The Chronicles of Outsider: Humble Beginnings

by Justin Wayne

  Chapter Fourteen: Daybreak

  “No, I’m tellin’ ye’ it won’t budge.” Merlon grit his teeth and air snorted through his wide nostrils as he heaved with all his weight against the barn door. His entire body was nearly parallel to the floor as he pushed. “Come on now ye’ little..” he wheezed as the door gave no ground. His feet slid in the dirt and he fell forward on his face, which as he rolled over, was bright red and covered in a sheen sweat from exertion.

  He blew a wisp of air through his lips that ruffled his mustache. “Nope, it’s stuck.”

  Thom cursed and kicked at the ground with his long and hairy feet. “What do we do now?” His little mind fumed. “We’ll run outta’ food if we’re stuck here too long.” His stomach growled almost in fear at the thought.

  “What, ye’ want to go to Cain Sander?” Merlon asked incredulously, still laying against the door in surrender.

  Thom was quiet and shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. Maybe, I just feel a little bad about it all.”

  “As ye’ should, little one. Thievin’ is no way to go about makin’ a life.” Merlon’s frown lightened. “But ye’ know that already don’t ye, boy?”

  Thom shrugged again and sat down on his log, stoking the fire with a long stick. His face was deep in contemplation, his soft cheeks grit in a determined line of his round jaw.

  “Whelp.” Merlon struggled to his feet. “Aint gettin’ out this way no how.” He dusted himself off and plopped down across the fire from the hobbit. He flipped his axe over in his hand and held it out to Thom, handle first. “Ye’ know how to fight at all?”

  Thom’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline and he shook his head. His little mouth was open in an O and he was unable to speak from surprise.

  Merlon smiled and jumped to his feet, startling Thom. “By Dirringyr’s hammer. Then I’ll be teachin’ ye I will!” He nodded to himself. “Good way to pass the time that be. Alright then, up ye’ go.” He came around the fire and lifted Thom to his feet. Merlon thrust the axe into his little hand and it stuck into the ground, the weight pulling his arm down with it.

  “Well stand up now!” the dwarf cried incredulously. “Ye’ can’t be fightin’ orcs an’ such slouched over now can ye’?” His expectant face watched Thom but he answered his own question before the hobbit could reply. “’Course ye’ can’t. So ye’ stand up straight, take the axe in both hands.”

  Thom gripped it firmly, the metal head heavier than he liked, and followed Merlon through the movements one by one; learning the basics of attacking, blocking, and how to change direction mid-swing.

  “When ye’ get comfortable with that, ye’ can start combinin’ the moves to parry and pull up straight into a swing ye’ can.” He laughed and his mind went back to fond memories of battles past. He shook his bearded head with a jingle of pockets. “Anyway, let’s get ye’ all set with the beginner moves eh?”

  A few hours later and Thom was flat on the ground, panting and gasping for air, his stomach rising and falling rapidly. His arms felt like lead weights still molten; too heavy for him to move or lift and burning like fire. Every muscle in his little body ached miserably, several he didn’t even know he had. He remained there on the floor, eyes shut and jaw lax to maximize air intake, and tried to ignore the one, giant sore muscle he had become.

  Merlon sat a few feet away, sharpening the axe Thom had used to cut logs in varying ways, and laughing heartily at the hobbit before him. “Ye’ did good, boy.” he called.

  Thom didn’t hear him.

  “Tomorrow will be even better.”

  He heard that.

  Outsider strode over and sat down near the fire. His face was impassive but his hands clenched tightly until the veins were showing purple, popping his knuckles. He sighed and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Well the snow’s piled too high for us to get anywhere. This barn’s too thick to cut through and it’ll probably be a few days before we can leave.” He stated simply.

  Merlon waited for him to continue as his tone hinted at having more to say.

  “So I say we use this time to prepare. Those orcs would’ve gotten there first anyway. At least this way we can work on training Thom and hope their rations get low.”

  The dwarf nodded and scraped the whetstone one last time down the axe followed by his thumb, and approved as the leather glove split easily. “The little one is gettin’ good. Might have a little bit o’ dwarf in ‘em.”

  Outsider grinned. “Is there even a difference?” Both Merlon and Thom stared at him hard. His grin only grew. “What?”

  That night, he sat in deep thought by the campfire, sifting through past battles against orcs and tried to come up with a strategy to face them. He turned his head as sparks flew from the axe in Thom’s hand as it banged off Merlon’s axion. Outsider shook his head and delved back into his mind.

  We’re outnumbered. At least thirty to three; or two and a half more likely, Thom isn’t a fighter. So they have that advantage, and they know we’re coming. But they don’t know when. Or how many of us there are.

  His eyes opened and he trained them on the two sparring combatants. Merlon ducked a clumsy overhead swipe and responded with a slap of the flat-end of his axion that blew Thom off his feet and into a mound of hay.

  Outsider sighed. “Definitely two and a half.”

  The morning found all three of them exchanging blows, Merlon’s axion whistling through the air only to overcompensate and stumble as Outsider dodged the slow moving weapon; nodding approvingly as Thom took the advantage to strike Merlon low in the side. The dwarf spun around angrily and eyed the other two.

  “Plottin’ against me are ye’? Well come on then!” And he charged forward with his axion leading the way. Even with them using wooden replicas Merlon had made, they still hurt and could easily break bone. Luckily, he was no rookie and reserved his strength for the upcoming battle, only giving fractional amounts into his hits. Outsider did likewise though his knives were much smaller, and Thom was still learning to swing full strength without ruining his balance.

  He spun about in a low chop that nearly clipped Merlon’s knee, then rolled forward and struck out at Outsider who parried the blow and danced away as the axion came in behind it.

  ‘Who’s plotting against whom?” Outsider called and swept aside two attacks before responding in kind. Thom took a sharp rap across the knuckles and the dwarf narrowly blocked it with his handle.

  The hobbit held the axe higher on the shaft, making it easier to swing, and brought it down against the upraised axion, knocking Merlon’s aim off, and allowing a knife to pass through and tap the dwarf’s shoulder, then he came around the side and placed the axe squarely between his shoulder blades. Merlon stiffened at the contact.

  “Good swing, boy.” He rolled his arms slowly as the sharp ache spread down his back. “I owe ye’ for that ‘un.” He smiled and looked over to Outsider. “Why don’t ye’ let me go back to his private lessons? I think he’s ready for level two.” he suggested and turned back to Thom without an answer.

  The elf obliged and stepped out of the clearing, then moved over to the door. He gave it a shove and dug the heels of his soft boots into the dirt, but to no avail.

  He shrugged and sat by the fire, watching the sparring.

  Thom was darting around the sides of Merlon, using his diminutive size to his advantage, and striking out quick, short-handed blows between the axion’s wide swings. The dwarf blocked most of them with the elongated hilt and took the ones that did connect at such an angle that they deflected off of him with little impact. To the hobbit’s credit, he didn’t take a single hit until he tired out and attempted to block rather than dodge.

  The flat of his own axe hit him in the forehead under the force and knocked him unconscious.

  Merlon howled with laughter, wheezing and slapping his knees as tears glistened in his eyes. Outsider shook his head and slumped Thom over on a pile of hay and let him sleep. A large lump bruised purple and bl
ue had already swelled above his right eye. The bounty hunter lifted the hobbit’s eyelids and checked the dilation to the firelight then deemed him okay.

  “Ye’ worryin’ ‘bout ‘em?” Merlon chirped from behind. Outsider turned to face him and he backed away a pace.

  “He doesn’t have a concussion. Just makin’ sure he can ride, let alone fight.”

  The dwarf nodded, seeing the truth of the words but also reading more into the act. “Ye’ know he ain’t all bad don’t ye’?” he pressed. Outsider looked from him back to Thom. Merlon continued. “I can see it in yer face. Plain as day it be.”

  Outsider shrugged. “Most of the men I capture are wanted for murder, pillaging or rape. Taking lives and security, not a few trinkets here and there.” Thom stirred and rolled over then snored loudly. “I guess I don’t see him taking a lifetime in prison as fair.”

  Merlon nodded slowly, watching him. “So what’re you gonna’ do?”

  Outsider looked him in the eye. “I need the money.” And he turned away, unable to keep the contact. He had stared down enemies twice his size and men who were slowly bleeding out on the end of his blade, but the accusing look in the dwarf’s eyes was too much.

  “What do you want from me, Merlon?” he challenged. “Thom is a thief.”

  Merlon lifted his chin defiantly. “But ye’ know he doesn’t deserve this. I’ve talked to ‘em and he’s a good boy. Ye’ aint the type to let money guide yer hand neither.”

  “You don’t know me.” Outsider countered. “We met not a month ago. You have no idea what kind of person I am and what I’ve done.” His eyes betrayed the expressionless mask he wore. They were smoldering with an internal fury barely in check.

  Merlon glowered at him. “Aye, but ye’ can’t lie to me, elf. I can see yer aura and the color ye burn.” His voice grew in intensity with every word. “And I know ye’ aint the type to take someone to a doom of no second chances they aint deservin’ when ye’ yerself escaped such a fate!”

  “I do whatever I need to survive!” Outsider retaliated. “You think I spent my years in Hell being nice to those who wronged me? Giving mercy to people who would just as easily turn around and stab me in the back? Do you honestly believe that I won’t turn in a thief for the crimes he has committed just because he seems nice?” He paused and they held one another’s gaze. “You don’t know me.”

  They stared at each other, expecting the argument to escalate. Outsider’s hands were flexed, fingers twitching in anticipation and Merlon’s nostrils were flared; his breathing heavy. Then Thom rolled over and groaned.

  “Who kicked me in the head over and over?” he croaked, voice dry and cracking. The tense moment was held until he sat up and opened his eyes. “We got any water?”

  Outsider let Merlon break away first. “Yeah, we do.” He brushed past the elf with a rough shoulder and scooped up a wineskin. “And it be yer own hand that hit ye’.”

  Thom drank deeply until the wineskin shriveled up completely empty then dropped it to the ground. He yawned and stretched before trying to stand up. “Legs feel like jelly.” he murmured as he wobbled his way to the campfire and dropped onto a log. “Nothin’ a bit o’ grub won’t fix.”

  He helped himself to a bowl of leftover stew and slurped it happily, oblivious to the glares shot between his two accomplices. Merlon sat beside him and struck up a conversation to lighten the mood, detailing the progress his training had made. Outsider turned away from them, wishing he could turn away from himself, and ignore the guilt that hung in his stomach like a rock.

  He knew Merlon was right. It was impossible for him to refute something as certain as the color of his aura and what it represents. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. To admit that he would condemn one such as Thom, who took up stealing to provide a living for his family, to a lifetime of imprisonment or a death penalty for some gold. To admit that he would sell someone else’s life just as his had been.

  He looked back and found Merlon already watching him as he and Thom spoke. Outsider lowered his eyes and nodded. Merlon’s tense shoulders relaxed and he sat back on his log, smiling now as he and the hobbit laughed. Outsider sat just outside the fire’s glow and listened to the playful banter.

  The following morning they were back at it again, battling with Thom, who had received permission from Merlon to shorten the axe’s handle for a higher fulcrum; giving him an easier swing, and they watched him make great strides forward in such a short amount of time. Before long they all bore a few bruises and had memorized the styles that would play together.

  Merlon took the forefront of battles, swinging wildly to create room, with Outsider leaping in and out of the sides to score quick, lethal hits, while Thom fitted himself somewhere between; squeezing past to strike those distracted by the real threats. His small stature was perfect for remaining unnoticed in plain sight once the heat of battle ensued.

  He rubbed his little hands together eagerly. “I’m ready to hack a few heads off.” he growled. Merlon laughed in the affirmative while Outsider shook his head for perhaps the thousandth time that day.

  “More like hacking a few kneecaps off.”

  Thom shrugged and smiled nonetheless. His mind was set to the task he knew would be asked of him, and if he didn’t accept it now he knew he would never be able to face it. His first battle would be against orcs, with the numbers far in the enemy’s favor; no easy thing to come into as inexperienced as he. But he gripped the shortened handle at his hip tighter and his jaw set determinedly.

  Merlon clapped him on the shoulder and bore him to the ground again. “Ye’ll do just fine, boy. And ye’ got us to keep an eye on ye’.”

  The thief dusted himself off and stood tall, or as tall as his four foot height would allow. “Don’t you worry about me. They’re the ones who are gonna’ need to keep an eye on me, eh?” he boasted.

  Outsider gave the door a hard jolt, ramming it with his shoulder and found it moving forward with him. The melting snow parted beneath it and was no more than a thick slush. Outsider turned back to them. “Door’s open. Let’s get packed up and ready to go.”

  Thom’s posture slumped visibly and his face blanched like that of paper.