother’s shoulders tighter. “Hiram, where is Livi? Where’s mother?”
In a corner of the barn, a pile of straw rustled. A tiny girl with a dirty face pushed her way up and out onto the floor. She pulled stray pieces from her mouth. Livi looked up at her big brother as if hiding was a normal, everyday activity.
Hiram tugged on his brother’s tunic, grabbing his attention again. “When mother saw people running away, she told us to hide in here. To wait for her,” he said. “But she never came back! Then they started burning things!”
Evan looked at me. His breathing quickened. Strong hands cupped the back of his brother’s head and pulled him into his chest. The blacksmith’s lips curled back into a snarl. “You brought them here.”
I shook my head. “I told you they were coming. My friends were following them. This is an invasion, Evan. It has nothing to do with me.” But I didn’t know if that was true. I still didn’t know who knew about me, my arrival, if the ‘bad guys’ of this land knew who I was, or where I was.
Truthfully, I was in the dark…and Evan could have been right.
Everything had to do with me now, one way or another. I was the new hero and sooner or later, I was required to become the people’s protector. This may not have been my direct fault, but it certainly involved me.
My stomach turned.
The blacksmith's glare turned into a smile. He looked down at his terrified brother. “The men of the village will fight.” He looked around the shop.
If you were standing where I was, you’d notice a few things about Evan. The first being, he’d been practicing weapon making for a long time, because he had all sorts of swords and spears leaning and hanging about the barn.
The second thing you would have noticed was that weapon making wasn’t his talent. Horseshoes, yes. Farmers tools like rakes, pics, hoes, definitely. When it came to the weapons displayed, I couldn’t see a single blade that was straight or sharpened. In fact, I couldn’t see a single sword that even had a hilt.
“Who will fight?” I challenged Evan, “Farmers? Apple pickers? You’re kidding, right?” I looked at both of the children. Hirum looked terrified and ready to bolt. Livi, though, didn’t look like she was scared, or maybe she just didn’t understand. She was staring at me again. “Evan, you gotta get out of here. Make for the hills, hide, just get away. I don’t know if you’ve seen these beasts before, but I can tell you, they scare the crap out of me.”
Hiram frowned at me.
“What?” I snorted, “They do!”
Evan kicked over the heavy wooden barrel next to the cold forge. Metal clanged and rattled across the straw covered floor. He kneeled down and sifted through the pieces. Un-tempered metal in odd shapes. Blades without hilts and hilts without blades — it was all completely useless.
He looked up at the forge.
The only finished weapon he had hung on a hook next to the anvil. He stared at it.
A war hammer.
“I only know how to swing a hammer,” he said finally. “I’ve always thought about swords, but my hands are more like steel, wrapped in flesh. Thousands of blows of metal upon metal.” He reached up and took hold of the large weapon. “My father collected bits of metal over years to fold and reheat until its purpose revealed itself.” He looked at me, the resolve plain on his face. “Then he gave it to me to shape.”
It looked like an experiment. Metal of various colors swirled on the surface. The striking surface of the hammer was the width of his own fist — the opposite end forming a curved spike. It had a solid metal handle, as long as Evan’s forearm. To balance the weapon, he’d enlarged the pommel, then wrapped the handle in thick leather.
In powerful hands, it would be a formidable weapon.
Evan had powerful hands.
Snatching a heavy shield from the wall, the blacksmith strapped it to his forearm. Gripping the war hammer, he turned to his little brother.
“Take Livi and follow the stream up the mountainside. Wait for me at the peak. I’ll find mother and come find you.” He leaned forward and touched his forehead to his brothers. “Stay hidden, Hiram, do you understand?”
Hiram nodded.
He kneeled down in front of his baby sister, who stood there, wide eyed and still. “Livi, go with Hiram, ok?” He used high pitched, yet softer tones, but she didn’t respond. Evan leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “I wish you’d say…something.”
…then he got up and disappeared out the door.
What the heck did he think he was doing? Quickly looking for another weapon, I stepped around Hiram. I kicked through the scattered blades on the floor. There was nothing. Not even a dang stick to use.
Hiram lifted a small, banged up shield from the wall and handed it to me. “Here,” he said. Then he secured it to my right arm.
I took a deep breath.
“I guess this will have to do,” I said, and gave Hiram a nod. “Thanks.” It was old, dented, and tarnished. It’d seen its share of conflict, but it was better than nothing. Less than satisfied, I ran after the blacksmith.
Citizens were fleeing in a panic, and I had to weave in and out of the clusters of bodies, making my way to the center of town.
“Evan!” I shouted, but it was no use. There was no sign of the blacksmith. The village was in chaos. Even the orchards were burning now, golden leaves turning to ash. Most of the smaller homes, closer to the center of the village, were on fire, doors open wide.
I saw markings of blood across steps, in the dirt, spatters of red along walls.
Then I saw bodies.
Parts of bodies.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
My chest burned and my stomach heaved, but I didn’t run away.
Where are you, Evan? I see the fire; I hear the people screaming...but where are you?
Jolted by an old man running past me, I glimpsed the blacksmith in the distance. He was just standing there, both arms hanging limp at his sides.
“Evan!” I shouted, sprinting towards him. Flames rolled out a window, and I cringed away from the heat. It was almost unbearable…the flames consuming everything.
It was then I heard clashing metal.
It reverberated in the air, meshed with the roaring echo of homes being consumed.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Evan was standing dumbstruck, watching a viscous fight in the center courtyard.
A giant of a man in a soiled and bloody tan apron danced between two Vallen soldiers. He was wielding a two-handed broadsword, sidestepping blows and parrying attacks, like a man born of war. Deflecting a strike to his midsection, the man launched a kick at the attacker’s knee, causing the beast to fall forward. The man then twisted, pivoting his torso and swinging the hilt of his sword upwards to his opposite shoulder.
The move decapitated his enemy.
The misshapen head flipped from the shoulders.
The second Vallen howled, swinging a morning star in a wide arc at the man’s head.
With a clang, the spiked ball met Evan’s shield.
Without hesitating, the blacksmith dropped to one knee and let the hammer fall, his full body weight behind it. The spike of the war hammer pierced the giant’s foot.
It howled.
Whistling through the air, a crossbow bolt penetrated the giants cheekbone and upper skull. The body crumpled forward and collapsed onto the ground.
“THAT will teach you to interrupt my dinner!” spat an old man. He propped himself up against his doorway. Blood trickled down from a head wound, the crossbow quivering in his hands.
“Nice shot, Gunthar,” smirked the large man.
The old man sneered, “I was saving the boy, not your fat butt, Darrick.”
Darrick ignored him and turned to Evan. “Gather as many of the villagers as you can find. Lead the women and the children to the hills.” He gave me a momentary glance, and dismissed me just as quick. “Caden says there’s a larger group marching towards the village. We have to flee. Our best bet is to get to Haden. They know many of us and have a town militia — experienced soldiers.”
“I ain’t goin nowhere,” argued Gunthar. “This is my home!”
“Then you’ll die in your home,” snapped Darrick. Then softer, “and as much as I think you’re a pain, Gunthar, this village needs you. Think of your daughters. Think of Mary and get your carcass into the hills!”
Gunthar spat on the ground.
“Where’s Jess?” Evan asked frantically.
Darrick shoved him backwards abruptly. “There’s no time for this, Evan! Do as I say — or people will die!”
I jumped back as a loud thunk echoed to my side.
The old man Gunthar looked down. Blood leaked from his mouth down onto his hands, holding the crossbow.
“Damn,” he whispered. The village elder sunk forward onto the heavy spear protruding from his chest. The crossbow fell from lifeless hands and bounced down the front steps of his hovel.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
The whole world slowed. Deformed figures, just smaller than a human, materialized through the billowing black smoke. A charcoal haze that poured out doors and windows, suffocating the village.
Again I heard that high-pitched howl, and I winced, pulling the shield tight against my chest. The sound came from these…things. I squinted through the smoke.
Chains hung from hooks in pierced skin. Rings of metal wrapped around wrist, waist, and neck were adorned with bones, severed tongues, earlobes, and fingers. Their skulls were stretched, with small jaws and tall foreheads. Where eyes should have been, blackness prevailed. Pits of darkness where light had been forgotten. These were not vallen. At least not the beasts that I had seen up until now. Blood stained these faces, deep red, dripping from needle teeth,…trailing down chin and neck. They leaped into the open, heads snapping from side to side, black slits for nostrils sniffing for flesh.
These creatures were smaller, faster and covered in black, oily leather.
Demons, that’s what they were. Or at least, that’s what they looked like — and it terrified me.
It was the scream that pulled me back to reality.
When you see something terrifying…something you’ve never witnessed before, all you want to do is run. If you have an ounce or more of bravery in you, you might grab a child or lead an old person to safety. I wasn’t so brave, though…I think I would have done nearly anything that would allow me a chance to flee. But my feet just wouldn’t move. I couldn’t stop staring at the old man, Gunthar, hanging from the monstrous spear, pinned to the wall of his home.
Flashes of movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention.
Children fleeing. Mothers with small bundles of cloth, little hands and feet clutched tightly to their chests, pushing through smoke and fire. They were all running to the north end of the village, many of them barefoot.
I couldn’t inhale. I knew what was coming, and I bit my tongue.
They would die.
Please, not that.
In a blur of movement, the demons darted across the courtyard, shrieking. Swinging across the ground, they looked like howling monkeys. With an ear-piercing shriek, one of them lunged, bloody maw open wide.
“Look out!”
Evan thrust his shield in front of my wide-eyed face — deflecting the outstretched claws. He swung his hammer, caving in the cheekbone of the beast and knocking it to the ground. The body flipped violently in the dirt.
The sight enraged its companions, and they all shrieked louder. Their gaze of emptiness now focused on the blacksmith.
“Wake up!” Evan yelled, side stepping and striking another demon in the shoulder as it lunged at him. Bones snapped. “Wendell, what’s WRONG with you?” The butcher was right beside him, swinging wildly as demons lunged from the rooftops. Each swing severed an enemy in half.
I had no sword. No weapon at all.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
All I had was a shield.
I looked down at my hand.
Huh.
Movement blurred through the rolling smoke. I looked up to see grey teeth amidst boils and yellow skin flying right at me. Two daggers in outstretched hands, ready to stab.
So I punched it.
…with the shield.
The rim of the disc entered the creature’s open mouth. Its skull split in two from the force of my blow. The top half flipped backwards over its body. Black goo spraying across my chest and arms. The corpse passed me by and hit the ground. The blood beaded and rolled off the smiley face.
We both smiled.
Arms spasmed, legs twitched…then stopped.
“Watch it,” yelled Darrick, jumping in front. “YAHH!” His broadsword cleaved another from shoulder to hip. The butcher shoved Evan forcefully from behind. “Get our people out of here!”
“They’ve scattered to the wind!” Evan yelled back.
The butcher turned on him. His broad shoulders blocked out the direct light of the flames, creating a golden silhouette. The sword in his hands reflected the red and orange light between the streaks of blood. “Then you FIND them! Lead them to safety!!”
The sounds of marching grew louder — the clinking of armor — and the howl of a Hound. “He’s right, Evan,” I pulled at the blacksmith’s tunic, “we have to go!”
“Get off me!” Evan snapped, yanking his arm free. He glared at the butcher, opening his mouth in rebuttal, then….
“CHILDREN…RUN!”
It was a woman’s voice, shrill and desperate. It was followed by several higher pitched screams.
Evan bolted, vanishing between the houses.
Several more demons appeared through the smoke.
“I’ve got these,” growled Darrick. He tightened his grip and widened his stance. “Help Evan protect Miriam. His mother won’t leave willingly.”
Nodding, I chased after Evan.
Of course, it would be my luck to round the corner just in time to see the blacksmith charge at a fully geared vallen soldier. The giant had to weigh five hundred pounds…or more. Its barrel chest was as thick as an oak. Broken canine teeth jutted out from a wide set jaw, and yellow eyes peered out from under a rusted helmet. The rough-metal pauldrons and vambraces rattled as the enemy raised its weapon overhead. The flanged mace was almost as long as I was tall.
Oh crap.
Evan placed himself between his mother, the three children huddled behind her, and the giant.
“Mother, run!” He shouted, raising his shield high.
“Evan, MOVE!” I shouted, but it was too late. He did not know what was about to hit him. The blow shattered the blacksmith’s shield. Wood splinters and metal exploded like a grenade. The war hammer flew from Evan’s grip. His body flipped past me, across the ground, and slammed into a tree.
His mother screamed. The shrill sound cut through the air like a banshee.
This caught the giant’s attention. A low rumble emanated from its chest plate. Smoldering embers like the sun burned beneath the helm — saliva running over its lips and down its chin.
Miriam pushed the children away from her.
“Go!” she hissed, looking to the oldest of the three. “Take them past my house, Calista…and into the forest — up the mountainside! Find your parents!!” The children bravely clasped hands and fled.
“Flesshhh,” growled the Vallen, a gray tongue rolling over twisted teeth, followed by spittle.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
The blacksmith was crumpled upon the ground. Unmoving.
He was always there for me. No matter who picked on me…no matter how many there were, Evan was always…
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
His mother screamed again, dropping over her unconscious son, shielding him with her own body.
He never let me down.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Lunging forward, I snapped up the war hammer. It was big. It was heavy. But I dug deep and put all my rage behind the swing.
“ARRRGH!” I yelled, letting the weapon fly.
The hammer sailed through the air, arching high.
Unfortunately, it didn’t have the effect I was hoping for.
It thunked against the giants breastplate…and fell to the ground.
REALLY!? Ohhhh — what a time to suck.
The Vallen snarled, displaying its full set of jagged, yellow teeth.
I gulped loudly and turned to run.
A massive boot kicked me from behind. Air jumped from my lungs and mouth, the impact sending me sprawling through the air. My arms flailed about…that is until I hit the side of the house.
…with my face.
Bouncing off the logs, I belly-flopped to the dirt. My shield snapped free of my arm and clattered to the dirt next to me.
“UNGH!”
My skull felt like it weighed a ton. Worse still, something in my head rattled like — something was loose. When I tried to look up, the world kept spinning round and round. Pulling my elbows under me, I struggled to suck in air, shoulders quivering.
A shadow crept over my prone body. The fires of the houses surrounding them cast an evil silhouette over the giant — a messenger from hell.
Then I heard the slow, scraping sound of a knife being pulled from a sheath.
For some reason, I didn’t feel so bad about being fired by Mr. Cranford’s Deli in under a week. Apparently, I sucked at being a hero, too.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
“Get up, Wendell,” Doubt whispered. “No one insults you but ME.”
I pulled my knees into my chest, but it was slow…painful.
“Come ON! Roll, turn, run away, blast you!!” Doubt yelled, “Yes, you suck…SOMEtimes, but not THIS bad!”
With all my effort, even using the wall for balance, all I could manage was to slump down on my backside. Propped up against the wall, I had a front-row seat to my own demise.
“Says you,” I gasped.
At least the world had stopped spinning.
A jagged smile appeared in the silhouette. “I’m gonna cut you, boy,” it whispered. There was a deliberate calmness to the voice. “Keep you alive, as I eat yer innards.”
I smiled.
The giant hesitated, and the wicked grin on its face turned to a frown. I don’t think it liked victims to smile when threatened with a violent death. Don’t know, maybe it hurt their tender egos…or maybe they’re just stupid that way.
Didn’t really matter.
What DID matter, was the spike of Evan’s war hammer piercing the Vallen’s breast plate.
“I don’t think so,” hissed the blacksmith. With a twist of his body, he tore the hammer free. Black goo covered his hand and chest. His shield arm hung limp from his shoulder.
The roar was deafening, its head rolling backwards. It dropped the knife…which was good, but the beast didn’t fall. Hands clenched at its side, blood pouring from the wound. It staggered forward, reaching out to the wall for support.
Now, when you’re a nerd, and jerks-we-will-not-name decide to beat you, it hurts. I’ve been beaten bloody many times. They knock you to the ground most of the time. What bullies rarely consider is the helpful position a wounded animal is in. If you’ve ever seen Monty Python and The Holy Grail, you’d know that even bunnies can be dangerous.
Vallen are tall. REALLY tall, which made my normal tenders-target out of reach. But with him leaning over me, against the wall, his armored shins were…well, right there.
You with me this time, Ithari?
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
…so I kicked.
The greaves collapsed, and I heard a loud snap. Who knew the shins of a giant could fold backwards?
Just have to kick hard enough.
The beast collapsed to the side of me and hit the ground, chest down.
Without hesitation, Evan drove the spiked hammer through its helmet.
The body twitched, then ceased moving altogether.
“Evan,” his mother gasped, running to his side. “You’re hurt.” He flinched as she inspected his arm. “Your shoulder is out of place — we’ll need to set it.”
Evan shook his head. “No time, mother. I need to find Jess and get us to safety.”
Pushing against the wall, I struggled to my feet, legs still unsure of themselves.
“Thank you,” Evan said.
I frowned. “For what?”
He nodded at the body. “That. For saving my mother,” he smiled. Then the smile turned awkward. “For…saving me.”
“Oh, hey, woah. No. I just bought you time. I couldn’t defend any of us.” The words came out, but something inside me knew that wasn’t true. I’d kicked through the metal greave like it was paper. Then why didn’t I throw the hammer harder?
“It was enough,” replied the blacksmith. “And it proved I was wrong about you. If you had magic, like I thought you did, you would have used it by now.”
The sound of drums echoed. A chilling howl pierced the morning air.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
“We have to go,” I insisted. “Now.”
“I have to find Jess first,” Evan repeated.
I grabbed the blacksmith’s wounded arm and held on. Evan winced, but couldn’t pull away. “Listen to me,” I whispered, jaw clenched, “you don’t understand what’s about to happen. Those sounds are part of an army my friends have been tracking. If I’m right, they’re responsible for killing Til-Thorin’s forces.”
Evan shook his head. “That’s imposs…”
“I saw it with my own eyes!” I held tight, my heart pounding in my chest. “And if we don’t leave here NOW — those things will find us , kill us…and eat us.”
Jabbing the hammer into my ribs, Evan pulled away. “Meet me back at the barn.” He looked at his mother, ignoring me. “Darrick’s horses are still in the stall. Throw some blankets on them and grab the hunting bows. Wait at the edge of the field, behind the trees. If I’m not there by the time you’re ready to leave, ride.”
His mother wept, shaking her head. She cupped Evan’s face in her hands.
He kissed her fingers. “I love her, mother. I have to find her. Hiram and Livi are on the mountainside. Follow the stream,” he smiled weakly. “Go.”
She stood there and wept.
“Mother,” he urged, “GO.”
He glared at me, then. “Take her!”
I grit my teeth.
“DO IT!” the blacksmith snapped.
I had to prod Miriam forward as we watched Evan dash back towards the center of town. Leading her around the backside of the homes, villagers vanished into the woods, bags over their shoulders. There was hardly a home left which escaped the embrace of the flames.
The barn door was still open when we arrived.
As if new life had entered her, Miriam quickly gathered what few supplies they had, wrapped them in two blankets and tied the bundles together with small strips of leather. Then she yanked the rope down from the wall, her fingers nimbly weaving.
“Here,” she said, shoving a handful of loops into my hands. “Get the stallion.”
“I, uh…” I stared at the rope, confused. “What do I do with this?”
She paused in her weaving the second rope. “Do not your people work with horses?”
“My people?” I said.
She smiled as her fingers resumed their work. “Come with me.”
We dashed to the stalls and opened the gate. Whispering to King as she approached, the long ears twitched and pointed towards her. Running her hand up the beast’s neck, Miriam guided the rope towards the stallion’s muzzle. In moments, the horse was bound with a makeshift halter.
Miriam handed me the rope. “Here,” she smiled, “trade me and place the supplies over his back. I’ll get the mare.”
I stood there, watching her prepare the second horse.
“What did you mean when you said my people?” I said.
Miriam didn’t look up. She looped the rope over the mare’s ears. “The Iskari,” she replied, “the people who have the stewardship of the Hero Gem.”
Uh-oh, I gulped.
“Hero…Gem?” I repeated, trying to sound confused. I’m pretty sure I just sounded like a liar, trying to hide something.
She patted the mare on the neck and turned around. The grin on her face unnerved me. “The gem in your chest,” she said.
Well, this was awkward. I had no idea what to say — especially after what Evan had said to me. The village apparently didn’t care for magic…or those who used it. I got that. Now, I could argue that I didn’t use magic…well, except to hide the gem. Huh. It probably wasn’t wise to admit to anything…at all. So I just shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Miriam continued to grin to herself as she lead the mare past me and King. With an index finger, she tapped me squarely on the chest…and the faint sound of crystal answered back.
Annnnnd checkmate.
Peeking around the corner of the barn, we could see more of the enemy forces moving from house to house amidst the blaze.
“Your secret is safe with me, young man,” she whispered.
“Wendell,” I said. “My name is Wendell.”
“I would prefer to call you Gnolaum,” she replied, “but I will refrain.”
There’s that word again.
When all the soldiers vanished from view, Miriam quickly ran to the edge of the forest, pulling the mare behind her. When the horses had been concealed near the base of the mountainside, she gave my forearm a motherly squeeze.
“Not all of us have forgotten the old ways, though others might wish to.” She watched attentively through the trees, hoping, I’m sure, to see some sign of her son. “I was raised near Metsäsil, a small village south of Palmäk, along the western border of the Highlands.” She looked back at me and whispered, “It was called Illtook. A place where history is collected and revered, not…”
“Mother!” cried Hiram, running down the hillside, “You’re alright!”
Miriam grabbed and hugged her son for a long moment. “Your brother sent you away for a reason, Hiram,” she said sternly. She looked over his shoulder. “Where is your sister?”
“She’s up the hill.” He grinned at his mother. “Found a small cave just big enough for two. I stuffed her in. She’s fine.” Hiram then looked at me suspiciously.
“There’s Evan,” I interrupted, hiding my body behind a tree.
Evan was running full speed towards the barn. His deadened arm gripped his tunic. As he dashed around the corner, giants stepped into view. Several of the smaller creatures, the ones that looked like demons, crawled up to the soldiers. One groveled upon the ground, waving its arms and pointing in different directions until the Vallen kicked it.
The body flew back into the flames of a house.
The soldiers roared and laughed as the creature leaped out of the building, rolling and rubbing its body along the ground, trying to extinguish the flames.
I waved to Evan.
The blacksmith ducked low and sprinted across the field and into the trees. He collapsed at Miriam’s feet, gasping for breath, his face red and covered in soot mixed with sweat.
“Blast you, Hiram,” he huffed, gulping air, “I told you to stay on the mountain!”
“No one came for us,” the boy pleaded.
“Lets get out of here,” I said, “before something finds us.”
Miriam placed a gentle hand on her son’s good arm. Evan’s powerful hand still gripped the war hammer so tight, his fingers were white.
“Jess?” she whispered. She watched him, searching his face. Even I could see the lines of pain in his expression. I couldn’t fathom what hardships these kind people had faced in their lives.
Evan looked away. “Let’s go,” he said.
I helped Evan and Miriam up onto the stallion. Mounting the mare, Hiram handed me the war hammer.
That’s when a shriek cut through the smokey air.
Two of the demons lunged across the field towards us.
“RIDE!” Evan yelled and he dug his heels into King’s flanks. The stallion bolted.
“Hiram, jump!” I shouted, reaching out the hammer. Amazingly, the kid grabbed it like it was second nature and I pulling him up behind me. I had limited experiences with horses, mostly from boys’ camp. Kicking hard with my sneakers, the mare took off after the stallion.
Oh…my…goodness! Galloping always looked easy in the movies. No one said anything about gripping both rope and mane just to stay on!
Up the mountain trail we went, putting considerable distance between the horses and our enemies.
“They’re turning back,” yelled Miriam.
“They have to work too hard for the prize, I think,” answered Evan.
As we approached the peak of the mountain, we let the horses rest, slowing to a walk.
“Hiram, where did you leave Livi?” Evan asked.
“Hiram?” I prodded with a pat on his forearm. He’d grasped around my waist as we shot up the hillside. “Hey, your brother’s talking to you, bud,” I said.
The hands fell from around my waist.
“HIRAM!” cried Miriam. She slid off the stallion and ran to the mare.
Her son fell from the horse…an arrow protruding from his back.
<— Read Previous Chapter | Read Next Chapter —>
Author Notes
Hope you enjoyed this episode, especially the reading.
It was a miracle this chapter was completed on time this week, with so many ‘life’ circumstances. Then I had to think about Wendell.
Would he give up?
Here he was, stranded, unsure of where to go, what to do, or who he could trust,….yet his good heart (with a few nudges from the Ithari) helped him take the next step in the right direction.
I did catch a few words I misspoke, but editing them was near impossible. Sorry about that, but no one is perfect,….especially me. =)
Jaime
Wendell wouldn't give up, and neither would you!