by R W Caron
Arrow of Justice
By R.W. Caron
Dedication
To the strongest woman I know and the strongest woman I knew.
First off, my loving wife who has never let me give up on myself and kept me sane through it all. Thank you for never giving up on me.
Secondly, I would like to thank everyone who believed it me and everyone that didn’t. You guys both made it possible for me to never give up, for two very different reasons.
Lastly, I need to thank my mother. You left this world more then a few years ago but I feel you every day in my writing. You were never one for fantasy, never one for roleplaying games, never understood my obsession with dragons and magic, but you never once told me it wasn’t worth my time. You sat there and listened to me tell stories, and talk about being an author, never once telling me I wasn’t going to make it. For that I thank you, and even though you aren’t going to physically see it, I promised you when I published a book your name would be in it.
So, congratulations Linda Marie Caron, your name is in a novel.
I love you mom.
- Robert W Caron AKA Little Bobby
Chapter 1
Protection
H is foot barely caught the edge of the branch as he landed with catlike swiftness, within the old oak tree. As he moved out along the branch the old tree moaned in protest but did not buckle under his weight. His name was Shahalenahan; known as Nahan by the locals and his tribe, given to him by his mother and the chief of his people, the position of which he just filled at the age of twenty one. When the late king Erwin had passed on and his first born son had been murdered, his second born son had taken the throne and ordered all the Nipawin people exterminated. Nahan’s father stood strong and proud in the fight, took many of his best men with him and met the king’s army head on. The tales of his father’s prowess were told to him over and over when he was a young child. Nahan could not see his father’s face, could not remember the smell of his father or his mother, the only thing Nahan could remember of his past was the people; his people.
It was his duty to bring food to his people, the Nipawin. He slowly strung his bow, leveling his shot at a young buck that had just emerged from the tundra. The light orange tinge of the beasts coat was a tell tale sign that he was young. Nahan loved the thrill of the chase, loved going for big game and bring home a giant feast that would last for days on end. This young buck would not be a feast that would last a long time but it was food; food that his people needed. He slowly exhaled, allowing his muscles to relax from their tense state and his fingers extended quickly. He felt the feathers brush against his face as the arrow flew by and sliced through the air and his arm relaxed following the arrows course as if it was part of his arm. The arrow landed deep within the buck, a perfect shot just behind the right shoulder. The arrow buried itself deep into the flesh of the creature as it hopped high in the air startled by the sudden impact, as the realization of the creature death set into his mind it managed to run a few paces then dropped with a thud. The people will eat well tonight, he thought to himself aloud as he dropped his weight off the limb of the tree and rushed toward his kill. He moved quickly to the animal’s side, touching it with the bow to make sure it was dead. The deer was about his size but Nahan was stronger than he looked. He hoisted the deer over his shoulder with ease and started toward his village. After running half the way, he made it to the village with the sun still above the hills and the people still bustling about.
The village was completely hidden in the tundra surrounded by trees and down in a valley where no one came. As he made his way down the to the valley floor he was greeted by the women of the village. They came to his side quickly and retrieved the deer from him without a word, and started working on it. The Nipawin did not believe in wasting any part of an animal. Bones where used as knife handles, the insides of the animal would be dried and used to haul water or be used as bait for other game, skin was used for clothing and shelter. He walked toward his teepee reflecting on the days hunt and stretched his muscular neck, which had tightened up for carrying such a load for so long. A young boy in the tribe came running up, calling out his name. Nahan did not recognize the boy at first but by the expression on his face and his frantic arm waving Nahan knew it was important.
“Nahan,” The young boy yelled in their native language, “Nahan, Myki is in trouble… she has been taken!” The young man grabbed Nahan’s hand and tried to pull him out of the village.
“Calm down young one,” Nahan replied, as he dropped to a knee and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Tell me what happened?”
“We were chasing rabbits: trying to catch some, when we were attacked by men from the Settlement.” He said his voice slowing. “When she tried to attack one of them hit her with the end of his sword, she then collapsed. The others pursued me but I lost them.”
“Are you sure you lost them?” Nahan asked, now concerned for the safety of his tribe. If the denizens of the settlement knew they where this close that could mean the end of his people. Ever since the kings war there has been a price on Nipawin head’s. The king thought he had wiped them all out but Nahan had managed to form a small village and bring the people back from near extinction
“Yes, sir.” The young boy replied with a matter of fact like tone.
“How?” he asked as he stared at the young boy with intensity in his eyes.
“The trees sir, as you have taught me.” The young boy replied. Nahan stared at the young boy and finally placed him. Nahan had been teaching some of the young boys and girls how to use the trees to find prey. The boys face was unmistakable now as one of his most promising pupils. “Please, help her.”
“She is one of us,” Nahan replied and stood tall. “I will find her.”
He turned and was about to enter his teepee. He paused in mid step and turned towards the boy matching his gaze to the young boy and smiled. “You have done well young warrior.” The boy nodded his head and rushed off. Nahan entered his teepee and changed quickly, into his brown dyed robes. He quickly, wrapped his wrists in handmade rawhide leather, carefully hiding a makeshift dagger within. As he flexed his hand backward the dagger protruded from the hide then back in as he flexed his hand back. He quickly grabbed three knives from his wooden bench and slipped then into his belt. He exited the teepee and was face to face with a man his size with red and black war paint on his face.
“Dylinin, what are you doing here brother?”
“Let me come with you, Nahan.” He said staring at his chief. “I will be a great help.”
“No.” Nahan replied and turned to walk away. Dylinin was too unpredictable. He was a young warrior much like Nahan but felt a need to prove himself to the tribe. He had failed several times to bring food back after a long hunt, though Nahan had never held it against him Dylinin held it against himself. Nahan had to go out hunting or let his people starve. Nahan never came back empty handed. Dylinin grabbed Nahan’s arm and turned him roughly to face him.
“Nahan, please...” He begged.
“I need you here my friend, in case I fail. You are strong and will one day replace me, this I know. There is no need for you to toss your life away foolishly.” Nahan replied. It was true if Nahan were to fail and be killed, Dylinin would most liking rise to chief, even with his brash nature. The thing Nahan feared the most is the lengths to which Dylinin might go to ensure he was next in line for chief. Nahan turned and started toward the hill but Dylinin held strong to his arm.
“I will not let you go alone. You are not a warrior as you claim.” He got within inches of Nahan’s face. “I will not trust my sister’s life in your hands!”
In one sudden and lightning quick motion Nahan brought forth his hidden blade to a m
ere millimeter’s length away from Dylinin’s throat.
“You would be wise to watch your tongue, for you are young and still have much to learn.”
With that he retracted the blade and rushed off. Dylinin turned and stormed off toward his teepee. Dylinin always tried to use the fact that Nahan was not a warrior against him. Before Nahan could be given the title of warrior he had to duel with the chief. It was an ancient tradition that had long since been forgotten. The reason Nahan could not duel with the chief was because he was awarded the mantle of chief before he came of age to duel the chief. Nahan’s first opponent was Dylinin and he had give Dylinin the title of warrior a title in which Nahan could never achieve unless he stepped down as chief. Nahan’s skills in combat had always been superior to Dylinin’s but because he did not have the title of Warrior Dylinin assumed himself his superior. Nahan quickly made his way up the hillside, running up a downed log and into the trees above. Quickly he made his way across the limbs, trusting his body to know what to do. He made his way through the woods quick as a mountain lion and as quiet as a mouse. He landed softly in the ‘v’ section of a tree, swiftly pushing off and climbing upward. He made it to another strong limb and flew off of it catching hold of another with his hands. He swung himself, reached out to another and then a third before landing with a roll on the ground. He came up in a crouched position and stared ahead at the ruins that are now known as settlements. These places were once great cities but were attacked by King Erwin II, the current king of Esmos. His citadel sat in the capital city of Debec but throughout most of the settlements he has appointed noblemen.
The king is the reason behind Nahan’s tribes near extinction as he seeks to destroy all that is different. Nahan pulled his hood up over his stark black hair, down far enough to cover his hazel eyes as he makes his way toward the settlement. As he continued toward the settlement his senses took over and he notices a camp fire off to the left of his position. Nahan dropped low and used the shrubs to cover his approach. To his surprise and luck he realized he doesn’t have to enter the settlement at all. He looked through the tall grass to see three men dressed in grey and blue guard’s uniforms sitting around the fire. A small tan skinned girl lay beside the fire, her pants torn off and her face beaten, with her hands tied behind her back. Nahan could see that she had suffered the guard’s torture and his blood boiled inside him. How could these animals do this to a poor innocent girl? he thought to himself. He closed his eyes and tried dearly to stop his heart from hammering out of his chest at the risk that they may hear it. His heart was not racing due to fear but of pure aggression. It was one thing to kill a Nipawin person but to completely disrespect and torture one of his fellow tribe’s mates was to disrespect and torture him. Nahan could not stand for this. If they were to simply capture a villager from the settlement, they would be dealt a quick and painless death or simply set free. The consequences of these actions, however, would be much more severe. The silence was broken as the men began to speak to one another.
“We really should be bringing her to the boss.” stated the youngest of the three. He looked to be maybe seventeen and spoke in a common tongue. “I mean it’s fun and all but won’t he be mad.”
“Nonsense boy,” said the oldest of the three, his grey goatee shining in the fires light. “We aren’t expected back for another day. Besides, you ain’t gonna find an easier woman in the settlement.” The man laughed and clapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s your turn to get your little snake wet; old Roy and I have had our turns.”
“Go on boy,” said the third man. “Just watch yourself, she bites pretty hard. Lucky for her, I like my woman feisty.” He laughed louder than the other man and the two started to slap him on the back.
“I’m good.” He replied. “Thank you though.”
“What’s wrong with you Andrew?” Roy asked. “She’s just gonna hang tomorrow morning anyway, you might as well have your fun now.”
“Why would she hang?” the young man asked.
“She’s a Nipawin, boy.” identified the older man with the grey goatee. “She has to die.”
“Why?” Andrew questioned. Roy suddenly cuffed him in the back of the head and he turned to look at him. “I’m just asking, why these people are so feared that whenever we find one we must kill them.”
“They are not feared.” Roy retorted. “They are nothing more than mere animals. They steal children in the night, they have tried to kill the king, they have killed several of our very own and you ask why?”
“I’m sorry.” Andrew replied. “I’ll just turn in.”
“If you’re not taking your turn with that animal, then I will.” He said with a quick motion to the girl.
“Roy you horny devil you… I’ll take next after you’re done.” The older man yelled and laughed as the young man turned and laid his head down beside the log that was his bed this night.
Nahan moved quickly, making no noise he grabbed the eldest man and drove the hidden blade deep into his back piercing the man’s heart. He tried to scream but Nahan covered his mouth and rolled him into a sleep position. Roy, entranced with the young girl, slid his pants down around his ankles and started to lick his lips. His yellow toothy smile quickly turned to that of shock as Nahan rushed out of the bush, jumped and twisted in midair over the fires flame. Nahan pulled his daggers from his belt and landing on his knee in front of the man, he brought both daggers down in an ‘x’ like position and severed off his manhood. Before he could scream Nahan stood and drove one blade into his throat then stabbed him over and over again in the chest, pinning him to the ground. Nahan’s attention quickly shifted to untying Myki. As he finished she started to squirm but Nahan cradled her in his arms “You’re okay now, it’s me Myki, Nahan.” He said in his native tongue. She reached up and put her arm around his neck and he gently started to lift her up.
“I wouldn’t do that.” arose the young man’s voice. “She has to be punished for your crimes.”
“What crimes?” Nahan asked in common tongue as he turned to face the young man who had his sword drawn.
“Crimes against the crown,” He replied with strength in his voice. “She was killing rabbits, and all Nipawin are sentenced to death.”
“Is that so?” Nahan replied and he lay the young girl down on the dirt again. He reached down and grabbed his daggers from Roy’s chest and throat and spun them in his hands. If this young man expected to stop him from taking Myki home he was no better than the two he had just slain. For him to threaten the people the way he did, Nahan had to make a statement, he had to prove his point that his people would not stand for this. “I’m the chief of the Nipawin; care to test your blade?”
“You cannot take her.” Andrew replied.
“Nor shall you.” Nahan replied in his own language. He attacked quickly, and swiftly hopped over the fire again which singed the bottom of his deer hide boots; he quickly attacked high and low, which to his surprise was easily parried by the younger man. The man is skilled Nahan said to his inner self for a move that quick would have best many of his own men in the tribe. Andrew quickly attacked high but Nahan shot out his foot catching the man in the stomach. Nahan spun left and dipped his blade at the man’s lower back; all he met however was steel as his blade bounced off the well placed block. Nahan had never faced a man with talent such as this one. He was impressed that someone from the Settlement could be so skilled in combat. Andrew attacked left and right but Nahan quickly hopped back a step and rolled under the second swing. Nahan lashed out swiftly catching him in the thigh with one of the dagger. Blood started to ooze from the wound but Andrew seemed to be unaffected by the blow, as he thrust his sword forward. Nahan blocked the attack with his daggers but doesn’t anticipate the sudden change in direction as Andrew stepped under his blade and dropped to a knee; this maneuver sent both daggers flying from Nahan’s hands. Nahan stood tall hands out wide expecting the young man to attack and run him through. He shocked Nahan again when he tur
ned his blade toward Nahan and stopped.
“I will not attack an unarmed man.” He quipped.
“You underestimate me.” Nahan replied, than kicked his leg up to knock the sword to the side. Nahan stepped into Andrew and rested the hidden blade against his throat. “Tell me your name.”
“Andrew,” he said without a quiver in his voice at all. “Andrew Brady.”
“Andrew,” Nahan started, as he stared into the young man’s eyes. “You have shown my people a great respect today. You have proven yourself a warrior, and a good man.” He replied. Nahan suddenly pushed the blade harder against his throat. While he had proven himself to be skilled in combat and an honorable man his vision was blurred. Nahan intended to make this point clear to him but something inside Nahan told him that this battle was far from over. “But your judgment is clouded by those you serve. For that, I give you a choice. I will let you live Andrew, but you choose your own path now. Never forget the kindness that ‘us’ so called animals have shown you.” Nahan growled and pushed him back over the stump where he had just had his bed for the night. Nahan did not know exactly why he let this man live, maybe it was for the fact that he did not partake in the actions of the older men, or maybe there was some greater reason he was yet unaware of. Nahan was unsure but he knew that this man did not deserve to die this night.
With one instantaneous movement Nahan was by Mykia’s side. He picked her up ever so slightly, taking care not to injure her more and held her in his arms.
“Never forget that I have shown you kindness, unlike your kin have shown this poor young girl.” Nahan reminded Andrew while giving him one final stare.
Nahan’s face was haunting in the light of the fire but Andrew merely stared at the man that had bested him in combat that night. After a few moments pause Nahan rushed off toward his village, as Andrew sat there staring into the night. Andrew was not alone however, as sitting perched in a tree not twenty yards from where he now sat, Dylinin watched as his leader left one of his sister’s assailants alive. Anger flashed in Dylinin’s eyes and his grip tightened around the knife he held in his hand. His jaw clenched like steel and his lips curled back to resemble the snarl of an angered wolf. Dylinin flew through the trees as if he were a ravenous predator, starved for months. His speed was unmatched by any as he headed for the village to confront his leader once and for all.
