Post by ash on Jul 7, 2008 12:38:27 GMT 9.5
This was posted on the Doevys Den forums and I thought it was about time it was posted here as well.
It is a little something that I began writing a while ago.
I wanted to write a piece of fiction set in the Warhammer Fantasy world that would appeal more to a younger reader (say 12-16) yet still be enjoyed by everyone else.
Its a work in progress as will be evident as much of the grammar, spelling etc is still poor but I still hope you7 will enjoy and give me some feedback.
CHAPTER 1:
Wren watched his opponent through slitted eyes. The sun was directly over his adversaries shoulder sending bright shafts of light into his face. Even though it was sunset the light was still a hindrance to Wren. His opponent had maneuvered himself into that position in an effort to gain a tactical advantage. Every time Wren made a move to circle his opponent they would side step keeping the sun in his eyes. This was highly annoying and if Wren wanted to change that fact he would have to fight for it.
Wren stabbed in with his sword aiming at his opponent's chest but they easily deflected it with a metallic clash using a lazy swing of their blade.
Wren was getting frustrated quick but if he let such emotions get away with him then his battle would be lost. He was known to be hot tempered and capable of bursts of rage, which would always land him in hot water. But he was only fourteen and going through that part of his life where emotions are rocky and careless.
A sudden movement from the front told him that his opponent was on the offensive. Wren raised his blade and with as much luck as skill managed to fend off the attack; but his opponent kept coming. A quick flurry of blows left Wren off guard as he struggled to parry what he could barely see.
The next blow landed on his left arm just below the shoulder. He was lucky that it was just the flat of the blade but still the pain quickly seeped into his muscles making them useless. He stepped back and to the right with his opponent following still keeping the sun in Wren's eyes.
Out of sheer desperation and fury Wren launched a quick assault but with his left arm now useless and dangling at his side he was slightly off balance and unable to put enough power into the blows. His opponent just held their sword in front of them and slightly to the right taking each and every one of Wrens attacks. Every slash that Wren made left him more and more off balance, but that was not on his mind. He had already fallen to the depths of his rage making him blind to what was happening around him and most important of all, what was happening to the front.
Wren made one last attack with all the power he had left at his disposal. His opponent swung back with equal force. The swords came together with a loud crash. The recoil of metal on metal put Wren off balance and his automatic reflexes were the only things that kept him from falling. His opponent was onto him quicker than Wren could rally, smashing him in the wounded arm with the pommel of their sword and sending him to the ground.
His arm screaming with pain Wren looked up at his adversary. Wren had fallen sideways and now his opponent stood above him, the setting sun illuminating him in red tones giving the impression of blood. He was looking down at him with triumph stretched across his face but Wren was not worried about his opponent's facial expressions. His immediate concern was the cold sharp bite of steel pressed into the flesh of his neck just above where his collarbones met.
"Do you concede?" His opponent asked in a deep voice that gave off an edge of cockiness.
"Never to the likes of you!" Wren was defiant. Although his opponent had him at his mercy he would never die pleading.
"You were meant to say yes! I always concede when you get one o'er me!"
His opponent was crestfallen. It was as if Wren's defiance had stolen away his victory. After a moment he shrugged and added, "Well anyway I did beat you squarely, right?" The question seemed more of a plead than a query.
"Squarely! You kept the sun in my eyes the entire time!" Wren was not going to give the victory away easily or with much grace. "That was downright unfair. I would never have done that to you Ox."
Ox looked at him as if to say 'yeah right' but nevertheless he held out his hand to help Wren up.
Wren slapped the offered hand away and heaved himself onto his feet. His arm still stung but warmth was now traveling along the muscles to sooth it. The calming and dulling effect of the warmth felt a lot like the effects of a balm that the village healer would apply to heal pulled muscles. This happened to a lot of his injuries and he has always been at a loss to explain it. He was sure that this was not something that everyone experienced but as it was helpful he didn't really worry about it too much.
Wren was tall and well toned for his age. His face had a well-built jaw and his eyes were blue and ever inquisitive. Many of his neighbors told him that he would come into being a very handsome man and some of the village girls would shoot glances in his direction.
He wore a dark blue tunic over a set of lighter blue hose that was held up with a thin black leather belt that also supported the scabbard that hung on his left side. His feet were protected by thick leather working boots and he wore a red woolen hat perched atop his head. Strands of wavy black hair shot out from under the cap at intervals around his skull. He was relatively clean considering he had spent most of the afternoon battling Ox on the grass.
Ox on the other hand was taller and widely built. A lot of his girth was muscle but he did enjoy his food. His hair was brown and cropped short against his skull and his eyes were brown, large and droopy.
He wore a dirty brown tunic that only just managed to stretch across his impressive gut and he also wore a lighter brown pair of farming pants. Thick once black boots covered his feet and ended in a reinforced leather toe. Although a belt was hardly needed Ox still wore one to hold his scabbard that sagged halfway down his thigh.
Ox's sword was a little shorter than Wren's but was much wider and almost twice the weight. If Ox got a good swing behind it Wren found it almost impossible to stop.
Soon enough the boy's animosity subsided and they began to walk back to their homes. They had been practicing their swordplay out in the lush grassy fields a little way from the village. They had been practicing like this ever since they had known each other. At first with sticks but as they advanced the sticks turned to wooden swords and when they turned thirteen they were allowed to carry proper blades.
Thirteen was the age of weapon bearing in the village. All able boys and men were expected to know how to wield a weapon for the protection of the village and both Wren and Ox had opted for swords.
Wren ran his eyes along the blade of his sword as they walked, checking for anything that would require him to repair. After he was satisfied that it had not suffered any major dents or chips he slid it into the scabbard that hung on his waist. He was fond of that sword as it was the first one he had made during his apprenticeship with the village blacksmith.
The sword had a good three-foot blade and when it was seated in its scabbard would almost touch the ground. But Wren was still growing and was confident that it would be the right size for him once he hit adulthood. He had begun his apprenticeship three years earlier when he was twelve. Straight away it was apparent that he had an uncanny ability when it came to working with metals. His master, Hamlyn, had been amazed at what Wren could create at such a young and as yet inexperienced age.
A year into his apprenticeship he had forged the sword that now hung at his waist. Wren had expected that the sword would be sold but when he turned thirteen he was surprised to have it placed in his possession. Although he had forged the Sword it was Hamlyn's wife Avery who had wrapped the hand grip in leathers dyed in the black and red of Wren's family colors.
Hamlyn had done the work on the scabbards chape (the metal tip of the scabbard) and locket (The mouth and collar of the scabbard) with the stylized hammer and tongs of Hamlyn's seal with an addition: The black bird that Wren had been named after. Hamlyn had proclaimed at that moment that Wren would be a great blacksmith and that this symbol would now be utilized in all of Wren's work.
It was a great Honor to have been bestowed upon him.
Coming out of his recollections of that time Wren noticed that Ox had picked up the pace. Although he was very large for a fifteen year old, Ox had never liked to be kept away from the village when night had fallen. They would have to pass back through a small section of woods on their way and Ox had never grown a taste for such places.
Ox's name was actually Oxfry Steindler but people always knew him by the name 'Ox'. Not only because it was a shortening of his name but because he had also grown to share traits with the beast of burden that was utilized in the farms around the village. Although he shared some of the physical traits he definitely did not share its demeanor. Ox was the least brave person that Wren knew. And since they were nearing the patch of woods that they needed to pass through Wren knew he would be once again privy to Ox's lack of bravery.
As they walked between the ancient trees of the forest that bordered their village Ox would start at every noise that emanated from the creeping dark. Twilight held the forest in its grip and overhead the deep dark purples of the lurking night gave the trees an eerie hue. Scurrying sounds could be heard in the undergrowth as smaller animals scrabbled back to their dens and burrows to slumber through the night.
They had walked along this much-unused path at least three times a week since they were twelve and yet Ox still had not learned to ignore the small noises. Neither of them spoke and Wren knew that if he had tried to start conversation Ox would not have responded as his mind would be racing at the possibilities behind the sounds.
Wren gave an almost imperceptible sigh and let his mind trail off as they walked the path. He thought of nothing in particular. It was a mishmash of memories about the day's education and work (which was one and the same in his apprenticeship) and how he had allowed himself to be beaten by Ox. Ox did have the advantage of brute strength; he needed it working the fields of his father's farmlands. He was not the brightest person in the world but his strength did make him useful.
He recalled when he first met Ox. Although they lived in a village numbering no more than two hundred people and had seen each other on more than one occasion, Wren and Ox only formally met when Wren was eight.
Wren had gone down to the creek that wound halfway around the village to enjoy a spot of fishing when he stumbled upon Ox walking back the other way. Ox had his pole slung over his shoulder and a good catch of fish trailing off its end. He could see that Ox had his hand up to his face, undoubtedly picking his nose as Wren had witnessed on other occasions but as Wren got closer he realized what Ox was doing. Ox had a decent sized fish in his hands and was allowing its flapping tail to hit him in the face. Ox looked highly amused and completely ignored Wren's presence.
Wren had continued down to the creek where he baited his hook and flicked out the line. He sat on the edge of the bank for what seemed like ages but nothing would take a bite. As the sun sank down on the horizon and the shadows of the trees grew longer he decided to pack it in. He pulled the line in, wrapping it around a stick as he went and when he had brought his hook back on shore he pressed its tip into the wooden rod and started to head back.
As he made his way back to the village he came across Ox again who wore a very determined look on his face.
"Halt, one fish tax if you want to head back!" He said it with an air of authority that lacked conviction.
"Why? Did all the other other fish die from the shock of having to slap you in the face all day?" Wren said this and kept walking not stopping for a second.
"I said HALT!" Ox was puffing up and going red in the face. Apparently he was not used to someone of around his age ignoring him.
Wren kept walking but when he was only a short distance from Ox, Ox bellowed something unintelligible and charged at him.
Wren quickly and with much force slammed Ox in the side of the head with his fishing rod but Ox kept coming and slammed into Wren knocking him unconscious.
When Wren came to he saw a very sorry looking Ox looking right into his face. "Far out, I thought I 'ad killed you!" He held out his hand, which Wren had begrudgingly accepted. "Don't tell me da' or he'll have me tied to a fence and beat'n till supper!"
"Oh good, will I get to do the beating?" Wren had no intention of telling anyone what had happened. At that stage he wanted to grow up to become a knight and did not want anyone to know the village moron had beaten him. But a knight needed his lackeys and if he played his cards right he might just be able to recruit one.
"Not only will I beat you but I will also have your supper!" By looking at the rather portly kid in front of him he knew that this threat would make an impression. Ox looked stunned at such a thing and began to blab apologies and 'it will never happen again'.
"What will I receive if I keep this between just you and me?"
"Well.... well." All the rushed apologies had made Ox lose his breath. "Well you can 'ave all the fish I caught t'day."
"What? After you've had them slap that face of yours? I'd prefer the plague!"
"But I don't 'ave nothin else. Oh, wait, you can 'ave 'enry my goose!" Although Ox had not looked too happy to be offering his beloved goose away it seemed he was desperate to do anything to save the situation.
Wren had thought for a short while then came up with a solution.
"Ok, how about this? You can be my squire? You will serve me and call me master." Wren said this with a slight grin that he tried to suppress as he was trying to seem as serious as possible.
"Uh, ok.. So I can keep 'enry?"
And that was how they met seven years ago. Ox referred to him as master for three of those seven years even though Wren had grown tired of it after only a few weeks.
Wren mused over the memory and when he was done he focused back on the present.
They were deep in the forest now and the night had well and truly settled in. The trunks of the trees stood as if on guard on either side of the path and Wren was looking at a oddly misshapen one that he had never noticed before when all of a sudden he crashed into the back of Ox.
"What you doing.."
"Shhhhhhh!" Ox was half hunched over peering into the darkness of the forest on the right side of the path. "I 'eard somethin'."
"It was probably just a bat or night bird" Wren paid absolutely no attention to the fear in Ox's voice as this was a regular occurrence during these night time returns to the village. "Come on, let's just keep going." And Wren started to walk on by the hunched over Ox who was still peering into the trees with all his attention.
"Wait, o'er there." One of Ox's hands flew out to grab hold of Wren's tunic and the other thrust out to point into the darkness. "I saw somethin' move."
Ox was speaking in very hushed tones. He was obviously very convinced that he had seen something. His eyes squinted in an effort to make out what he saw. He was using so much concentration that Wren thought he might burst. In an effort to humor his obviously agitated friend Wren followed with his eyes to the point where Ox was pointing. As he thought, there was nothing but it was difficult to see as the trees where shrouded in almost absolute darkness.
He half turned and was about to walk away dragging Ox with him when he caught movement out the corner of his eye where Ox was still pointing.
It was almost imperceptible, just a hint of the existence of movement. No, his eyes must be playing tricks on him. But there it was again it was slow and almost mechanical in its actions. Wren took a step towards the motion but Ox tightened the grip on his tunic stopping him fast.
"Lets just get outta'ere" His voice hissed out from between tight lips. But Wren was having none of that. He threw the restraining hand off him and took a few steps off the path towards the mysterious movement. As he walked further he stepped on a dry branch that had fallen onto the ground causing it to snap in what seemed like a deafening crash in the otherwise near quiet night.
The source of the movement must have heard it as it came to a complete still.
"See it's afraid." He only said this in an effort to calm Ox down as his breathing was becoming quite loud and he was making the repeated clicking sounds with his tongue that he made when he was either scared, nervous or both. The comment must have worked as the clicking eased off and eventually stopped in no time at all.
But Ox's clicking was replaced with another clicking. It sounded like two sticks being hit together with a pattern that was both random and methodical. It was made up of both high and low tones with frequent stops and starts that broke up the hints of patterns in its frequency.
Ox's heavy clicking started again with renewed vigor.
"What is that?" Wren asked half to himself as he knew Ox would be unable to answer through the terror he was experiencing.
Wren bent down and foraged in the undergrowth whilst still keeping his eyes trained in the direction of the clicking. Once he found what he was looking for, a decently fist sized stone, he slowly stood back up to his full height and drew his arm back in order to hurl the chunk of rock at the unknown target.
The clicking stopped and he thought he heard another set of sounds that sounded like speech in a tongue he had never heard before. As a matter of fact what he thought he heard sounded unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was a mid toned guttural rambling that gave off the impression that whatever it was that was making it was very much alert as to what Wren was doing.
Without waiting another heartbeat Wren hurled the rock with all his might. After a second he heard the rock hit something solid that was neither tree nor ground and waited in anticipation.
He did not have to wait long.
A flurry of movement erupted from the place where his rock hit and came towards him with a speed that he could not match if he had chosen to run away. It sped at him with a grace that belied its mechanical nature. Its motion was stilted, stuttering yet graceful. It was like a wave of many separate movements all combined to give the beast its motion.
Wren drew and held his sword out in front of him, tip reaching into the dark. In the gloom as it got closer he could see hints of many angles all moving in time to speed it along.
Ox was now standing to the left and behind him, sword drawn but in a manner that betrayed his lack of confidence in what he was doing. He clicked uncontrollably and the thing clicked back.
It was about ten feet away when Wren took a quick step forward and struck out with his sword in a wide right hand slash. Something shot up to deflect his blow but the sword passed through it. Something wet washed over Wrens sword arm but it was not warm. The creature screeched and renewed its attack with much more force.
Ox stepped in with a stab forwards but his blade was knocked aside by multiple appendages. Wren swung back from his left but his blade was stopped with a metallic clash. Wren felt something whoosh past his ear and he quickly bought his sword up and pushed it further aside.
With a series of fast and powerful moves Ox bought his sword down repeatedly against the flashing limbs of their assailant. Three of the creature's limbs struck down at once disarming Ox and pinning his sword to the ground. Ox turned and ran. Wren was left alone.
With pure desperation Wren cut, stabbed and chopped at the creature but every one of his strokes was either parried or avoided.
The creature for the first time went on the offensive thrusting out with multiple limbs that Wren fought hard to parry. He took a sharp blow across his right knee that tore easily through his skin and he stumbled. The blow was followed by another hitting his injured shoulder and Wren heard a crunch and pop as his left arm was dislocated. Wren hit the ground hard and his vision swam for a second.
He looked up to see a mighty darkness looming above him. Many pointed legs aimed down directly at his chest. Any moment now they will fall piercing his body and pin him to the ground.
A Roar broke the now quiet night and Wren heard a dull crash as another shadow leapt above him and slammed into his would be killer knocking it off balance onto its upper side. It thrashed on the ground in an attempt to right itself.
"Here, quick!" and Ox offered his hand to the fallen, wounded Wren for the second time that evening. This time Wren accepted it with haste and pulled himself onto his feet wincing at the pain in his other shoulder as he did so.
Ox took Wren's sword then slung his arm under Wrens good shoulder supporting Wren's weight. Ox didn't even stop to collect his own sword before they stumbled together away from the still thrashing creature.
"I thought you had left me there." exclaimed Wren.
"No way, you never told me da' about the time I nearly killed you an' I swore I would serve you." Ox said matter of factly.
"Well tonight you have earned your release from my service." Wren patted Ox on the shoulder as best he could through the pain.
Ox didn't say another word.
The two heard distant clicking which seemed to come from many sources but none were close and soon they faded away. Wren succumbed to unconsciousness soon after as a familiar warmth spread through his injured limbs.
Ox half carried the unconscious body of Wren through the rest of the forest. He was worried. He and Wren had been through all sorts of bad situations together but none had left either of them in the condition that Wren was now in.
Ox was strong, always had been but now he felt himself weakening. He knew he had exerted a lot of energy whilst body ramming the beast they had just fought but surely not this much.
He could not understand it. Ox knew that he was nowhere near as smart as his friend and that there may have been a reasonable explanation for his quickly amounting lethargy but he couldn't figure it out.
It was as if something was sucking the very life out of him.
But he had to press on.
Wren was losing a lot of blood from his gashed knee. Ox could feel it running down the back of his left leg. He had slung Wren's right shoulder over his left and with every step Ox made more blood run off Wren and onto himself.
Ox wanted to stop and bind Wren's wound to halt the bleeding but he was afraid that whatever it was that had done this might still be tailing them.
He was not brave. He knew this. Wren had told him that many times and so did everyone else.
But he had acted bravely just a short while ago as Wren was about to be impaled on the long, pointy legs of that beast back there. Ox had been disarmed so he turned and ran. He had only got a short way before the sounds of battle grew more desperate. He knew Wren was fighting for his life and was very possibly losing.
Ox had berated himself before turning around to run back. He saw Wren lying on the ground and the beast rearing up, its forelimbs poised down to strike and take Wren's life.
Something in Ox had snapped and he bolted towards the scene of his friend's doom. He yelled, "Leave 'im alone you bastard!" and smashed into the creature knocking it onto its back.
He then gathered himself and walked back to Wren.
Wren had been lying on his back. Ox had seen the massive slash just above Wrens right knee and saw the blood flowing from the wound. It glistened black in the moonlight.
He offered Wren his hand and heaved him to his feet, took his sword and half dragged him away with Wren's arm slung over his shoulders.
Wren had not said much but one thing did stick in Ox's mind. Wren had freed him from service.
Thinking on all this Ox realized that he must have acted very brave indeed. Wren must have thought him as been equal to have freed him like that. In all the years that Ox had known him Wren had not said anything as joyous to Ox as that.
Ox stopped and slowly slid the burden off his shoulder and onto the ground. Wren muttered something that Ox could not understand then resumed his slumber.
Tearing off a strip of his tunic Ox appraised his friend's injury. Starting about an inch above the knee a diagonal gash ran from left to right running about five to six inches in length. It was open like a gaping maw and blood pulsed out of it like water lapping on a shoreline as the tide comes in.
It was easily an inch wide at the middle and ran deep. Ox wish he could see it better but the moons light was all he was given to illuminate what he was doing.
He wrapped the cloth strip above the wound, knotted it and pulled it tight.
Wren shot up forwards, bending at the waist and grabbed Ox's arm. He screamed in agony. Ox tried to push Wren back to the ground but Wren fought with a lot of strength that he could not compete with in his weakened state. He gave up trying to settle Wren back on the ground and instead used what strength he had to keep Wren from tearing at the makeshift bandage.
The wound was warm through the bandage and must have been caused by Wren's lifeblood pulsing against the cloth.
The pulsing became a rhythm and Ox was entranced by the beat. Ox felt like he was falling down upon and through himself. It felt like drowning and a release at the same time. He tried to fight it but the rhythm had him caught in its pulse and he could not escape.
He was aware of what was happening around him but he was unable to react. He could see Wren fighting against the cloth that bound the wound, could see Wren clawing at Ox's hand but he was unable to react.
Then Ox began to feel something else. The heat in the wound was building under his hand. It now grew with every pulse. Ox could feel himself slowly regaining his control. The drowning sensation had now transformed into the feeling of buoyancy as he was lifted back out of himself. Soon he regained complete control.
The cloth strip started to get very hot in Ox's hand and he had to let go.
Steam started to waft off the makeshift bandage and was accompanied by the smell of cooking meat.
Ox pulled away not knowing what was happening to his friend, what had happened to himself and watched the spectacle as it unfolded in front of him.
Wren was tugging at the bandage with his good arm but had to keep letting go as the heat was too much. Wren screamed again in the purest agony that Ox had ever witnessed in his life.
Sweat beaded and poured off of Wren's face mimicking the blood that had flowed when the wound was uncovered. His face was twisting and contorting in the same rhythm that his pulse beat.
The site around the bandage gave a soft red glow for a second before the cloth erupted in flames and a flash of brilliance vaporising the material instantly. Wren howled once before slumping backwards, again unconscious.
Ox was stunned but quickly pulled himself together.
He leant forwards to check on the wound. A thick crust now stemmed the bleeding and a lot of heat still emanated from the area. The smell of cooking meat was drifting away on the wind.
What had just happened?
Ox was full of questions but knowing none of them would be answered right away he bent down and pulled Wren back onto his shoulder. Realizing that the entire forest would have both seen and heard the clamor Ox gathered what strength he could and carried Wren through the rest of the forest towards the village.
Wren's sword lay in the dirt forgotten.
*
There is much more written so if you would like more let me know!
It is a little something that I began writing a while ago.
I wanted to write a piece of fiction set in the Warhammer Fantasy world that would appeal more to a younger reader (say 12-16) yet still be enjoyed by everyone else.
Its a work in progress as will be evident as much of the grammar, spelling etc is still poor but I still hope you7 will enjoy and give me some feedback.
CHAPTER 1:
Wren watched his opponent through slitted eyes. The sun was directly over his adversaries shoulder sending bright shafts of light into his face. Even though it was sunset the light was still a hindrance to Wren. His opponent had maneuvered himself into that position in an effort to gain a tactical advantage. Every time Wren made a move to circle his opponent they would side step keeping the sun in his eyes. This was highly annoying and if Wren wanted to change that fact he would have to fight for it.
Wren stabbed in with his sword aiming at his opponent's chest but they easily deflected it with a metallic clash using a lazy swing of their blade.
Wren was getting frustrated quick but if he let such emotions get away with him then his battle would be lost. He was known to be hot tempered and capable of bursts of rage, which would always land him in hot water. But he was only fourteen and going through that part of his life where emotions are rocky and careless.
A sudden movement from the front told him that his opponent was on the offensive. Wren raised his blade and with as much luck as skill managed to fend off the attack; but his opponent kept coming. A quick flurry of blows left Wren off guard as he struggled to parry what he could barely see.
The next blow landed on his left arm just below the shoulder. He was lucky that it was just the flat of the blade but still the pain quickly seeped into his muscles making them useless. He stepped back and to the right with his opponent following still keeping the sun in Wren's eyes.
Out of sheer desperation and fury Wren launched a quick assault but with his left arm now useless and dangling at his side he was slightly off balance and unable to put enough power into the blows. His opponent just held their sword in front of them and slightly to the right taking each and every one of Wrens attacks. Every slash that Wren made left him more and more off balance, but that was not on his mind. He had already fallen to the depths of his rage making him blind to what was happening around him and most important of all, what was happening to the front.
Wren made one last attack with all the power he had left at his disposal. His opponent swung back with equal force. The swords came together with a loud crash. The recoil of metal on metal put Wren off balance and his automatic reflexes were the only things that kept him from falling. His opponent was onto him quicker than Wren could rally, smashing him in the wounded arm with the pommel of their sword and sending him to the ground.
His arm screaming with pain Wren looked up at his adversary. Wren had fallen sideways and now his opponent stood above him, the setting sun illuminating him in red tones giving the impression of blood. He was looking down at him with triumph stretched across his face but Wren was not worried about his opponent's facial expressions. His immediate concern was the cold sharp bite of steel pressed into the flesh of his neck just above where his collarbones met.
"Do you concede?" His opponent asked in a deep voice that gave off an edge of cockiness.
"Never to the likes of you!" Wren was defiant. Although his opponent had him at his mercy he would never die pleading.
"You were meant to say yes! I always concede when you get one o'er me!"
His opponent was crestfallen. It was as if Wren's defiance had stolen away his victory. After a moment he shrugged and added, "Well anyway I did beat you squarely, right?" The question seemed more of a plead than a query.
"Squarely! You kept the sun in my eyes the entire time!" Wren was not going to give the victory away easily or with much grace. "That was downright unfair. I would never have done that to you Ox."
Ox looked at him as if to say 'yeah right' but nevertheless he held out his hand to help Wren up.
Wren slapped the offered hand away and heaved himself onto his feet. His arm still stung but warmth was now traveling along the muscles to sooth it. The calming and dulling effect of the warmth felt a lot like the effects of a balm that the village healer would apply to heal pulled muscles. This happened to a lot of his injuries and he has always been at a loss to explain it. He was sure that this was not something that everyone experienced but as it was helpful he didn't really worry about it too much.
Wren was tall and well toned for his age. His face had a well-built jaw and his eyes were blue and ever inquisitive. Many of his neighbors told him that he would come into being a very handsome man and some of the village girls would shoot glances in his direction.
He wore a dark blue tunic over a set of lighter blue hose that was held up with a thin black leather belt that also supported the scabbard that hung on his left side. His feet were protected by thick leather working boots and he wore a red woolen hat perched atop his head. Strands of wavy black hair shot out from under the cap at intervals around his skull. He was relatively clean considering he had spent most of the afternoon battling Ox on the grass.
Ox on the other hand was taller and widely built. A lot of his girth was muscle but he did enjoy his food. His hair was brown and cropped short against his skull and his eyes were brown, large and droopy.
He wore a dirty brown tunic that only just managed to stretch across his impressive gut and he also wore a lighter brown pair of farming pants. Thick once black boots covered his feet and ended in a reinforced leather toe. Although a belt was hardly needed Ox still wore one to hold his scabbard that sagged halfway down his thigh.
Ox's sword was a little shorter than Wren's but was much wider and almost twice the weight. If Ox got a good swing behind it Wren found it almost impossible to stop.
Soon enough the boy's animosity subsided and they began to walk back to their homes. They had been practicing their swordplay out in the lush grassy fields a little way from the village. They had been practicing like this ever since they had known each other. At first with sticks but as they advanced the sticks turned to wooden swords and when they turned thirteen they were allowed to carry proper blades.
Thirteen was the age of weapon bearing in the village. All able boys and men were expected to know how to wield a weapon for the protection of the village and both Wren and Ox had opted for swords.
Wren ran his eyes along the blade of his sword as they walked, checking for anything that would require him to repair. After he was satisfied that it had not suffered any major dents or chips he slid it into the scabbard that hung on his waist. He was fond of that sword as it was the first one he had made during his apprenticeship with the village blacksmith.
The sword had a good three-foot blade and when it was seated in its scabbard would almost touch the ground. But Wren was still growing and was confident that it would be the right size for him once he hit adulthood. He had begun his apprenticeship three years earlier when he was twelve. Straight away it was apparent that he had an uncanny ability when it came to working with metals. His master, Hamlyn, had been amazed at what Wren could create at such a young and as yet inexperienced age.
A year into his apprenticeship he had forged the sword that now hung at his waist. Wren had expected that the sword would be sold but when he turned thirteen he was surprised to have it placed in his possession. Although he had forged the Sword it was Hamlyn's wife Avery who had wrapped the hand grip in leathers dyed in the black and red of Wren's family colors.
Hamlyn had done the work on the scabbards chape (the metal tip of the scabbard) and locket (The mouth and collar of the scabbard) with the stylized hammer and tongs of Hamlyn's seal with an addition: The black bird that Wren had been named after. Hamlyn had proclaimed at that moment that Wren would be a great blacksmith and that this symbol would now be utilized in all of Wren's work.
It was a great Honor to have been bestowed upon him.
Coming out of his recollections of that time Wren noticed that Ox had picked up the pace. Although he was very large for a fifteen year old, Ox had never liked to be kept away from the village when night had fallen. They would have to pass back through a small section of woods on their way and Ox had never grown a taste for such places.
Ox's name was actually Oxfry Steindler but people always knew him by the name 'Ox'. Not only because it was a shortening of his name but because he had also grown to share traits with the beast of burden that was utilized in the farms around the village. Although he shared some of the physical traits he definitely did not share its demeanor. Ox was the least brave person that Wren knew. And since they were nearing the patch of woods that they needed to pass through Wren knew he would be once again privy to Ox's lack of bravery.
As they walked between the ancient trees of the forest that bordered their village Ox would start at every noise that emanated from the creeping dark. Twilight held the forest in its grip and overhead the deep dark purples of the lurking night gave the trees an eerie hue. Scurrying sounds could be heard in the undergrowth as smaller animals scrabbled back to their dens and burrows to slumber through the night.
They had walked along this much-unused path at least three times a week since they were twelve and yet Ox still had not learned to ignore the small noises. Neither of them spoke and Wren knew that if he had tried to start conversation Ox would not have responded as his mind would be racing at the possibilities behind the sounds.
Wren gave an almost imperceptible sigh and let his mind trail off as they walked the path. He thought of nothing in particular. It was a mishmash of memories about the day's education and work (which was one and the same in his apprenticeship) and how he had allowed himself to be beaten by Ox. Ox did have the advantage of brute strength; he needed it working the fields of his father's farmlands. He was not the brightest person in the world but his strength did make him useful.
He recalled when he first met Ox. Although they lived in a village numbering no more than two hundred people and had seen each other on more than one occasion, Wren and Ox only formally met when Wren was eight.
Wren had gone down to the creek that wound halfway around the village to enjoy a spot of fishing when he stumbled upon Ox walking back the other way. Ox had his pole slung over his shoulder and a good catch of fish trailing off its end. He could see that Ox had his hand up to his face, undoubtedly picking his nose as Wren had witnessed on other occasions but as Wren got closer he realized what Ox was doing. Ox had a decent sized fish in his hands and was allowing its flapping tail to hit him in the face. Ox looked highly amused and completely ignored Wren's presence.
Wren had continued down to the creek where he baited his hook and flicked out the line. He sat on the edge of the bank for what seemed like ages but nothing would take a bite. As the sun sank down on the horizon and the shadows of the trees grew longer he decided to pack it in. He pulled the line in, wrapping it around a stick as he went and when he had brought his hook back on shore he pressed its tip into the wooden rod and started to head back.
As he made his way back to the village he came across Ox again who wore a very determined look on his face.
"Halt, one fish tax if you want to head back!" He said it with an air of authority that lacked conviction.
"Why? Did all the other other fish die from the shock of having to slap you in the face all day?" Wren said this and kept walking not stopping for a second.
"I said HALT!" Ox was puffing up and going red in the face. Apparently he was not used to someone of around his age ignoring him.
Wren kept walking but when he was only a short distance from Ox, Ox bellowed something unintelligible and charged at him.
Wren quickly and with much force slammed Ox in the side of the head with his fishing rod but Ox kept coming and slammed into Wren knocking him unconscious.
When Wren came to he saw a very sorry looking Ox looking right into his face. "Far out, I thought I 'ad killed you!" He held out his hand, which Wren had begrudgingly accepted. "Don't tell me da' or he'll have me tied to a fence and beat'n till supper!"
"Oh good, will I get to do the beating?" Wren had no intention of telling anyone what had happened. At that stage he wanted to grow up to become a knight and did not want anyone to know the village moron had beaten him. But a knight needed his lackeys and if he played his cards right he might just be able to recruit one.
"Not only will I beat you but I will also have your supper!" By looking at the rather portly kid in front of him he knew that this threat would make an impression. Ox looked stunned at such a thing and began to blab apologies and 'it will never happen again'.
"What will I receive if I keep this between just you and me?"
"Well.... well." All the rushed apologies had made Ox lose his breath. "Well you can 'ave all the fish I caught t'day."
"What? After you've had them slap that face of yours? I'd prefer the plague!"
"But I don't 'ave nothin else. Oh, wait, you can 'ave 'enry my goose!" Although Ox had not looked too happy to be offering his beloved goose away it seemed he was desperate to do anything to save the situation.
Wren had thought for a short while then came up with a solution.
"Ok, how about this? You can be my squire? You will serve me and call me master." Wren said this with a slight grin that he tried to suppress as he was trying to seem as serious as possible.
"Uh, ok.. So I can keep 'enry?"
And that was how they met seven years ago. Ox referred to him as master for three of those seven years even though Wren had grown tired of it after only a few weeks.
Wren mused over the memory and when he was done he focused back on the present.
They were deep in the forest now and the night had well and truly settled in. The trunks of the trees stood as if on guard on either side of the path and Wren was looking at a oddly misshapen one that he had never noticed before when all of a sudden he crashed into the back of Ox.
"What you doing.."
"Shhhhhhh!" Ox was half hunched over peering into the darkness of the forest on the right side of the path. "I 'eard somethin'."
"It was probably just a bat or night bird" Wren paid absolutely no attention to the fear in Ox's voice as this was a regular occurrence during these night time returns to the village. "Come on, let's just keep going." And Wren started to walk on by the hunched over Ox who was still peering into the trees with all his attention.
"Wait, o'er there." One of Ox's hands flew out to grab hold of Wren's tunic and the other thrust out to point into the darkness. "I saw somethin' move."
Ox was speaking in very hushed tones. He was obviously very convinced that he had seen something. His eyes squinted in an effort to make out what he saw. He was using so much concentration that Wren thought he might burst. In an effort to humor his obviously agitated friend Wren followed with his eyes to the point where Ox was pointing. As he thought, there was nothing but it was difficult to see as the trees where shrouded in almost absolute darkness.
He half turned and was about to walk away dragging Ox with him when he caught movement out the corner of his eye where Ox was still pointing.
It was almost imperceptible, just a hint of the existence of movement. No, his eyes must be playing tricks on him. But there it was again it was slow and almost mechanical in its actions. Wren took a step towards the motion but Ox tightened the grip on his tunic stopping him fast.
"Lets just get outta'ere" His voice hissed out from between tight lips. But Wren was having none of that. He threw the restraining hand off him and took a few steps off the path towards the mysterious movement. As he walked further he stepped on a dry branch that had fallen onto the ground causing it to snap in what seemed like a deafening crash in the otherwise near quiet night.
The source of the movement must have heard it as it came to a complete still.
"See it's afraid." He only said this in an effort to calm Ox down as his breathing was becoming quite loud and he was making the repeated clicking sounds with his tongue that he made when he was either scared, nervous or both. The comment must have worked as the clicking eased off and eventually stopped in no time at all.
But Ox's clicking was replaced with another clicking. It sounded like two sticks being hit together with a pattern that was both random and methodical. It was made up of both high and low tones with frequent stops and starts that broke up the hints of patterns in its frequency.
Ox's heavy clicking started again with renewed vigor.
"What is that?" Wren asked half to himself as he knew Ox would be unable to answer through the terror he was experiencing.
Wren bent down and foraged in the undergrowth whilst still keeping his eyes trained in the direction of the clicking. Once he found what he was looking for, a decently fist sized stone, he slowly stood back up to his full height and drew his arm back in order to hurl the chunk of rock at the unknown target.
The clicking stopped and he thought he heard another set of sounds that sounded like speech in a tongue he had never heard before. As a matter of fact what he thought he heard sounded unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was a mid toned guttural rambling that gave off the impression that whatever it was that was making it was very much alert as to what Wren was doing.
Without waiting another heartbeat Wren hurled the rock with all his might. After a second he heard the rock hit something solid that was neither tree nor ground and waited in anticipation.
He did not have to wait long.
A flurry of movement erupted from the place where his rock hit and came towards him with a speed that he could not match if he had chosen to run away. It sped at him with a grace that belied its mechanical nature. Its motion was stilted, stuttering yet graceful. It was like a wave of many separate movements all combined to give the beast its motion.
Wren drew and held his sword out in front of him, tip reaching into the dark. In the gloom as it got closer he could see hints of many angles all moving in time to speed it along.
Ox was now standing to the left and behind him, sword drawn but in a manner that betrayed his lack of confidence in what he was doing. He clicked uncontrollably and the thing clicked back.
It was about ten feet away when Wren took a quick step forward and struck out with his sword in a wide right hand slash. Something shot up to deflect his blow but the sword passed through it. Something wet washed over Wrens sword arm but it was not warm. The creature screeched and renewed its attack with much more force.
Ox stepped in with a stab forwards but his blade was knocked aside by multiple appendages. Wren swung back from his left but his blade was stopped with a metallic clash. Wren felt something whoosh past his ear and he quickly bought his sword up and pushed it further aside.
With a series of fast and powerful moves Ox bought his sword down repeatedly against the flashing limbs of their assailant. Three of the creature's limbs struck down at once disarming Ox and pinning his sword to the ground. Ox turned and ran. Wren was left alone.
With pure desperation Wren cut, stabbed and chopped at the creature but every one of his strokes was either parried or avoided.
The creature for the first time went on the offensive thrusting out with multiple limbs that Wren fought hard to parry. He took a sharp blow across his right knee that tore easily through his skin and he stumbled. The blow was followed by another hitting his injured shoulder and Wren heard a crunch and pop as his left arm was dislocated. Wren hit the ground hard and his vision swam for a second.
He looked up to see a mighty darkness looming above him. Many pointed legs aimed down directly at his chest. Any moment now they will fall piercing his body and pin him to the ground.
A Roar broke the now quiet night and Wren heard a dull crash as another shadow leapt above him and slammed into his would be killer knocking it off balance onto its upper side. It thrashed on the ground in an attempt to right itself.
"Here, quick!" and Ox offered his hand to the fallen, wounded Wren for the second time that evening. This time Wren accepted it with haste and pulled himself onto his feet wincing at the pain in his other shoulder as he did so.
Ox took Wren's sword then slung his arm under Wrens good shoulder supporting Wren's weight. Ox didn't even stop to collect his own sword before they stumbled together away from the still thrashing creature.
"I thought you had left me there." exclaimed Wren.
"No way, you never told me da' about the time I nearly killed you an' I swore I would serve you." Ox said matter of factly.
"Well tonight you have earned your release from my service." Wren patted Ox on the shoulder as best he could through the pain.
Ox didn't say another word.
The two heard distant clicking which seemed to come from many sources but none were close and soon they faded away. Wren succumbed to unconsciousness soon after as a familiar warmth spread through his injured limbs.
Ox half carried the unconscious body of Wren through the rest of the forest. He was worried. He and Wren had been through all sorts of bad situations together but none had left either of them in the condition that Wren was now in.
Ox was strong, always had been but now he felt himself weakening. He knew he had exerted a lot of energy whilst body ramming the beast they had just fought but surely not this much.
He could not understand it. Ox knew that he was nowhere near as smart as his friend and that there may have been a reasonable explanation for his quickly amounting lethargy but he couldn't figure it out.
It was as if something was sucking the very life out of him.
But he had to press on.
Wren was losing a lot of blood from his gashed knee. Ox could feel it running down the back of his left leg. He had slung Wren's right shoulder over his left and with every step Ox made more blood run off Wren and onto himself.
Ox wanted to stop and bind Wren's wound to halt the bleeding but he was afraid that whatever it was that had done this might still be tailing them.
He was not brave. He knew this. Wren had told him that many times and so did everyone else.
But he had acted bravely just a short while ago as Wren was about to be impaled on the long, pointy legs of that beast back there. Ox had been disarmed so he turned and ran. He had only got a short way before the sounds of battle grew more desperate. He knew Wren was fighting for his life and was very possibly losing.
Ox had berated himself before turning around to run back. He saw Wren lying on the ground and the beast rearing up, its forelimbs poised down to strike and take Wren's life.
Something in Ox had snapped and he bolted towards the scene of his friend's doom. He yelled, "Leave 'im alone you bastard!" and smashed into the creature knocking it onto its back.
He then gathered himself and walked back to Wren.
Wren had been lying on his back. Ox had seen the massive slash just above Wrens right knee and saw the blood flowing from the wound. It glistened black in the moonlight.
He offered Wren his hand and heaved him to his feet, took his sword and half dragged him away with Wren's arm slung over his shoulders.
Wren had not said much but one thing did stick in Ox's mind. Wren had freed him from service.
Thinking on all this Ox realized that he must have acted very brave indeed. Wren must have thought him as been equal to have freed him like that. In all the years that Ox had known him Wren had not said anything as joyous to Ox as that.
Ox stopped and slowly slid the burden off his shoulder and onto the ground. Wren muttered something that Ox could not understand then resumed his slumber.
Tearing off a strip of his tunic Ox appraised his friend's injury. Starting about an inch above the knee a diagonal gash ran from left to right running about five to six inches in length. It was open like a gaping maw and blood pulsed out of it like water lapping on a shoreline as the tide comes in.
It was easily an inch wide at the middle and ran deep. Ox wish he could see it better but the moons light was all he was given to illuminate what he was doing.
He wrapped the cloth strip above the wound, knotted it and pulled it tight.
Wren shot up forwards, bending at the waist and grabbed Ox's arm. He screamed in agony. Ox tried to push Wren back to the ground but Wren fought with a lot of strength that he could not compete with in his weakened state. He gave up trying to settle Wren back on the ground and instead used what strength he had to keep Wren from tearing at the makeshift bandage.
The wound was warm through the bandage and must have been caused by Wren's lifeblood pulsing against the cloth.
The pulsing became a rhythm and Ox was entranced by the beat. Ox felt like he was falling down upon and through himself. It felt like drowning and a release at the same time. He tried to fight it but the rhythm had him caught in its pulse and he could not escape.
He was aware of what was happening around him but he was unable to react. He could see Wren fighting against the cloth that bound the wound, could see Wren clawing at Ox's hand but he was unable to react.
Then Ox began to feel something else. The heat in the wound was building under his hand. It now grew with every pulse. Ox could feel himself slowly regaining his control. The drowning sensation had now transformed into the feeling of buoyancy as he was lifted back out of himself. Soon he regained complete control.
The cloth strip started to get very hot in Ox's hand and he had to let go.
Steam started to waft off the makeshift bandage and was accompanied by the smell of cooking meat.
Ox pulled away not knowing what was happening to his friend, what had happened to himself and watched the spectacle as it unfolded in front of him.
Wren was tugging at the bandage with his good arm but had to keep letting go as the heat was too much. Wren screamed again in the purest agony that Ox had ever witnessed in his life.
Sweat beaded and poured off of Wren's face mimicking the blood that had flowed when the wound was uncovered. His face was twisting and contorting in the same rhythm that his pulse beat.
The site around the bandage gave a soft red glow for a second before the cloth erupted in flames and a flash of brilliance vaporising the material instantly. Wren howled once before slumping backwards, again unconscious.
Ox was stunned but quickly pulled himself together.
He leant forwards to check on the wound. A thick crust now stemmed the bleeding and a lot of heat still emanated from the area. The smell of cooking meat was drifting away on the wind.
What had just happened?
Ox was full of questions but knowing none of them would be answered right away he bent down and pulled Wren back onto his shoulder. Realizing that the entire forest would have both seen and heard the clamor Ox gathered what strength he could and carried Wren through the rest of the forest towards the village.
Wren's sword lay in the dirt forgotten.
*
There is much more written so if you would like more let me know!
