The Long Way Back

Chapter 3

The First Step

Sir Mycen wanted his house given a fresh coat of paint. Henry still wasn't sure if that was an actual chore the old man usually gave, or if that was his punishment for leaving the village. Either way, Henry could understand why Sir Mycen gave him the task.

Painting was boring, hard work, that was time-consuming and, without modern painting equipment like rollers and proper ladders, exhausting. It didn't help that Sir Mycen gave Henry terrible quality paint. Then again, it's not like Ram Village had a Lowe's nearby where he could buy some Behr or Valspar products.

So, Henry resigned himself to the meager supplies he had. There was no point in arguing or complaining. Sir Mycen gave him a task, and it needed to be done. Each plank on the walls needed several coats for it to look remotely nice. That is what the knight told him. Despite the amount of work needed, it was not sweaty, back-breaking work. That was why Henry felt puzzled by this chore. Given the circumstances, the punishment might not fit the crime.

Enormous guilt sat in Henry's gut ever since the morning, when he tried to strike out on his own and was immediately accosted by a group of bandits. When they tried to kill him, Tobin, Gray, Alm, Kliff, and Faye saved his life. They risked their lives to save his. Painting a house seemed so trivial in comparison to what they all did for him.

Why would they do that for someone like him? That question bothered Henry as he dipped the crusty, old, horsehair brush into a jar of dull, yellow paint. He was nobody to them. Just some outsider who happened to be staying with Sir Mycen until he could move on to Castle Zofia. So, why would Alm and his friends risk Sir Mycen's wrath, along with their lives, to make sure he lived?

Of course, Henry knew the answer to that question. He knew the answer ever since Sir Mycen took him in, and ever since Tobin and Gray helped him with all of the farm work around the village without any complaints. The people in Ram Village were good, honest folk. They cared for each other, and for anyone within their walls.

And I decided to be a shithead in response.

Henry's brushstrokes slowed. He shook his head when he overheard raised voices in Sir Mycen's house. He could make out bits and pieces of the argument. It sounded like Sir Mycen was livid with Alm for venturing beyond the walls. Understandable given what Henry encountered. Alm shot back that if he did nothing, Henry would have died.

The silence that came after that point unsettled Henry. It made him pause in his work altogether, a heavy knot sitting in his gut, tightening his chest and making him feel sick.

Those words apparently ended the argument, because Alm stormed out of the shack, a frustrated expression on his face. A weary breath puffed from his lungs. He ran his hand over his brow, sweeping some of his green locks from his forehead, before glancing at Henry. At that point, Henry realized he was staring and not working. He jumped, gulped, and started furiously brushing again.

Alm chuckled. "Heard all of that, huh?"

Henry froze. "Um… honest answer?"

Alm took a seat on an empty box outside of Sir Mycen's home. His armor clanked and jostled as he sat. He gestured at Henry. "I'd expect nothing less."

An awkward expression passed over Henry's face. "Well, I'm pretty sure the entire village heard you two shouting so…"

Embarrassment rushed over Alm's face in scarlet shades. He ducked his head, closed his eyes, and exhaled. "I suppose we did get a little out of hand." He rose to his feet, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. After taking a quick glance at Henry's work, he nodded. "Grandfather will like what he sees. You've got an eye for detail."

Henry uttered an anxious laugh. "Yeah, that happens when you're scared shitless of somebody and they tell you to do something."

"Ah," Alm waved a hand. "Don't worry too much. Grandfather is… he's a stubborn man, but not a cruel one. Just keep working hard, and he'll forget about it."

Alm turned to march back to the watchtower. Before he could get away, Henry spoke up.

"Um, Alm, um," Henry grimaced. "I suppose I should both thank you, and apologize for all the trouble." Alm arched an eyebrow, puzzled as Henry spoke. "If I hadn't been such a selfish ass and just listened to your grandfather, I-"

Alm raised a hand, silencing Henry. "What's done is done. Besides, it's not your fault my grandfather is a bit strict when it comes to his rules. Just… in the future, don't venture beyond the walls on your own. You're not a fighter, I can tell that much. No telling what could happen to you out there, alright?" A small snort left Alm's lips. "Besides, that's the best practice I've had in a while. Grandfather never lets me actually use the gifts he's taught me."

Henry's eyes widened, and another embarrassed expression shot over Alm's face.

"N-not that I'm some bloodthirsty maniac, mind you," Alm scratched the back of his head as a sheepish laugh left his lips. "It's just that I'm a good warrior thanks to Grandfather. I want to use the skills I have to help people. Not much I can do when it comes to that around here. Not with Grandfather watching me like a hawk." A frown creased his lips, and Alm shook his head. "But, you don't want to hear about my problems. The house needs paint, right?"

"Right…"

"Then I'll leave you to it," Alm nodded.

With a wave, he walked away, heading towards the watchtower. Henry watched him go, guilt still gnawing at him. He hoped his actions didn't drive any sort of wedge between Alm and Sir Mycen. From the sounds of things, the issue they argued about has been there for some time.

Still, Henry did not view that as an excuse for what happened. He messed up, and he had to fix it. One way to do that was by painting Sir Mycen's house, then doing whatever else the old man needed. No more complaining or trying to take things into his own hands like earlier. He just had to put his head down and work. Another opportunity will present itself to get home. Hopefully, a safer one too.

So, Henry dipped the horsehair brush into the paint and returned to the dull punishment he received.

Never mind; for Henry, the punishment of painting Sir Mycen's house absolutely fit the crime now. Why? Well, it rained for the next three days after he started, washing away whatever good progress he made and forcing him to start over. Henry swore the old man knew that the rain was coming, and that was why he made Henry paint the house.

Not that Henry blamed Sir Mycen for doing so. He already accepted days ago that he had committed a grave offense by ignoring Sir Mycen's orders and stepping beyond Ram Village's walls. Doing so put Alm and his friends in danger as well. Painting the house was the least Henry could do to make it up to them as well as to assuage his guilt.

That being said, thanks to the rain, it still took Henry another four days to paint the small shack. He was busy putting the finishing touches on the last plank of wood when Henry heard the sound of metal ringing nearby. It was loud, more like a sharp clunking and grinding rather than like wind chimes dancing in the breeze.

Curiosity got the better of Henry. He hastily finished the last plank of wood, placed his brush beside the paint bucket, and wiped his hands off on his pants. Then, he marched in the direction of the sound, towards one of the only empty patches of land within the village.

In the field stood Alm, Gray, Tobin, Kliff, and Faye. Well, Kliff and Faye were just standing there, watching the other three. Alm, Gray, and Tobin, meanwhile, had swords drawn and were staring each other down- intense, serious expressions on their faces.

A small lump formed in Henry's throat. Did something happen between those three that caused them to draw swords? Was there a disagreement? He hoped it wasn't because of the events of last week.

Henry quietly drew up alongside Faye. The small girl flicked her brown eyes to Henry when he stopped alongside her. A meek, shy smile creased her lips.

"How's painting?" She asked.

If anyone else had asked that question, especially Gray and Tobin, Henry would have assumed it to be a sarcastic comment. But, Faye was different. Henry had only interacted with her a couple of times since the "incident", but during those few moments, he found her to be a genuinely kind person. She was quiet and mousy, in a cute sort of way, but she was also unafraid to get involved in messy work.

Messy work comes with farming, I guess.

Henry shrugged. "It's pretty much done. I'm sure Sir Mycen will say I missed a spot somewhere though."

Faye uttered a light snicker. "Sir Mycen is just trying to instill attention to detail in you. He did that with Alm too. Don't take any of his criticism too much to heart."

Her gaze returned to the three boys in the middle of the field, watching as they circled each other. Not one of them made a move against the other, yet.

"What's going on?" Henry asked.

"Gray and Tobin are trying to best Alm… again," Kliff replied, his voice filled with boredom. "We all know how that is going to end."

"We don't know that, Kliff," Faye replied. "Gray and Tobin can still win. Although…" She pursed her lips and folded her arms in front of her. "There is no finer swordsman in Ram Village than Alm, other than Sir Mycen that is."

Henry snorted as memories of Alm cutting down bandits rushed through his mind. "I'll say."

Those words were like some sort of signal because as soon as Henry finished speaking, Gray lunged at Alm.

With agility that boggled Henry's mind, Alm sidestepped the strike, sliding the flat of his blade along the edge of Gray's. A loud pop echoed through the air when Alm struck Gray in the nose with an elbow, sending the green-clad boy to the ground, reeling.

Tobin tried to take advantage of Alm, hoping that Gray provided enough of a distraction to get a hit in. But, with speed that stunned Henry, Alm whirled around and parried Tobin's wicked slash at his right flank.

Tobin's jaw clenched tight. His arms muscled against Alm's blade as he struggled to keep Alm from following up on his parry. Alm, meanwhile, looked calm and relaxed. A knowing smirk twitched over Alm's lips, causing Tobin's eyes to widen.

"Oh crap, my feet!" Tobin cried, but too late.

Alm shoved Tobin's blade to the side, hooked his foot behind Tobin's left ankle, then gave him a good, hard shove. Tobin tripped backward, landing with a loud thud on the grass and dirt. Right as he hit the ground, Gray got up and charged at Alm. That charge was cut short by Alm leveling his blade at Gray, forcing him to stop before the point of Alm's sword could kiss his chin.

"Safe to say I win, I think," Alm said with a grin, his chest barely rising and falling as he caught his breath.

Tobin and Gray gasped for breath, both nursing some new bruises as they gave Alm large smiles.

"Damn it, Alm!" Tobin exclaimed with a shake of his head. "I should've known better."

"You're getting better though," Alm replied as he sheathed his sword. Tobin and Gray did the same. "You realized your mistake."

"Yeah, too late though," Gray poked, giving Tobin a wry grin.

Tobin rolled his eyes. "Like you did any better."

"You both did fine," Alm said, raising his hands to calm both of them. "Just keep practicing when you can." Alm's gaze then fell on Henry, Faye, and Kliff. He nodded to his two friends beside Henry. "Either of you want to try?"

Kliff waved off the offer. "I'm not interested in eating dirt today, Alm."

Faye stammered out a nervous laugh. "And I still have some work to get done, so I can't get hurt."

Alm cracked a smile at Faye. "You know I wouldn't try to hurt you, right?"

An intense blush shot over Faye's cheeks, causing Henry to blink. Did she like Alm?

"Um… right, but um," Faye gulped. "Oh, do you hear that? I think Mother is calling me!"

Faye shot away, confusing Alm and causing Kliff to sigh as he placed his hands on his hips.

"Scatterbrain," Kliff muttered as he watched Faye rush away. He glanced at Henry. "What are you up to, Henry?"

"Yeah, Henry," Gray jabbed a thumb at Alm. "Wanna take a crack at him?"

"What?" Henry's eyes bulged and he rapidly shook his head. "Uh, no thank you. Like Kliff said, I'm not interested in eating dirt."

Kliff actually uttered a soft chuckle at that. Meanwhile, both Tobin and Gray laughed out loud. Alm gave Henry a good-natured smile.

"I wouldn't ask you to do that anyway, Henry. Tobin, Gray, Faye, and Kliff have been training with me since we were children." A wistful breath puffed from Alm's gaze. "I've been teaching them what Sir Mycen's taught me for a long time now, haven't I?"

"Clearly you haven't taught us everything or we'd have beaten you already," Gray pointed out.

"One day, Gray," Alm reassured him, smiling wide. He patted Gray on the shoulder. "One day, I'm sure."

Henry stared wide-eyed at Alm. He was the one teaching everyone else how to fight? Sir Mycen didn't bother to train the others? Alm must be one heck of a teacher because all four of his friends fought like seasoned warriors against the bandits a week ago. None of them suffered injuries, and all of them combined managed to drive up their larger, more bloodthirsty opponents.

Maybe Alm can teach me to fight. Henry realized.

An idea formed in his mind. A simple plot that would help him in his attempt to get home to Charlotte. If he knew how to fight, then he would be able to take care of himself on the road to Castle Zofia. He could leave and not force anyone to worry about him.

But… swords did not appeal to him. Henry was not a very physical person. The manual labor he had been doing for Sir Mycen over the past week had been the most physical exertion he'd had since high school gym class. While he was never an out-of-shape kid, he didn't think he was strong enough to swing a hunk of steel around. And, he did not have time to get into that kind of shape before actually learning how to use a sword.

The faster he got out of Ram Village, the better. Henry wanted to get home. So, what could he learn to do that could help him get there.

Something that would help defend me and provide food for... Henry's thoughts trailed off when he spotted Tobin walking towards a bow set off to the side of the field. That's perfect!

Alm was busy instructing Gray a little further, teaching him how he was able to sidestep Gray's thrust so easily. Kliff was off to the side, listening in but not taking part. Tobin, meanwhile, had slung the bow and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder.

Before anyone could say anything to him, Henry bounded to Tobin.

"Tobin!" He called.

"Hm? Yeah, Henry?"

Henry pointed at the bow. "What do you do with that bow?"

Tobin snorted, as if the question had an obvious answer. "Hunt, of course. Fresh game is a nice treat every now and then for the village, especially in these hard times. Why do you ask?"

Henry pursed his lips. It felt awkward asking Tobin, but he needed to get past his anxiety about this request. If getting home hinged on Tobin teaching him to use a bow and arrow, then Henry would go through with such training.

"Is there any way you could teach me?" Henry asked.

Tobin raised his brow, surprised. "Really? You want to-" He glanced at Alm and Gray as they started sparring again. "You sure you don't want to learn from Alm?"

Henry blinked. "Alm knows how to use a bow?"

"Ha, does he know?" Tobin clicked his tongue. "If you want to eat tree bark instead of venison, I'm sure he does. Nah, I'm the archer in our little group. I'm just surprised you want to learn archery instead of swordplay, that's all."

"Yeah, well," Henry shrugged, "I don't think I'm much of a physical fighter."

"Not wrong there," Tobin remarked with brutal honesty. "But being an archer isn't a cakewalk either. Are you sure you want to learn?"

"It can't hurt, right?"

After giving Henry a long look, Tobin nodded. "Alright, I'll teach you. But, not today. I'm gonna see if I can pick off a deer from the walls. I'll start teaching you tomorrow. Meet me bright and early by the tower, after the pigs get their slop."

Henry cracked a wide smile. Step one towards getting home completed! Step two couldn't be too difficult either. All he had to do was learn from Tobin. Easy!

"Will do!"

Tobin patted Henry on the shoulder as he moved past him and marched toward the walls. As he left, Kliff joined him. Gray and Alm continued sparring in the field, occupying Henry's attention for a few more minutes until he noticed Sir Mycen inspecting his paint job. With a yelp, Henry bolted back to the house.

When Henry got back to the house, Sir Mycen scrutinized every square inch of his work. Just when Henry thought he had done a good job, that he was finally free to go about his day or go do some other chore around the village at least, the old man pointed at a small spot near the shack's foundation. It wasn't yellow, like the rest of the house. It was a dirty white, smeared with red clay and dust.

Henry bowed his head. He missed a spot.

The next morning came with the loud crow of a rooster and golden rays of sun chasing away the dawn indigos. At this point, Henry was sort of used to waking up with the sun- something he never thought he would ever do, or get used to in his entire life. But, human beings woke with the sun all the time before the invention of the light bulb. So, waking up with the sun had to be built into his biology, somehow. It just needed a little reminder to start working properly.

Henry no longer felt exhausted when he awoke at the crack of dawn. He saved his weariness for after feeding the pigs, a task that was becoming less laborious the more he did it. He figured out that it was easier to urge the pigs to the feeding trough rather than trying to wrangle them over there. They were particularly leery of rakes, which he used to nudge them towards their slop.

Once by the trough, the pigs were happy as could be, their snouts buried in the slop as they grunted and oinked with delight. Henry was just as happy because now he wasn't breaking his back tackling a hog or getting filthy rolling in the mud with them.

Figuring out that little technique allowed him to arrive at the watchtower early. He got there at the same time as Tobin. Tobin blinked in surprise when he noticed Henry.

"Well damn, you must be getting good at handling the hogs."

Henry shrugged. "Figured out a way to work smarter instead of harder."

Tobin nodded. "That'd help, yeah. Sir Mycen probably noticed already too. If he hasn't said anything, it means he thinks you're doing a good job. So keep it up." He glanced around the tower and gate area as he shrugged his bow and a quiver full of arrows from his shoulder. "I managed to bribe Gray into doing our chores for us today. A full day of practice should be how you start out, in my opinion. It'll help you get familiar with the bow faster."

Tobin held the bow out to Henry. Henry gave it a hesitant look. He had never handled a bow before in his life. Living in a city like Charlotte never lent itself to hunting or archery. His high school was not one of those premier, preppy places that had a competitive archery team. He also didn't have any relatives out in the North Carolina countryside to take him deer hunting. The closest he had ever come to holding a bow was a Wii remote as a child, playing Wii Sports Resort.

"Have you ever held one before?" Tobin asked, noticing Henry's uncertainty.

Henry shook his head.

"It's simple, really," Tobin held the bow out to Henry. "Are you right or left-handed?"

"Right," Henry replied.

"Left hand holds the bow, then. Keeps it steady so you can aim."

Henry gave the bow one more apprehensive glance before taking the bow and gripping it tightly in his left hand. Tobin clicked his tongue as Henry's knuckles turned white.

"Strong grip, but don't squeeze it to death. You'll only hurt yourself doing that," Tobin advised. Henry relaxed his grip a little then hissed when Tobin smacked his closed fist hard. With a nod, Tobin's hand slipped from Henry's fist, and he stepped back. "Not bad. You'll get used to it. Now, then," he slung the full quiver over his shoulder, then pulled two out from it, "you'll get these two when I think you're familiar with the bow. For now, draw the string. Let's see if you can pull it back."

Pull it back? Henry furrowed his brow. Tobin said that like he knew Henry would not be able to do it. Why would he have trouble pulling back the bowstring? It was a simple weapon, right? Just hook the string with a couple of fingers and pull until taut, right?

If only it were that simple. Henry curled two fingers around the bowstring and pulled. The string did not budge, but he did manage to give his fingers a pair of stinging gashes near the joints. He hissed as some blood dripped down his index finger. Tobin snickered.

"Not so easy, huh?" Tobin stretched his arms wide, swinging them back and forth as if he was warming up his shoulder and back muscles. Then he rolled his shoulders as he continued to stretch out. "Use your back a little more. If you try to pull with just your arm, you'll only tear your fingers up. Also, focus on using your whole hand first. Let's get you used to the draw weight."

"Draw weight?" Henry asked. Since when did a bow have weight other than the actual… well, bow. Last Henry checked, string was not very heavy. Neither were the arrows, from the looks of things. Tobin seemed to be handling a pair of them easily enough.

Tobin shook his head, an amused grin on his lips. "You think you can just pull that string back and fire? Nope. The string has weight the tighter it gets. Not only do you have to get strong enough to pull it back, but you'll also have to become strong enough to keep it nocked for a while. That's why," Tobin gestured at Henry with the two arrows he removed from the quiver, "you aren't getting these until I'm sure you can do that. Now, try again. Remember, use all your muscles."

What muscles? Henry through, his eyes flicking at his skinny arms and even slimmer torso. Still, he had to try.

Henry gritted his teeth as he used his whole hand to pull on the string. Every muscle in his arm flexed, the muscles in his back tightened, and the muscles in his left arm tensed as well. After all of that effort, he managed to pull the bow back to full draw for a second. Then, the string became too heavy, and it snapped out of his fingers.

Pain shot through Henry's left forearm as the string shot forward, thwacking against it. He fumbled the bow, right hand grasping his forearm as he hopped up and down, hissing in pain. As he jumped around, Tobin threw his head back and laughed.

"I guess I forgot to warn you about that," Tobin admitted, arms folded as he kept the two arrows laced between his fingers. "I'll see if I can go find an old bracer or strip of leather to throw over that forearm. For now, keep working on pulling that string back. The more you do it, the easier it'll become."

Before Henry could say anything, Tobin marched away, heading back to his home to get whatever the heck a bracer was. When he disappeared further into the village, Henry hissed and winced. He bent over his forearm as the pain turned from a sharp stinging to a constant burning; almost like a sunburn. He kept his hand clasped over his arm for a few moments as he paced to and fro in front of the tower, trying to work up the nerve to inspect the damage.

Carefully, Henry removed his right hand from his forearm. His left arm was beet red, the flesh tender and hot to the touch. He tried flexing his left hand into a fist, only to gasp when all of his forearm muscles protested the action.

How is there so much physical exertion and pain in archery? Henry tried shaking his arm out in an attempt to dull the pain. It didn't work, but he had to try something.

A part of him was tempted to give up this pursuit altogether. He had neither the skill nor physical ability to be an archer, it seemed. But, if Henry wanted to get home, he needed to learn to take care of himself. Part of taking care of himself was learning how to fend off any bandits or ruffians that would accost him on the road to Castle Zofia.

I'm going to be training all day, huh? Henry drew in a deep breath, then blew it out, hissing through clenched teeth as his forearm refused to stop burning. He continued to flex his fingers as he eyes the bow lying in the dirt at his feet.

He had no choice. Home called to him, and he wanted to answer. The skirmish with those bandits, as well as Sir Mycen's response to that issue, made it clear to Henry that he did not belong in Ram Village, or Zofia, or wherever on Earth Zofia was. He still could not recall if it was actually on a map back home or not. Besides, the faster he learned, the faster he would get out of here.

That means I won't have to feed the pigs slop every morning ever again.

That realization alone was more than enough motivation to force Henry to act.

So, renewed with newfound resolve, Henry let out a long exhale. He grasped the bow, wincing as his forearm throbbed, took the string in his hand, and pulled.

And chapter! This commission is turning out to be so much fun! Echoes has such interesting characters. I'm having a blast writing this, and I hope you all are enjoying reading it! As for Henry, looks like he's trying to make his way in Valentia now. Little does he know, he's not going to wind up where he wants to go, probably. Charlotte is a loooooong way from Ram Village after all lol. All the credit to Aidanator800 for commissioning the story too.

Anyways, let me know what you all think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed it! Have a nice day!

I'm officially doing commissions on Fiverr. If you're interested in having a story, chapter, or one-shot written, message me over there! I have the same username there as here, just all lowercase: thebobcat18

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