Fable
Chapter 1
Unsheathing his sword, the warrior's eyes were trained on the bandit leaders advancing towards him, five men, all between five and six feet tall, their faces lined with scars, their skin adorned with tattoos, and their muscles rippling as they wielded their swords with malicious intent. As they continued to advance, eager sneers on their faces, the hero smiled. Taking up his iron forged long sword in both hands, he yelled a hoarse battle- cry that echoed through the autumn wood before charging head first towards his nearest foe. With a few quick, deadly strokes, the bandit was down, scarlet liquid seeping into the leaf veiled soil.
The next bandit came charging at the hero with a furious swing, which the hero easily dodged, only to follow with a well placed kick to the bandit's left knee cap. He fell from the blow, clutching his broken knee with shaking hands, only to have his head swept from his shoulders by the hero's following sword.
The hero turned swiftly to the next three bandits, who were far more cautious, having witnessed the hero's blade work. He grinned smugly, holding up his sword with his right hand, he wiped a strand of greasy coal black hair out of his pale blue eyes. Looking once again to his foes, he brought up his left hand above his head. His eyes tightly closed in concentration; he focused the energy in his body to his outstretched hand. A crimson glow shone from the hero's palm as he began a silent incantation to complete the spell.
Before he could do so, however, an adult voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Archie, what are you doing?"
The hero's eyes cracked open, glaring around the forest for the source of the voice.
"Archie? Wake up lad,"
Shaking his head from his daydream, ten year old Archie gazed around dazedly. He was sitting on the porch in front of his two-story house. Ahead of him, he saw the pale, stone paved road leading down the hill to the centre of Oakvale. Along the right side of the road, three of his neighbors' houses lined up as the slope led down and to the left. Further out, past the centre of town was the beach, and beyond that, the ocean, which seemed to stretch on forever in Archie's eyes, and what lay beyond the sea was often a subject of heated debate among the children of Oakvale. Archie suddenly became aware of the presence standing behind him, and with the speed of a balverine he leapt to his feet and turned to see his father, Brom, staring down at him from the doorway to his house. There was a smug smile on the woodcutter's face as he addressed his son in a pleasant tone.
"Daydreaming again?" he asked. Archie rolled his eyes and nodded, his father giving a short sigh.
"Just like your mother, head always in the clouds," Archie's brows furrowed in annoyance, but kept his tongue still.
"I suppose you've forgotten about your sister's birthday... again" Brom continued, his smile turning to a frown, but not an unpleasant one, as Brom wasn't one to easily express anger, or even annoyance.
Archie's eyes widened in alarm.
Brom chuckled, his smile returning.
"Well, I'm not bailing you out this time, son."
"What!?" pouted Archie, his young, childish voice carrying no sway over his father.
"Tell you what," Brom began, bringing up a strong, gloved hand to scratch at the stubble on his chin.
"You do some good deeds around town, and I'll pay you for each good deed you perform, all right?"
Archie's head slumped forwards.
Great, Archie thought.
More chores.
He didn't have much choice, though. If he didn't get a present for his twelve-year-old sister Theresa, he would certainly get the rough beating that she had promised him as punishment if he didn't get a present for her this year. He knew his sister would follow through as well, he painfully remembered last year's punishment from his sister; a large, black eye that had swelled for two days afterwards. Not that he didn't get along with his sister, though Archie would have preferred it if his sister acted more like other girls, and less like a tomboy. And then there were the nightmares she always had. Just last night she had woken everyone in the family as well as everyone next door. In any case, he wouldn't suffer Theresa's punishment this year.
He looked back up at his father, his ocean blue eyes set with determination.
"All right." he answered. Brom smiled, and patted his son's messy hair before Archie turned and ran down the hill towards town. When Archie was out of sight, Brom's smile faded to a worried frown, and his dark brown gaze travelled to the gate leading to the barrow fields, where his wife had gone before dawn to buy Theresa a gift.
But she was meant to be here by now.
"Where was she?" Brom wondered.
Archie's leather sandals click-clacked as he strolled down the hill into town. As he neared the bottom of the hill, he noticed a small girl trailing behind him, no older that seven, who shyly looked away whenever he glanced behind him. Eventually, he turned, facing the girl, who was a head shorter than he, and declared impatiently
"Yes?"
The girl, who Archie recognized as Emilie, averted her eyes, hiding them under a clump of mottled brown hair. Two clumps at the back of her head had been tied into pig tails, but the rest of her hair had been left to fall forwards over her freckled face.
Archie tapped his foot impatiently, awaiting Emilie's response. He was about to turn to walk away when Emilie finally summoned the courage to speak.
"It's Rosie," she spoke quietly, her voice breaking, as though on the edge of tears.
Archie turned to face Emilie again, noticing the tears welling up in her eyes.
"The bear?" Archie asked.
Emilie nodded, sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve.
Rosie was well known among the children of Oakvale to be Emilie's favorite teddy bear, and her only comfort against her bully of a brother, Roger.
"When did you last see her?" Archie continued carefully. He didn't want to have to deal with Emilie's tears.
Unfortunately for Archie, Emilie burst into tears at that moment, her answer barely perceptible through her sniffs and cries.
"I lost her!" Emilie cried, burying her face in her hands.
"I lost her! And I can't remember where!" she continued tearfully. Archie silently cursed his sour luck this day; first he forgets his sister's birthday, now a lost teddy bear, and probably many more chores that would surely take too long to make enough money. Nevertheless, this was a start. Ignoring Emilie's tears, he declared.
"I'll find her." At this, Emilie's face re-emerged from behind her hands, her eyes hopeful.
"You will?" she asked quietly. Archie nodded his head, and Emilie wiped away her remaining tears.
"Her stuffing needs changing today..." Emilie mumbled.
"Please find her." Archie nodded again, and dashed off into town.
In the very centre of Oakvale stood an immense oak tree. It was just a little over two storey's high, matching the height of the nearby inn, situated close to where grass and pavement turned into a path of sand heading down to the beach. The tree's wide canopy provided shade for Oakvale residents on hot days, and it served as a significant piece of Oakvale's history. Legend said that Archon, an ancient king of Albion now long dead, planted the oak tree near the shores of Albion, and that he cast powerful magics over the tree, giving longevity to the tree, and protection from evil spirits for those living near the ocean. Of course, such a tale was probably half farce. But in any case, a community gathered around the oak tree, and formed into a seaside hamlet appropriately named Oakvale.
Archie didn't pay too much attention to the stories he'd been told, though, and as he entered Oakvale's centre, he didn't even bother to glance at the tree, instead, he'd come through to search for Emilie's bear, thinking that she may have lost Rosie among the hustle of villagers and traders going about their business. It was then that one particular trader, a tall, heavily tanned man with a ridiculous moustache that extended far out to the sides of his head (a clever gimmick to attract attention, thought Archie), caught his attention. Curious, he made his way to stand before the man, who stood before the doors of the local inn. The man smiled, rubbing his hands together eagerly.
"'Ello, lad," he greeted in a scratchy tone, yet not unpleasant to Archie's ears.
"As you can see, I'm a trader, wanderin' from place ter place, sellin' and buyin' goods." The trader continued a bright gleam in his eye.
"What're you bringing to Oakvale, then?" Archie asked, resting his palms against the back of his neck. At this, the trader grinned.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe something that say... an older sister might want for her birthday..."
The trader dug his hands into the pockets of his green stitched coat, his smile growing wider.
"You got a keen ear, mister, how much for a gift?" Archie asked in annoyance, he only liked people when they weren't too nosy. The trader thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. Finally, he said:
"I've got a lovely box of chocolates here..." the trader turned, searching through several backpacks before turning to Archie again, this time holding a box wrapped with a yellow tie.
"Just three gold pieces." I'll wager me left one that you won't find a better price anywhere in the whole of Albion." The trader declared confidently. Archie snickered.
"Careful now, mister, wouldn't want to lose that now, would you?" Archie replied, a sly grin on his face.
The trader growled quietly, and placed the chocolates in his coat pocket.
"Are you gonna buy 'em or not?" the trader demanded.
"Just hold to them, gotta go find some coin." Archie replied, and he ran off before the trader had time to think.
As Archie was about to leave the town centre to search the east hill for Rosie, he was stopped by a young man, only just into his years of puberty, with a great deal of acne covering his right cheek. The teen hopped from one foot to the other, wringing his wrists, and his teeth gnawed on his lip.
"Archie! Thank goodness lad!" The teen greeted quickly.
"Lirschell, you seem... uncomfortable." Archie replied slowly, watching Lirschell's hop from foot to foot.
"Archie, listen now, I've got to... you know, answer a call to nature..." Lirschell paused, and Archie nodded solemnly in understanding.
"I need ya to look after the barrels over there," Lirschell pointed behind him, where the barn houses stood. Out in front, a few stacks of barrels stood.
"Just stand between them barrels until I get back." With that, Lirschell leapt past Archie before he could answer 'no'. Archie sunk his head, and made his way between the two largest barrels. As he sat, he idly picked at the grass, not noticing Jeffery, the youngest boy in Oakvale, making his way over to the barn.
Hearing light footfalls coming towards him, Archie lifted his head, and scowled when he saw the mischievous sneer on Jeffery's face.
"What do you want?" Archie asked in annoyance. Jeffery was by far the most annoying brat in the village, and his face wasn't a welcome sight among the older members of Oakvale, not even his own mother thought him handsome. Jeffery was a small boy, even for his age, and found enjoyment by annoying his older peers. He didn't seem to hear Archie; he turned left and right, as though checking to see if there was anyone else around. Archie stood up, his lips twisted into a deep frown.
"Jeff!" he yelled. At this, Jeffery turned to face Archie, his grin still wide on his face. He ran eagerly to stand before Archie, though kept at least an arm's length away, should Archie find his words annoying.
"Eh," began Jeffery, his eyes growing wide with excitement.
"I 'eard these barrels got stuff in 'em!"
Archie turned to the barrels briefly, then met Jeffery's gaze with a blank stare.
"Of course they got stuff in them, what would be the point of barrels if you didn't put stuff in them?" Asked Archie impatiently. Jeffery shook his head rigorously.
"I mean like, you know, interesting stuff! I 'eard there's gold in them barrels!" replied Jeffery excitedly, waving his open palms over his head, which to Archie looked similar to a chicken flapping its wings.
Archie raised a suspicious eyebrow.
"So?" Jeffery slapped his forehead, as though trying and failing to explain something to a simpleton.
"I can't get those barrels open..." began Jeffery, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"But I bet you could." Jeffery grinned expectantly at Archie, rubbing his hands together eagerly. Archie merely stared at Jeffery, his lips a set line, his brows furrowing into his eyes. A moment later, a cruel idea formed in Archie's mind, and he smiled brightly at Jeffery.
"You know what," began Archie, walking next to one of the barrels.
"Breaking open barrels to find stuff is probably the smartest idea I've ever heard from you." Jeffery beamed, and chuckled smugly.
"However..." began Archie again. Jeffery's smile dropped.
"The locks on these barrels aren't too good." Archie finished, bending one of the barrel lids loose. Archie motioned to Jeffery, who rushed over without a second thought, his beaming smile returned.
Peering down at Jeffery with a friendly grin, Archie motioned Jeffery closer.
"You want to do the honors?" Archie asked, Jeffery nodded vigorously. Archie carefully stepped behind Jeffery as he balanced on the edge of his toes to push back the lid.
Before Jeffery could look to see what was inside the barrel, he was pushed roughly from behind, landing in the barrel, he looked up in time to see the lid close on the barrel.
Archie hollered as he savored the success of his prank. He thumped his open palms on the barrel with Jeffery inside, while at the same time imitating snarling and growling.
"It's going to get you, Jeffery!" Archie could barely contain his laughter.
"The undead, the balverines, they'll smell your fear then eat you!" Archie shouted cruelly, holding the lid down as Jeffery desperately attempted escape.
"Let me out!" Jeffery shouted from within the barrel, a hint of a whimper in his voice as his little fists banged desperately against the wood barring him from the sunlight.
"Gimme a gold piece!" replied Archie, unable to help the laughter that escaped his lips. Jeffery merely whimpered from within the barrel. Archie banged against the barrels side with his fist.
"I see a balverine! Ooh, he's a big one too! He's come to make you a balverine as well!" Archie announced with mock awe. He imitated a wolf's howl.
"Alright! Alright! Just please let me out!" Jeffery announced through his tears. Archie pried the lid loose from the barrel and tipped it on its side, Jeffery fell out of the barrel in a heap, his face stained with tears and his shoulders shaking. He hugged his sides, convulsing as more tears streamed down his face. Archie hefted the frightened boy to his feet and held him by his shirt.
"Alright, gold, please." demanded Archie, a smug sneer on his face. Jeffery avoided Archie's eyes, and desperately fished in his pockets before holding out a gold coin to Archie, who snatched the coin from Jeffery's hand.
"Now beat it."
Jeffery's lip wobbled before he buried his face in his hands and ran toward the center of town, crying his eyes out. Archie flipped the coin in his hand before pocketing it. He looked up to see Lirschell running towards the barn until he stood a few feet away from Archie. Lirschell wiped his forehead and looked down at Archie, a thankful grin on his face.
"No problems I assume?" Lirschell asked, wiping his shirt before standing straight. Archie paused a moment, then replied.
"Oh, nothing worth mention." Lirschell nodded his head and wiped his nose.
"Well lad, I thank ye, ill be sure to let Brom know what a splendid watchmen you made." Lirschell announced, nodding his head as though to confirm his own words.
"Oh, yes." replied Archie.
"That would be much appreciated."
Archie strolled back into the center of town, his hands tucked deep into his pockets. He turned right towards the east hill, which curved over the hamlet to a bridge leading over the main path into town from the north gate. Archie had never been beyond barrow fields, where the gate led to, for beyond barrow fields lay dark wood. A forest with a wiry canopy and thick mist said to block out the sun, keeping the forest dark throughout the day, and impossible to travel through at night. Not that people travelled through the forest often, except for the desperate and crazy traders thinking they were lucky enough not to get ambushed by the local goblin like Hobbes, cruel bandits, or even the fierce and deadly balverines. This of course meant that children didn't wander into the forest, although, when the adults weren't watching, the children would stand at the border of dark wood, one at a time, until they got scared. Archie always won these competitions of bravery, his current record being seven minutes and forty seconds.
Archie scoffed at the memories of these competitions, the littler children were always the first to get scared, especially on nights when distant howls were heard from within dark wood.
"Stupid little idiot!"
Archie stopped in his tracks as he heard a familiar, nasally voice, he silently ran to the bend leading up the hill, and peered over the four foot high brick wall.
"Just gimme the damn bear!"
Roger.
Archie sighed, Roger was by far the most mischievous and trouble mongering slob there ever was in Oakvale. He was feared by the younger community as a bully and oppressor, and loved to let his fist do the talking when a little one didn't show their respect. Archie peered further, to see Roger's victim for the day.
Tom was one of the two youngest children in Oakvale, for whom he shared with Emilie. He was a sensitive and kindly boy, and shy of others. Except for Emilie, who oft times let Tom play with Rosie, no one, especially not her brother Roger, was allowed to play with Rosie except for Tom.
Archie slowly crept from his hiding space, carefully moving forward so as not to attract attention. Tom was cornered against the other brick wall lining the road; his right arm was lifted over his head, a pitiful defense should Roger grow bored with using words. With his other hand he desperately trying to keep something behind him, which Roger was attempting to grab.
"Just give it!" Roger shouted again, waving an angry fist at Tom.
Tom, though terrified, shook his head.
"No! You're not getting Rosie!" his small voice replied. Archie then identified the object Tom was holding.
A teddy bear. With a blue patch on her back.
Rosie.
Archie stepped forward more quickly now, determined to get the bear before Roger. If Emilie's older brother were to get his hands on that bear, there would be nothing left except for a torn head to return.
Tom was the first to notice Archie's approach, Roger, noticing his victim's distraction, followed Tom's gaze, and turned to face Archie, who now stood four feet away.
"Oh, it's you. Hey, this kid's bein' stupid, won't give me the 'effing bear, just co's I said I'd rip its head off! What's he doin' playin' with baby toys anyway?" Roger stated, occasionally glancing back to Tom, discouraging any hope of escape. Archie merely looked between Tom and Roger passively, trying to formulate a way to get possession of the bear as easily as possible. Tom's bottom lip wobbled.
"Get him away from me! Please! You're stronger than him, Archie?" Tom shouted desperately, gripping Rosie tightly. Roger turned to Tom, his face twisted with rage.
"Just shut up! And give me the stupid bear!" Roger growled, and lunged at Tom, his fists raised. Tom backed up as far as he could into the wall, bracing himself for Roger's onslaught.
It was well known among the Oakvale community that Emilie was the favored child in hers and Roger's family, she was nurtured, cared for, and given attention to by her parents, who paid little heed to what Roger said and did, and so he had become jealous of the attention that his sister received, because of this, he did whatever he could to make his sister feel just as low and unwanted as himself, and often focused this anger on Emilie's teddy bear, today was no exception.
Archie lunged forward to intercept the blow, he couldn't afford to have that bear ripped apart, and he needed that gold. He raised his right hand, pushed Tom out of harm's way, and blocked Roger's attack with his other arm. Roger blinked in surprise, then his brows furrowed in anger.
"Taking his side eh? Yellow bellied bastard, ill teach you!" he shouted and lifted his right fist over his head, preparing to strike Archie in the head. Archie reached out and held back Roger's fist, preventing the attack before it began, and he quickly followed with a swift knee to Roger's stomach, sending Roger sprawling. Roger stared up at Archie from his prone position in disbelief.
"Bring it on." Archie declared, beckoning with his fist. Roger leaped to his feet, swinging his right fist at Archie's chin with an uppercut; Archie ducked out of the way with a confident grin, and continued to leap away from Roger's furious fists. Slowly backing up against the opposite wall of the road, Archie continued to lead Roger forward, dimly aware that Tom was cheering his name.
"C'mon Archie! get'em!"The boy shouted, shaking Rosie over his head. Archie's back hit the wall, and Roger raised his fist to strike again, Archie stood in place, then ducked under the bully's fist. Roger's knuckles were met with hard stone instead of delicate flesh, and Roger gave
a yelp as the rough surface dug and cut into his hand. Archie circled around to face the stunned Roger's back, quickly brought the palm of his right hand behind Roger's head, and pushed Roger's face into the stone.
Roger cried openly in pain, and struggled against Archie's firm hold. After a moment, Archie stepped back, releasing the bully. Roger stood shakily, clutching his bloody nose with his right hand, as his eyes landed on Archie, he couldn't help but shake with terror.
"Sorry! I'll leave him alone, just please don't hit me again!" Roger cried before running past Archie down the hill. Tom cheered and clapped happily, and Archie silently beamed at the praise. Tom held out Rosie with his right hand.
"You stopped him good you did! Thanks a bunch! Take Rosie, she'll be safe with you." he said. Archie took the bear gently from Tom's outstretched hand.
"I would, but Emilie wants her back." he replied, gently fitting the bear into his right pocket, Tom nodded, and made his way to the bridge. Archie turned back to town, searching for Emilie.
Just quarter of a mile away from Oakvale lay Barrow fields, a trading outpost wedged between the town and Dark wood. Traders had chosen this area to stay due to the proximity it had with Oakvale, which brought in new goods from all over Albion via its port, and therefore meant that the traders would be among the first ones to get their hands on the newest produce. A river separated the north and south of the Barrow fields, the two sides being connected by wood and stone bridge. The south side of the river was where traders had set up their camp, due to it being easier to defend by the guards, who could force raiders or marauding monsters from Dark wood into a bottleneck at the bridge, making large -scale attacks easier to deal with. The camp was based on a hill that rose from the river passing through the fields, and was sheltered by tall oak trees. The north side of the river had a rising hill leading to Dark wood's entrance, as well as a cullis gate, a teleportation device originally created in the times of Archon, so that heroes serving the kingdom could travel from place to place quickly, and with great ease. The 'gate', as it were, faced upwards in the shape of a six foot diameter circle, which was rimmed with a ring of steps. The gate was flanked by four griffin like statues, though all their heads had for some reason been cut off as though by an ax, and so it was with all these devices across Albion. If one were to walk up to the cullis gate, they would find that if they were to look into the device's depths, they'd see
something akin to the night sky, a black endlessness dotted with pin-pricks of light, as though a painter had dapped dots of pure white on a black canvass with a dry brush.
The device in barrow fields hadn't seen use in many years though, due to lack of need of heroes' services in barrow fields (as well as the lack of heroes).
However, today, the device glowed.
The cullis gate seemed almost to sing, and out of the abyss of the gate came an imposing figure draped in a distastefully tatty cloak, covering his face in deep shadow, and hiding the rest of his figure behind the ripped fabric. He couldn't afford to be recognized in case there were survivors. He turned silently to look upon the trader camp on the other side of the river. Entertainers juggled, danced, and sung ballads while wives, husbands and children went about their business with the traders as they haggled over food, toys, books, and other items. The figure's eyes casually evaluated the ten armed guards, who were meant to be keeping watch, but instead were laughing and drinking beer by the bridge.
The figure chuckled hollowly. This would be too easy.
The sound of footsteps alerted him to the presence of the bandit leaders emerging from Dark wood. The trio of bandit leaders had brought with them their personal elite raiders, large, burly men with well honed blades, and even finer skills with said weapons. The leaders themselves were more than a match for town guards, each was the leader of their own clan of bandits, and were therefore both fearsome and charismatic to look upon, as well as tough enough to hold their own in a fight: these were the traits one needed to lead bandits.
The tallest of the three bandit leaders addressed the cloaked figure.
"We got the woman, managed to lure her into the forest, then we jumped her, not as tough as we thought though," he said roughly. The figure held no reply, and didn't make any sign that he had heard, but the bandit leader knew better, and continued.
"We got our lads waiting back in the forest, they'll be questioning her, but she ain't talking. In any case, we're all ready to go when you say..." a silent moment passed.
"...Boss." the bandit finished. The figure finally turned to the bandit leader and his companions, and the trio thought they saw the glint of fiery eyes under their employer's hood.
"Tell your men to find the girl." the figure replied, his voice rumbling with unnatural power, like a storm cloud's thunder.
"What about the boy?" asked the shortest bandit leader, barely five feet tall. The figure turned to him.
"Oh, find him, if you can, I've made arrangements." the figure replied uncaringly before turning to look at the trader camp again.
"What about the rest of the town?" asked the short one again. Without the figure turning, the bandit leaders could tell he was smiling. They could feel it.
"Show no restraint... if I hear any tales of mercy, there shall be great punishment on whoever rules merciful bandits." the figure finished, before lifting a cloaked arm towards the camp.
"Go." he commanded.
When Archie had returned the Rosie to Emilie, he hadn't expected the fierce barrage of praise and gleeful tears that he received. He had somehow managed to escape her though, by telling her
today was Theresa's birthday. Emilie had then rushed off without a word, presumably to get a present for Archie's sister.
Archie then returned to his father, who waited in front of their house. Archie stood before his father, and related to him his good deeds for the day. When he was done though, Brom merely gave him a disappointed frown.
"I heard what happened with that Jeffery boy." Brom stated evenly. Archie's smile fell.
Shit. He thought.
"Do you realize how much trouble you could've been in?" his father lectured.
"Well I don't see any guards coming to punish me." Archie argued. Brom sighed.
"That's because I asked them not to, and told them I'd have a firm word with you."
Archie guiltily hung his head, Brom continued.
"You've not done anything else I should know about, have you?" Brom asked. Archie truthfully shook his head.
"In that case, don't cause any more trouble, for me? And here is your reward for those good deeds you did today." He finished, handing Archie two gold coins, enough to buy a box of chocolates from a certain trader. Archie looked up at his father as he pocketed the coins, smiled, and then ran back into town to buy his sister's present.
Holding the newly bought box of chocolates in his right hand, Archie whistled as he headed to the small wheat field near Oakvale's gate where his sister usually played. As he walked, he passed a pair of unarmed guards muttering about how the youth of today had no control.
Unlike in all other towns across Albion, the guards in Oakvale were never given weapons, the townspeople were adamant about keeping weapons out of the peaceful village; since the hamlet had a one hundred year history of peace since Oakvale had been involved in any conflict. Criminals were usually thrown out into the wilderness for a few days rather than given harsh punishment or thrown in jail. However, as of late being in the wilderness was being considered harsh punishment due to the recent increase in balverine populations.
Archie continued along the path, eventually standing in front of the opened gates of Oakvale, he turned left into the small field, where Theresa was throwing small stones at a bull's eye painted on the bark of a small tree. Hearing footsteps, she turned to see her brother, and her face lit up into a sly grin.
"Hello, little brother. I hope you haven't forgotten to get me a present again, like you did last year," she with a sweet smile, but her white knuckles betrayed the violent punishment Archie would receive if he didn't. Before Archie could give her the chocolates, she continued.
"I'm sorry if I woke you up again last night, it was another one of those dreams." She said, her fist relaxed, and her smile dropped. Archie snickered, trying to cheer up his sister.
"Nah, you know me, I was out again like a candle." He said, waving his wand as though it were nothing. Theresa smiled weakly.
"Liar," she hissed good-humoredly, calling her brother's bluff. His face fell, and Theresa burst into laughter. Though the two siblings often competed with one another, they were more often thick as thieves, at the best of times the two being nigh inseparable. Theresa's laughter died a few moments later, her smile turning to a frown.
"Anyway, in the dream, I was standing in this field, and then something happened. But I can't remember what." she said, avoiding eye contact with her brother. Archie's smile returned, and crossed his arms, as though he were a teacher preparing to lecture a student.
"You screamed during the middle of the night because you had a dream where you were standing in a field?" he asked with a hint of good natured sarcasm. Theresa lifted her head and smiled, before her brows furrowed to form a serious frown.
"I hope you got me a present." she stated, resting her hands on her hips. Archie nearly jumped with fright at the sight of his sister's successful attempt at intimidation. He fumbled with the box of chocolates in his hands, before holding out to his sister. Theresa's face suddenly brightened. She took the box from her brother's hands before facing him again.
"I knew you were going to bring me chocolates! It's just like my dream!" She said as she unwrapped the box before taking a chocolate and chewing on it roughly. Archie paused in thought at her words, his brows temporarily furrowing.
'She had had a dream in which he had given her that same box of chocolates?' he thought. Theresa finished chewing and swallowed the chocolate before looking at her brother once again.
"Come on, mother will be back for my party any minute now, and all the others will be there too!" she declared excitedly. Archie shrugged and smiled at his sister. It was probably just a coincidence. He turned, expecting his sister to follow, but when he exited the gate leading out of the field, he realized Theresa was standing stock still. The box of chocolates, the contents scattered at his sister's feet, had fallen from her hand. His eyes met hers with a question. And then he noticed.
She was shaking.
She took a small step forward, almost cautiously, as though afraid something terrible would happen if she stepped too far forward. Her eyes widened, brimming with fear, as though with the
realization of some horror. Her next words were almost inaudible, and the words sent an odd chill down Archie's spine.
"There's... something wrong..." she whispered haltingly. Then, a voice, of an older man in his late thirties, brimming with terror and hysteria.
"Bandits!" Theresa and Archie turned to the gate leading out of Oakvale. The man running towards them was on the verge of tripping himself over from sheer terror, his face was lined with sweat, and his eyes were clamped shut with desperation, as though the man were silently pleading for an end, which his flailing arms seemed to be searching for as he ran.
Then, as the man came to within five feet of Archie, it did.
Whump!
The man fell at Archie's feet, the butt of a crossbow bolt sticking out of his back. Archie's eyes popped wide with terror, and his mouth dropped in disbelief. His eyes drifted upward, towards the entrance, where stood a man dressed in ragged attire; a ripped jacket, exposing the man's numerous tattoos, torn earth trousers, boots caked with mud, and a blood red cap, hiding the man's hair.
A bandit.
Archie could barely hear his sister's words, he was only aware of the man lay dead at his feet, his blood soaking into the cobbled road.
"Its really happening... they're here! You- you've got to hide!" she cried before pushing past him to run into town, with the intention to warn their father. Archie nearly cried after her, but his words stuck in his throat as he looked back at the dead body and the approaching bandit (who luckily still hadn't noticed him). Archie flung himself over the fence and dashed behind the tree
as he tried to calm his racing heart as a wave of true terror suddenly washed over him. Archie felt his face whiten, and he gritted his teeth as he felt bile threatening to surface in his throat. He choked it down, and forced himself to peer from behind the tree.
The bandit had made his over to the body of his now dead target, and with contempt kick declared; "got one!"
Archie glimpsed a guard hurrying towards the bandit, ready to face him with only his bare fists as weapons. Archie was too weak with terror to applaud the man's bravery, and, a moment later, the guard fell as a second bandit released a crossbow bolt, hitting the guard square in the chest, the guard struggled to stand, before finally collapsing in a heap. More bandits came flooding through the gate, and then through to town, swords slashing, crossbows thumping.
And all Archie could do was stare on dazedly in terror, as he first heard screams, as women and children realized their doom, and then shouts, as the guards attempted to rally and fight back, but without weapons, their attempt to defend themselves let alone the town was futile. And then Archie's vision was filled with the once blue sky, now veiled in an ugly gown of smoke, and the smell and crackle of flames soon reached him. Minutes passed, then hours, the sky darkened, and still Archie remained still with terror.
It wasn't until he heard the shuffle of feet behind him that he stirred. He turned swiftly, and would have shouted in alarm if a firm, but not careless hand covered his mouth to stifle him. He looked up to see the figure raise a finger to their lips.
Lirschell.
Lirschell slowly took his hand away once he was sure Archie knew to stay silent. Lirschell looked behind him, and motioned toward the bushes as though welcoming a third party.
Indeed, there was a third party; one made up of Roger, Tom and Jeffery, as well as a group of another four children, not including Emilie or Theresa, Archie noticed. They cautiously abandoned the cover of the bushes and ran to Lirschell and Archie's side, some were silent, and
others sniffed and cried as quietly as they could over their lost homes and families. Roger stared at Archie with a mild anger, and Jeffery avoided Archie's gaze as much as he could, while Tom threw his arms around Archie and wept into his chest.
"I don't know where she is! We weren't able to find her!" he cried into Archie's shirt. Archie's brows furrowed toward Lirschell, who looked away, his face unreadable, obviously trying to remain strong for the younger children.
"Emilie." he said simply. Archie nodded, and looked back down at Tom, not knowing what to do. Should he console him? Hug him back? Tell him everything was all right? He was starting to get annoying, and Archie began to consider simply pushing him away, he began to, but did so slowly, and gently, trying not to make the boy's cries worse. Archie turned to the others.
"Where's my father? And Where's Theresa?" he asked roughly. The other children remained silent, until Lirshcell spoke.
"She told me to get all the kids away, she said she was gonna go help Brom... I just did what she told me-"
"Lirschell got us away-!"
"Socked a bandit in the face-!"
"Got 'im good-!"
"I want mama!"
The children erupted into a sea of voices, all pitching events that had happened since the raid had begun. Lirschell stepped forward, hissing 'hushes' and urging them to silence. Silence fell on them, save for the distant crackle of fire and the occasional crash as the bandits searched the houses for items of worth.
Lirschell turned to Archie again.
"I don't know where your sister is" he said with as much sympathy as possible. Archie's gaze turned toward town, where flames reached into the sky as though attempting to take the stars from the night sky. Archie's eyes were filled with determination as he made his decision.
"I'm going to look for them" he declared.
"Bollocks-!"
"Idiot-!"
"It's too late-!"
"They'll tear ya to pieces and feed ya-"
He was met with a torrent of words from all around him. Finally he rose above the noise.
"Shut up! Or I'll do you in!" he hissed, raising his fist threateningly. Not even Lirschell dared go against Archie. The field was silent again as Archie spoke.
"I'm going to look for my father and sister, you lot should probably hide here since there's nowhere to go, so I should be back soon." Archie turned and walked out of the field, turning to walk into town. Noticing that the main way into the town was blocked off by burning carts, Archie climbed the hill leading to the bridge.
He kept his gaze upwards, avoiding eye contact with the dead littered at his feet as he climbed the hill. He shuddered as he accidentally stepped on the corpses, quickly taking his foot and placing it forward before he could look down into their terrified, dead, blood soaked faces. Eventually, after carefully meandering his way through the path of death, he came to the entrance of the bridge which would lead to his father's house.
He stared through the passageway.
The roof was aflame.
He gulped down a lump in his throat, as his gaze passed from the flames licking at the roof of the bridge to the entrance on the other side. Taking a few, quick breaths, Archie closed his eyes, held his hands over his head and rushed through the bridge at top speed, tripping as he cleared the entrance to the other side. He lifted himself up, and quickly dusted his clothes, before noticing a particular body sprawled out in front of his home, which was now gushing flames and smoke.
Brom lay in a pool of his own blood as a result of his attempts to protect his home.
Archie stood stunned at the head of the hill for many painful moments before he managed to get his feet moving toward his dead father. As he approached, he silently begged whatever power, whether divine or mortal, for a happy ending, that his father was merely knocked out from a hard head injury. But as he drew near, Archie could not see any sign of life, for Brom, his father, did not stir, did not breathe, did not make any move as if to awaken from unconsciousness, but merely lay sprawled on his back, his clothing torn from bandit blades, and his wounds having bled as much blood as there had been in his body.
Finally, Archie stood adjacent to his father's corpse. His eyes began to water, and he fell to his knees, crying into his father's chest, and gripping the fabric of his clothing with all his might, as though hoping that that alone could bring him back.
But Brom remained still.
A harsh laugh reached Archie's ears.
He looked up, his wet eyes now filling with horror instead of tears. A tall, slender bandit had noticed the boy crying over his father's body, and now held a sword raised above his head, in preparation to charge. Archie quickly glanced around him, searching for some form of defense. He spotted the woodcutters axe at his father's side; presumably his father had used it to fight his assailants, but to little effect. Archie reached for the handle of the axe, and attempted to lift the makeshift weapon, but found his arms lacking in strength to carry the weight of it.
He looked up despairingly; the bandit had closed the distance between them. The bandit raised his cutlass above his head, preparing to slash at the helpless boy before him. Archie closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, and prayed it would be a quick end.
End of chapter 1.