Chapter 1
SMACK! "Give us your money, kid! Don't try to deny you have some!" yelled the firs bandit, screaming in my face, and I must say he head horrible bad breath.
My head whipped back from the attack, and I could feel blood running down my lip. Despite the pain I was in, I decided to have a little fun with these guys before I knocked them out.
"You'll just have to find it. But be warned, I always keep plenty of nasty traps on me," I smirked.
"We've got a smart-ass on our hands, Rick. What do you think, should I do him in?" asked the burlier gentleman holding me down.
The obvious leader of the thugs was the taller, heavier set man standing over me with a rather large broadsword in his hand. He had a wicked looking scar that ran from ear to nostril on the right side of his face, and a wild crop of brown hair on his head.
"No. We don't want to stumble across any traps in his pack. Who knows, he may be a bomb smith," remarked the leader, evidently Rick. I smiled again. This guy was smarter than most.
The larger man, yet unnamed since I was woken rather roughly by him this morning, still held me down while Rick knelt down next to me and punched me hard in the face again.
I recoiled from the force. He had a hard punch.
"You don't understand do you? I will kill you if you don't give us you money," he said, barely holding back his anger.
I smirked back. "I don't have the time. I've got to be at Redmont in a few hours." That only earned me another punch.
"Well, I'll just have to ease it out of you then," said Rick, drawing a set of knives and selecting the largest one, with a suspicious looking substance on the end.
I shrugged. "I was bored anyway." I then elbowed my captor roughly right in the solar plexus, knocking the wind right out of him. He doubled over in pain, and I grabbed out the rod from my belt and smacked him over the head. He crumpled unconscious on the ground, out like a candle flame. I turned to Rick, who was already charging me.
I easily sidestepped him and drew a dart from my belt, fitting it into my little dart crossbow. I shot Rick right in the neck, and he too crumpled to the ground. I smiled again. Sleeping Darts. Maybe my best invention.
I gathered my things into my pack, including a few extras from Rick and the brute, just to have. Hey, they were stealing from me, so why not?
I was, true to my word, heading to Redmont. I had been a ward in Norgate Fief to the north, but had been recently kicked out. It was custom, at least in Norgate, to send anyone who was not chosen on Choosing Day to Redmont, where they would find someone to apprentice to.
Now, that's not really what had happened to me. My parents had only died a year ago, and I was sixteen. I had been apprenticed under my father, a remarkable and well-known blacksmith. He and his wife, my mother, had been brutally murdered in a raid from a group who called themselves the Bandits of Araluen. My father's shop had been ransacked, and everything was taken.
As I watched my father expire, he managed to, shakily, grab a letter from his desk, which happened to have fallen next to him. As he died, he told me to seek out the man it was addressed to in Redmont and be his apprentice. He also gave me a small notebook, and made sure I had a good grip on it.
"Don't lose this. " At this, he died.
I wept for him for a little, but I moved on. I was very close to my father, but I knew he wouldn't want me to weep for him.
I checked my pack to make sure the letter was still there, and sure enough, it was. It had taken me a while to get to Redmont. The Bandits were getting stronger, seizing whole towns in their rage. No one knew their purpose, though, and only several towns were ransacked. No one could follow what happened. I had to take many back roads and turnarounds.
I sighed, mounting my horse. I was average height for my age, maybe five foot eight, and I could reasonably use a full sized horse. Striker was one of the fastest horses in Norgate Fief, and my father had trained the beast admirably. I was amazed no one had stolen him.
My name is Jack Smith, sixteen years old. I have short blond hair combed down on my head, with vibrant blue eyes that seemed to almost glow in a certain light. I was not heavily set, more of a spry individual. That's not to say I wasn't strong. I could do most all the duties in the smithy, and I was actually very good at blacksmithing. I loved to experiment and I had invented a good many machines for use in the town, much to Norgate's, and my father's, delight.
When he and mom were taken from me, I felt as if my world would come crumbling around me. I didn't do anything for weeks but gather supplies and just hammer out metal in the forge. My mind was just a fog of questions, and I needed to get to Redmont to figure them out.
When I finally did get out, I tried to make haste for Redmont. Norgate isn't that far, but with the Bandits on the loose, I couldn't stop at any major towns. I met plenty of nice farmers and their wives (except for one who almost shot me and cursed me out), and they helped me out.
I sighed as I rode through the woods, the beautiful scenery whipping by me at breakneck speeds. I needed to just get a new job, a new master, and just settle down. Maybe the person the letter was addressed to could help me with that, but I had no idea. Respecting the reader's privacy, I didn't read it, but I was extremely curious. I was going to have a nice long talk with the addressee.
I could glimpse the towering red castle that gave Redmont its name. The sight of the castle made me both happy and sad at that same time. My father used to bring me to Redmont every year or so, for the Council of Smiths, who discussed all sorts of methods and machines that they were making. A fascinating meeting, but I was never invited to discus, only listen.
Of course, the memory of my father brought back the same saddened emotions as before. I was never all that close to my mother, though. Sure, we had a good relationship, but we had never really bonded in the same way that dad and I had. If ever I had a problem, or needed a shoulder to cry on, I would run to my father, not my mother. My mom never really liked this, but she let it go anyway.
I wiped the tears I didn't even know were forming in my eyes. I missed them so much, but I needed to start anew and make a life for myself, and I couldn't do that by constantly looking back at the past. 'Always move forward', as my father used to say.
We had just about breached the limits of the fief, marked with large signs that were written in several languages. Striker raced toward the castle in the distance, but never saw the large hooded man until we almost ran him over. Striker reared up, trying to stop before we ran the man over.
He sidestepped easily and brought a crushing blow on my head. I could see the darkness start to close in all around me, but I tried to fight it.
I slipped off the horse and grabbed my rod to defend myself. The rod was nothing more than a piece of scrap metal I had at the shop that I had grabbed for my own personal protection. I didn't have the time to craft a fully fledged weapon, and the Bandits had stolen much of our money and tools.
I swung clumsily at the shape that darted around like he was made of smoke. He seemed to blend into the shadows, as if he were made of pure darkness itself. The man also seemed to be taunting me, because he never attacked, but merely dodged all my attacks, laughing all the while in a deep, barking laugh that seemed to come from the fiery pits of hell itself.
"You are foolish boy. Simply give me your father's notes, and you will get away unharmed," said the cloaked man in his deep, gruff voice.
"What notes? I haven't got any!" I yelled, charging again.
The man pushed me to the side, and leaped on me, pinning me to the ground with his foot.
"Do you think I am an idiot, boy? Where are they?" he screamed.
I could barely breath, let alone answer, and the darkness was closing in even more than before. I was going to black out in the next few minutes whether I wanted to or not. I closed my eyes, accepting my fate.
But suddenly, the weight was lifted from my neck, and I could suddenly breath again. Through the approaching darkness I saw another cloaked man join the fray, smaller, but still looking remarkably well built. He had a large bow strung across his back, and was fighting with a large knife. Right before I blacked out, I noticed a small, silver oak leaf dangling on a string around his neck.
