The whistle in the trees was not only the wind bursting through the trees, nor its stampede of thoughts as it clears its voice to sing. The creatures of the forest cowered in their dens. But this was not the fear that gripped them. A young man strolled along the creeks bed, whistling a sad and dark tune. The piercing shrills building up to a climax that quickly quieted to a hum. The young man stopped, just for a second, pausing to cock his head to the side. The water rippled towards him, large rings of a deafening song. He smiled, as if knowing something that no one else in the whole world knew. Laughter filled the air. Slowly, he crept into the trees and moss covered ground until he spotted light. A chorus of jolly voices, laughing to an unknown tale, sat around a large fire. The camp was alive with mirth and cheer. Children ran around tents and carts parked in a open glade in the midst of the forested surroundings. Dogs scampered about behind them, licking their hands and chasing their tails. Mothers sewed patches onto torn clothes as they gossiped amongst each other. The mens voices grew louder as the drink began to take effect. All seemed fine in the world. The young man smiled again. Movement on the outskirts caught his attention, but his smile never twitched. He pulled his cloak around himself and pulled up his hood and began walling towards the fire. As the folk saw him approach they greeted him and bid him to join them. Shadows masked his face, but his voice betrayed his youth. A man sat beside him, slapping him on the back and offered him food and drink. He graciously accepted with a nod and a shadowed grin. My name is Keron, my friend, welcome to our humble camp, said the merry older man next to him. Tell me, what is your name and what do you seek? These are dark forests that have not seen happiness in a long time. The young man did not turn to face the man conversing with him. Instead, he took a bite of the fresh roast on his plate. After a minute of chewing on his food, he swallowed, then took a swig of ale in his mortared mug. Then he replied, I do not have a name. There was silence amongst the camp. Suddenly, a large roar of voices rose from the forest. Men charged into the camp wielding whatever crude weaponry they had. The men from the camp jumped to their feet and ran to grab pitchforks and hatchets to ward off the attackers. The women screamed and ran to snatch crying children into their arms and run into the dark forest, running for safety. The young man with no name did not move. His smile, however, deepened. As men clashed with one another, the sounds of conquering victory came from the throats of the invaders as they swept away the defenders. Three attackers spotted the young man sitting at the fire, still eating and drinking. They raises clubs and yelled viciously as they charged him. In a flash of a moment in time fluttering away, the three dropped to the ground. The young man stood behind them, chuckling. The sharply curved long daggers hanging from each hand was red with blood. His chuckle was noticed by two more groups of ruffians, one with five men and the other with seven men. I like these odds, said the still chuckling young man. Unfortunately, they are not in your favor. His shadow blurred. The first two men to fall could not raise a cry before they dropped lifeless to the ground. And so the five become three. His smile was almost audible. The three men started, then attacked the man in their midst. The younger man ducked under a large club swung at his head, before side stepping a downward swing aiming for his head. His daggers gleamed in the firelight, as if they too were laughing. The third man never had a chance to swing his club as he and his friends dropped to their knees, holding their throats. The group of seven had already moved into motion, charging the young man standing over the corpses of their comrades. He turned and threw his dagger from his left hand, and it thudded into the forehead of the first attacker. Surging forward, he slashed with his right hand, dagger still chuckling. It took the second man across the face. He gripped his left dagger as the first man dropped, jerking it free. The sound of broken, splintered bone made the last five hesitate. That was a mistake. A boot took a man in the ribs, pushing him him into two others. The two others swept by them attempting to club the young man to death. A club whipped by his head, the second grazed his clothes as he spun taking them both in the gut. They collapsed holding their insides. By now the last three had regained their feet, and began a fervent assault, flailing recklessly at him. The young man began to whistle. He appeared next to the assailant in the back and stabbed him in the lungs, before rotating to take down the second man with an upward slash that threw him on his back. The final man screamed and charged him. A boot took his hand and kicked it away as the second boor sent him flying on to his back. The invader groaned. Then, the young man leaped onto him thrusting both daggers into his throat. The wounded and dead lay sprawled all around. The remaining defenders had regrouped and hobbled over to the young man. You did it! You fended off the attackers! Must have been bandits preying on innocent travelers no doubt. Kerons voice sounded disgusted and relieved. How can we thank you, stranger? You are a hero! The young man turned to face Keron. That is not my name. He declared. I require nothing. However, you may call me the Carver. He laughed, a chill laugh, and stalked off into the night. I hope you all enjoyed this little teaser of mine! Thanks for reading! Leave a comment on your thoughts!
Posted on: Thu, 11 Dec 2014 09:16:21 +0000
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