Death Or Fortune (2 page)

     I'd known
for a year where I was going, even before I made my plans to leave Eystlund.
 It was the one place my father had never been able to make connections
to, Arcadia.  Other merchants in the Eystlund area were able to freely
trade with them but no one would deal with my father.  Even now, all these
years later he has not been able to get one Arcadian merchant to deal with him.
 Not even in the worst of times and not if I ever have a thing to say
about it.

     It was a
week after my seventeenth birthday when I started to make my plans.  I
would need about a month’s worth of supplies, armor and a horse.  Any of
these things I could have taken from my father over the course of one night but
that was not an option in my mind.  Once Keller had found out who had
taken the items, he would punish my mother.  Just as he punished her the
first time I told him that I was leaving.  It was her kind hand that kept
me from killing him that night.  Also, I would not start my life as he
lived his.  Even if he had no one to steal from anymore, he was still a
thief.

     I was nine
months into my planning when the events started to happen in town. 
Honestly I never cared about what was going on, I just wanted to leave
Eystlund.  Leave my father and his corruption behind.  Leave behind all
that he wanted and find the life that I was destined to live.  I never
even knew of the missing children.

     From what
I know now, it started slow.  One here and one there, the town sheriff was
clueless.  Just as everyone else before him that held the post.  In
the end he at least made an attempt to find them.  It was two months
before they had any clue that there was a crime being done.  Children run
away, folks would say.  I even see it here in Arcadia today.  When
ten children came up missing from an orphanage, the sheriff knew it was time to
inform the king.

     King
Darius is a good man and when he put out the word for action to be done, it was
done. All these events passed me by.  I was so intent on my plans. 
The world was changing and I was watching it threw blind eyes.  As groups
of adventurers were heading to every direction the four winds blow, I was
giving the stable master my last payment for my horse.  He spoke of
terrible things hiding out there in the dark; all I could think of was my
freedom.  I rode her home thinking of nothing but being fitted for my
armor the next morning.
     It was going to take the black smith a month to finish
what I requested.  He said he burned through most of his stock in the
weeks before and I wanted someone that wasn't connected to my father.  One
week I thought, one week after I have my armor I will leave this land, never to
return.  I was a foolish child, grown man or not.  Several of the
groups that went out came back with nothing to report.  Some thought the
children were all dead.  Had you asked me then what I had thought of it
all, I would have told you something about the nice weather and how it was a
good day to ride.

     I was in
town the day they all returned.  I was standing there with a heavy pack of
armor on my back and new boots on my feet.  Five men I saw, a sight I will
never forget.  Five men before me and heroes they were all.  A wizard
in black rode on the wagon.  The wagon was loaded down with items, covered
with a tarp, being held down by a group of sick and dirty children.  The
man driving the wagon wore robes that should have been white.  I could see
his armor under the robes and a single medallion resting on his chest.  A
gleaming hammer hanging from his hip but it was pale and dark compared to the
light coming from his eyes.  Such an odd contrast, he was speaking to the
wizard, they were friends that much was clear.  A third man rode behind
the wagon, him I do not know but he was playing with a child as they rode down
the road.  Next to him was one with a beard made of fire or so it seemed
when it flashed in the Sun.  Last but not least was a man I would come to
know over time but not as I saw him then.  Hans tries to tell me that man
is dead even if I know better.

     I saw them
there, all at once, as gods among men.  They were protectors of the
innocent and weak.  While I had known of the missing children somewhere in
the back of my mind, it wasn’t until that day that it dawned on me what was
going on around me.  I was inspired by that image and I still am today.
 When I at last set out of town it was what drove me on.  I kissed my
mother one final time as the boy she raised.  The man who returned to
Eystlund would not be the same.  I do not know where my father was when I
set out that night and I did not care.  I had the world in front of me and
it was going to be mine.

     The night
I left my home in Eystlund I was so sure of myself.  I knew just where to
go and what to do when I got there.  A full day had passed and I had not
even made it to the boarder of Eystlund yet still I carried on.  I knew
this wouldn't be a quick trip.  Another trader back in town told me with
loaded wagons it took near three weeks to make the trip from Eystlundtowne to
the capital of Arcadia.  My horse was young and strong, as was I.  I
never expected to find trouble on such well-traveled roads.  I never
expected to get lost. 

   I
did not want to put undue burden on my horse.  I only carried what I
needed.  Rations, water and my armor were in my packs.  I kept my
shield in hand, sword on my side.  Not to mention I was dressed in my
finest clothes.  I wore a long flowing cloak of blue, a white silken shirt
and a huge hat, with a giant white plume that rested on top of my foolish head.
 I thought the hat looked grand on me when it reality it just kept the
moisture behind my ears from drying out to soon.

    
For the first week I was on the road I had only passed a hand full of souls.
 A messenger who looked like the dark one was after him and a farming
family moving south.  They said something to me of dark times coming in
the north but I just smiled and carried on.  The thought that I should at
least have my armor on never crossed my mind until the rock hit me in the head.

    
My tenth day on the road was nearly my last.  I remember the sharp crack
that I felt but I don't recall how long I was on the ground before I got myself
to stand back up.  My horse, the gods bless her stopped the moment I fell.
 I think she even managed to keep the thief away from me for a moment.
 Once I was on my feet the lessons Windfall gave me started going through
my mind.  I quickly unfastened the cloak from around my neck, tossed my
hat aside and for the first time, drew steel on another man with the intent to
use it.

    
I would like to tell you how I easily defeated the thief and went on with my
life.  I would like to tell you how he never left a mark on me.  The
man was quick as a viper but over confident once he drew my blood.  He
came at me with a short blade and had it been an inch longer, my guts would be
resting somewhere between there and my mother’s broken heart.  He laughed
in my face as blood began to stain what was left of my shirt.  It was his
laugh, that toothless grinning laugh that drew my anger out.  He was
speaking as he came to me, do not ask me what was said, it was lost to the
anger buzzing in my ears.

    
With each strike he took at me, I became more confident in myself.  I knew
who I was, I knew who he was and on this day I was the better man.  On
this day, he would not take my gold, my horse or my life.  I did not feel
the blood running down my legs but the boots still have stains inside of them
today.  It wasn't before long that the man began to tire, slowing down and
when his breathing became labored, I knew it was my time to strike.  He
took one last lunging attempt; I stepped aside and nearly took his arm off when
I smashed it with my shield.  I felt the bones crush under the impact. His
howls of pain had still not ended when I took his head.  I had my hat back
on my head and was picking up my cloak before his body fell to the road.

    
"I told him he couldn't beat you."  
I turned towards the
voice and saw three more men, standing on the other side of the road.  Two
of them just looked on in shock as the body of their former companion laid in
the road but the third.  He was dangerous and I knew that if we fought he
would end me.  So I did the only thing I could, I ran.  Before this
dangerous man could push his men into action I was sprinting towards my mount.
 I felt an arrow strike my shield as I climbed into the saddle again, a
second hit the pack with my armor in it.  For all the good it was doing me
in there, it might have saved my horse.  Between that and my urgent
kicking, she bolted down the road and then blindly off into the forest where
not even the light of the moon could be seen.  I don't know when I passed
out but when I woke up the sun was high overhead and I had no clue where I was.

    
"If the blade does not kill you, infection can finish the job."
 
Another bit of wisdom from my mentor. I spent the remainder of that
day and the following night in that spot.  I treated my wound and even
though the bleeding had stopped, I could tell something wasn’t right.
 During the night I had broken out into a fever.  In the morning I
gave my horse a well needed drink of my water and fed my empty stomach.  I
thought that my illness was only hunger.  Two weeks later, in a haze I
stumbled back on to the road and followed it to one of the few small towns that
litter the country side between Arcadia and Eystlund.  Covered in a mix of
chain and leather armor, I passed out on the steps of the Broken Wheel Inn.

     The first
time I woke up it was to the sound of an angelic voice and a gentle
touch.  I thought it was nothing more than a dream.  I was seeing the
world through a dream like fog, my arms and legs did not respond at all. 
I thought for sure that I was dead or that I was back home under my mother’s
care.  I remember wanting to speak but before I could form the words I
slipped back under the dark cover of oblivion.  The next time I awoke, the
true panic set in.  I could not tell you where I was.  The last thing
I remembered, outside of my twisted dreams, was being attacked.  I tried to
move my arms and legs again but they were both tied to the bed I was in.
 The only thing more repulsive than not being able to move was the smell
of my own body.  I tried to put it out of my mind before making myself
sick.

     I lifted
my head and looked around the dim room.  My saddle bags were in a corner,
my armor on a stand with my weapon by its side.  When the old woman
returned to me what seemed like days later, it was only an hour, she began to
tell me my own tale.  The inn keeper had found me, near dead in front of
their door.  They took me in, treated my wound and gave me some kind of
medicine for the infected wound.  As she started to untie me she told me
of how I tried to fight them.  I was out of my mind with madness.  Flashes
came to me as she spoke and the dreams seemed a little more real.  She
asked if I would behave before she would untie my arms.  I could only nod.
 I tried to sit up in the bed, put my feet on the floor but the world was
still holding me down.  The old woman admonished me for being impatient,
that much I remember threw the haze.

     I had
three meals of broth and bread in me before I felt fit to move.  All the
while, she kept telling me how close I came to leaving the world.  
"You
were a ghost and I brought you back."
Later her husband waved off her
bragging but they agreed that I should have died.  For close to a week I
laid in that bed, under her care before I woke up.  Once I was able to
bathe myself I looked over the pink scar across my stomach.  It looked
ages old and there was no pain from it at all. The old couple’s words kept
coming back to me.  I could have died, I should have died and no matter
how hard I scrubbed myself I could not wash that feeling away.  I knew I
wasn't ready; I should have never left home.  I was no more a man that day
than the day I left.  No more a warrior than I was the first day I lifted
up a sword.

     I would
like to tell you that after a good night’s sleep and a hearty meal I shook off
this feeling and continued my travels.  If I did that, I would be lying to
you and to myself.  The next morning I took the coin pouch from the bottom
of my bags.  Every coin was there, every single one and I gave them all to
the old couple whose door I darkened with my broken body.  They tried to
protest but I insisted.  You see, I wanted them to pay me. For over a year
I worked for the old couple, John and Marta.  I wasn't ready and I stayed
there until I felt I was.  I helped with the Inn, cleaned the stables or
any other number of things they needed done that they could not do for their
selves.  At night I would take my sword into the stables and practice my
forms.  I would practice until I couldn’t stand to hold the blade any
longer and then I would push on a bit more.

     For over a
year I washed tables and shoveled up muck.  For over a year I punished
myself for my first failure, my first defeat.  Yes, I was still alive but
I was not ready to continue on.  I knew if I continued on down the road
the moment I was able, I would not be here to write this tale. Fear of death
kept me in place more than anything.  When I at last set out my mind and
body was whole.  I thanked John and Marta for I owed them my life.  I
have since returned to them and paid them for all that I owed.  They have
since closed the inn and retired to a little home in the capital city of
Arcadia, one that I own.  It was an easy move for them.  As you see,
for over a year I was only three days away from the heart of Arcadia.
 Three days away from the place I now call home.