The Wandering

This is the beginnning of one of the stories I am writing. It's actually a side story to one of the stories I'm writing but that doesn't matter to anyone who reads this. It's just the beginning of a story with more to come as I write it.

There in the end I wondered much of what had befallen me, how I had turned from the gods of my youth and how I had turned even from the wise counsels of my elders. I had, as many are wont to say, willingly become the black sheep of my community. Where all men went to the temple of Treios to say the long prayers of successful campaigns, beautiful women, and a bountiful harvest, I went to the hills above my small village to hunt what game I could find. When the young women of the village came out on solstice night to dance the courting dances taught for as long as anyone could remember and the young men stood in circle around them in the finest clothes they owned hoping to catch the eye of their favorites, I lounged in a dark corner with only a small lamp to illuminate whatever book I could procure to keep myself occupied while the continuing tale of my village repeated what our parents had done and their parents had before them done. The only thing that that was expected of a young man in my village that I willingly participated in, excelled in even, was the training for war.

War was ever known to us, being in the land of Tre who was in perpetual disagreement with its neighbor to the northwest, Celidon. The histories are convoluted beyond comprehension but it all boils down to a simple fact; we of Tre held that the god Treios was the greatest and most powerful of the gods while the people of Celidon held the same thought of the god, Idonsol. I think that both are fools. Who are mortals to judge one god above another when as far as I knew no mortal eye had beheld even a glimpse of any of the hundred gods. We were all just token pieces in the games the kings and their counselors played in my opinion… But I think that is exactly the reason I was chosen to become, not a main player, never that I think, but a token player set in the middle to be crushed by the main pieces. I’m not sure but I think that I chose break the rules on occasion to keep myself whole, to keep myself from becoming the chaff to be left in the fields to rot after all the wheat had been harvested.

My tale begins when Trinoi, the high priest to the king, came through our village and asked, no commanded that all young men who had trained with the arms master for five years or longer to accompany him to the capitol to become a part of the king’s armies and continue the war. There were only seventeen such young men in my village and with the king’s standard of a twenty man squad we would be separated into other squads who had lost men in the fighting instead of the usual practice of making squads of the men from a single village with the belief that men who knew each other would fight better and harder to keep their companions alive if they had known them for many years. The high priest was angry with the village for its lack of young men and claimed that those of the village had been lax in their duties to the gods, and foremost Treios and would suffer many afflictions which the priest said was due to the village for its lack of providing the kingdom with the men it needs to keep safe and continue in prosperity.

The villagers cried out their protests to the high priests words and said that they had been devout in the services to the gods and the only one among them who should be punished for failing the gods was a young man who would be among the new recruits. The villagers were quick to state the many failings of this young man who would not participate in the prayers or offer sacrifice, and in the villagers eyes the worst this young man had done was to be over the marriageable age and continue to live alone giving no offspring to continue the village in future days. Needless to say I was dismayed that I was, in my mind alone, betrayed so quickly.
The high priest turned from the gathered villagers’ red of face with his holy anger at one who would scorn the gods so and called out to his personal guards to bring the accused to stand before the high priest in shame and suffer the just punishment to be carried out. Two guards of high priest Trinoi’s personal security force detached from the disciplined ranks standing behind the priest and made their way to the gathered young men waiting to make their names in the king’s armies and asked which of us was the young man in question. I should note at this time that when one was the subject of known or supposed disfavor of the gods that person’s name would not be said aloud or referenced in any way. I’m not sure when this practice came about but it was strongly held on to for fear that speaking that person’s name would bring the disfavor of the gods on to the speaker as well as that person. So having all this talk about me with my name never being said, secretly I harbored a hope that the other young men would keep their silence and the rest of the villagers would decline to point me out because of a fear of being associated with me thus letting me leave with the others and find an escape from the high priest’s wrath some ways along the road to the capitol.

My hope was in vain as I knew it would be. The other young men, as soon as asked my identity, stepped away from me, leaving me in an open space almost right at the center of the group standing alone. I was proud that I didn’t show my fear and that I stood erect and proud as though it was a privilege to singled out so. Inside I felt as though everything I had eaten in the last twenty two years of my life would come up my throat if I relaxed my stomach muscles even a fraction. That moment of standing alone with all in the village looking at me as if I were the God of Rot there in their midst filling the air with my stench, was the only time I could remember in my life wishing that my parents had still been alive and would step forward to defend me.

It was a vain wish. My father had died fighting for the king before he could even learn of my mother’s pregnancy and my mother had passed on after only being able to hold her newborn son for but a moment, given only enough time to utter a name. The name of my father she spoke and the midwives took that utterance as a sign that she wished her son to carry the same as the father. My name was Mykeil and having no living relatives I claimed no last name though when the villagers would speak my name it was usually to call me Mykeil Wanders and for some strange reason when I signed the rolls of the arms master, that was what I signed. Mykeil Wanders. Not for the first time I think what a stupid name.

I was placed before the high priest with his two guards in full battle gear, covered head to foot in shinning plate steel with the storm cloud and lightning bolt of Treios embossed on the their breastplates, standing just to side and a step behind me. I assume to keep me from attempting to run but I held no faith in my ability to get away with the whole of the high priests contingent watching me and the villagers surrounding us waiting to see what my fate would be. I felt almost certain looking at Trinoi’s angry and slightly overweight face that I would become the village’s first human sacrifice to Treios in over a hundred years. I didn’t a long wait.

High priest Trinoi started out extolling all within hearing to hold to the faith of our mighty country and give Treios, the High God of the Rain all the respect and honor in our power to grant even unto giving our last coin to the betterment of our small and humble temple devoted to the powerful god. Trinoi called out that those like this young man who stood before him were the servants of Sloug, the God of Apathy, and if left unchecked could destroy a village such as theirs with unseen influence and causing said village to become nothing more than a house of sloth to be cut from the land as an infected growth should be cut from a body lest the body become infected as well. Then the high priest did something that surprised me as well as the villagers. He called out to the gathered villagers, asking what they thought should be done with this infected growth standing before him under the guise of a man. I was a bit offended at being called an infected growth but wasn’t in a position to argue my difference of opinion at that particular moment.

The villagers were quick to suggest what I had feared and offered to have me burned upon the alter to Treios standing just a stone’s throw from where this gathering was taking place and some of the village men even took it upon themselves to begin gathering the wood for the fire from the pile of split logs next to the temple for the many sheep and cow offerings that took place every month. Trinoi listened as the villagers took hold of each idea and shouted them, each hoping to be the one who chose the solution that they believed the high priest already had in mind, that his asking of the village was just a test to see if they were in the gods good graces enough to be granted knowledge of what the god, Treios willed be done.

After a long minute or two of this massive unorganized brain storming Trinoi raised his hands, beckoning silence of the throng and smiling, giving the impression that he was glad of the many options the villagers had offered. The silence was kept for only a second yet it felt an eternity for me standing on legs made weak by the prospect of burning at the wish of those I spent my childhood with. As Trinoi looked around with pleasure at the village’s bloodlust for one proclaimed to be a servant of Apathy, his gaze soon settled on me and the pleased smile became something much more sinister, something that, to me, spoke volumes of evil, intent on my destruction. Trinoi spoke then and proclaimed that one such as me could not go to sacrifice without being tested first and tortured second, to show my true mettle and to also show that they had done what a mortal could to prove that I deserved my burning fate.

And how would I be tested, I thought. I wish I hadn’t had that thought. Too many gristly stories popped to mind of what the many possibilities could be and none of those possibilities were something that held any good for me. Trinoi kept me waiting a minute before stating that the best way to test my mettle first was a test of arms. I would spar the high priest’s best soldier and if I proved myself able to hold my own against this battle tested warrior I would be deemed not so deep in Apathies grasp and torture would not be needed, just my burning body on the Alter. If I was unable to hold the soldier back from beating me senseless then that same soldier would carry out my torture right then and there, pulling out his knife and cutting the skin from my arms and legs, being careful not to cut any veins so that I would still be alive for the burning for to offer a dead sacrifice of this kind, meaning human, would be to ask the gods wrath to come down on all there.

This was my chance. I was the best in the village with a sword and our arms master had often said that I was better than any he had seen even in his twenty years of war for our king. I didn’t believe I would be able to defeat a war tested soldier who, when he stepped forward, looked to be seven feet tall yet moved with an easy grace that spoke of his skill as a mountain cats long contoured body spoke of the strength to take down the largest prey in the forest with ease. At this point I have to admit that doubt clouded my mind as we were given room to spar with all watching stepping back to give us room to maneuver and I was handed a practice sword by our arms master who wouldn’t look me in the eye even as he let go of the dulled sword and walked away. Giving me more doubt to my already clouded mind the beast of a soldier unsheathed his long sword hanging at his hip and made ready to begin.

It was a farce! I was indignant at the total lack of justice. I was to fight this huge man who was holding a long sword which I knew to be razor sharp and guided by an experienced hand and me with a practice sword that was made slightly heavier than a long sword and with a blunt rounded edge. If I didn’t think of a way to prove myself worthy quickly my strength would run out and I would have my skin cut off and my body burned in offering to a god I wasn’t sure existed. Today was a bad day.

High Priest Trinoi called out for his soldier to begin and the giant moved forward with a speed his grace had hinted at but was still surprising. I was able to block his first swing, but only just as he pulled back and came again. It continued that way for hours it seemed. The soldier giving powerful blow after powerful blow to my blunted sword, me being able to parry the man’s thrusts but unable to find an opening to attack.

It was just as I felt myself beginning to lose strength that I noticed this giant before me had a weakness. His strength and skill with the blade were the greatest I’d seen but he rarely if ever moved his feet except to step forward towards me as he beat me back. He never stepped to the side, even when one of his swings and knocked me off balance and I stepped to the side, this war trained man would just turn in place to face me once again. It was a fault that I was astonished to see in high priests guard. It was a fatal flaw to any who would duel against an experienced opponent. I wasted no time taking advantage. I stepped to the side on his very next attack. When his sword passed through the space I had just vacated I brought my dull sword down on his outstretched arm with all the force I could pull behind it. It landed on the wrist of the large man with a crack I was sure could be heard by all present. His sword fell to the ground as his hand lost its strength to the broken bones although to his credit the giant didn’t cry out in pain. I know I would have. A wrist injury could end a soldier’s career if it didn’t heal right and the strength never returned.

As the villagers cried out at my victory and Trinoi cursed I took advantage as everyone focused on the injured and ran toward the closed homes with a small alley in between and with the rest of the guard hard on my heals I ran as though my life depended on it, mostly because it did.

I don't know when I'll get more on here but more will come. I promise.