Part One: Soldier

There were once two brothers. This is the tale of the younger brother, who was clever and skillful and wild, a man with curling hair the color of summer sun on a barley field…

Chapter One: The Long Lake

Carefully, almost soundlessly, Simon emerged from the dark forest. Soldiers around him eyed the sharp drop-off not feet away from them with visible unease – a few shuddered imperceptibly as they peered over the precipice's edge to view the rocks on the lakeshore below. However, Simon inhaled the open air deeply, his face upturned to the sky.

"Been missing it, eh?" Kendrick's gravelly voice breathed as he, too, turned to face the horizon.

Simon grunted in response. "I don't know how the natives stand it," he said. "How can they live, creeping beneath these dense forests, where you can't breathe or see a hand's breadth beyond your face?"

Kendrick laughed, the sound rasping from his throat. "You mean you truly prefer open fields and skies to bleak and treacherous woods? Perhaps a big, strong sixteen-year-old like yourself just needs enough big, strong space."

Simon's tan cheeks flushed barely as he remembered the blind panic he'd experienced his first day ashore on this accursed island – the land of Eire, they called it. The place certainly did raise ire, for after weeks of Simon laughing at the older soldiers' seasickness, they mocked him to no end for his uncontrollable fear of confined spaces, despite their similar feelings. Although he had forced himself to overcome this fear, the sight of an open gray sky brought him almost tangible relief.

Choosing to recover as much of his pride as possible, Simon laughed as if he, too, found the memory amusing.

But Kendrick's thick eyebrows rose suddenly, and Simon turned to see what had caught his attention. The leader of this expedition, Lord Richard of Northwoods, beckoned the hundred men forward silently. He seemed to be giving Simon a particularly stern look.

"Perhaps it will serve us best if we lower our voices, for the time being," Kendrick whispered. Simon gave him a pained look.

"Why must he always single me out?" He complained, though he whispered as quietly as Kendrick had.

"What, you mean besides the fact that you're the youngest soldier here? Perhaps the fact that you're his nephew, and that Lady Ann would have his head, should something happen to you."

Simon smiled, though he did not laugh aloud as he had before. They were, after all, in enemy territory. Even as the band of men moved along the curving edge of the forest, he could see Kendrick's eyes whizzing back and forth across the surrounding countryside.

"What are you doing?" Simon whispered. "Why aren't you keeping your eye on the trail?"

"Simon, you have much to learn," seemed to be all the response Kendrick would give. Simon felt a pinprick to his pride, despite, or perhaps because of, the years of experience Kendrick had over him. Before he responded, however, the older man continued.

"I'm studying the landscape," he said. "We may not have another opportunity to see the layout of the land from above, as we do now. And we'll most likely camp near this ridge – probably further north."

Simon could understand how Kendrick had surmised as much. The stretch of treeless earth between the forest and the cliff could only be six feet wide, at most. The hundred or so men had to thin themselves out into a triple-file line in order to stay clear of the trees and the precipice.

"How much do you know about the land?" Kendrick asked, eyeing Simon keenly.

"Well…" he mumbled, caught off guard. "We're traveling in Seamus Redbeard's lands now, right?"

Simon instantly cursed himself for ending with a question, rather than giving a confident impression. However, Kendrick made no point of it.

"Right. And the water below us – that's the long lake. It stretches for miles, but with little depth or width, and no flow. That is part of what's so treacherous about it – the rocks at the bottom remain as sharp as ever, because there's no current to erode them. A man falling into them has little chance for survival."

Simon nodded carefully, wishing to convey that he, too, had deduced as much. He wondered how –

A sudden commotion near the front of the line cut off his wandering thoughts. A dark-haired native appeared out from the forest, grabbing an unwary soldier from behind and slitting his throat. He dropped the body, darting northward toward the wider clearing before anyone could reciprocate.

"We're under attack! All men forward!" Lord Richard roared, drawing his sword. He led the men as they rushed to the clearing, and Simon began to follow – but he was held back by Kendrick's strong grip on his shoulder.

"Wait," is all the distracted swordsman could mutter before spinning toward the forest in their rear. Simon followed suit, feeling the other soldiers' bodies pressing against him as they surged the opposite direction. For a moment, his breath left him. Hundreds of wild men materialized from the shadows of the trees, sinewy arms bearing steely swords and daggers. The bulk of the Irish forces…and the British troops were distracted at the front of the line.

"A decoy," Simon muttered. "That man at the front - was a decoy!" But he had to raise his sword quickly, for one of the savages was almost upon him. The weight of the stronger man's sword against his own was far more than Simon could have anticipated, but he held as long as he could, arms shaking with the effort.

Only Kendrick had the presence of mind to call the other soldiers back to aid them. However, as the English band began to turn around, more wild men jumped from the forest northward, some slitting British throats before the soldiers were even aware. Other Irish sprang from the forest and kept running, using their momentum and powerful arms to send men flying over the cliff edge and to their deaths on the rugged rocks below.

It took a moment, but Simon's training clicked in before he realized what he was doing. He ducked beneath his foe's sword, using his own to twist the blade away, simultaneously kicking his legs into the other man's stomach as he rolled. He used his and the other man's momentum to send his opponent flying off the cliff edge.

Thanks to Kendrick's quick eye, no native attacked Simon in the vulnerable moment between sending the soldier over the edge and getting back to his feet. However, Kendrick could not defend his young friend for long, for the Irish attack was mounting.

Simon gave the older man a nod of gratitude before rejoining the fray with zeal. Though the Irishmen had only twice the number of men in the British band, their skill was great; it would not be an easy battle against blundering farmers, as Simon's only previous experience had been.

Distracted, Simon did not realize his dangerous proximity to the cliff edge until his opponent had backed him against it. The precarious edge, made up of only dirt and small rocks, crumbled beneath Simon's weight. The last he saw was his opponent's victorious smirk, and Kendrick's wide-eyed terror as Simon slipped from his sight.

A/N – Sorry that the prologue and first chapter are so short! Maybe they should be put together, but I just like the feel of them separate. I've changed my mind a few times, but this one will stay, I think. Even though putting them up independently makes them seem so desperately tiny!

This story is NOT suspended. I had thought I'd leave it until I finished "Foreigner," my Avatar: the Last Airbender fic, but…a couple people reviewed, and reminded my how much I do love this fic. So the progress might be low, but there WILL be more soon! (3/18/08)