19th day of the Fire Moon
I feel as if I’m
stuffed in a box. I can’t breathe.
His body was on fire with the pain. Kyler of Jurendeldt carefully opened his
eyes. Groaning with the effort, he carefully tested his right arm. His forearm
and hand throbbed but Kyler didn’t think any bones were broken. Flexing muscles, Kyler was happy his left arm
was also relatively well. Something felt off with his left shoulder but his
back seemed fine. The battle-wounded
knight took his time to sit up.
Palpating along the bone of his shoulder he found the
source of the hellish pain: an arrow was embedded. The tip had gone through his
hauberk and stuck fast. Gritting his teeth and swearing Kyler yanked out the
projectile. He could feel fresh blood dripping from the raw wound.
Kyler rubbed the grit and blood from his eyes. Slowly the
blurred landscape came into focus. He
was surrounded by piles of corpses. A headless warrior still griping a sword in
its left hand lay partially over Kyler’s legs. Two more bodies hemmed him in.
Ignoring the pain from a multitude of cuts bruises and
over-taxed muscles, Kyler pushed the bodies of his dead comrades off and away
from his. He took stock of his location.
Thick grey clouds towered in the distance. The air was
thick with humidity. Kyler swore he saw a burst of lightning on the horizon. A
storm was coming his way.
“Who won the battle? Zabe’s Blood, where are my friends
Josilin and Sandin? Why wasn’t I taken from the field by the Golden Arrows?” He
looked at the devastation around him. Dead men, horses, and dogs were piled
almost two thick about the meadow. Grass was trampled to mud and coated black
with blood, bile, and gore. His own mount, Dario, stared at him with lifeless
eyes. The stallion’s once dappled grey coat a pincushion of barbed arrows.
A cloud of despair shrouded Kyler. “What do I do now?
Where do I go?” He recognized more companions. Not a one displayed any signs of
life.
Tears fell from Kyler’s eyes leaving a trail of
light-colored flesh amidst the grime and gore on his cheeks. “Gone, all
gone...and I don’t know why we were fighting other than the King’s edict.”
Gentle tears turned to violent sobs, every move sending tendrils of pain along
his abused body.
When the crying subsided, Kyler let out a deep sigh. “I
can’t stay here.” Carrion birds were already feasting on the dead: vultures,
ravens, and a pair of blue eagles hopped from carcass to carcass. A growl let
Kyler know the four-footed scavengers were also getting their share. He spotted
jackals, a forest cat, and a pack of wolves scattered on the field. Yes, it was
time to leave before he became the next meal.
Locating his sword under a Witcenogran mercenary, Kyler
walked the battle-born obstacle course. It took a candle mark to get free of
the fighting area skirting the dead all the way. Hating himself but knowing his
life could depend on having supplies, he rummaged through the clothing and
packs of the bodies stiff with rigor mortis. He gathered food, water, and more
than a few coins. Without a glance
backward, Kyler finally made it to a stand of maple trees.
Feeling exhausted Kyler sipped from a water skin and
choked down a piece of jerky.
“I need to get out of here. Please, Lady Jaira, let me
find a live horse.”
No deity answered his plea for help. I shouldn’t be surprised. The Gods have their own agendas. Saving one
feckless warrior isn’t a priority.
He decided on a direction and started walking. Kyler needed to find shelter before the
deluge hit. Trudging onward he kept moving. After an eternity of marching,
Kyler heard a familiar noise. He turned to the direction of the noise.
A bay horse watched the knight approach. The stallion
whickered a greeting. It tried to move but was stopped short when its dangling
reins caught on a tree stump.
“Buddy, your misfortune is a blessing in disguise.” He
made soothing sounds in order not to frighten the animal. Untying the tangled
leather, Kyler patted the horse’s neck. “I’m so tired. Thank you for being
here.” He climbed aboard the bay’s saddle and urged the horse to a steady walk.The pleasant breeze soon turned to a steady blow. As the
thunderstorm grew closer, trees began to sway. Rain fell in a steady beat, occasionally
pushed by the wind to an undulating sheet of water. Slender branches and fat
limbs broke free and littered the forest floor. A squirrel chattered while it
ran up an oak tree only hesitating to shake its body before scampering inside a
hole in the tree’s trunk.
Kyler wrapped his mantle around his shoulders. The motion
caused a bolt of pain to shoot along his upper body. A jay screamed at the passing human, warning
him away from her nest.
Finally, Kyler spotted a sanctuary: a cave slightly
hidden by shrubs. He dismounted and led the horse through the opening.
The cave widened the further in the two walked. There was
plenty of room for both man and stallion.
Kyler unsaddled the bay. Braving the wet outside, he
gathered enough wood for a fire. He decided on one more excursion to pick a
handful of vegetation for the beast. He shivered against the cold.
Praying the
wood wasn’t too wet to burn he carved out a hole in the dirt for a fire.
Whispering thanks when a spark appeared, he added more fodder until a blazing
fire lit the surface. He stripped down to his linens in order to hang his
clothes to dry.
Sorting through his pack, Kyler took out a hunk of
cheese, some dried meat, and a stale loaf of bread. He ate sparingly. He spread
out the blankets and fell to a fitful sleep, memories of the fight plaguing his
dreams.
How could a Fire
moon day be so cold? Kyler woke to find the fire down to a few smoldering
pieces. He threw on more wood to get the blaze going again. He looked around to
discover the horse gone. “I’m still alive...why me?” Guilt overwhelmed Kyler. He thought about his friends. Had they
suffered? What of Lord Borean? Had he survived or was his body one of a
thousand back on that field of horror? The depression of being hurt and alone
was too much. He lay back down and drifted to sleep.
XXX
Two years passed. Kyler made a home out of the cave. A
crude wooden cot, a table, and set carved from a downed tree added to his
comforts. A rack held drying deer meat.
Thanks to the battlefield debris, Kyler had an eclectic collection of
pots, mugs, and assorted weapons. A shelf with boxes of spices and a few
precious candles was carved in the cave wall. A selection of neatly folded
hides occupied another shelf. A tripod with a cooking pot stood over the
ever-present fire filled with perpetual stew.
Nature had cleaned the scene of the conflict leaving
scattered skeletons to attest to the ferocity of the battle. Travelers avoided the area claiming it was
haunted by a fierce warrior of the forest. Kyler wouldn’t know about the rumors
– he kept away from people altogether.
His physical wounds had long healed leaving him with a
stiff but usable shoulder. His body was covered in scars. Kyler had grown a
beard the same color as his hair – straw yellow with dark streaks. He hardly
spoke a word except when he slept and cried out with nightmares. He spent his
days hunting & fishing to build up his winter stores.
Kyler planned on spending the rest of his life alone in
the cave. It was just punishment for waking when others died.
XXX
A cloudless fall sky was broken by a pair of blue eagles
cavorting in the air. A Trihorn doe with twin fawns ate tender spring grass.
She froze upon hearing strange noises. Fearing the worst, the doe and two fawns
leaped away to hide within the forest.
Playing a merry tune on a wooden flute a solitary man
meandered along the trees. He was lightly burdened with a backpack and a
water skin held by a thin strap hung over over his shoulder. Well worn but
sturdy clothes made of a brown linen embroidered with red and green birds
showed he was no peasant. A brown belt wrapped twice around his waist, complete
with a short sword and dagger in matching scabbards. His black hair was pulled
back and held with a leather cord tipped with a red feather.
Bird song accompanied the music.
He stopped. “You have outdone yourself my lord. It is a
perfect day to wander through Your domain, Lord Kywedyn.” Aye,
what more can I ask from the Gods? This place is no more occupied by the ghosts
of slain warriors than my dear mother’s home in Grenhil. I haven’t seen tracks,
heard another’s voice, or seen another man in two days. I doubt the forest
warrior exists.
As the day sun began its journey below and the Mother
& Daughter moons started their climb to the heavens, Culwich decided it was
time to find a suitable campground.
Not paying attention, Culwich was startled when a large
cinnamon-colored bear blocked his path. The sow growled, clamped its jaws and
started stomping her front paws on the ground.
Culwich gulped. He was between the female and two brown
cubs – the young bears scrambling to climb a tree off to his left side. The
mother charged.
The minstrel drew his sword. He knew he couldn’t out run
the bear. “Zabe, grant me strength to fight well!”
The bear stopped in front of the man and slashed the
singer with her claws. Culwich jumped back, trying to sidestep out of her reach
while swinging his blade at her face. The enraged bear smacked him hard,
slamming him to the ground. Culwich could smell her fetid breath as she roared
at him.
Two arrows struck the ursine from behind the downed
man. She stood on her back legs and
swiped at the projectiles in her chest. A third arrow entered the animal’s eye.
With a final growl, the mother crashed to the forest floor.
Culwich groaned. He was bleeding from multiple injuries
and his head felt like a blacksmith was pounding a nail into his brain with an
axe. He thought he saw a strange dressed in furs approaching him.
“Can you hear me? What is your name?” the man asked with
a harsh voice that sounded as if it wasn’t used often.
“I’m Culwich...is the bear dead?”
“Just relax, Culwich. I’ll get you to a safe place.”
“Thank you.” Culwich let his head drop to the ground. The
forest began to blur. He soon passed out.
XXX
Nature called. Culwich carefully opened his eyes. He was
in a well-furnished cave with a large fire burning. He lay on a cot snuggled between furs. He
tried to sit up using his hands and bit back a scream. His left arm was bound
with hide and thick branches.
“Easy friend, your left arm is broken. You must have
fallen on it after that bear tossed you in the air. I stitched the wounds closed and have been
putting poultices on them for a week now. I don’t think you’ll get blood
poisoning.”
“Thank you. I don’t suppose you’d help me up so I can
take care of some urgent needs?” Culwich hesitated, “I’m sorry, but I don’t
know your name. What should I call you?”
“Sorry, call me John.”
The man called John moved over to help Culwich. After the minstrel had
refreshed himself, he limped over to the fire and sat down on a makeshift seat
made form a tree stump.
Kyler handed his guest a mug filled with water. “Here,
I’m sure you’re parched. I have food if you feel up to eating.”
“Yes, please. I’m starving.” Culwich studied his host.
The man had long blond hair tied back with a leather thong. His clothes were mishmash
of deerskin and cloth. He had to be 5’8. Corded muscles circle his arms. His
light blue eyes betrayed his sadness. Why
is he living out here all alone? Could he be the forest warrior?
“What happened to the bear and her cubs?”
“I killed mother to save your life. The young bears
climbed down the tree and ran off. “
“I’m sorry...I never saw her.”
“It’s over and done. You are welcome to stay until your
injuries heal. It’s been a while time since I was around another person.”
“I appreciate the offer, John. I am curious: why are you
here in the forest all alone?”
“It’s not important. I will assure you I’m no criminal. I
just have no desire to live in a town.”
Culwich and Kyler fell into a routine. Kyler would hunt
and gather supplies while Culwich took over the cooking & cleaning
duties. They spent the evening hours
playing dice or cards. Culwich told stories and enthralled Kyler with tales
from his travels. Culwich often wondered about Kyler. What caused the man to
cry out during his sleep and wake in a drenching sweat?
As fall came to an end Culwich debated whether or not to
continue his journey or to stay with his new friend. John is hiding his past from me. Why is he so reluctant to speak of his
life to me?
One night while an early winter storm howled outside, Culwich
prepared a brace of rabbits for dinner. Kyler was towards the rear of the cave.
The older man was taking a bath.
Culwich couldn’t help but stare at the scars on his
companion’s back. The flesh was crisscrossed with raised white ridges.
“Zabe’s Blood, John, who did that to you?”
Kyler halted. He closed his eyes as scenes from the many
battles he fought in ran through his memory. “I was a knight serving Lord
Borean of Jurendeldt. Our King, Hilag of
Bexia, engaged in a blood feud with King Varska of Witcenogra. Some idiot
knight killed Varska’s brother. Witcenogra declared war and we met in countless
battles. Not too far from here is a meadow where the final fight was waged.”
Kyler stood and dried off. Donning his clothes, Kyler
joined Culwich by the cooking fire. He poured a small amount of vorane in two goblets.
He handed one to Culwich.
“I can’t say how many men I killed that day. I don’t know
who wounded me but I remember waking up buried under bodies with arrows in my
shoulder. Everyone, everything, around me was dead. I guess the Golden Arrow
priests believed me dead else I would have been taken off the field. My best
friends lay slaughtered close by. My poor war horse, Dario, was littered with
arrows. It was too much to bear. I just
couldn’t stand the thought of going home. I’m not even sure if home still exists.”
“I am sorry you went through that pain. If it helps,
Varska and Hilag signed a peace treaty.”
“That is good to know. Still, I can’t help wonder why I
was spared by Zabe while my friends died. My family was killed during the
initial skirmish. There is no one left with my name except me.”
He couldn’t help himself, Culwich had to know. “What is
your true name?”
“I was, and still am, Sir Kyler of Jurendeldt. I was my
sire’s third son. He was killed by Witcenogran soldiers before the last battle.”
“I am so sorry for your loss, Sir Kyler.”
Kyler set a hand on Culwich’s shoulder, “Please, just
Kyler. I don’t consider myself a knight any longer.”
“This explains your nightmares and why you have cut
yourself off from other people.” He gave Kyler a friendly pat on his hand. “I
wasn’t certain whether I should leave or stay. With your honesty, I think I
shall stay a while. No one should be solitary for the rest of their life. Once
my arm heals, perhaps I can teach you how to play the flute in turn for lessons
on archery?”
Kyler smiled. “I think we can do that. It is nice to have
a friend to converse with. Other than the occasional traveler passing by, I’ve
had little contact with people.”
“Excellent. I think next time men pass through we should
try to trade for some wine, flour, and fresh vegetables. Let’s consider
building a cottage and planting a kitchen garden. I am tired of moving about.
Perhaps it is time to stake some roots.”
“Sounds like a good plan. We’ll start on the cottage in
the spring. Maybe we should take a short trip to the closest village to get
supplies before the winter sets in. I wouldn’t mind getting a dog.”
They clasped hands to seal the bargain. Culwich went back
to preparing dinner whistling a cheerful tune. He decided to help heal Kyler’s
hurts. I think Kywedyn brought us
together for a reason. We need each other. I can help him clear his demons and
Kyler has a badly needed friend.
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