The Guardian
chapter 1
the smith
It was the second day of the tenth month of 1273 when I began my journey. I was ninteen, and had just recently poven myself worthy of liveing in a town as a freeman. My former Lord ceased to take interest in me, so I was free to leave the town and do as I pleased. I set out with naught but the clothes on my back and several loaves of bread. I had no interest in any of the townspeople, as they were all ruthlessly stupid. They did not see that the squalor they created for themselves would only lead to disease and there eventual dimise. It had crossed my mind that perhaps I should have stayed on the manor, and remained a serf, but such a fate was none for me.
I rose from my bed that morning and went about business as useual. I rekindled the fire, set up the heavey cast iron pot, and boiled water, with which I made soup. After I ate and reclothed myself to the best of my abilty, as I had very few cloths, and I set off to Master Windemere's for work. Upon my arrival he open the shutters to announce that he was opened for business.
"You need to clean the second furnace. The coal dust is piled a foot high!" was the very first thing he said to me. Not that it was unusual for me to receive no hello, or no goodmorning, or any greeting thereof. In fact, in working for the Master for over a year I had received not a single greeting.
I knelt down in front of the furnace and began pileing the ashes in a large tin bucket. I threw the ash in the large pile behind the smithy where all the ashed were brought. I repeated the process several times until the furnace was completely cleaned out and then took a few seconds as break.
"Why are you standing around idle? Sort the knives!" commanded the Master. And so I did. By late afternoon there were doesens of knives lined up on the counter according to size and purpose.
The master inspected my work. As he looked I noticed several knives out of place, I tried to move them to the correct spot, but it was too late. "Come out back, I need to talk to you." the Master had said. I knew of his pent up anger. And so we went to the back furnace room.
"You are the most worthless worker ever! Why I've kept you so long I do not know!" He snarled, then proceeded to hit me in the stomach. The pain was incedible! I could not breathe, nor move to any resonable respect. He was so angry, in fact, that before my recovery he kicked my side; I heard a rib break. I fell flat on the ground. I could bearly breathe. Then I noticed something else. Heat. Alot of heat, right near me. The furnace! What to do, though? As it happened, there was a rag quite conveinently under my head, which I snatched up and used to cover my hand. As quickly as I could, I grabbed onto the steal rod and pulled it out. The cloth was quite insuffecient, but I was never the less able to bring it to bear and hold it to the Master.
"You wouldn't dare!" he yelled.
For the first time in weeks, I spoke back to him, "Oh, but I will." And with that I thrust the rod at him, stareing with disbeleif at how the red hot metal peiced his chest and ignighted his cloths. I could barely hear his cry of death as he staggered and fell to the ground. The rod remained in him, releasing the smell of burnt flesh. I vomited, right where I stood. What to do? I ran to his room and snatched up three loaves of bread, then, when I attempted to hold a dagger, I relised just how burnt my hand had become. I dropped it and ran out. There were several people in the shop, and when I emerged they asked repeatedly where the Master was and what was that smell and how much are the knives that I've hidden under my coat? I ignored them, and ran. I ran down the horrid street, nearly hit by the contents of someone's privy bucket as it was carelessly disgarded on the road. Luckily, I reached the gate in one peice, and signaled for the guard to let me pass.
He hesitated, sensing I may be on the run from someone. But, after a moment, when a mob failed to tail me, he opened the gate and I was out. I ran down the road for several minutes, as fast as I could. Of course, with all my injuries, it was pitifully slow, perhaps no more than a dog's lazy trot. I fell to the side of the road, holding my side with my unburnt hand.
chapter 2
when you're missing teeth
I staggered along the road for miles. Until sundown. The most difficult part was not gorging myself on the preciouse little bread I had. A finally allowed myself a single peice, enough to let me lie for the while. The night was chilled, late autum. I knew I needed a fire, but there was none to be found, and I had no way to start one.
My throat was dry. It had been several hours since I last came upon a stream. I staggered on, yet further until I heard what I was looking for, a stream. I was finally releived to press my face into the warer and drink, very slowly as was the most my broken rib would allow. When I was satisfyed, I looked around. It was nighttime, and I was extremly cold after the drink. There were three boulders. Each nearly touchingthe other, each about four feet high. A space was of course there, large enough for me to curl up in. It would block the wind. I curled up in a ball and lay there, bread cradled in my arms, until I fell into my dreams.
When next I opened my eyes, the late mourning sun had warmed me slightly. I was still horribly cold, but at least the sun felt good. Now, I was stiff. I eagerly began to gulp down one of the two remainig loaves, now dirty from the ground. I stood up, trying to remember what road I was on. It was no use, after the day before I hadn't the ability to think strait in the least. But I was out of the horrid township, and that was the important part. I stumbled across the small bridge and further through the woods. I walked for naught fifty paces when I relised just how futile it relly was. I sat upon a large log on the side of the road.
It was some time later when I heard the clicking of hooves. Someone had set out from the town early this morning, no doubt. I jumped behing the log, and hid. What approached was a gray haired man with few teeth sitting on the front of a small wagon being pulled by a quite the small horse. I lost my footing when he was right near and fell backward with an audible grunt of pain.
"Hello, shunny," the halfgrin man said. "You musht be the townshman who murded hish mashter but yeshterday. I ashume you are quite hungry, and tired." he paused a moment. I just sat there, frozen. "Come on then! Ride in the back of my wagon!"
I had no choice, and did as he instructed. I climbed into the back and sat there.
"Have shome bread, outlaw. You musht need it." I looked down at my one loaf of bread, and then my eye was caught by the fact that I was surrounded by bread, and cheese, and dried venison. "Feasht I shay!"
And so I did. I ate (quite slowly) until my stomach seemed as if it would burst. "Thank you," I soon after began. "But might I have the pleasure of your name?"
He replied, "It is shafesht for ush both if I do not know your name, and shince it's inpolite for one to give name and the other to not, neither of ush should shay."
I thought about what he said for a moment, and then said, "Fair enough, you are wise, traveler."
"Why thank you, outlaw."
The day wore on, slowly. In being so utterly greatful for not haveing to walk, it never once crossed my mind that I had no idea where we were going. It wasn't until the sun had nearly set that we came upon a rather large stone house. For, even the roof was covered in stone.
"Here, outlaw, ish the housh of the mightesht healer of the land. But be warned, for her shereshes you musht pay, in what I do not know."
"Is this where we part company?" I asked.
"Indeed it ish," he replied
"Thank you, traveler." I then proceed to leap out of the wagon and watch as the traveler rode away and out of sight. I stumbled over to the door, still clutching my side with my good hand.
chapter 3
armor? to what purpose?
I was about to knock when the door swung open, revealing an old woman in well made robes.
"Ah, you are in need of healing, I see. Well then, come in, and we shall converse about the terms."
I didn't need to be told twice. I walked in and sat down on one of the several wooden chairs to be seen. She came over and began to look at my body. She lifted my shirt and examined the large, purple bruise where my rib had broken. She then saw that my hand was red, and slowlen.
"I see you were in a fight of sorts, and won by a stretch, no doubt. It's how you burnt you hand, isn't it? A smithy perhaps? Then it would have been in a town somewhere, meaning you are an outlaw," she explained.
"Indeed, you are amaseingly perceptive. My name is-"
She cut me off, "Outlaw will do fine, the less I know about you, the better for both of us."
Puzzeled, I shook my head.
"Now, as for payment. You no doubt have nothing with witch to pay. It just happens, that I am in need of a suit of armor. You haveing worked in a smithy, I'm sure you can handle it," she said.
"A suit of armor? To what purpose? And even if I could smith armor, I haven't the furnace, nor equipment."
"The purpose is my own, as it shall remain. The price is a suit of armor, you may produce it after your treatment, as without your treatment you would be permently hindered, what with your rib," she explained quite hastily.
"Very well," I finally agreed. But to what, I still wondered, would she need a suit of armor? For her? Impossible!
chapter 4
the mending of those separated
We didn't hesitate to begin my treatment. She used ointments for the burn, and told me to keep it covered. As for my rib, she moved the broken bone into place later that night. I kept it covered, and some time later, perhaps a month, she declaired that my healing was complete. I felt extremely energetic, and my rib felt normal. And a month of room and board! Perhaps what I received was indeed worth a suit of armor. But still the question remained, how would I accuire a suit of armor?
"You question my reasoning behind armor?" she had stood behind me several moments before speaking. "I still shall not tell you why, but what, that I shall."
"What?" I asked.
"Ah, the suit of armor I wish to accuire isn't by any means of the ordinary. The armor was enchanted by no other that the Mistress of Clairborne. Peirced by nothing short of a Vorpal Sword, the armor has been used only once, to stop a tyrant's army. It's origen remains a mystery. I came into possesssion of such about four months ago, from a trader. It was stolen, from me, Outlaw. Stolen at the hand of the very one who signed it over. In all he ran off with what was to be his compensation; twenty longbows, five Morning Stars, and two pounds of a magical powder from the lands far to the east. I'm not so distraught that I might seek out these things, too, for by right if I reaquire the armor they are not mine."
"But he stole them from you!" I blurted out.
"I am not bitter, and only want my armor back."
"Verywell, you are indeed a kind woman."
And so, as the day wore on, she provided me with thicker clothes, several peices of flint, a waterskin, a bow (with a quiver of arrows), and a short sword. Upon awakening in the mourning, I got dressed and gathered my things. After the meal of mushroom and venison soup, I got up and flung open the door.
"Wait!" she stopped me. "Here, you shall need it." She handed me a sidepack filled with dried venison.
I nodden my head and said, "I shall not fail you."
chapter 5
sounds are not images, and images can change
I proceeded to walk out along the frost bitten ground. I headed east, the opposite direction to the town. I'd never traveled here before. After not ten minutes, I realised my ears had become red from the cold, and so flipped up my hood to shelter them. I had only to hope naught for snow.
I made fair progress throughout that gloomy, cloudy day. By afternoon the ground had thawed and was slightly damp. I came across a stream and so bent down to refill my waterskin. I heard a strange noise, almost as if a baby was crying. But it lasted only for a second. I listened hard. There it was again! It must have been up the stream. So I gathered myself and walked along the bank in search of the child. I heard the sound again, yet further down the river. And so I crept, very carefully. I had heard a rustling in the bushes which prompted me to draw my bow, as well drawn as I knew how, which probably wouldn't have peirced my waterskin.
I never saw any baby, and was shocked to see the thickest, fattest tail of a serpent I have ever seen. I stared at it, then realised what must have been the situation as it flashed out to wrap it'self around me. I dropped the bow, which slowly tumbled down the gurgulling stream. The serpent sqeezed, so hard I couldn't will any air into me. My arms were still free, and so I frantically clutched at the swordhandle on my shoulder. I pulled, and had the shortsword to bear immediately. I stabbed it as best I could, and reveled when the warm blood touched my skin. I pulled the sword back up with the intent of strikeing again. Thats when the head of the great beast flashed out of the water and stared at me.
I heard the cry wonce again, from the serpent! I barely realised what had happened, but lucky enough the stab wound had weakened it's grip around me that I might breathe weakly. The serpents body twisted, and for a breif second I saw a strange symbol on it's back. The pattern of colors united to form a diamond of sorts. Inside the diamond, strange swirls of colors shone. A three sided figure lead into a circle, and then into a four sided figure, and then back to the three sided figure.
The great serpent opened it's mouth, as wide as it seemed it would go, and then yet further. I swung the shortsword with all of my might directly into the side of the serpents head. It was taken aback by the pain of the wound but was still vigilant to have it's feast. I could now, however, breathe almost normally. I hacked again, catching it behind the jaw. Now it backed off further, and released me from it's clutches. It slithered sourly back up the stream from whence it came. I fell to the ground for several moments, to regain myself and let the blackness leave me. I stood back up, and followed the stream until only several feet past the road where I found my lost bow. I checked everything, including throwing several peices of venison which had the serpents blood on them. I had a feeling that enemy would gladly eat meat stained with it's own blood as opposed to nothing.
I began to walk along when I noticed an old wooden sign, faceing the opposite directing of my travels, that read, "Beware of thy Mimiserpent." Although I couldn't read it at the time, I knew it's purpose and so knew what to do.
I pulled the sign out of the brush and leaned it against a tree, closer to the stream, that it would be seen by travelers in both directions. I then mounded stones and earth around the bottom that it wouldn't fall, or blow away. I looked back to the riverback where I had thrown the venison. It was gone.
chapter 6
a newfound skill
And so it was that by the end of the day I had come accross a small camp to the side of the road. It consisted of a crudly built wooden shelter faceing an ajoining firepit. It was as good a place as any to spend the night, and so I entered, put my things down under the shelter, and began gather what ever dry grass was around to start a fire. I gathered brush to kindle it and then several larger logs to last the night. When I was pleased I had enough wood, I built up the firepit and filled it with the grass and some of the kindling. Useing my sword and a peice of flint, I soon had a wonderfully warm fire lit. I sat there for a long while.
Since I could see a nearby tree, and the space around it, I decided I should try my hand useing the bow. I stood about ten paces back, and immitated the archers I had seen once at the fair in town. I made sure to notch the arrow so that none of the flights faced the bow, held my left arm strait, and drew back to my shoulder. I sighted as best I could along the shaft and pointed it at the very center of the tree. I wasn't at all steady with the weapon, so when I let it go, the arrow flew crooked and dug it'self awkwardly into the side of the tree. But I had shot a bow! I ran up to inspect my arrow, and the tree. I then carefully extracted the arrow and ran back for another shot. This one was better than the first. The one that followed it was even better. And so it went for several hours, all with the same arrow. Everytime it got too dark, I'd rekindle the fire as bright as it would allow. Soon the tree was full of holes from the shaft, and eventually, I could barely pull it out! So sunked it had become that I had to brace myself against the tree it'self to pull the arrow. I was eventually successfull and was about to retire for the night when I realised that I had used all of my wood to keep up light in which to practice! I walked around the edge of the small clearing and gathered up as many logs as I could. I threw several on the fire and piled the rest. I woke several times that night of cold, each time throwing another log on.
And so came the second day. This time I wasn't so lucky as to find a shelter. And them came the third, and the fourth, and fifth. Every mourning I woke up with frost on whatever side of me faced away from the fire, and each day I met up with several other travelers, gainling little information about the armor. But at least I found where there was a town. And, every night, I practiced with my bow. I was still accurate at very close range, and I was still intolerably slow, but at least I was learning. I found food where ever I could, and was even successful in shooing an unsuspecting rabbit from about twelve paces as it munched away on grass. That was luck, every other day, I relied on the generosity of other travels, and was often very hungry.
chapter 7
Hestershire
Soon, on what I think was the ninth day, I reached a town known as Hestershire. This town, being surrounded by forest and without a city in any tangible distance, was based soly around the travelers which passed through. This town was very tidy, and centered around the Inn and the church. I, of course, hadn't worshoped properly in some time and needed to repent my sins, but the Inn was far to temping to resist. I stumbled in, and looked around. It was warm. Very warm. The place was quite cheerful as well. I walked up and sat down at the bar.
The bartender approached and asked, "A pint of ale sir?"
I replied, "I wish I could, but I haven't any thing with which to pay."
"Ah sir," he replied as he poured a mug of ale. "The drinks are free. It's the rooms and the women that'll cost ya."
"Women? But are you not religeous people? What with your church and-"
"Sir," he cut me off. "To a traveler, such a thing is often needed, and what the preist doesn't know will not harm him." He also proceeded to hand up a loaf of bread and some cheese, which I ate gratefully.
I began to sip my ale. When it got dark, the lamps were lit and the place surly looked quite cozy from the outside. But I wasn't one to go and look, so surely there was frost on the ground. I had finished my tenth pint of ale when I heard a farmilar voice.
"Hello, Outlaw, have you shat there for long? I didn't shee you." As the Traveler walked up to me, he stumbled, and so suggested that he was drunk. "Everyone! Gather round! Thish fine young Outlaw hash a shtory to tell. Come on then, lad!" he invited.
"Very well," I replied. As relaxed as I was from the ale, I had no trouble telling them about the murder, the Traveler, the Healer, the Mimiserpent, the camp, and finally my eventual ability to shoot a bow. The only thing I left out was the part about that I was looking for a magical suit of armor.
"Fine then, Outlaw!" yelled a very drunk man. "If he is so inclined to shoot a bow than show us! That middle beam, on the wall there shant mind!"
I looked back at the bartender and he nodded a yes, at which point everyone hushed and tightly gathered around, forming a strait and somewhat ublocked path to the beam. I took up my bow and notched my arrow. It took a while for me to shoot. I was horribly unsteady, what with the ale in me. The arrow flew nowhere near the beam, and instead hit a bard's hat, flew further across the room, and plunged it'self into the wall just above the mounted head of a deer, in such an improbibal way that it seemed as it the deer was wearing the hat!
Everyone cheered excitedly, and when it calmed down, a fat, seemingly rich man came up and placed a gold coin in my hand and said, "Such and tale, and show," he waved his hand in the direction of the deerhead. "Deserves a gold coin, as you are indeed without any."
"Here here!" came a call from the back of the room. Everyone shoved one of their gold coins in my sidepouch until it became a burden for my to carry. Even if I had tried to stop them, I'd have been unable, so intent they were on generosity.
After everything calmed down, I walked to the bartender and said, "How much for a room?"
Before he could answer, another drunken voice called out, "Johnny! I think the young Outlaw means a room and a woman!" This comment set the room ablaze with cheers and laughter wonce again, and before it died down, several women showed themselves in front of me.
"Verywell, uh, John, a room... and a woman!"
"That'll be two gold peices!" I took the next several minutes to carefully count out two gold peices and place them on the bar. I looked around at the women in the room. All looked very attractive at the time.
"Johnny, how do you expect me to choose between all of these fine women?"
I barely noticed that one of them whispered in the bartender's ear before he said, "I'll choose for you, this fine lady," he showed me the girl next to him. "Requested to spend the night with you."
As she led me out of the room someone yelled, "Here here! Might we all share a drink to the Outlaw!"
Everyone drunkenly cheered back, "Here here!" before takeing huge gulps of ale.
chapter 8
the creation of one's shadow
I awoke in the mourning with her by my side. My head hurt, and I was hungry. She opened her eyes. "Good mourning," she said. "Might we talk?" What I hadn't realised, was that she was not any older than me.
"Alright then," I replied.
"I was wondering, if when you leave this place, you might not be opposed to... letting me come along?"
I was taken quite aback by the question, and it showed.
"You see, to journey with such a man as you is what I desire, what I need."
I thought about it, but the pain must have made my face suggest no.
"Oh," she said hurridly. "I won't be a burden, and I can fight if need be."
I looked at her again. She was strong, and beutiful. "Alright."
She smiled cheerfully and rose from the bed to dress.
"Perhaps you'ld be interested as to where I am going."
"Not relly, as long as it's away from here," she said in answer.
I told her anyway, "I am in search of a suit of armor that is said to remain unpeirced by anything short of a vorpal blade."
Her eyes were wide when she looked back to me. But not of joy. "Don't look for such a thing! A traveler came through these parts telling of a man which had attempted to steal such a suit from him. Why it if wasn't for his cunning, he would have. And now, he wears it, and promised to kill any man which seeks it out."
After hearing such a thing, I made up my mind, "I'm sorry, but you can't come with me." I then got up and walked out of the room, while she stood brazen behind me. She followed me down the stairs and to the bar, where I was served breakfast. She bothered through the whole event and barely gave me any time to notice that all the men from the previous night were still in the tavern, passed out. I looked at the deerhead, and my arrow and the hat were indeed still there, although it no longer at all like the deer was wearing the hat.
"Uh.... John, was that arrow and hat changed at all since I shot it?" I asked the keep.
"Not moved a wink. Ale sometimes.... puts things into perspective for us."
"Heh," I said as I readied to leave. "Keep the arrow." I walked out of that inn short one arrow, but with an additional eighteen gold peices. Without ale, the gold was no burden at all. She followed me, she did. Right through town, to the smithy, where I had been heading. I walked in and found the smith.
"What have you by the way of longswords?" I began.
"Ah, a fine selection, at that." he led me and my shadow into the back room and uncovered a large array of swords. Each had numerals above them, none of which I knew. "This fine sword I just finished yesterday. I have a special technique for applying the salmon skin handgrip so you could pour a gallon 'o blood on er' and it still won't slip!"
"How much?"
"Twenty eight gold peices," he replied. Damn.
"Verywell, what can I get for fifteen?" he was taken slightly aback.
"Well, a shortsword."
I lifted my shirt and revealed the hilt of a shortsword. "What will you give me for this and ten gold peices.
He frowned thoughtfully, and then hobbled over and picked up a well crafted longsword. It was well polished, and , although I wasn't aware of it, very nicely balanced.
"Good," I said. "I'll take it." We then made our exchange, both sides quite happy, and I sheathed the sword and made my way to the fletchery.
"Boy, you there." I said to a young boy working on the shaft of an arrow. "Might we do business?"
"Well, yes we may. What is it that you need?" he replied.
"Well, what price may you for arrows?" I asked.
"Three for a gold peice."
"Let me see the arrows." and he immediatly propped up several different types of arrows. I estimated which type was closest to mine and pointed to it. "Three."
"Alright then, one gold peice." I handed him the coin, thanked him, and then went on my way.
Now I went to the bakery, for yet more supplies.I got a sack of bread for just one gold peice, and quite alot of bread it was. A gold coin went alot further here than it did in my old town.Next I went to the butcher, where I spent one of my remaining to gold peices on a sack of dried venison.
There was just one more thing that I needed. I turned to my shawdow, placed the gold coin in her hand and said, "Goodbye."
I walked not five paces when she called out, "I have a horse!"
I turned to her again. "I am going after that armor, and you aren't going to hinder me."
She continued, "And a sword, and Bow, and food, and I can make animal traps."
I sighed. "Very well. Come on then."
She cheerfully skipped off. "You won't regret it!" And so I followed her.
We came upon a small house along the road. "You live by yourself?"
"With my farther," she replied. "He won't miss me."
We came into the house to hear the grumbling yells of an old, furious drunk. "You bitch! Is this the reason you ceased to return through the night? Ah the tavern, drinky winky I'd best," and he trailed off into incoherent mumblings before passing out on the floor before the fire.
"Come on then, outlaw," she said once more. And so we went through the house and gathered up supplies. Several daggers, dried fruit, meat, breads. And then she carefully stepped over her father and gently picked up the sword which was sheaved above the fireplace. She harnessed it so the hilt was at her right shoulder and then led me out the back entrance of the house, where her father's hourse was stayed. We loaded it up, climbed on, and were on our way.
chapter 9
winter's language
Several days passed, and each time there was a sign to be read I asked her opinion of it, feebly trying to hide that I couldn't read. She knew, of course, and confronted me about it.
"You cannot read, can you?" she had asked one morning. In reply I merely shook my head. "Verywell, I know you to count, do you know the numerals?" Again I shook my head. "Would you like to learn them?"
You see, such a thing hadn't even crossed my mind until she offered. The ability to read and write seemed impossible, out of reach. I had always hoped she considered the knowledge since childhood a great gift. I thought about it for a moment, then smiled and said, "Yes."
Throughout that day she taught me the ten basic numerlas, including the odd one which meant nothing. Then she taught me how to form larger and yet larger numbers from those ten basics. By the end of the day I could draw and recognise any number at all! It was then that we both realised we had made no progress as to our journey. It wasn't however, a waste of a day, and so we accepted that. I went to sleep that night drawing the numerals in my head, over and over, with different numbers.
More time passed. Weeks, in fact. And it got cold. Every time we passed a traveler, and inquired about the suit of armor, we got mumbles and then they said they knew nothing of the sort, then hurridly went on their way.
After several more weeks, during a harsh snowstorm, we decided it best to find a place to stay the rest of the winter. For several days we searched, until a traveler said he was headed to a nearby town called Ceasemont, and that we could gladly stay there on generosity alone. And so we traveled with him. The girl (who by now I had come to know only as Shadow) and I arrived at the town and were offered a room by an old rich woman. We stayed there a long while, and we both found it amusing to be called Shadow and Outlaw.
While we stayed the long days with the old woman, the two of them taught me to read and write. They both agreed that I took up the art quite quickly, and by spring when we set out and said our farewells, I could read and write any word, even if I had never before seen it.
chapter 10
on the road again
As the warm spring days drew on, we saw more and more travelers, and so we got the same amount of information about the armor that we had previously been getting. One day I decided to try a different approach at getting information.
"I heard tales of a suit of armor that doesn't abbraise to anything, and that it wasn't even scratched by a warrior weilding a vopal sword, who struck the armor with all his might. Have you heard such a tale?" I asked. Of course, I had only changed a few small details, but it worked.
The traveler chuckled and said, "Not even the enchanted armor of the Tyant of Wilderheim up north can withstand the blow of a vorpal sword! Foolish travelers."
"Wilderheim? I've not heard of such a place." I said, not at all minding being laughed at.
"Aye, about sixty miles north of here, that way." he pointed in the direction we were going anyway. He then realised that he'd made a mistake. "Aye me! You seek his armor? Aaaayyyyyeeeeeeeee!" he shouted as he ran off down the road, nearly loseing his things.
"Perhaps," my Shadow suggested. "He is a force to be reckoned with."
"Remember, he is a tyrant, and probably no force at all without his armor."
And so we made our way north, stopping only wonce for not three days to dry the venison of a deer I had managed to kill.
One day, when we were approaching the Tyrants land, my Shadow said, "You were ripped off, you know. The price of your sword was twenty two gold peices. The smith relised you couldn't read the numerals when you asked the price of the first sword."
"Well, even the smith must make a profit."
"But you see? He did, twice."
"Hmm," I said thoughtfully. "I suppose he did. Why did not you say anything?"
"Because you seemed well enough without me," she replied. "And besides, the Smith must make a profit, no?"
I laughed at the comment. I didn't relly mind at all that I had given three gold peices too many. I was quite satisfyed with my sword.
chapter 11
tree of times long passed
It was in fact later that day that we came upon a very instant drop in the land. The cliff was sheer, completly vertical. As far as we could see was land, the horison covered by a myst which refused to part even in the late day sun. We hadn't known how far it extended, and so foolishly tryed our hand at finding a less immediate route down. As we began our yet further travels, I looked back at the ancient, dead tree with seemed to grow stait from the rock below it. Quite curious, it was.
We followed the cliffs for ten days, often sighting fires far off down below at night. On the tenth day, we stopped. The reason? We had come accross the ancient, dead tree which seemed to grow from the rock on which it stood. The land below the cliff was completely encompassed by the cliffs, and there were people there.We traveld down the path from which we came. The same day, we met a traveler on foot.
The traveler wore naught but rags, torn, and pitifull. It was how I must of looked the day I became an outlaw. Indeed he had been through rough times. Two strait but thick scars ran along the back of his jawbone. I suspected he probably had whip marks on his back, although his rags were covering whatever lay on his back.
"Traveler, what might we inquire, is in the valley to the north?" I asked him.
"The valley to the north? You shant want to enter there. That is the realm of the Tyrant of Wilderheim. You shall be subjugated if you enter!" He said fearfully.
"But we must enter, I have dealings with the Tyrant," I said as I patted the hilt of my sword and suggestivly lifted my eyebrows several times.
"It won't work! The armor is far to strong!" he said in a fearful tone.
"Please, sir, we need to get in, with our horse," chimed in my shadow.
"Very well, how might I be compensated?"
"Well, we've but one gold coin," I explained reluctantly.
"A gold coin? That's wonderful! Incredible! Right this way!" he led us off. We soon came upon a cave, a very deep cave at that.
"This will take you right into the valley. But be warned, do not draw attention to yourselves, especially since you're armed. If you must enter town, do it quitely."
"Thank you, very much. Might I inquire as to where you are traveling?"
He nodded, and then said. "South. As far south as possible."
"Might I ask one more favor of you, then?" I asked.
"Verywell, as long as it's within reason."
"Whilst heading south, you shall come across two towns, first Ceasemont, and then Hestershire.After that you will travel for several days before coming upon a stream with a sign containing four words. Two small, and two large. Nomatter what you hear, do not venture up that stram, to do so is surely death. Later, perhaps the same day, perhaps not, you will come across a house, a nice house. Inside lives an old woman, a healer. Tell her that Outlaw has reached the land he has been in search of. Can you do that?"
"Yes," he replied. "I beleive I can."
"Verywell, thank you, and farewell," was the last thing I said to that man in years.
chapter 12
into town
Shadow and I rode our hourse through the dark cave and emerged some time later on the other side. I peered up along the cliff to see the dsitant top. I reveled in the sight, the way the sunlight struck each crevace, each plant along it's face, each jagged outcropping. Never before had I seen such a complex display of anything, much less rock. What nature can conjure truely surpasses anything man has thought to build.
We traveled long through the late afternoon and evening, and Shadow didn't seem to suspect who the healer was- but she did. At last, some time before the sun set, we saw the tower of a great castle rise up from the myst off in the distance. The town was either nearby, or on the opposite side of that castle.
As it turned out, we continued to canter along until we could make out the image of a wall through the fog. Judging by the size, this was definitly the town. We stopped to wait for the fall of darkness. But still, we needed a solution as to what we would do with our horse. What we came up with, a short time later, was that we would merely set it free and hope to find it upon our departure. And so we did. The horse trotted away from the town as cheerfully as he had come.
Upon the night, we readied to find a way accross the wall. It was easy to select what part of the wall we would cross, as the sentry towers were the only visible parts, as they were lit by oil lamps. We crept low, and felt along the side of the dark stone wall. It was scaleable, barely. We lugged all of our equipment as quietly up the wall as we could, so not to arouse the guards to our presence. We reached the top, eventually, and shuffled nevervously about, trying to find a spot with which to desend. I proceeded down first, and Shadow followed me. After a rather short way, my foot slipped on the rock, sending several chuncks of stone to thump onto the ground below. It was quite audible, and so it seems the sentries heard it.
"Who goes down there?" they called out, and we of course did not answer. "Come on then, Hephron! Follow!" They walked along the top of the wall, stopping just short of us to peer down. Perhaps it is only God who knows how and why they didn't see us, but they didn't. Perhaps they though us a bale of hay on the ground, for all I can do is wonder.
When they finally returned to their posts, we proceeded further down the wall. I was naught two footfalls from the ground when Shadow fell, and when she fell, I came with her. We lay in a heap on the ground for several moments before we were able to regain ourselves and run for the streets of the town.
We heard the sentries calling out after us, "You damn stupid peasants! Always trying to escape! You wouldn't survive but a day without your King!"
Neither of us were in any mood to answer, and so we ran, as fast as our legs would allow. It seemed to us, as we ran, that there were'nt any townsfolk about the streets and thus there must be a curfew of sorts. We stopped between two large buildings, perhaps stables or the like. And there we stayed, for several minutes, trying to decide what we next should do.
chapter 13
whereupon Peter resides
And through the myst of night we heard the tolling of a bell. It rang out not once, or twice, or thrice, but twelve tollings. It was midnight, and there were people in the church. As the bell rang out it's slow and steady gongs, we ran through the streets, twords the sound. Where at last we saw the steeple through the darkness and fog, and approached it cautiously. We followed the outer stonework until we came upon a single stained glass window which remained open. There were several people inside, and so we chose to listen.
"Father, it seems the sentries almost caught several villagers trying to escape. But all is not as it seems." I peered in to see the man hold a dagger up to the preist. At a second look, it seemed as if the dagger was mine. I looked down at my boot, the dagger wasn't there.
"What is this, my son?" the preist asked.
"I saw two people on the wall, but they weren't climbing up, they were climbing down. One fell, and they both came crashing down. After the sentries returned to their posts and the two disappeared into the myst, I snuck up to the glint I saw on the ground where they fell, and this was that glint. I ran back here as fast as I could, Father. It seems there are two warriors in town, to what purpose I do not know," the man explained.
The preist turned around, and held his chin thoughtfully. "I'm sure the thought of savior is in mind, is it not?" the preist asked.
"Indeed it is, have not we prayed long? Our Lord has sent our savior," the man replied.
The preist turned again to face the man. He said solemnly, "Well then ask them into our fair church."
It was at that moment I relised the preist had seen us. "What do you mean?" After the man said that I got up and ran for the front door to the church, motioning for Shadow to follow. She did, and we listened hard at the front door of the church until we heard the man say, "Come to us, warriors!"
At that point we flung open the large oak doors and stepped into the church with quite the dramatic entrance. Word of such would surely spread through the town and we would gain the trust of the townsfolk. "Does the Tyrant know of such happenings?" I asked as the man handed me my dagger and I put it back neatly into place.
"By now, surely the message has been sent that several townsfolk tried to escape, but they do not know of your presence. There will be a town meeting concerning the matter tomorrow, and perhaps a hanging," said the Father.
"What has happened here?" asked Shadow.
"What has happened? An invinceible Tyrant has overtaken this fair valley and oppressed us, naught but a year ago," the townsman explained.
"Invincable? How so?" I asked.
"It seems our saviors lack knoledge! They do not know of the armor which cannot be peirced," the Townsman now mocked.
"I know of it, in fact, I seek it."
"You seek it? So now our Tyrant is to be replaced by another? We should thank the lord for our good fourtune!" the townsman now mocked.
The preist was annoyed and scouled him, "Do not speak of such a thing! These warriors are on a quest you see, and they shall free us!"
"Indeed we shall," chimed in Shadow.
"Come, warriors, I can hide you in the lost catacombs, of which only I have knoledge." And so the preist led us off, through the basement of the church, below the basement, through the catacombs, deeper and deeper, lit only by that of a torch. The ancient corpses seemed to mock us, to stare. Where at last we arrived at an ancient alter, where was a fountain, dripping the clearest, cleanest water I had ever seen.
"This is were I extract my holy water, but there is more here than meets the eye." He proceeded to dip the torch into a trough of thick, clear liquid which was obviously oil and set nito a bright flame, illuminateing the entire alter. I could now see what at first seemed to be ruble on the wall to the right, but the Preist stood in an awkward position, reached deep into the rubble, and as far as I can tell pulled a lever, releasing a counterweight and opening a door on the left side of the room which was invisble save for when it moved.
"Now we shall enter the lower catacombs, but be warned, while you stay, do not nevture past the Guardian of the Blade, for nothing lurks there but death," the preist explained.
"And perhaps some sort of.. blade."
"Indeed a blade, a Vorpal blade, and many a time have warriors attemped to reach it, but for now a hundred years the Guardian has been claiming lives."
"A Vorpal blade? Such a thing could be used to overthrow the Tyrant."
"Go, I shall bring you supplies and whatever else you might request," he said.
I made my request indeed, "A map, including the inside of that castle."
"I," spoke the townsman. "Might be able to manage such a task. I'm James Tannar, you may call me James."
"Verywell," I replied. "I am Outlaw, and this is Shadow."
"And I," announced the Preist. "Am Father Peter."
chapter 14
why are we here?
With the exploration of the inner catacombs came an underlying fear that neither I nor Shadow would admit.There was another alter, complete with a pristene fountain, however this contained no hidden passage. We were however, able to extract water to drink, and so we did. As often as we could hope, Father Peter brought us food and others supplies. And, just when we were about to give up hope, James arrived following close behind the good Father carrying a map of the entire town and a rough outline of the inside of the castle.
"It's the best I could create," he had told me. And I could accept that, humbily accepting the map and thanking him accordingly.
We did, however, find the Guardian. It was several weeks after we had first entered the catacombs, and the time we had spent down there had been wearing us thin.
"Have you sketched the area completely?" I had asked Shadow while exploreing one day.
She had replied, "Don't I always?"
I laughed lightly, and both of us knew the that the laugh was not of a laughing matter. There was a revolution to be had, and here we were stuck exploring caves!
chapter 15
nectar?
But never the less we trudged on, until we found a strange archway, with an engraveing across the top. It was of an ancient toung, but Shadow had jumped to the conclusion that this was the guardian's lair.That's not to say she was wrong, but she did jump to conclusions. The archway, as it stood, seemed to be some sort of long, snakelike insect. It was complete with row after row of legs, too many to count. It clung to the stone, forming the top of the arch, and although we didn't know it, the scales upon it's back were of the brightest gold, covered with years of dirt and grime.
As we walked past, I remeber seeing the slightest winkle of golden light reflect from the arch, but thought nothing of it. We did, however, notice that more and more of the floorstones were missing, and that the dirt had begun to seep through the large cracks in the walls. The further we went, the less wall there was, the less floor the was, and the less ceiling there was. After only several minutes, we were surronded by dirt on three sides.
"Come on, Outlaw, There must be something down here," I will admit she said while we went.
I, being stubborn, said, "No there isn't, Look at this filthy cave, it keeps getting smaller!"
"Wait, remain quite, and listen," she shushed me with a single upheld finger.
I did as she requested, listening hard, until I heard it. A faint sqeaking, rythmic, as if a cart's wheel needed tallow.We made our way further down the passage, for quite a while, until we heard whispers and grunts. Further we heard metal on hot metal, a foundy of sorts. But what would such a thing be doing under ground? Where would a chimney like that pipe to? We soon came upon a fork in the passageways, one leading to the sound of carts and whispers, and the other, bright light at the end, to the sound of metalworking. We now crawled until we reached the light, and could hear the yells of someone. There was now barely enough room to stand, and so I did. Shadow and I looked to our feet to see a small, perhaps three foot man with pointed ears and a tall red hat run past, screaming something about the next to die.
Suddenly, the banging stopped. Scores of little heads popped from around corners and boulders and the like to look at us. "Come for the Vorpal blade have ye? We'll give you fifty peices of gold and some of the finest sleeping nectar in the land if you spare your own lives and some of ours," came a small but gruff voice through the blinding heat of the room. "For decades warriors as tall, if not taller, than you have tried their hand at the eventual defeat of the Guardian, but it ended badley for both them and we nectar gnomes!"
"Excuse me, but we're quite lost as to the situation, might it be explained to us?" I asked.
"Ahhh," replied the Gnome. "Not only suicidal but they came without knoledge! Very well then, if it helps convince you to leave, I shall explain everything! Come, come, and I shall show you what you want!" he then waved us on through the small room full of suit covered gnomes. They stared at us nervously as we passed. We did finally leave the room, and then followed the gnome into a much more satisfyingly taller room.
"Come come, friends, and ask whatever question of me you want!" said the gnome.
"Um," I began. "Who are you?"
"Me? Well I'm Setrov, head of gold smelting for the Guardian. Anything else you wish to know?"
"Yes," said Shadow. "You said you were nectar gnomes, and you had nectar, where does it come from?"
"Well, the nectar ants travel trough their tunnels to the world above where the plants grow, they bring it down, and we harvest it from them!"
"Well, why the gold?" I asked.
He answered with, "The gold? Thats to satisfy the Guardian. We mine it up constantly and forever add to his damn treasure. Must be ten million gold peices by now. He lives on nectar too, you know. Makes us bring him fresh barrels of it every day."
"But where do the barrels come from? And the smelting furnaces, where does the smoke and waste go? And what do you bu-"
He cut me off, "Too many questions, adventurer, take your time! Anyway, the barrels have always been down here, when one wears out, we burn it to smelt the gold. To replace that, we go the barrel vault, more barrels there than you'ld think possible! As for your question about the smoke, we have a magic chimney that brings it to the sky. Travels five feet up it does, and already it's a mile out of the ground."
"Ok then," I continued. "How to we get the vorpal blade from this guardian?"
"No no, he's the Guardian! And you cannot get it from him. The only reason he guards it is because it is the only thing which can peirce his scales, and even so, the scales are so soaked in nectar that they repair themselves within seconds wonce the blade is no longer in the way."
"One last thing," I said. "There must be an ore mine, for the gold?"
"Yes, thats yet further under ground, we useally have nearly eighty gnomes working day and night to retreive enough ore. But alas, that number has been increasing, as the vein of ore grows narrower, what we will do when it runs out is of great concern. Would you happen to know the location of a vein?"
"No, I can't say that I do."
"We wish to confront the Guardian," came Shadow's voice.
"No!" said Setrov. "It will only lead to your demise!"
"Then let us be foolish, if there is even the slightest chance-"
"Oh verywell," he interrepted. "It's your own damn foolish lives."
chapter 16
the guardian
He got up and started walking through the vast system of small tunnels. He led us around courners, over deep ravines, through caverns, and everwere, there were nectar gnomes. We saw them harvesting the nectar from the nectar ants. In the next cavern, there were gnomes stumbling around everywere, obviousely intoxicated and hallucinateing from the dark blue liquid. We reached a large, ancient oak door. The little gnome grabbed a cast iron knocker and let it fall on the door three times. Soon a slit opened and a dark eye peered through.
"What is it?" came an ubsurdly high pitched voice.
"These two fair adventurers wish to challenge you."
"Tell them to make reservations!" came the voice. Then there was chuckling. "No no, hee hee. I'm only kidding, send them in!" The slit then closed, and we heard a sound as if hundreds of little gnomes went scampering away. We heard the click of the latch being thrown open, and then Setrov pushed the heavey door open.
"Good bye, adventurers," he said.
We stepped into the room, there were tourches lighting the way, so I dropped mine carelessly to the floor. We crept through the room slowly, until we came to another door. It was locked! There was a knocker, and so I did the only logical thing, I knocked.
"Enter, my warriors!" Again the chuckleing. "Oh, don't I sound so evil? I love me!" The click of this latch being thrown. Before I pushed on the door I took out my bow and notched an arrow. Shadow drew her sword. We opened the door to see an enormous cavern, lit by hundreds or brightly burning torches. At the top was the magic chiminy, letting out the smoke from the furnaces through tunnels that had been dug right to it. And in this enourmous cave was millions of gold coins. At the far end of it was a giant golden throne, where sat the Guardian. He was exactly the same as the creature on the archway, including the golden scales.
"Do you dare attempt at the takeing of my blade? Of course you do, give me a second, and I shall come down to challenge you back!"
Within seconds the Guardian was standing before us, trying to look evil. Shadow didn't hesitate, she swung with all her might at the side of the creature, falling when the blade skipped off it's side, sparking.
"Oh my! I think I felt that hit me! No, no wait, it was just an itch! Ah ha ha ha ha ha! Now you, the bigger one, you try!"
I drew my bow back, said, "Ok," and sent the shaft directly into it's soft, unprotected eye. From three feet the shot wasn't even a challenge, the target being nearly an inch across.
He went writhing in pain on top the gold. "Ah! Unfair shot! Unfair shot! I demand a redo! Ah, pull it out! Please! It hurts so much!"
"Give me the vorpal blade, I promise not to slay you with it."
"Are you sure you won't?" he continued sobbing even as he spoke.
"Yes."
He agreed, "Alright then, it's in you scabbard, but I'm keeping your steel sword!"
I looked, and there at my side was the vorpal blade. "Very well then," and I proceeded to extract the shaft.
"Fine then, you won. Please tell the townspeople above that you found a different vorpal blade, I need to remain feared so not to be bothered. You know? That's the third blade I've lost this century! One fellow even skinned me with one, and then took off wearing my scales as armor! Took me nearrly a day to grow them back! I suppose you'ld like to return to that blasted church up there? Very well, tootles!" He then ran off, nursing his eye as he went, and as soon as he left our sight we found ourselves standing in the church, Shadow still recovering from her fall.
It was dark in the small church, with only several candles lit. Up on the alter, father Peter sat hunched over a table, scribbling on a peice of paper. I took a step forward, and at the sound of my foot stikeing the floor, he looked up.
Quite surprised, he said, "Oh, i didn't hear you come in. Um, how did you come in?"
Instead of speaking, I pulled on the hilt of my new blade, showing some of the edge. The golden colored blade caught the light of the candles on the alter and reflected them directly at Father Peter. A thin smile crossed his face.
"Perhaps there is hope for our town after all."
"Perhaps."
chapter 17
revolt!
Pitchforks, Sickles, wooden clubs, even one with a spoon tied to board. The riot began at the south end of town. Serveral guards were struck down, that's not to say that even more peasents weren't brought down with the unlucky few. Soon, as Shadow and I observed, several columns of heavily armed footsoldiers came racing into the area. They charged at the mob with intense ferocity, so much that a wave of bodies could be seen to fall throughout the crowd of peasents. Just then, from out the doors of houses and shops to either side of the road poured scores of townsfolk. Several of them even carried blades. The columns of troops were surrounded, and mobbed. The cries of pain were drown out by the sound of the stampeed. I watched the sentry post on the inner wall of the castle as the guards, witnessing the fierce onslaught, leapt from their posts and sprinted twords the bulk of the castle.
We waited, and then we waited a while longer. It seemed as if an eternity had passed, although it could not have been more than several moments. And then, faintly at first, but growing louder, we could hear the horrible sound. This time, not just of clanking armor, but that of hoofs heavily thumping against the dirt. The sound grew, and grew. And then, from out the gate they bust. The riders were in full plate mail, raising their swords, their axes, and their maces to the sky. I saw many of the townspeople turn tail and run. I had to expect such thing, the show of the calvalry was quite impressive.
Copyright 2001 Joseph Basile