by Scott Moore
Mollie just stared at him.
“How do you know of them?” he asked her.
Mollie cast her eyes toward her father’s sword again. Malik thought he had scared her into silence. He had ruined his only shot at ever talking to another living soul about the Warriors. He wanted to move forward and shake her, telling her she had to talk to him.
“I was telling you that they attacked my village. The Tempre Warriors killed my parents as well. That is why I am here. They are moving east, and I plan to find them.”
Malik heard the words for the first time out of someone else’s mouth and realized how foolish they sounded.
“They came to my village two weeks ago. They came in the night and burned our buildings and crops. Then they killed the men, my father included. After, they gathered those who had not run or were too old to do so. They killed the elderly, and they took the young with them as slaves. They killed my mother when she tried sneaking up on the leader. They tied me down and threw me into the group.” Mollie massaged her wrists as she spoke. “I broke the bonds and ran back to the village hoping to save whatever remained. I found my father’s sword, but the Tempre had burned the bodies and the rest of everything.”
Mollie looked up with tears pooling in her eyes again. Malik turned away from her, feeling like he had invaded on something he should have never seen.
Mollie lifted her hand and wiped away the streaming drops. “The worst part of all of this.” Malik looked back at her. “The worst of it all was that men and women in my village took up the sword with the Tempre. They slaughtered those they had called family. They took the children of those they had once called a friend.” Mollie took a deep breath. “It is for the dead, I move to find them. It is for the dead that I will kill every one of them.”
Malik felt her hatred. He knew the pain of losing loved ones. He knew what she felt at that moment. Yet, for the first time, he realized how hopeless it would be. Was this what Abrie saw when he looked at him? Was this why Abrie preached his words of wisdom? If this girl went looking for the Tempre Warriors, she would only find death. There was no revenge waiting at the end of the road.
“The night I woke up, and the Tempre stood over my bedroll was the scariest night of my life. I don’t think I will ever forget the screams. I have forgotten so much about that night. I don’t know how I survived it. I don’t know who killed my parents. I can’t remember anything but those screams. They will never leave me, no matter how hard I aim to forget.” Malik felt his own warm tears leaking down his cheek. “I would love nothing more than to seek revenge on the men who did that to my people.” Malik tried to bring up passion.
“But you do not fight,” Mollie said.
Malik chuckled. It did not fit the moment, but she was right. He would never be the person to get revenge, but she would never find it either. Not just her and that sword; no matter what it was made of.
Malik may have told her that. He may have tried to bring her back to reality, tried to save her from the thoughts in her own head. Abrie took that moment to clear his throat, however.
“You two should get some sleep,” he said, sticking his head out of the tent flap. Abrie pretended that he was just now getting around to waking but Malik knew him better than that. Abrie had heard the entire conversation. He knew what had happened to them both; not that Malik ever hid his story before. Abrie would give them both the speech in the morning, about forgetting the past and moving forward, or about not letting the nets of yesterday pull away at today. He would come up with hundreds of sayings as they traveled into the next town. Malik would listen like he always did, having no choice but to do so.
Abrie stuck his head back into the tent flap and disappeared.
“Tomorrow, I will get him to tell me how he knows the workings of a bow,” Malik said.
“What do you mean?” Mollie asked.
Malik turned back around, forgetting she had been behind him.
“Nothing. He is right, you should get some more rest. It has been a long day for everyone.”
Chapter 5
A Hard-Fought Promise
Abrie was already up when Malik rolled out of his bedroll. He made a quick glance to the sky, seeing it was not mid-morning. Mollie sat alone by the last remnants of the fire. Malik sat up, stretching the sleep from his sore muscles.
“How are you feeling?” Malik asked Mollie.
She looked at him, just seeing that he had awoken. She shrugged lazily. “Guess I feel fine. Just ready to get going.”
Malik looked over his shoulder at Abrie. Abrie rubbed down Sally and spoke with her like most mornings. Malik was never privy to their conversations. Malik slid over nearer to Mollie.
“Breakfast?” he asked.
Mollie replied with another shrug. “I don’t have a pack anymore.” She looked to Malik who looked back over at Callie.
“I don’t believe we have anything good. We were supposed to be at the Green Markets yesterday afternoon. Something held us up,” he laughed.
Mollie must have missed the humor of his joke. “I will live without breakfast,” she said.
Malik noted that she was more stoic in the morning light. Her eyes lacked the emotion he had seen the night before. They were dry and distant now.
“I believe we at least have some bread and maybe some jam,” he offered.
Mollie nodded her head. “That will be fine.”
Malik stood and walked over to the mules. Callie had already been rubbed down by Abrie. Malik could see the brush lines along her fur coat. He reached under her and grabbed the food pack.
“We ate the last of our stores yesterday,” Abrie said, breaking away from Sally. “No use digging for items you won’t find.” Abrie handed Malik the water canteen. “Fill your belly with water, give her some as well. It will be the best we can do until we get to the Green Markets. There we can restock and continue on.”
“Continue on?” Malik was confused. “Don’t you plan to stay at the Market for the night?”
Abrie shook his head. “We will head west starting today.”
Malik looked to Mollie. She had told him the night before that the Tempre were heading east. Now Abrie turned them toward the west, it was no coincidence.
“You heard Mollie last night, didn’t you?”
Abrie already turned away from him and walked back toward the tent. “I will break things down. You pack up Callie and then we will head out. If we can make the Green Markets by late afternoon, we can make another few miles back west before sunset.” Abrie walked as he talked, trying to separate himself from Malik and his questions.
Malik jogged up to him and stepped in front of him, barring his path forward. Abrie let out a deep breath. “Believe me, this is the best route for us Malik,” Abrie looked downtrodden. Malik was not used to seeing any emotion at all pass over Abrie’s calm face. It threw him off guard. He almost sidestepped and let Abrie through toward the tents. Then he remembered talking with Mollie about the Tempre Warriors. He remembered that they were so close and even though he knew the night before that he would fail, sleep had rejuvenated his passion. He would rather die trying than run toward the west like a coward.
Abrie tried to step around Malik again. Malik stood firmly. He had stood aside enough. He had let Abrie dissuade him too many times.
“Just tell me how you knew to shoot a bow? You have never shot a bow or even talked about one before yesterday.”
Abrie closed his eyes and turned around. Malik knew that if Abrie wanted to avoid a conversation, he would find any way in his power to do so. “Just this once talk to me!” Malik pleaded.
Abrie continued to walk away, not showing any signs of breaking his will.
“Not even my people shoot that well,” Mollie said.
This made Abrie stop. He still didn’t turn around to face them, but he stopped moving away.
“We train from the time we can hold a bow steady. I knew how to shoot before I was seven. I was a perfect shot by the time I was eleven. I have seen n
o one shoot as fast and accurate as you. Not to mention the target,” Mollie continued.
Malik watched Abrie’s shoulders tense. Malik wondered what got under his skin. The infallible man lost his mask.
“Where did you learn to shoot?” Malik asked again.
Abrie turned his head. “Will the story make you both stop asking?”
Malik tried to not shake his head from his shoulders. He had never been so excited in his life. Abrie would give him something other than the useless motivational quotes.
“I would find it interesting,” Mollie replied.
Malik was glad someone had answered. He was too busy trying not to pee himself with glee.
“Then I will tell you a brief story. Afterward, we will pack our things and make double-time to the Green Markets,” Abrie said.
Mollie and Malik both agreed to the terms. Malik almost ran back to his seat next to the dying fire. Abrie took his time joining them. When he did, he stared at the fire for so long that Malik was sure he had changed his mind.
Malik almost opened his mouth to urge Abrie, but he seemed to come to terms with everything.
“I learned to shoot when I was young, very young.” Abrie looked up. “I was a great shot by the time I was seven and a perfect shot before I was nine.” He looked to Mollie.
Mollie seemed impressed. Malik wanted to know more.
“My village was not a combat village like yours, Mollie. My village learned to shoot for other reasons. Reason’s that were sadly not our own choosing. We learned out of necessity and we learned to hate the bow.” Abrie shifted focus to his feet. Malik tried to look at his face by cocking his own, but Abrie angled just right to block him. “No one bothered us on the outskirts of the small kingdom I grew up in. Most people had probably forgotten we existed, honestly. We traded rarely and never left the comforts of our homeland. That was just the way of our people. However, it would be false to assume no one knew we existed. There was a certain species of creature who never left us alone. A creature who pursued us until we were fewer than three hundred in our village. That was when we picked up the bow. Long before I was born, in the time of my great-great-great-grandfather. The bow was then taught from birth and you learned it, or you died.”
Callie brayed and Malik shushed her. Abrie would look for any reason to stop telling his story. Abrie pretended not to notice, deciding against his usual witty banter about the mule and Malik.
“The creatures were much like what we saw yesterday afternoon. They were large, mean, and ugly. Most of all, they were deadly. We hunted them daily during my youth. Not for meat or pleasure, but for survival. If they lived, then we died. They would raid a home, or a farm; it mattered little to them. They were carnal and cared little for man-made barriers. They were much too strong to fight in sword combat. At least for most men and women. The bow was something that everyone could use. Even the elderly could stand on the high ground and pepper the creatures with arrows. That is how I learned to stay calm shooting at the unknown. We never knew where the creatures came from or where they went when they disappeared. That never really mattered. They were there, and they were always plentiful and that was always the real concern.”
Abrie stood and dusted off the front of his pants.
“I guess that about sums up everything. I left my village at fifteen with my mother. I became a bard after. I had not shot my bow for a very long time, but it never leaves you.” Abrie walked back toward the mules. “Pick up the rest of the camp and let us be on our way then.”
Malik stood up. “Why did your mother want to leave the village?” Malik asked before considering the question. He was too enthralled to think just last night he had asked Mollie a similar question about her parents. He had not liked the answer then, and from Abrie’s face, he knew he would dislike the answer this time as well.
“My mother joined a band of misfits. Actually, she fell in love with one member of the band. I don’t recall his name nowit was never that important to me. We left my father. I should have been upset when we left, but I don’t believe I was. I felt nothing about leaving that village except relief. I felt the relief that I would not have to fight for my life every single day.”
Malik tried to process the story. Abrie had been born in a mysterious village off the beaten path of some unknown kingdom. When he was young, he learned the bow to fight an unknown enemy. Then his mother left with an unknown man, in an unknown band, and then he learned the lyre and became a bard. Malik felt there were still a lot of unknowns in Abrie’s story.
“Why are the creatures here? Is your village close?” asked Mollie.
Malik busied wondering about Abrie’s story, but Mollie thought about the present. The creatures were not on the outskirts of an unknown kingdom. Malik knew where they were and what kingdom they traveled through. Luberg was the largest kingdom in the southern region. Surrounded by many smaller kingdoms that swore fealty to King Bently Hardwalls.
Abrie placed his hand on Sally’s snout. Malik saw his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.
“No, we are not near my village. I don’t know why the creatures are here. I don’t even know if the creatures are the same. It was a long, long time ago. I could be mistaken on what they looked like. All I know is that if they come again, we don’t want to be sitting here.”
That seemed to be enough for Mollie to stand up. “Then we will head towards the Green Markets. There, I will find my band to fight the Tempre Warriors.” She grabbed her sword off the ground and slung it over her back.
Malik turned to Abrie who stocked Callie with the packs from the ground. He wanted to know more.
“Abrie can’t we do more to help her?” Malik pleaded.
He wondered for a moment if it was her, he wanted to help, or himself. He wanted nothing more than to get revenge for his family. He wanted to erase those screams from his memory.
Abrie shook his head. “We will help her get to the Green Market. From there we will turn toward the west. We can play the taverns and inns until we reach the Kingdom of Olesta. There, we can at least be away from all of this.”
Malik would have protested further, but Callie brayed, breaking his concentration just long enough for Abrie to start off down the road. Malik could have chased him and continued, but it was too late to get any more answers. Abrie had told what he planned to tell, and now he would say nothing more.
Malik turned back to Mollie. She was on her feet stomping out the remaining coals of fire. She would travel with them and then move on. She would find the Tempre at some point. She would die in doing so, but she was braver than him.
“We better get going,” he called to her.
She was already moving toward him. “I suppose we had better.”
Chapter 6
The Green Markets
The Green Markets were best known for their green colored wagons. They stocked each wagon with different wares. Those wares came from all over the world. The merchants collected everything from black pepper to crystal necklaces. They brought them back to the traveling market, selling them to anyone who would empty their pockets of the coin.
Word spread like wildfire when the Green Markets were near. Hawkers, paper pushers, and messengers brought word to every surrounding village. Inns, taverns, and farms would all shut down in anticipation as the villagers traveled to the agreed upon location.
Abrie and Malik heard about the Green Markets proximity four days prior in the village called Thousand Oaks.
“There are so many sellers here,” Mollie said.
Malik looked back over his shoulder at her. The awe on her face mimicked his own the first time he saw the Markets. Now they were so commonplace in his life, he loathed the difficulty of navigating them.
The first time he had come here had been so overwhelming to his senses. The green carts dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see. In front of them all were men and women announcing their wares. Some merchants even hired peddlers to walk the aisles of carts for
them. Others hired hawkers to stand with signs in various areas. The hawkers guided any potential customers. Children ran up and down the rows checking on other wares for their parents or business partners. Merchants were always trying to one-up their competition. They would yell about their lower prices, their rare finds, or just how bad the other merchants would cheat if they could.
Abrie had taught Malik to pay attention to nothing he heard out of the mouths of anyone selling something. It was hard to do but Malik ignored the constant drum of voices. It was harder to ignore the smells. The food may be overpriced and oftentimes filled with inedible items but it smelled better than a saint. His first time here, he had tried cuffing a small pie from the table of an old witch lady. She had rapped his knuckles and threatened to cut off his hand. She threatened a lot more but Abrie had pushed Malik off along the paths before he could make it out.
Now that Malik had seen the Markets a dozen times, he no longer longed for the food. He knew it would hurt his belly. Even the few times that Abrie had allowed him to splurge on the food, he had gotten diarrhea so bad he never wished to have it again. Now, he just let Abrie do the negotiations.
The hardest part to ignore, above all else, was the rush of pure adrenaline. Beyond the sights, voices, and smells, there was a sense of magic about this place. Everyone so close together, filled with energy, and trying to catch your attention. It sent hair to standing and hearts to beating.
To Mollie that may have been enthralling. To Malik, it made him feel like his world spun. He would still get lost in the maze of things if he let his mind wander. For that reason alone, Abrie would never let him go off on his own into the Markets. He was thankful for the guidance.
“We will split up,” Abrie said.
Malik came to a skidding halt. His every fiber seemed to untwine. He wanted freedom, but not here. This place was chaos.
“Why would we do such a thing?” Malik asked.
Abrie tied the mules up to the hitching posts. The animals were not allowed into the common grounds of trading. Instead, they hitched to post on the outskirts. There, small bands of farm hands that were paid by those coming into the Markets would watch them.
