by Damon Glatz
The arrow was fired before Ohitekah even had a moment to decide against it.
His mind processed everything around him at once, each moment ticking by in slow motion. The wind was blowing east where he was positioned, but he could tell by the Ashland flags that there was little to no breeze on the ground level. He used one of his stone-tipped arrows, as it was more accurate than the rest and harder hitting. He aimed slightly to the left and above his target to accommodate the altitude and wind. The shot was perfect. The axe man was hit right in his temple and dropped instantly.
Time caught back up with him in a sudden rush. The body of the axe man slammed into the wooden stage with an audible thud. The crowd was just as shocked as Ohitekah was.
What did I do? I killed someone! Ohitekah began to hyperventilate. He didn’t want to, he didn’t even think, he just fired the shot like it was an immediate reaction to catch something as it starts to fall. He never made the choice to kill that man, it just happened. He reflexively ducked so he could evade the sight of the guards.
There were shouts from the crowd, the knights looking around frantically for the shooter. Ohitekah laid flat and hid the best he could.
Julian looked at the dead executioner. He began to trace the shot to the roof. He squinted, watched the banner fly over the awning. He then locked eyes with Ohitekah and turned quickly to signal his archers.
This was Nicholas’ opportunity. He jumped to his feet and head-butted Julian before he had a second to react. Julian staggered backward and had to fight the urge to black out. Nicholas bent over the body of the executioner and used the axe to cut his bound hands. Picking up the large black axe he prepared to defend himself.
After a moment of confusion, the knights in the crowd began to charge the stage. Nicholas stood at the top of the stairs and fought them off with the executioner’s axe. Battle-axes were not totally unfamiliar to Nicholas, he had used them in combat on more than one occasion before. This axe, however, was a large, single blade: a bit more challenging, but Nicholas adjusted quickly. His life depended on it. He warded off the men as they reached the top of the staircase.
Ohitekah caught movement with his eye, and watched archers begin to position themselves around the tops of the walls, aiming at Nicholas. Nicholas couldn’t fight the archers as well; he would never even know they were there. It was up to Ohitekah.
Breathe easy. Just defend Nicholas for now.
He pulled out his arrows and quickly, one by one, took down the archers. They were too focused on the battle below to realize what was happening until it was too late. Ohitekah did not want to kill anyone else, so he aimed to wound. He shot their leather padded shoulders and exposed arms for the most part. Ohitekah moved down the line of archers until they were all down. He took a moment to relax. That was the last of them. The rest was up to Nicholas.
Before he had time to react, one archer stood back up and aimed at Ohitekah. He had traced where the shots were coming from and was ready to fire. Ohitekah, on the other hand, was not ready. He closed his eyes and flinched.
I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead.
He opened his eyes. Why am I not dead? The man with the crossbow was slumped over the wall; an arrow pierced the back of his skull. What? Who shot him? Ohitekah looked around. The other archers were injured; Nicholas was still fighting with the axe. Where did that arrow come from?
The knights in the courtyard began to hesitate before storming the stage to fight Nicholas. Nicholas did not feel the same reserve Ohitekah practiced. His pile of victims was barricading the staircase leading to his platform. He was still challenging more to come up and fight.
“Ah! You were all so eager to take me on before! Where’d that gusto go, boys?” Nicholas raised the axe above his head, claiming the stage.
Julian shook his head and stood again after his moment of disorientation. Not to be outclassed by a superior weapon again, Julian drew his new steel sword and ran at Nicholas. Nicholas spun and blocked the first swing with the handle of the long axe. He then whipped it around and smacked Julian with the butt of it. Julian fell to the ground and dropped his sword as Nicholas raised the axe again. Nicholas had to be swift; the men would be up the stage at any moment.
Julian looked up and let out a scream just before Nicholas brought down the axe. Julian’s horrified facial expression was permanently marked on his head as it rolled off the stage and into the crowd.
Oh my God!
Ohitekah was appalled at the brutality, but figured Nicholas was named ‘The Brute’ for a good reason. About ten soldiers stood frozen in place, shocked at the death of their commandant. Nicholas found this the best time to make a run for his stolen gear, provoking the soldiers to action. He jumped off the stage and sprinted into the nearest room, the guards close behind him. He slammed the door and barricaded it just in time. The guards could not break in by themselves, so they started looking for something to break the door down with. Ohitekah peeked over the edge of the awning to see what was happening beneath him. Because of this, a guard spotted Ohitekah on the roof.
“There! There he is, the assassin! He’s on the tower awning!” Half of the guards stopped their siege of the door and started to run up the wall stairs towards him.
Time to leave! Ohitekah jumped off the roof and onto the wall. He landed on the hard stone and rolled to keep his momentum. He sprinted away from the knights heading toward him, quickly glancing at the room Nicholas was in. Nicholas broke down the door he was behind with a crash. He was now completely dressed in his old armor wielding his own sword which was fortunately left on the horse that was carrying it earlier. He rode toward the gate and cut down any of the knights still in his way. The exit to the fort was still closed from earlier, and Nicholas’ horse was not strong enough to break it down by itself. Nicholas hopped off the horse and shoulder checked wood. He broke the left side of the gate open with his weight alone. He mounted the horse again quickly and rode out as fast as they could. The guards that were still behind him mounted horses to give chase.
Ohitekah was still sprinting along the wall, arrows whizzing by him. He instinctively lifted his arms to protect his face as he ran harder. He reached the end of the wall and jumped off the edge. Twisting in the air as he fell, he was able to catch onto a rock on the side of the wall. He slammed into the stone hard and somehow managed to keep his grip. Shaking off the pain, he descended as fast as he could. Ohitekah got about halfway down and jumped the rest. Hitting the dirt, he rolled and successfully avoided injury.
“Bolt!” he shouted and began sprinting to the woods. Men with crossbows gathered on the wall, firing down at him. The professional archers were still down from Ohitekah’s shots. These were knights who had picked up their fallen comrade’s weapons. Their shots were coming close but none lucky enough to hit their target. As Bolt jumped over the bushes and galloped up to him, Ohitekah leaped on his back and they rode away from the fort, out of arrow range, and onto the trail.
Nicholas and the guards were charging along the trail they came in on. It took Bolt only a moment to catch up to the rest of the guards behind Nicholas. Every horse being ridden by an armed guard seemed to be galloping as fast as they could down the road.
Ohitekah, unlike the guards on horseback, had his bow.
It reminded him of a buffalo hunt. Bolt raced up and became parallel to the guards. Ohitekah pulled out his first arrow and aimed it at the knight’s arm. He was hit and fell off the horse from the surprise. They moved to the next target, the second shot also aimed at the knight’s arm. The shot hit him in the hand and he dropped his weapon with a shout. His horse slowed and dropped behind the rest of the group. Ohitekah refused to shoot the horses; they had no true will to harm anyone and should not be attacked.
The last knight heard the commotion and looked back at Ohitekah in surprise. Ohitekah raised his bow at the man’s head to intimidate him. The soldier believed the bluff, dropping his sword and turning his horse around. Ohitekah pulled up next to the racing
Nicholas, who smiled when he realized who had saved him. The two slowed down to a walking pace once the last guard was out of sight.
“So that was you? Well, I’m glad to see you again!” Nicholas thunderously shouted.
Ohitekah glared at him. “Why would you throw away your life like that for me? Why are you doing this?”
Nicholas smiled, “I could ask you the same question.”
Ohitekah paused. He guessed Nicholas was right. “But still—”
“Listen, kid, it looked like you needed someone to back you up when you first pissed off those guards. I know what it’s like to be alone and thought I could lend a hand, ya know? I was just trying to get them off your back a little. But then when they came back for us, I knew I only made things worse, and I didn’t want you to get dragged deeper into my screw-ups. And I really didn’t expect a bad-ass rescue either!” Nicholas laughed, and Ohitekah’s face lightened up a little. “Don’t look into it any deeper than that, kid, I was just being friendly to a stranger.”
“I felt like I dragged you into my problems, so I came to save you.”
“Don’t worry about it, kid. Let’s find some place to lie low for a while.”
The two forged their way back into the forest. Ohitekah set up camp and built a small fire. The sun was starting to set and the stars were coming out. The two relaxed by the warm fire.
“So,” Nicholas started, “you’re pretty impressive with that bow, kid.” Ohitekah nodded modestly. Nicholas thought for a minute, hesitating to speak again. He finally nodded. “Tell me again why a good kid like you is out hunting Mythics.”
I can trust him.
Ohitekah opened up and explained the traditions of his tribe, the vision quest, and his personal vision. Nicholas listened quietly and did not say a word. Some of the cultural differences had him confused at times but he managed to keep up with the story.
“So, it’s all about what the spirits said? You’re not in this for the power or glory?”
“Power? No. I just want to go home, but I can’t. I have nothing but respect for the Thunderbird. It keeps my tribe alive. In fact, I think it should be left alone, but—” Ohitekah spoke quietly. He remembered Nicholas’ reaction to his question in the tavern yesterday. “Why did you get so upset when I mentioned this before?”
Nicholas fell silent again. “Because there’s things about me you don’t know, kid. But it’s a long story.”
Ohitekah paused. “We have all night.”
Nicholas looked up at the stars, still uncertain, then looked back at Ohitekah and smiled. He nodded his head again.
“All right. Where to begin.”
Chapter Eight:
The Tale of Nicholas
"My father was the king of the Vatnic Isles, Bjorn the Iron. He seized power when I was a young lad.”
Nicholas leaned closer to Ohitekah as he spoke and cleared his throat.
“Now, something you may not know about us Vatnic people: We don’t vote for our leaders, and no one is born into power. Each king, from the beginning, has had to fight for the throne. If we have a good strong king, he is not challenged. If the king is weak, a younger warrior can fight him for power. That’s just the way it is. The king must fight for his life and his throne. Making yourself king is a death sentence. My father knew this.
“My father was a strong and fair ruler. He commanded the Isles and the seas justly. Even in his old age no one challenged him, for he was a respected and honored leader.
“One day, I believed I would fight my father for the throne, when he became too old to rule. For a Vatnic, dying in combat grants you a seat at the table of your ancestors in the Overworld. My father dying of old age would have denied him of that afterlife. We both looked forward to the day I might challenge him, so his son would become king, and he would pass honorably onto the next life.
Nicholas paused his story for a moment. Ohitekah wasn’t sure if he was just collecting his thoughts or not, but his eyes stared into the darkness of the night for a silent minute.
“About ten years ago, he was challenged by a man named Ivan the Bone-Breaker. This man was a tyrant. He felt my father was too soft and demanded a stronger and more offensive navy. He wanted total control over the islands and more attacks on the coast of Orbis and Ashland. He approached my father in the Hall of the Kings and openly challenged him for power. My father could not let this man take control, and accepted the challenge.”
Nicholas took a deep breath.
“I was not there for the battle, but I heard my father fought with all his might. The very walls of the great hall shook and crumbled.
“However, in his old age, he was defeated by Ivan. I should have challenged my father sooner. I could have defeated Ivan if I was there.
“I was out at sea at the time, but my crew and I raced home when we heard the news. My plan was to fight and kill Ivan myself to bring honor to my family once more. However, Ivan had other plans.
“He sent out my mother, and my sister, to be the sacrifices to the Water Mythic.”
Ohitekah leaned forward. He had been silent for the story and listened carefully. Nicholas could tell by his expression though that he was not familiar with the water Mythic and paused to explain.
“If you didn’t know, the Mythic of Water is a great sea serpent, a terrible monster that lurks in the black depths of my home waters. It is known to attack ships in times of bad tribute, or if they venture too close to its home island. Tribute is what Ivan had in mind for my family.
“Sadly enough, this is a brutal tradition of my people. If the beast was not offered sacrifices, he would ravage and destroy our ships and homes. Every summer and winter solstice we send out a small ship of women to be devoured by the beast. That way the rest of us may live safely. You tribesmen are fortunate to have a Mythic that offers you blessings. Our Mythic only brings us death…”
Ohitekah looked away, he had only known of his Mythic, one that brings life and water to his people. He found it hard to imagine a Mythic that only caused suffering.
“Ivan knew I would try to save them, and he knew I would probably die trying. I would not let my crew come with me. I left them my family’s sword and took a new one with me. If I died, I did not want my father’s sword lost to the depths. I sailed by myself to the island of the Water Mythic on the day of the winter solstice.”
Nicholas’ cadence slowed the longer his story went on, he occasionally paused to think of the right word to say. Ohitekah could tell this was a story he had seldom spoke of, if even at all. When he started he would speak directly at Ohitekah, watching him as he talked. Recently, Nicholas would look away and avoid eye contact, speaking only to the shadows. His usual cheery red face growing pale, and solemn. Ohitekah sat as silent as the grave to avoid being disrespectful, afraid Nicholas would stop telling the story altogether if he interrupted. Then again, Ohitekah second guessed now if he wanted to hear the ending at all anymore.
“My mother and sister were tied to the mast of a small boat. A crew had brought them there in the morning and left them to die. When I reached them they were still alive, though weak and sunburned from being exposed for so long. The serpent had not appeared yet.
“I jumped ship and was able to only untie my sister before the Mythic let out a tremendous scream as it burst out of the water.
“I could never forget it. While my father had the previous duty of being forced to offer sacrifices to the Mythic, I had never joined him on such a quest. The ritual was barbaric and shameful, I wanted no part of it. This was the first time I had seen the beast with my own eyes.
It had giant blue scales covering its body, with white spikes trailing down its back. Its mouth was like a snake, though with hundreds of teeth the size of swords, and two great fangs in front. It had a lizard-like forked tongue. In its presence the air itself began to feel bitter and cold. The very blood in my veins seemed to freeze. When it came out of the water it traveled up and up into the sky and looked down on us. Its head ecli
psed the noontime sun, yet somehow most of its body was still submerged beneath the depths. I could see then why my people had feared this beast for thousands of years.
“I drew my sword.
“The Mythic did not want to do battle, it wanted to feed. It raised its mighty tail out of the water and brought it down on my little ship. The water and wood exploded through the air and threw me into the darkness of the sea. I fought to swim even when my heavy armor tried to bring me down into the depths. My mother was kept afloat by the mast in the water. She was struggling to breathe. I tried to swim to her first, but the great blue beast brought his mouth down on the mast, swallowing her along with half the ship. I like to think she died quickly.”
Ohitekah swallowed a lump in his throat. He could tell by the pain in his voice that Nicholas was not exaggerating or fabricating any of this.
“The beast disappeared beneath the waves, taking my mother with it. In a panic, I then tried swimming toward my sister, who was on her way to the shore of Black Island, the monster’s home.
“I almost made it to her before the jaws of the monster erupted out of the water from beneath her. She was there and then gone in an instant. In that instant I became the only member of my family left alive. As the Mythic came out of the water, I watched it chew her in its dagger-etched mouth before it swallowed her down.
“I had lost my sword, but I pulled out my knife. I swam to the beast’s tail and dug my blade into it. I held tightly as I rose out of the water and was thrashed back and forth. I stabbed it as many times as I could. I could not dream of beating this beast, but I could at least die trying. Make the bastard bleed… The last I remember the monster whipped me around and sent me flying toward the shore.”
Ohitekah could feel his heart beat in his chest. How could Nicholas fight like that? How could he stand up against a monster like this Mythic? And how did he survive?
“When I woke, the sun had set, the Mythic was gone, and so was my family. Ivan had beaten me and I was too ashamed from my defeat to challenge him in person. I had failed my family and my country. My friend Olaf had managed to smuggle me and my sword to Ashland as a personal favor, but he could not leave his home for good to join me in exile. So, I fled. I traveled the world looking for a place to hide from my past.
