The Fourth Realm
Albion Chapter 1
by Kris Kramer
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"Coward, coward..."
The pack of children stood at the edge of town and chanted that word over and over as Aiden walked away from Humberton with his pack slung over his shoulder and his hood pulled low over his face. He hated coming to the market here for this very reason. He would have sent someone else to pick up his food if he could afford it, but he barely had enough money to feed himself, so he had no choice but to suffer through this lonely, humiliating ordeal every time his pantry emptied out. The kids would taunt him loudly, the adults would scorn him silently, and he would just try to get through it all fast enough that none of the local toughs would think to provoke a fight.
He tried to keep his face covered when he came here, but his large Briton build and the fact that he owned only one red cloak always gave him away to the locals. The adults always knew him on sight, but he thought he'd managed to do his business today and get away without being discovered by the more obnoxious children. As usual, though, it was not to be, even though he took great pains to come here only when the crowds were heavy and he could try to blend in. The young, freckle-faced son of a woman hawking bread had recognized him, and it took only seconds before he scampered off to tell the other village children that The Coward was back. He only had time to buy bread, a small wheel of cheese and a cheap flagon of wine before they started gathering, and as soon as he left the market and moved onto the east road, they gathered at the edge of the town centre, near the mile marker, and started taunting him.
"Coward, coward..."
No matter how many times he heard that word, the sting of it never lessened, and he worried yet again if this truly was to be his fate for eternity... to be mocked by children until he died of old age, worthless to his people and to his realm. He spent his days and nights alone in a rickety hut in the hills, venturing out only for food or other necessities that he couldn't procure himself, with only an old, nearly deaf hunting dog to keep him company. He had no family any more, and no money besides what he made doing odd jobs for Black Mountain homesteaders in the area. And he stupidly wasted his remaining free time hoping that one day he'd be called back to service in the Albion army, where he could once again prove himself as a respected soldier.
He'd been an Armsman once, fighting in the bloody wars against Hibernia and Midgard, Albion's long-time and bitter enemies. He'd been a good soldier. He was loyal, he was determined, and he was a survivor, having lived through many of Albion's great victories and bitter defeats. More enemies were dead at his hand than he could possibly count, though no one cared about that anymore. His accomplishments had all been forsaken due to an unfortunate accident and unfortunate timing. He was a little out of shape and a little out of practice, but still fit and well-built, strong, and young compared to some of the veterans out there now. But no army would have him. Not with his sullied reputation, and not with the mark of the coward forcibly branded on his cheek for the all the world to see.
It wasn't deserved, not to Aiden, but what ill-begotten fate in this world ever is? Whether he deserved it or not didn't matter now, though. It was there, and he had to live with it as best he could. So he ignored the sounds of thrown rocks landing harmlessly on the ground behind him, and trudged along the path, hoping only to get home without incident. It was late afternoon, and the sun would be up for another two or three hours, which is how long it would take to reach his small home in the hills. Once there he could throw off his cloak, eat a meager dinner, drink some cheap wine, and maybe try to forget about his fate. Unfortunately, an incident seemed to be coming his way, because at that moment he noticed the Scout that was shadowing him in the woods that surrounded the trail.
Whoever this Scout was, he was arrogant, or cocky, because he was following far too close for someone who should value subtlety and stealth. Aiden kept his hood low and his gait steady, trying not to tip off his pursuer that he could see him darting from shadow to shadow in the thick woods around the path. He was skilled enough not to make any noise, but he apparently thought that Aiden's hood was blocking his vision because he was far too cavalier about keeping his profile low. Aiden knew it was only a matter of time before he attacked, looking for an easy target, and he desperately wished he'd brought his sword with him. He was sure he could teach this Scout a painful lesson about stalking an Armsman – a former Armsman – but with no weapon on him he would be at the Scout's mercy if he didn't have a good plan.
Hoof beats from behind caught his attention, and Aiden glanced back to see that two horse-drawn carts had left Humberton on the same road and were quickly catching up to him. Aiden moved to the side of the road to let them pass, and as they did he could see that they were merchant carts leaving the market for the day. The first one had an older man and woman up front – Highlanders he thought, native to the nearby Black Mountains. The man was holding the reigns of the horse loosely, and there were only a few empty sacks in the back. The second cart had a younger man driving, a Briton, with a woman and two small children in the back – too young to have been part of the taunting crowd - as well as a few sacks of food that they either hadn't managed to sell or had traded for with something else. Either way, Aiden just kept his head down and let them go their way, hoping none of them recognized him or cared to see his face.
The Scout was hidden now, the sight of the carts probably forcing him to be more cautious, but Aiden knew he was still out there somewhere, no doubt waiting until he was alone on the path and away from the outskirts of Humberton before making his move. Aiden figured that his best bet to fend off the Scout was to just stay with the carts as long as he could. He could hail them down and ask for a ride, and in most cases they'd probably let him. But if he tried to hide his face from them they'd get suspicious, and if he didn't... well, he couldn't take any more disapproving looks today. He decided that he'd just walk faster, instead. The carts were already a little ways ahead of him, and he couldn't hope to keep pace but he could keep them in sight for a little while, and maybe that would be enough to dissuade the Scout and send him back towards Humberton to find easier prey.
Aiden groaned as he watched the carts pull away a bit faster than he expected, and as he picked up his pace he started praying silently that they would slow down just a bit so he didn't have to walk so fast. His prayers were unexpectedly answered when a man suddenly appeared from the edge of the woods ahead of the carts, wearing a black, hooded robe that covered his face, just like Aiden. He walked to the middle of the path and stood there, waiting for the carts, and for a moment Aiden thought this was the Scout that had been tailing him, but he seemed taller, and bigger, and bandits rarely ventured out in the open like that unless they had a small army to back them up. No matter who it was, though, the carts slowed down as they approached the man and Aiden was glad to make up some ground on them.
"You there. Step aside." The older man in the lead cart called out, annoyed that his trip home was being interrupted so blatantly. The hooded man casually pulled back his hood, and Aiden saw something he hadn't expected to see this day. The man was close to his own age, rugged looking, with tanned skin and long blond hair, and a short beard with braids in it. He wore drab gray clothing covered by well-worn chain mail, and he had a long handled hammer in his right hand. This man was no Briton. In fact, he was no resident of Albion at all. He was a Norseman, from Midgard. A mortal enemy of their realm had somehow breached the impenetrable walls of Sauvage or Snowdonia and was standing before them in full battle garb. The Norseman wasted no time in raising his hammer before him and chanting a spell, and that's when Aiden realized that this wasn't just a Norseman. This was a Thane, one of the feared warriors of Thor who were able to summon their ancient god's power down from the sky with destructive, and deadly, fury.
The woman in the front cart screeched in surprise, and the man tried to in vain to get his horses to turn around, all while the Norseman raised his hammer high and shouted the last words of his chant. Without warning, a bolt of lightning crashed down into the front cart with a deafening crack, splintering it into two pieces and sending fragments of charred wood flying about the path. The Highlanders were thrown clear in opposite directions and landed roughly on the ground nearby while the horses whinnied in panic and confusion. The mother in the second cart was screaming now, and her husband was trying just as vainly to get his horses to turn around as well.
The Thane turned toward the older man, holding his hammer out in front of him with both hands wrapped around the handle. Aiden could see the tiny bolts of blue lightning crackle all around it and he was grimly reminded of his own difficulties with Thanes in the wars. The Highlander was slowly trying to lift his head off the ground – he must have hit it hard when landing – but he was conscious enough to realize the Thane was approaching him. He held his hand up to the Thane, begging him to stay back and leave him be, but the Thane just ignored his pleas and lifted his hammer. The man's wife recovered more quickly, and when she saw the Thane standing over her husband she screamed out for him to stop. But it was too late. The hammer came down, crashing into the Highlander's shoulder and crushing his chest. The second blow followed immediately, caving into his head. The Thane had claimed his first victim. The old woman cried out again, screaming in agony at the sight of her dead husband, and the Thane turned to her and raised up his hand. A smaller, thinner bolt of lighting rained down from the sky, striking her, and knocking her flat to the ground where she writhed silently, stunned by the bolt.
"Alfrith! Here!" Aiden saw the mother in the second cart hold a sword up to her husband, shouting at him to take it, while trying to scoop up her two children with her other hand. The Briton, Alfrith, continued to struggle with the horses before reluctantly taking the sword just as the Thane turned his attention to them.
"Get out of here!" Alfrith yelled back to his family. He gave up on the horses, who were all out of control now, and stepped down from the cart to face the approaching Thane. He held his sword out weakly, unsure of himself, and he kept shuffling his feet, trying to back up so he could keep his distance from the Thane while staying between him and his family. His wife jumped off the back of the cart, which was being knocked back and forth by the horses trying to get free, and started pulling the two children out. The Thane, showing remarkable quickness, darted forward and swung his hammer at Alfrith. One swing was all it took, as the hammer collided with the sword, knocking it out of Alfrith's hands and sending it skidding onto the ground nearby, just out of reach. The Thane followed that with a roaring bellow that sent a shockwave out around him, kicking up dust and dirt in all directions and knocking Alfrith off his feet.
Aiden watched the whole scene play out in front of him and realized that he was just standing there, useless. He'd been so surprised to see a Norseman here, and so out of practice since his days in the army that he didn't know what to do. This was battle, this was what he wanted, but he wasn't reacting like he normally would. He knew he should help, but he didn't even know what he could do. He had no weapons, and no armor. He stood little chance against a fully armed and armored enemy. But he also knew that if he just let this man slaughter everyone here today, then he deserved the coward's brand on his cheek. He deserved to be mocked and scorned. Coward... coward... The sound of the kids taunting him rattled around in his head, and he knew he'd had enough. He would prove to himself that he'd never lost his courage. He knew this wouldn't be the smartest decision he'd ever made, but he wasn't looking for smart. He was looking for brave. So he dropped his pack and charged.
The Thane stood over the Briton and held his hammer up high. He didn't seem content to just smash into the man's skull, however, because he started chanting his spell again, the one that destroyed the first cart, and would no doubt destroy this poor man. Aiden ran at a full sprint toward the discarded sword lying on the ground, hoping that he could distract the Thane long enough to save Alfrith. Just as he was about to finish the chant, the Thane's eyes darted up, and he saw Aiden. He seemed to realize that the Briton lying prone on the ground wasn't his immediate priority anymore, and he instead turned toward Aiden, which was just what Aiden had hoped for. As the Thane shouted the last words of his chant, Aiden changed direction in mid stride and threw his large body at the Thane instead of the sword, hitting him in the stomach with his shoulder as lightning cracked loudly into the empty ground next to the sword.
The two of them tumbled into the dirt, rolling over each other until the Thane kicked up his knees, flinging Aiden away to his left. He followed that up by swinging his hammer in a sideways stroke, but Aiden grabbed the handle, preventing the blow from having any real force, then pushed it away. Aiden rolled sideways, just out of weapon range of the Thane, then quickly pulled himself up and leaped toward the discarded sword, grabbing it with his right hand. He was back on his feet in a second, facing off against the Thane, who was also back up and ready for a fight. Aiden swung the sword about, testing its weight and balance, and he knew right away that the sword was junk. Alfrith probably kept it just to scare people off, because the edges were blunt, the blade was slightly crooked, and it was so poorly crafted that it might break if hit in the wrong spot.
Great, Aiden thought. He might as well have been holding a sharp stick. Fortunately for him, the Thane didn't know that, and Aiden's years of combat and training were coming back to him quickly. If the sword couldn't handle parrying blows from a giant hammer, then the answer was simple – don't parry. That meant he needed to be aggressive, so Aiden gathered his wits, steadied his breathing, and took the fight to the Thane. He swung carefully and deliberately at first, just trying to keep his enemy at a distance while he thought of his next tactic, because now he was worried the sword wouldn't even pierce the chain mail armor the Norseman was wearing. That never became an issue, though, because the Thane quickly tired of the duel, raised his hand to the heavens and called down another lighting bolt. It was a smaller bolt, like the one he'd used on the old woman, but it still hurt – a lot. Aiden felt the lightning course through his body, and his muscles all seemed to twitch violently at the same time and then tense up, freezing him where he was. The Thane smiled at him, then heaved his hammer back and then up over his head. The feeling was quickly coming back to Aiden's muscles, but he wouldn't be able to avoid the crushing blow to his skull in time.
He was going to die painfully – that is, until an arrow clipped the Thane's ear.
The Thane lowered his hammer and held a hand up to his now bleeding ear and Aiden used the split second that afforded him to jump out of the way. The Thane turned toward the path behind them with more than a look of surprise on his face. He seemed genuinely angry now. Aiden kept his distance and held his sword up, ready to defend himself, but he followed the Thane's gaze until he saw a young man in a black cloak standing in the middle of the path holding a knocked bow. It was the Scout that had been following him, he was sure of it. The Scout raised his bow and fired another arrow that struck the Thane in his chain mail high on his chest. It didn't actually penetrate the armor, only wedging itself into the mail, but the Thane seemed to understand, just as Aiden did, that a few inches higher and that second arrow would be in his neck. The Thane, realizing that the odds might be changing, turned towards Aiden and snarled, then ran towards the woods along the side of the path. Aiden thought about chasing after him, but what he saw next shocked him even more anything else he'd just experienced.
The Thane vanished.
Once he reached the shadows of the trees, he just disappeared into the darkness, using an ability called Stealth that only experienced Scouts or Infiltrators knew. Stealthing was not something Thanes had ever been able to do before, and Aiden took an involuntary step back, suddenly worried that this Thane could now be sneaking up on him and he'd never even know until it was too late. He turned back toward the Scout, who was picking something up off the ground. Aiden was about to call out to him, to warn him, when he realized what the Scout was picking up. It was Aiden's pack. With his food, and his money, and his wine. The Scout lifted it up and threw it over his shoulder. He saw Aiden looking at him so he smiled back and gave a quick wave, then ran off into the woods where he'd come from.
Aiden stood there in disbelief. He'd just fought and nearly died to a Thane with mysterious abilities, who shouldn't even be on this side of the fortress walls, and who could be stalking him right now, just to see all of his food and money taken from him by a Scout who was probably still in his teens. He looked around and saw that the Briton, Alfrith, and his family were all far down the path toward Humberton, running as fast as they could to safety. The old Highlander was dead, and his wife wasn't moving. Aiden was alone out here now, and he couldn't take that Thane if he came back. But he did have a sword, which meant he could probably handle an arrogant little Scout who thought to steal from an Armsman.
Aiden suddenly realized that he felt more than just confused and scared. He felt angry at the Scout, he felt proud for managing to save Alfrith and his family, and he felt exhilarated by the prospect of battle. In other words, he felt alive, for the first time in years. He felt a purpose beyond just mere survival, and he wasn't going to waste what tonight had brought him. He couldn't take the Thane, not yet, but he could handle that Scout, and that's exactly what he was going to do next. So he hefted the crooked blade in his hand and ran into the woods to retrieve his pack. And if he was lucky, maybe a little bit of his pride as well.