by T. Norman
“Ah, Rysh, I didn’t hear you come up!” Mic set his hammer down as he came to greet Rysh. “I suppose you’re here for your sword. I was able to melt down some Argite and craft it with the hilt you gave me. It was a task balancing the new length and weight, but I was able to do it.”
Rysh always marveled at Mic’s craftsmanship. He was able to forge any weapon or armor with great skill. Rysh’s sword had been given to him many years earlier, and he brought it to Mic to have it lengthened to a hand-and-a-half sword. The blade was dull and worn now, so he asked to have it replaced by the fine metal Argite, native to Ansaroth. He wanted to keep the hilt, for it was his great-grandfather’s and had been passed down from father to son since then.
Mic brought out the sword, wrapped in cloth. As he unraveled the cloth, Rysh could see the light gleaming off the metal. What was once a dull short sword was now a beautiful hand-and-a-half sword.
“It looks amazing, Mic!” Rysh was in awe at the craftsmanship of the weapon.
“Go ahead, give it a swing.” Mic always wanted his customers to be satisfied. “Let me know if the weight and balance are to your desire.”
Rysh took the sword in hand and began going through his practice motions. The sword moved with excellent speed and grace. The balance was perfect.
“I can’t thank you enough for this, Mic.” Rysh shook Mic’s hand as he bid him farewell. “Come down to the tavern sometime and I will buy you a drink.”
“You’re going to have to buy me more than one!” Mic laughed.
As Rysh was leaving, Gant and Gayle ran up to greet him.
“Dad, can I go with Gayle to the woods and practice shooting? He has some tips he wants to show me. I promise I’ll be careful!” Gayle was four years older than Gant and had trained under Don, so Rysh trusted that he was responsible.
“Yes, just promise to be back by dark.” Rysh turned to Gayle. “You’re in charge. Make sure he behaves.”
“I will, sir.” Even though Rysh held no official rank as a member of the city guard, Gayle still addressed him as “sir.” Rysh figured this came from his training with Don.
The boys ran off toward the west gate in a hurry. As Rysh watched them turn the corner, his stomach reminded him that it was well past lunchtime and he hadn’t eaten yet. He made his way through Wayton to the local tavern. The tavern was a small establishment, with only a bar with a half-dozen stools around it and four tables in the dining area. The tavern also had two rooms for rent upstairs. Rysh walked to an empty stool at the bar.
“Afternoon, Rysh, what can I get for you?” Kit Hessle, the owner of the tavern, was a short, plump man. The saying was that he would drink a pint for each one he served.
“Whatever you’re making. I haven’t had lunch and I’m starving.” Kit nodded and made his way to the kitchen. He always cooked up something delicious during the day, so Rysh wasn’t worried.
The only other person in the tavern was the town drunk, Bors. He was an old man with a dirty brown cloak, long gray hair, and a beard to match it in both color and length. His walking stick leaned beside him as he drank from his stein. He very rarely left the tavern. Rysh didn’t know much about the man, except that he moved to town about fourteen years earlier and had no family.
“Here you go, Rysh. Enjoy!” Kit placed a plate of grilled fish and potato spuds on the bar. The smell made Rysh’s stomach growl, and in minutes there was nothing left of the meal.
Stomach full, Rysh enjoyed a pint of stout before he made his way home. The sun was beginning to fall in the western sky when Rysh noticed Don running toward the south gate.
“Don! What’s happening?” Rysh hollered after his friend.
“Follow me!” Something was wrong.
Rysh made his way after Don. As they came closer to the south gate, his suspicions were confirmed. The gate was closed for the first time since the battle of the Skirling Pass. Don and Rysh climbed the small watchtower to meet Sam. He seemed on edge, which was quite unusual for the jokester.
“What’s going on, Sam?” Sam simply nodded toward the road below. At the edge of the woods stood five columns of men of the Royal Army, their colors shining brightly in the late afternoon sun. At their head rode a man on horseback.
“What do they want?” Don was trying to stay calm.
“Don’t know. They just showed up and have been waiting there. Figured it couldn’t be good.” Sam’s voice was shaking. Even though he was the best archer in Wayton, he had never faced a threat like this.
“Lord Briar is on his way. He will want to talk to them.” The three men waited only a few minutes before Lord Darren Briar arrived.
“Don, Rysh, Sam.” He addressed all three with a polite nod. “What’s the situation?”
“It seems a group of royal soldiers are having a tea party outside our gates.” Sam had obviously gained some courage with the arrival of Lord Briar. “I think they are waiting on you.”
“Looks to be a hundred, and they’re armed.” Don reported. “What do you want to do?”
Darren Briar was a smart man and a great leader, always one to search for a peaceful solution rather than resorting to violence. “Let’s find out the meaning behind their visit. Don, come with me. Rysh and Sam, wait here.” Rysh followed Don and Lord Briar down the ladder to open the gate for the men. Before Lord Briar left the safety of the city, he grabbed Rysh by the shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “If anything happens, promise me you will keep my daughter safe. She’s all I have.”
Rysh nodded. “Of course. I promise.”
The men shook hands before Lord Briar and Don made their way through the gate. Rysh hurried to close it behind them and made his way back up to the watchtower so he could see what was happening.
Rysh watched as Lord Briar and Don made their way to the soldiers on the road. Both men seemed calm and collected. Rysh struggled to listen as the men approached one another.
“What can I do for you?” Rysh heard Lord Briar ask.
Much of what was said was lost in the wind; Rysh was only able to make out bits and pieces. “By the king’s orders . . . girl . . .” The man Lord Briar was talking to had dark brown hair barely showing underneath his helmet, and a scimitar strung at his waist. The man was no taller than Rysh, but he held his head high and shoulders back. Rysh assumed he must be a captain.
“I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.” Lord Briar was doing his best to negotiate.
“. . . last chance . . . give her to us . . . die.” The wind was making it difficult to hear all that the strange man was saying. Rysh saw Don twitch, and he knew immediately things had gone wrong. The strange man had his scimitar in hand and through the air before Don could even raise his axe. Darren’s body fell limp to the ground. The royal soldiers immediately charged at Don and the gate.
2
“No!” Sam shouted as he nocked an arrow and began firing on the soldiers. Rysh ran to the gate. He needed to help Don.
As Rysh reached the gate, Sam shouted down, “Rysh, no, keep the gate closed! You need to get the people to safety. I’ll hold them off!” Rysh hesitated, but remembered the promise he had made to Darren. I have to find Julia.
“Hold them off as long as you can. I’ll gather whomever I can at Lord Briar’s tower.” Sam gave Rysh a nod, without losing concentration or skipping a shot.
Rysh began to run through the town, trying to warn as many people as possible.
“Rysh, what’s going on?” Kit called after him.
“We’re under attack. Help me get everyone out of here! Use the north gate.” Kit immediately began running down the street with Rysh, helping spread the word before heading to the north gate himself.
“Make your way to the north gate! Go now!” Rysh barked at the townspeople. As he reached the tower, he threw open the door and ran to Julia’s room. Inside he found Julia and her handmaiden, Lori Dretzch.
“Rysh, what’s wrong?” Julia, a friendly girl, with bright blonde hair, could tell something was
wrong. Her voice was shaking.
“My lady, we need to leave now. Grab only what you need. I will be waiting at the main door.” Rysh hesitated as he stepped out the door. “And hurry.” Rysh rushed down the stairs and out the tower to see men, women, and children running toward the north gate.
“Hey, Rysh, do you know what’s going on?” Mic was trudging down the street with a hammer in one hand and a hand axe in the other.
Rysh brought his voice to a whisper. “Darren’s been killed. We’re under attack by royal soldiers.”
“Did you tell Julia?” Mic was a good man, and like many others in the town, was fond of the young girl.
“Not yet.” Rysh felt a pang of guilt. “I need to get her to safety first.”
Julia and Lori exited the tower, each carrying a bag over her shoulders. “Where are we going?” Lori was shaking and her eyes were red; it was obvious she had been crying.
“The north gate. We’re grouping up there to evacuate the town.” Rysh heard screams coming from the direction of the southern gate. “It’s time to move, now.”
“Where’s Gant?” Julia asked as she scanned the area around them.
Oh no, how could I forget about Gant? Rysh was struck with fear of what could have happened to Gant until he remembered. “He went to the woods with Gayle.” He’s safe and away from all this chaos.
The four made their way through town to the north gate. Rysh saw Sam and Kit standing at the head of the crowd, barking orders.
“Listen, we need to stick together,” Sam was telling the townspeople. “When we leave, make your way to the woods to the east. We’ll find shelter there.” Rysh noticed blood dripping from Sam’s head. “Let’s go!” Sam commanded.
As Kit and Sam opened the gate, chaos consumed them as the crowd behind them forced their way out the door. Rysh began to follow the shuffling crowd until he heard the screams. He looked to the front to see a swarm of royal soldiers charging through the gate. They were cutting down citizens left and right. Sam and Kit were the first to fall.
“Go back! There has to be another way out.” Rysh pulled Julia away from the crowd while Mic grabbed Lori.
As they made their way back to the center of town, they heard screams coming from the east and the west. We’re surrounded. There has to be another way out. Rysh scanned the area, trying to find a way out of town to safety.
“There’s more of them!” A group of five royal soldiers emerged from an alley, spotting Rysh immediately. They had their swords drawn in anticipation of resistance.
“Mic, take them and go!” Rysh pushed Julia behind him toward Mic as he drew his sword. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Come on, let’s go!” Mic led Julia and Lori down the street at Rysh’s back, forcing the men to charge Rysh.
The first two came at Rysh simultaneously, each swinging a deadly overhand blow. Rysh parried the first while he sidestepped the next. He was able to bring his sword back into the first man’s side, piercing flesh. This sword is amazing. He had no time to rest, as the final three men were rushing at his back. The first blow met Rysh’s shield and the next he parried, having only a slight amount of time to throw his weight into the final man, knocking him off balance midstrike. The other three men were back on him before he could kill the man on the ground. They swung at both of his sides and stabbed at his front. Rysh was able to block almost all of their advances, save one that caught his thigh. He knew he wouldn’t win this fight on strength alone, so when one of the men made a wrong step, he lunged at them. As Rysh felt his sword puncture the stomach of the final attacker, he realized his mistake. Four bodies, five men. The first man he struck in the side was not on the ground. Rysh wheeled around to see his assailant, sword in hand and midswing, collapse to the ground with an arrow in his back.
“Dad!” Gant was standing in the alley holding his bow. Rysh ran past the fallen soldier to his son.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in the woods!” Rysh grabbed Gant and pulled his head into his chest in a warm embrace.
“We heard screams, so we came to help.” Gant looked at Rysh, who saw tears start to well up in his son’s eyes. “Gayle was hurt. We ran into a group of men. Mic saved us, but not before Gayle was injured.”
“Show me where they are.”
Gant led his father through town to the tavern. Gant took him to the back room and down into the cellar, where he strode to a large shelf and pushed it aside. A hidden door, Rysh mused. Did Kit know about this?
“Come on, everyone is out here.” Gant was showing more bravery and strength than Rysh had ever seen from him.
As the two made their way into the tunnel the light behind them faded, bringing about complete darkness.
“Who showed you this?” Rysh reached out and followed the wall with his hand.
“We made it to the west gate as they invaded. We hid until they were all inside, then we came in after them. After Mic saved us we ran into Bors, and he led us down here.” Bors the drunk? I’m going to need to have a word with this man. It seemed there was more to him than met the eye.
In the distance, Rysh could see a sliver of light. As the two approached it, they emerged to the hills outside of Wayton. A large rock outcropping masked the entrance to the tunnel. Rysh realized he’d seen these rocks before when he was out hunting.
“Rysh, over here!” Mic was waving toward Rysh from the top of the hill. Rysh and Gant ran up to meet him. “We set up just on top of this hill. We have a good line of sight on all sides but enough cover so we won’t be easily spotted.” The small camp was set up at an ideal location. Immediately surrounding them were trees and brush, but past that were thin trees, giving visibility on all sides.
“This is a perfect spot for a camp. Good work.”
“Thank Bors. He found it, not me.” He knows how to find a camp, too?
“Rysh! I’m so glad you’re okay!” Julia raced toward Rysh with her arms open. They embraced as Rysh entered the makeshift camp. “Any news of my father?” She still doesn’t know.
“Not yet. How’s Gayle?” Rysh tried to get his mind off Darren, Don, Sam, Kit, and all the others he had seen die today.
“See for yourself,” Julia said sadly, head lowered. It was obvious she had hoped for news of her father.
As Rysh approached Gayle, he could tell he was in trouble. Gayle’s skin was pale and even though he had a few blankets piled on him, he shivered uncontrollably. His leg was wrapped to cover his injury, but he had lost a lot of blood and appeared to be in shock. If they didn’t treat it properly, he risked an infection.
“He needs medicine, more than what we have here.” Lori was at Gayle’s side.
Rysh looked to the west. The sun had nearly set on the distant horizon. “I’ll sneak in during the night. Where will I find the supplies we need?”
“In the tower we have an apothecary. That should have everything we need.” Lori was Julia’s handmaiden but was also a healer for Lord Briar’s family. She had experience treating injuries, but Rysh doubted anything this severe.
“I’ll come with. You should have someone to watch your back.” Bors emerged from the trees as he spoke. Rysh realized this was the first time he had heard Bors speak clearly. He didn’t sound like the drunk Rysh knew; his voice rang with confidence.
“All right. Gant, come here.” Rysh took Gant aside, and in a hushed voice he gave his son orders. “I need you to promise you won’t come after me. No matter what happens, stay with Mic and Julia. They will keep you safe.” Rysh wasn’t planning on dying while retrieving the medicine, but after the events earlier this afternoon, he didn’t want to take any chances. “I love you, Gant. Stay safe.”
Gant had tears in his eyes, though Rysh could see he was trying to hold them back. He has a lot of courage, more than most boys at his age. “I love you, too, Dad.”
Rysh and Gant embraced, only holding on for a moment before Rysh knew it was time to go. “Come on then, Bors, let’s get moving.” Bors picked u
p his staff and moved to follow Rysh.
“Dad!” Gant hollered after his father as he entered the thick of the trees, “Promise me you’ll come back?”
Rysh gave him a reassuring smile. “I promise.” As he turned to continue on his way, tears formed in his eyes. I promise.
3
Rysh and Bors made their way down the dark tunnel toward the basement of the tavern. The two walked in silence, unsure what was waiting at the other end. As they reached the end of the tunnel, a sliver of light showed that the door was open. They crouched and listened to make sure the coast was clear. To their dismay, they heard voices coming from inside.
“Where’s all the good stuff?” the first voice asked. Rysh and Bors could hear boxes being pushed aside.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s good stuff, as long as it burns.” The second voice seemed annoyed with his partner.
“Yeah, I know,” the first man pleaded. “But I want the good stuff to drink.”
The sound of movement continued, then one of the men moved to cover the light coming through the hidden door. “Hey, Nor, I think there might be something back here.”
As he reached for the hidden door, Rysh and Bors exchanged a quick glance. The door swung open and the shock was apparent on the two men’s faces. They weren’t armed, but Rysh had his sword drawn and Bors his staff.
“Who are you?” the first man shouted. He never heard a response, as Bors’s staff smashed into his face. The second man turned to run but Rysh rushed after him, overtaking him before he got to the steps. Rysh threw the man on his back and put his sword to his throat.
“If you want to live, you better start talking.” All of Rysh’s anger from witnessing the deaths of his friends was welling up. He wanted answers.
“All right, all right.” The one Rysh assumed was Nor shook as he spoke, looking from Rysh to Bors.
“Why are you here? What do you want?” Rysh demanded.
“I don’t know. I’m just a soldier, I only do what I’m told.” Nor was on the verge of tears.
Rysh pushed his sword a little harder against the man’s neck. “You didn’t answer my question.”
