Cinders of the Past

The smell of venison stew filled the little forest cabin. The last wisps of sunlight crept through the lone window and warmed Luren’s gaunt, pale face. A chorus of wolves howled from deeper in the woods. Luren ran his pale fingers through his long black hair and sat down at his window where his food waited on a small table. His gaze rested on the village of Fenwall just out of the forest’s reach. Going to have to go into town tomorrow. Trade for some supplies from Selene’s.

A low gumble echoed from Luren’s gut, pulling his attention to the steaming contents of his bowl, “You were a good hunt, and a hard-earned meal.” Luren devoured the stew as he watched the stars appear in the sky.

The patter of paws and rustling of the brush broke Luren from his meal. Six wolves appeared from their cover and formed a semi-circle around the window. A wolf, twice the size of the the others in the pack approached from the brush baring its teeth. Luren smiled and leaned out the window, the large wolf came within inches of his face and snapped at him.

“You know who I am. I was there when you were born. You put your mother through a lot of pain that night, but I made sure she lived.”

The large wolf snarled.

Luren held the beast’s gaze. A long moment passed. Luren nodded to the trees, “Go on, take your pack in peace from this place.”

A cool breeze blew between them. The wolf snapped at Luren once more before returning to the forest followed by its pack.

Luren sighed. “Such a troublesome child.” He rose from his seat and moved towards his bed.

One of the boards creaked and bent under his weight as he passed by the fireplace. An inaudible whisper prickled at the back of his scalp as if it were trying to burrow into his mind. Feeling exhaustion set in, Luren shook his head and climbed into his bed. He stared at the palm of his left hand and contemplated the wine-colored mark that traced the lines of his palm. Sleep took hold of him. Surrounded by darkness, Luren drifted through a dreamless sleep. A war-horn sounded and dragged him into a nightmare. Luren now stood upon a battlefield that was familiar to him. The ground was littered with bodies surrounded by ruined walls and buildings. Rain pelted Luren, stinging his face. There were screams though he could not tell where they came from. Luren bolted down the path he found himself on. A woman’s voice cried out to him, “Where are you?”

“I’m here!” Luren shouted.

The faint sound of hooves pounding the mud rattled in Luren’s ears. Luren turned his sight to a nearby hill, he could see his wife and children beckoning and screaming at him. Luren sprinted towards them. For each step he took Luren began to sink into the ground as the sound of hooves grew louder. “Aleena, run!”

A horseman clad in crimson armor and a red great helm appeared on the crest of the hill. He raised a black blade high in the air and rode for Luren’s family. Luren sank deeper and deeper into the ground, he heard his son’s voice, “Daddy, help!”

Luren cried out as the rider trampled his family, grinding their bodies into the hillside as it charged him. As the horse smashed into Luren, he sprang to life in his bed. Screaming, he drew a hunting knife and stabbing it into the wall next to him. The blade stuck into the wood and created a new gash to join a dozen others like it. Sweat and tears drenched Luren’s face. Luren pulled the blade free and returned it to its sheath. Luren wiped his face clean with his blanket and rose from the bed. He grabbed a sack of furs from the corner of the room, his bow and quiver, then stormed out the door.

The sound of birds, and the fresh air that accompanied the long walks into town had always been able to calm his nerves. Upon entering Fenwall, Luren was met by the sounds of construction. Luren passed through the village square where a large stage was being built. It was joined by a dozen tables, several large kegs and food stands. Luren marched across the square towards a sign that read ‘Selene’s Trade House’ in big, blue letters. The door was already open, Luren gave three knocks on the wooden door frame. Selene’s voice answered from inside, “Don’t worry, Robert, I’ll be sending the kids to help you with the preparations in a few minutes.”

Luren glanced around the room looking for Selene. “Don’t worry, it’s not the mayor, just a humble woodsman.”

Selene’s head popped out from under the counter. Her disheveled brown hair clung to her face. “Luren? Come on in then, at least you won’t nag me.” She hoisted a crate onto the countertop.

“Robert does take his summer festivals seriously,” Luren’s eyes widened as a realization crossed his mind. “If the summer festival starts tomorrow, then the twin’s birthday is today, isn’t it?”

“They’re twelve now.”

Embarrassment reddened Luren pale cheeks. “I’ve been so busy lately I- I forgot.”

“Then I suppose we should conduct business before they realize you’re here. What do you need?”

“Arrow heads, salt, honey, in exchange for furs and hides, the usual.”

“Luren?” A boy’s voice called from a nearby stairwell.

A mischievous grin grew on Selene’s face. “You’re in trouble now.”

Two pairs of footsteps rushed down the stairs, a boy and a girl caught Luren in a tight embrace. Returning the hug, Luren looked down and smiled at Durn and Lenna. “Happy birthday, you two.”

“I thought we told you not to be a stranger the last time you came,” Durn said.

“You are welcome to have supper with us, mother even said so.” Lenna gave Luren a smile that reminded him of his daughter.

“I also said he’d have to bring his share of the meal with him!” Selene said.

“Speaking of bringing things, I forgot to get you two something for your birthday.”

The twins pulled away from Luren and grinned at each other. Lenna spoke first. “Well, to make up for not having gifts for us, you could come around more.”

“And I remember you promising to teach me how to shoot my father’s bow last year.” Durn added.

Feigning reluctance, Luren crossed his arms. “That’s up to your mother.”

“I think it’s about time you teach a boy to feed his family, woodsman.”

“What about the mayor?”

Selene brushed a lock of hair from her brow. “You just worry about teaching Durn how to shoot, let me handle Robert.”

Luren laughed. “I guess it’s time I show you how to handle a bow then, Durn,”

Durn smiled. “I’ll go get father’s bow!”

Luren watched the boy sprint up the stairs and then turned to Lenna. “Before I leave, I think I may have something to give you.” Luren reached into his pocket and produced an opal amulet. “It belonged to my daughter, and it should be worn proudly rather than left to gather dust in the dark.”

“Luren, I couldn’t.”

Luren placed the amulet in Lenna’s hand. “You’ll put it to better use than I could.”

Lenna nodded. Durn came running down the stairs, bow in one hand, and a quiver of arrows in the other. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”

Luren took his supplies and said his farewells. The pair made small talk as they traveled into the woods. “So, you want to be a bowman like your father?”

Durn nodded, “He was the best archer in the village, mother says he won the archery competition every year at the festival until he went off to fight the Crimson Tyrant and…”

“Didn’t make it,” Luren finished the boy’s sentence. A grim understanding settled on his face, “The war against the Crimson Tyrant took family from me as well.”

“You had a family?”

“I didn’t always live alone out in the woods. I had a beautiful wife and two wonderful children in my life.”

“Do you miss them?” Durn’s gaze was fixed on his bow.

“Every day but spending time with your family does help to lessen the emptiness.” Luren eyed the small clearing they found themselves in and stopped. Eager to change the conversation, he spoke,“This place should work well enough. You won’t be wining any competitions by the end of the day, but I’ll make sure you can shoot an arrow and not hurt yourself. Now, take a proper stance.”

Durn took an awkward pose with his bow. Luren was meticulous as he adjusted the boy’s stance: turning his body, rolling his bow arm out so the string wouldn’t strike his forearm, angling Durn’s head to better his aim. “This doesn’t feel comfortable.” Durn said.

“That’s because you’ve just started, give it time and your body will adjust. Now, notch an arrow and loose it into the tree in front of you.”

Durn slide an arrow from his quiver and did as he was instructed. His arm wobbled in a circle. The arrow left the bow with a ‘thwunk’ and flew to the left of the tree landing in the brush beyond it.

“Whoa!” A man’s voice cried out. The brush rustled and shook as a tall, stocky, blond-haired man stepped into the clearing. He was followed by six others. The man held Durn’s arrow in his hand. “You really should make sure no one’s at risk of getting hit before you start letting arrows loose.”

Luren noticed the short swords at their belts and their weathered leather jerkins. He took an instinctive step between Durn and the strangers. “We’re far enough into the forest where that shouldn’t be a problem, I’m guessing you were creeping around back there looking for easy targets. And judging from the look of you, arrows flying your way isn’t out of the ordinary.”

The man smiled, revealing several gaps where teeth used to be. “You’re a perceptive one,” his tone was pleasant, “I could use someone like you. No need to make a mess and take your things. We’re growing our own little army, you see. It’s been a profitable venture.”

“Bandits don’t speak of building armies. What’s your name?”

The man straightened his back as if to stand with pride. “Krulg the Bastard.”

“Most men don’t take kindly to being called bastard.”

“It’s what I am. Despite that I still grew up in a castle, was taught as any other noble would’ve been. Far as I saw it, there wasn’t any difference between me and them, but the nobles always looked down on me. So, I took what I learned from them and made my own way in the world.”

Disgust churned in Luren’s gut like curdled milk. “You threw a decent life away to ruin other people’s lives.”

“Watch your tongue,” Krulg rested a hand on the pommel of his sword. “Despite your disrespect, my offer still stands. There’s no need for us to get violent.”

A familiar patter of paws against the dirt caught Luren’s attention. He slid his hunting knife from its sheath. “You’re right, we don’t need to fight, so walk away while you still can.”

“It’s not very smart to be making threats in your position.” The pleasantness had left Krulg’s voice.

A growl rose behind Krulg. The man spun around to find seven wolves ready to pounce on his group. He turned back to Luren.

Luren met Krulgs glare with his own. “I’ve survived men who are better killers than you in the war. Take my offer and leave.”

Krulg glanced at the village in the distance, then, back to Luren. “That’s a nice little village, we might have to visit it soon. Until then, veteran.” He took a mock bow and left.

Once he was sure the brigands were out of earshot, Luren whispered to Durn, “Practice is over for today. Hurry back to Fenwall and warn the mayor.”

“What if they come after me?”

“They wouldn’t dare try it,” Luren nodded to the pack. “Now, follow the trail and keep Fenwall in sight. Can you do that?”

Durn nodded. “But what are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be keeping watch, now go!”

As the wolves escorted the boy down the trail, Luren sprinted to his home. Luren flung the cabin door open as the sun set over Fenwall. He snatched his ax from its resting place and approached the loose board. The whispers prickled Luren’s scalp. With a pained cry he hacked the floorboards apart. Splinters flew across the room. Luren dropped the ax, it clatters on the floor. He reached into the hole he had made; cold metal caressed his fingertips. Luren pulled a blood red helmet from the pit he opened. The whispers grew louder in his ears. He placed the great helm on his head. A familiar voice sent a chill down his spine. “So, you’ve finally grown bored of exile, my dear brother. Going to rebuild your little kingdom once more?”

“Though you inhabit her body and speak with her voice, you are not my sister.”

“Your sister was a witch,” Venom dripped from her words. “She made a deal and now her body is mine. Besides, it’s thanks to me that you’re one of the undying, ‘Luren.’ Truthfully I think that makes me more of a sister to you than she ever could have been.”

Luren retrieved his sword from the pit and tied it around his waist. “I’m going to protect Fenwall, and then, I am going to save my sister and kill you.”

“Do you really think you can atone for the atrocities you’ve committed? The lives you’ve taken?”

Crimson armor began to cover Luren’s body as he rose to his feet. “I doubt I could ever right the wrongs of my past. But I will try to bring some good to this world.”

The voice laughed at Luren. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Luren felt a fury begin to burn in him. He turned and stomped outside. He let out a sharp whistle.

A pale green glow appeared from the trees, roots and vines coalesced around it, whipping violently as it took the shape of a horse. The arboreal beast trotted up to Luren and stamped its hooves. Pale green flames rested in its eye sockets.

“It’s been too long, Shade. If you answered my call, does that mean you will ride with me again?”

Shade bowed his head.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Luren hoisted himself on to Shade’s back. The smell of smoke filled the air. Fires raged from the village. “Ride hard Shade, we’re needed at Fenwall.”

Shade galloped down the forest path with unnatural speed. Luren made out figures battling with one another as he approached Fenwall. He drew his sword as he rode forward. Luren raised his black blade and cut down the first brigand in his path. Both brigands and militiamen froze in fear. Luren heard one of them, “The Crimson Tyrant? No it can’t be possible.”

“No loot is worth this!” The brigands ran off into the forest.

Luren addressed the quaking guardsmen, “I am not your enemy! I have come to drive away these men who would burn your homes to the ground. Find your women and children and keep them safe.” The militiamen, dumbfounded by terror, stared at him. Luren dismounted Shade and slapped the nearest man. “Don’t gawk at me, protect your people!”

The man nodded and turned to his comrades, “Follow me!”

The men ran off leaving Luren behind. He turned to Shade.”Trample the brigands under your hooves, keep them disorganized.” Shade left to sow chaos in the brigands ranks. Luren ran through the streets looking for Selene and her children. Please be alive, please. He passed over several bodies in the street. The sound of battle led him to the village square. He spotted Krulg and several of his men atop the stage. They had hostages. Selene and the twins were among them. Krulg had Durn’s bow in hand, he aimed an arrow at the boy. Anger swelled in Lurens chest. “Krulg, you bastard!”

Krulg turned, the amusement on his face gave way to fear. “The Crimson Tyrant?” He aimed the bow at Luren and loosed the arrow. It pierced Luren’s chest and found its way into his right lung.

Pain tore into Luren, each breath became a labor. This cannot kill me. He continued his approach. Another arrow struck him in the chest. Then, a third. Luren ripped the arrows from his body, he felt the curse of the undying begin to heal his wounds. With renewed vigor, he lurched forward and grabbed the cowering Krulg, and drove his black blade into the man’s heart. Krulg’s flesh began to blacken and peel. “I told you I survived better killers than you.”

A grim realization drew across Krulg’s face as death claimed him.

Luren addressed the remaining brigands. “If you throw down your arms and leave now then the rest of you may live.” He watched the brigands drop their blades and scramble out of the village. Shade bounded by them on his way to Luren.

“Monster! Why aren’t you dead?” Selene’s voice cried out from the villagers.

Her words stung Luren worse than the arrows. After a moment of consideration, he removed his helm. “It’s me, Selene. Please, none of you need to fear me.”

“My husband is dead because of you! He should be here not you.” She grabbed a stray hammer and threw it. The tool collided with Luren’s shoulder and clattered on the cobblestones below the stage.

Luren fell quiet. He retrieved the bow and quiver from Krulgs body and brought them to Durn. “These are yours.”

Durn snatched his belongings from Luren. A stream of tears flowed down Durn’s face as he drew an arrow and aimed at Luren, “Go on, leave this place, and don’t you dare come back!”

Luren bit his lip as he fought back tears of his own. “If that is what you wish.” Luren placed the crimson helm back on his head and mounted Shade.

Lenna approached Luren, his daughter’s amulet in hand. She offered it to him, “I think you should take this with you.”

Luren shook his head. “It belongs with someone good.”

Lenna’s eyes met Luren’s, “It belongs to you.”

A sharp tightness settled in Luren’s throat. Without a word he took the amulet and allowed himself one last look over the cowering crowd before galloping off.

His sister’s voice whispered in Luren’s ear, “What will you do now, brother? Where will you go?”

Luren’s turned his gaze to the amulet in his hands and said nothing.