Writing about Autism

Oath By The Heron

                         Book 1

“His sword shone in the blizzard. His walk had a viperous allure. His shape blended in all crowds. His glare was death’s resonance in the bells of consciousness. His speed was of no match. With each twist of his hand, heads flew alongside limbs. While his surroundings boiled with anger and hatred, he did not seem to lose his frozen temper. When spotted, he gave no impression of a heartwarming greeting. Liar is he who denies envying that swordsmanship, that elegance in both fight and speech. No man of power has been able to count the number of men he was worth, actually no man at all. His moves were unpredictable, unstoppable and, sometimes, under no circumstances within human capabilities. In fact, he could blend so well in group of corpses, for nothing showed in him a sign of life. I often heard him being called a vampire, a monster, a freak. Sometimes I even participated in the naming, not out of jealousy, but because I wish to uncover whatever dark secret he may hide, the one he embedded, making him look like a corpse, and a fine one indeed. Before the battle we last had with the neighboring king, some soldiers tried to approach him. I admit, it was more a harassment than a friendly introduction, especially when they tried to reach for his third arm, that shining, sharp arm. But the fact that they were bullies is good enough to beat them up if you’re a man, to stay quiet and not report it if an idiot, but nowhere near being an excuse for butchering them. It is just absurd! At least, it was our commander’s opinion. He also added that if he doesn’t tear ten of the opposing team’s men for each limb he’s just chopped off, he will meet the heavens. A normal man, a rational one at least, would simply run away after the fight starts and still be considered a hero, while this madman did the exact opposite. He killed more than agreed and is till now chased for some sort of crime I bet my arse he knows nothing of. After the other army ran away afraid of meeting his blade, he did not participate in the loot, not considerably. All he took was a bloody spear’s head and a broken sword. Whence did he come, nobody really knows. I swear on my mother’s mercy the next time I meet the bastard, I’ll be the one to open his head and see what’s inside.”

                                                          -witnessing of a soldier               who’s seen the mysterious individual. 

                                              

Chapter 1

                

- “Slow down, Elugard, we’re in no such hurry!”

He kept rushing, dashing forward as if trying to escape a horde of gargoyles. Stepheken had quite a speed himself, but not seemingly enough to catch up with his friend.

- “What’s the matter, old friend? Has age weakened you so?”

- “Weakened by age, you say?”.

He suddenly jolted, finding himself in front of him.

- “By the time you arrive, I’ll be back with the bounty!”, laughed Stepheken.

Elugard’s mare snorted, and sounded as if its rider is preventing it from showing its potential. In moments, Elugard reached his companion.

- “Ha! You seem to forget what Gwaedal’s capable of, dear friend”

- “Come on, Rochal, you can still beat him!”.

Both riders arrived to the land they were seeking. They rode through a town full of filth and beggars; a typical tyrant-ruled town. They were escorted to the king upon reaching his little castle: the court yard was a small field introducing some sort of tower almost as large as the field, in which lived the king and his kin. The guard’s chief leaded them to the hall.

- “His Highness king Talkot will meet you shortly. In the meantime, roll some dice maybe?”

- “Pardon, came here to make coin, not to lose it”, responded Elugard.

- “If you see it so”.

The chief then left and, minutes later, a royal servant appeared.

- “His Highness king Talkot awaits you”

- “Well then, lead the way”

- “Surely”.

Talkot was relaxing on his throne, made of mahogany wood and covered with a tiger’s pelt. He was in an emperor’s pose, even though he was not near being one.

- “Ah! I most humbly welcome thee”.

A bow, in this case, is a custom they shouldn’t miss, as was thought back then. That fact did not seem to touch them. Elugard declared:

- “Skip the formalities, Talkot. Give us the details and let us do our job. Your junkyard is not so welcoming, so we plan to leave this place as soon as we can”.

The guards surrounding the king couldn’t tolerate such insolence, since you can’t address a king this way in his own court, and they all leapt at Elugard, hands on hilts. With a wave of his hand, the king transformed them to idle statues.

- “Jumping right to the point, eh? I love that! So, what do you wish to know?”

- “Location, victim’s identity and the cause behind which he came…the usual. Now, as for our reward…”

- “It shall be decided depending on our agent, and to what degree he finds your work efficient”

- “Your agent won’t be coming. He will simply not last, especially if your target lives in those nearby woods, since your little cemetery is becoming even less inhabitable by the day”

- “My guard has you both, whom I believe should be the best of escort, or so I’ve heard”

- “He will not count on our iron, that I can promise”

The king bent then announced: “Now you listen to me, you bag of filth, you are in MY land, standing in MY castle on MY ground. You don’t give the orders here, I do. You do whatever I tell you to. Here, I am your king and not you mine. My agent, your new companion, will give you all the details you need. He will meet in the royal hall at sunset. Now begone!”

Elugard felt this sudden urge to go and skin the pest. He knew his companion felt the same, but they both kept it to themselves for the sake of their compensation, on which depended their lives. Just as they were leaving the throne room, Elugard suddenly asked: “I ask your pardon, dear king Talkot, but might we stay in your courtyard? We know you’re on the tip of war for the action upon which you summoned us, so I hope you wouldn’t mind us staying”.

The king accepted and, with cold blood, said that some extra, free protection would do him no harm.

In the courtyard, Stepheken couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, he exploded:

- “The brat! He dared say such nonsense! Had we been somewhere else, I’d have slit his tongue and made him chew it”

- “Relax Steph, he’s harmed us in no way. As for what comes later, if he tries to sting our backs, if he lets his men draw the iron on us, you can have the honor of simply ending him in a strike, for suffering comes before death by consciousness and needn’t be added to a series of unnecessary torment”

- “You speak to me as if I was your apprentice, not the way around”

- “My friend, we are all life’s apprentices. We guide our lives and are guided by destiny. Those who teach are those who have lived and been guided, so that they can guide their students into capturing and absorbing any knowledge or experience they may face. This means two things, in a certain perspective: first, that we are all life’s students; second, that not only are we all colleagues in this world, but we are also each another’s student”.

Stepheken remained silent. He had well taught his companion. Scenes like this in which Stepheken showed emotions were made to see how much can Elugard control his words, emotions and responses; he was a very active mentor.

In the courtyard, they put their horses to rest, got two wooden swords from their saddlebags and drew swords together. Indescribable elegancy in their movement. The passer-byes couldn’t keep their eyes off them, and they gradually formed a crowd. Some said they had snake blood running in their veins, other said it was wolves’ blood… the words kept making worlds that exist only in the eyes of those who believed. The wooden swords kept cracking. Some would swear on the yellow sky that was above them that they had heard the sound of lightning. The dual was closed with a draw. The crowd gave a big round of applause.

Then came a man from among them. He had a light leather armor on and a small stiletto.

- “Greetings, sir knights. I shall be your guide through your little investigation. Please, follow me”.

They replaced the wooden swords with their real ones, tucked firmly on their Thoracolumbar Fascia. The horses’ hooves got deeply engraved in the city’s mud, until another pile covered the first.

The crime they came to investigate was, as expected, at the borders, right between the town and the forest. The victim, in an ambassador’s clothes, was left intact. He had a quite sharp arrow plunged clean and deeply in his heart. The target was a skillful archer, until Elugard’s had a closer look:

- “The archer was clearly an amateur. The arrow came in, correct, but it was unstable mid-air. He might have had the opportunity of facing his target in close-range, but his hand was shaking. He is clearly no professional. As for the arrow, it’s simply a small piece of carved iron attached to a branch. Nothing fancy about that. The string used to make the bow was a bit thick, but it does not disturb close range assassinations. Either the shooter was extremely lucky in order to pull out such a crime, or he’s an experienced hunter who’s gone terribly ill. Anyway, the reason for this murder could be revenge just as much as it can be the destruction of political bonds. Anyway, I think we should just ask the murderer himself”

- “And how, may I ask, will you do it?”

Elugard pointed at the ground below the forest’s entrance.

- “He did it himself. If I recall right, it was raining on the day of the murder. The killer’s footprints are a bit erased, but they are still there. Even if it wasn’t raining, the hunter would feel worried and would eventually leave a trace behind without even feeling it. It just so human”

- “Well then, why are we still her? Go on, get moving!”.

They were both used to much worse treatment, so they remained silent and followed the hunter’s trail. The path they followed was not particularly attractive: tight grass paths surrounded by big, banal trees. The footsteps ended at a dead trunk. No visible trace was visible around the log.

- “He must have slept here. When he woke up, the rain had stopped. He ran, anxious from the fact that he might face some bounty hunter looking for his head. Let’s have a look around, I bet my every coin we will find some trace he left”.

 Three minutes later, Stepheken found a deep footprint. They followed the direction in which it pointed and found yet another indicator of his recent presence: a body drawn by the dirt next to which lied a wolf, getting out of its neck was a wooden pommel tramped in two kinds of blood.

- “The hunter came running in this direction. When he encountered the wolf, his foot got heavier and made the print we saw earlier. As for what happened here, he was running and trampled over this log. The wolf leapt and bit his arm, but then had a taste of his iron. Fear and shock made him forget his hunting knife, on which exists the wolf’s blood and his own. But it doesn’t end here, for he still bleeds out of injury. We follow the blood, we find its owner, or whatever’s left of him”.

While walking, they found drops of blood. These drops made a trail that led the two adventurers, and their unwelcomed guest, to a small hut surrounded by a few flowers. Elugard gave a gentle knock on its door, while Stepheken had look at the barred window.

The door suddenly burst open, and a man yielding a small axe came rushing out of the hut, attacking the first of the two friends. Elugard, being pushed to the ground by the impact, rebounded and got up nimbly with a back roll, unsheathing his sword. With a whirlwind, he cut the arm holding the axe and gave the man a kick. The axe fell on the hut’s ground as did its holder. He reached for it as he was pulling his face up, but Elugard was already in the hut, holding his sword at the hunter’s throat.

- “Are you the traitorous hunter?”

The man said he’d utter no word, he then spat some blood on the ground, cursing. Elugard kicked the axe to the other corner of the house, then pulled the man up by his bandages, tearing them up, and he returned the sword to his throat.

- “Cooperate not with me, and maybe you’ll actually utter no word anymore”.

The man gave a sigh.

- “Should I cooperate or not, I’m condemned both ways. My mission is seemingly destined to fail, unless of course you choose to help”

- “Savage barbarian! Mercenary, kill the infamous bastard! I’m sick of him already”

- “If you don’t shut it, and if you keep interrupting our job, I’ll make sure your horse chews your own filthy skin. I would have pitied the poor creature for the master it has, had I not a matter in hand. Now, returning to you, what mission did you mention? And why would you need our help?”, he let him free. The man sat on his couch, facing the ground.

- “It all started a long time ago. Tarmoth, which used to be Trarmorthé in the old days, was a beautiful little town, far from all the world’s problems. It all changed when this bastard Talkot and his army of mercenaries arrived. They robbed us all and made us build them this little fortress of theirs. My hair’s grown white and started falling, yet not a villager fought him by my side”, he gave a big sigh, “I didn’t wish to kill the ambassador, but if I had to do it again, I would. A few days before he reached the city, I encountered him and asked him to go back to his king and ask him to bring his army here. At least the king of Arbak would bring development with him, thus giving the people more chance in survival. As we are right now, we are sure to rot our way to extinction. It seems that Talkot’s payed him good sum to refuse what I ask. His death was the only way to start the war and make them come. If they would ever, I would’ve personally assisted them in penetrating through the castle, even though they wouldn’t need that. You must understand, I only want what’s good for my people. I want them to last as much as possible.”.

Elugard heard a bell ring twice: once upon hearing the word Trarmorthé, then when he heard the expression my people.

He sheathed his sword and declared:

- “We might have been touched by your little speech, but that’s not the reason we get payed for, and we need the money to survive ourselves. I truly hope you understand our situation”

The hunter’s face got red with rage.

- “You cunning bastards! You cons! I actually thought you were going to help my people, the people of Tarmoth!”.

Regardless of how painful his bleeding was, the hunter still leapt at Elugard, forming a punch while doing so, gathering all his pain in it. Stepheken stopped the punch and tried to consolidate him, while his companion kept open ears. The man tried to resist arrest, so Elugard jolted at him and paralyzed his hands with a thin yet tight rope.

The hands paralyzed, he found it easier to tie them. He then got the axe up to its owner’s throat.

- “Let’s not make this personal, shall we? According to the contract, Talkot needs not your head but your whole. Let him kill you, torture you if he’d like to, but you are to arrive in a single piece.”.

They returned to the castle.

- “Aluben, how much are they worth?”

- “The participation fee, for all else was but pure luck, minus the tax for the lack of respect they hold for you, sire”

- “Fine, then, give it to them. I wish not to see them any longer. As for…”

- “We don’t want your gold”.

The king, surprised by the fact that someone had the audacity of interrupting him while he spoke, even more surprised by the fact that they wished not to obtain the coin, showed absolutely no sign of surprise, but of anger. He got off his chair and met with Elugard, whispering to him.

- “Then be gone”

- “But you’ve yet to repay us”

- “And what exactly might you want?”

- “Trarmorthé’s freedom”.

With a sublime kick, the king was a foot far from reaching his throne. Elugard freed the hunter and handed him his weapon. The two travelers then got out their swords and fought by the hunter’s side. The three men found themselves against a dozen mercenaries. A scream was audible among the crowd “Save the king! Protect your sire, the mighty Talkot! Long live Talkot!”. The screaming passed from a man to another. The three men kept on their fine butchering. The throne room was flooded with swarms of the king’s henchmen. The two friends swirled, danced with the blade. And then, as none could have expected, groups of men surged from the main gate then penetrated through the castle. They all wore peasant clothes and had hayforks, pikes and eve kitchen knives. They fought alongside the three heroes. The hunter, at a certain moment, found an open passage leading straight to his target. He zapped his way through and tainted his axe with the king’s filthy blood. The henchmen felt demoralized by their king’s death, now that none would lead them, and so put their iron to the ground, swearing allegiance to their new king. A peasant came to the hunter and declared:

- “When we saw you being taken here, we knew it meant nothing but trouble. We hope you pardon our late participation and forget whatever we might have to told you in the past, but know that we won’t forget what you’ve done to our village”

- “You still remember the person I was?!”

Elugard patted on his shoulder.

- “Your time has come, Ismen king of Trarmorthé. You’ve now a castle you share with your people. They will all, as they just proved, follow you till The Last Step. You may now rebuild whatever’s been destroyed, even hope.”

- “I thank you deeply, Elugard of Amathion. I thank you deeply, Amarthazum”.

Strange it is how information spreads, especially between neighbors and villages.