Book two

Part 2:1

Seth stood at the crossroad of the trail that split between the woods and the southward way to the wilderness. He covered his nose and mouth, gagging, as he stared at the two bodies hanging from the branch of a tree. They were stiff and pale, eyes blank, and the rope that tied their necks to the branch creaked and groaned with every breath of wind. He almost felt sorry for them. Neither of them looked very old, and he wondered if they had families waiting for them. Would anyone miss them? He knew one of them was called Dav, and for lack of a name he had called the other ‘Bearded’. It didn’t matter much anyway, they got what they deserved. He shuddered and turned away from the bodies.

Looking along the path that he would usually have taken, he imagined running into the woods with Lucas close behind. Everything had changed when their father died, and to make things worse, Lord Brack arrived with his band of mercenaries and took away everything he had ever known. In his mind he could picture his home. No longer the simple stone house with a thatched roof and chimney, but a charred wreck with collapsed roof and walls. He didn’t want to turn around and look, if he did, he might lose his courage. Getting the deed back was all that mattered now, and he wasn’t going to let anything get in his way. With a thick throat and tears welling in his eyes, he readied to step closer to the wilderness than he had ever been before.

“I guess I’m about to find out Lucas,” he said with a quivering smile, and hoisted his hastily prepared bag of supplies over his shoulder. He felt at the sling that was tucked into the belt of his pants and took the first step.

Soon he was striding along the path, each step taking him closer to the green hills in the distance. The further he walked the more confident he started to feel, and his grief and sadness had given way to let his anger simmer. How he would actually get the deed from Brack he had no idea. But he told himself he would think of something by the time he caught up. Maybe even make Lord Brack pay for destroying his home.

The sun was slipping behind the distant mountains to the west, and the cool breeze turned to a chill wind as the day neared dusk. Soon he’d have to look for somewhere to camp, try to light a fire and wait until morning to continue. Several meters ahead he spied a depression off the trail that edged the tree line. Surrounded by bushes and shaped like a bowl, it was deep enough to shield him from the worst of the winds. Lacking any real experience in woodcraft, he decided it was as good a place as any and tossed his bag into the center and crawled down the side. After clearing a space for his camp, he gathered sticks and branches and neatly stacked them into a point over dried leaves and twigs, dusted his hands on his pants and looked around the camp. Satisfied, he picked up the bag and rummaged for the flint and steel he had taken from the stable. His father was a practical man and kept all sorts of tools and equipment saying: ‘You never know when you may need it!’

A sad smile crept onto Seth’s face as he rubbed his thumb across the smooth, dark piece of flint. His father was a firm man, never showing emotion or much affection, and distant most of the time, staring into space and seemingly caught in his own haunted memories. Not that he was a bad man, he never beat him or anything like that, and he knew his father loved him, but it was difficult to live up to his expectations. Always having to be the responsible one. Always having to be the grown up. Seth couldn’t help but resent his brother, just a little, if he hadn’t been born maybe things would have been different and his mother would still be alive. He loved Lucas, couldn’t imagine a world without him, but sometimes it was a bitter broth to swallow.

He cracked the flint against the steel several times before producing a spark big enough to catch the twigs and leaves, then remembering his father’s instructions, leaned in and blew until the flames flared and licked up the sides of the campfire. He sat back, crossed his legs, and searched the bag producing an apple and a strip of salted meat. He looked at his meager supplies; an extra piece of meat, two apples and a carrot, a dagger, and some strips of cloth and wondered how long it would take to catch up to Lord Brack. Surely he was no more than a half days walk behind; even horses had to rest, he reasoned. He took a bite of the meat and chewed while staring into the campfire. Visions of his father lying among the flames haunted him. No longer feeling hungry, he tossed the meat onto the fire and laid down, watching the smoke drift towards the night sky and disappear into the stars.

Seth woke with a start. The fire had long gone cold, and he was shivering. It felt especially cold this morning and he knew this was the first sign that Frostfall was coming. He stood up, hugged himself and rubbed his shoulders, and remembering what his father had said about dousing a campfire, kicked dirt onto the ashes. Content with his efforts he picked up his bag and climbed the edge of the depression. It was early dawn and the sun’s rays were cresting the horizon, and a mist hovered over the long grass of the plains. Taking in a deep breath of cold air, he slung the bag over his shoulder and set off along the trail.

By mid-day he was tired, and his feet were sore, and the constant wind blowing across the plains whistled in his ears causing them to ache. He stopped and laid down in the long grass and closed his eyes, listening to the wind as it rustled through the grasses. When he opened his eyes again, the sun had crept into the west and hovered over the mountains.

Seth sat up. “Damn!” He whispered, angry with himself. He took off his left shoe and studied the worn sole, while rubbing at the blister on his heel. It was then that he noticed the wind had stopped, taking with it the soft rustle of the grass, even the forest had gone silent. A tingle swept down his neck and he had the feeling he was being watched. Trying not to be obvious, he turned his head slightly and peered toward the trees. A shape darting between shadows caught his eye and he jerked his head up. But there was nothing. I’m just imagining things, he thought. But the feeling increased.

He slipped his shoe back on, snatched up his bag, and walked to the edge of the forest; his eyes jumping from tree to shadow. As he neared the tree line, someone, or something, not much taller than himself sprang out and ran deeper into the forest.

Startled, Seth cried out: “Hey, stop!” and sprinted after them.