Prologue:
PROLOGUE
A shadowy wolf with piercing gold eyes prowled through the smoke. Oaken beams crumbled and tapestries turned to ash as the beast climbed into the vacant seat of the King himself, claiming its prize. The crimson flames that tore through the throne room reflected in its emotionless face, giving its fur a demonic glow.
Long live the King.
Chapter 1
Marrok slipped through the fog of the early morning, the sun still asleep behind the great mountains to the east. Staying low to the grassy fields, his feet crunched across the first frosts of an early winter. His breath was like small puffs of smoke as he neared the guards’ outpost. The miniature black monstrosity against the farming backdrop that it had been placed in. It was thirty by thirty paces and housed a changing shift of six men. Banners of a snarling wolf set against a blood background marked the building and everything it contained as property of the King. Including the two farmhands bound and gagged inside.
Marrok slipped out a dagger the length of his hand as his stride slowed down to a crawl. He watched two of the guards strolling around the perimeter shiver in their think, iron-plated armor. They relied heavily on the spears they carried for support as they staggered along with the occasional yawned complaint. Waiting for the first guard to pass around the corner, the young man slid up to the wall, weapon in hand. Edging up to the portcullis, he clenched the dagger in between his teeth as he used the crossed pieces of timber as a ladder. He was almost to the top when his hold slipped. He dangled from a single hand, holding his breath as the other guard rounded the corner. Marrok held his breath, his grip weakening with every passing moment as he clung on.
The guard was a rather stout man with rosy cheeks and foggy eyes that showed his love of ale. Ambling on in a stupor, he hiccupped as he passed under Marrok’s leather boots. The guard was almost at the corner when he stopped and turned around. Staggering his way towards the gate, the guard took several attempts at pulling the lever before finally managing to make the portcullis rise. The wood groaned as great chains pulled the door up, forcing Marrok to drop down before his hands were crushed. Rolling on the stone pavement when he landed, Marrok sprinted into the fortress with the guard yelling and shaking his fist at him.
Marrok ran straight to the back storeroom. Using the dagger as a jimmy, he forced the oak door open. Dried meats, vegetables, grains, herbs and even a few kegs of gunpowder were all stuffed into shelves that lined the walls. A small chest with a brass lock lay tucked away in the furthest corner. Marrok remembered how the guards had ransacked the farmer’s homes for every single gold piece they had. ‘Taxes’ they’d claimed, ‘protection’.
The chest was heavy but Marrok used his belt to strap it straight onto his back. A loud bell rang out, alerting the rest of the guards that there was an intruder. Marrok swore as he took one of the torches off the nearby wall and tossed it into the crammed storeroom. He had hoped to take some of it home but it would serve as a nice distraction as he went after the real prize.
The guards shouting carried throughout the entire compound as they searched for him. Marrok smirked as he dashed down the stairs to the dungeons below. They would check their valuables long before checking the prisoners. He reached the small cells just as an explosion went off above his heads, making the entire structure tremble. There must’ve been a lot more gunpowder than he thought.
“Hi, boys.” Marrok fetched the keys from the wall, unlocking the cells of his two friends as he sliced through their binds with his knife. “Your rescue has arrived.” He gave a slight flourish with his hand before looking them over. The two were both covered in bruises and Jack had a bad gash across his right cheek.
“This way.” Marrok sang out the words as he leapt up the stairs three at a time before colliding into the Captain of the guard.
The man was tall and lean with sharp features and eyes as black as death. He staggered back a pace before catching Marrok by his tunic and slamming him up against the nearest stone wall, “Why do you peasants never learn your lesson?” he raised his hand to strike but stopped when the light from the nearby torch hit Marrok’s face.
Marrok was barely a man at the age of twenty. His hair was pitch black and draped down to his shoulders. Bright blue eyes set in a tanned face stared up at the guard. He was well-built but rough and worn from years of back-breaking farm work.
“You.” The Captain’s voice trailed off and he appeared as though he were seeing a ghost.
Jack came up from behind, punching the man right in the back of the head. The guard shook his head against the blow but didn’t fall until Jack followed with a second blow. “Come on!” he yelled, his brother Joshamee already gone. Marrok nodded his appreciation, taking off after the others. With the explosion and mayhem, none of the guards even bothered to try following after them.
Jack was the first to laugh, grinning up at the softening gray sky, his arms held out wide. “I thought they had us for sure!” he laughed again, grabbing his brother into a tight hold, ruffling the scraggly brown hair.
“Ge’ off!” Joshamee was the youngest of the three, too young to grow a beard.
The three laughed and congratulated each other on a job well done as the rooster cried, signaling the official start of the day. They crossed onto Marrok’s land just as an old, grizzled man came stomping out of the cottage.
“What the hell were you doing?!” he demanded of Marrok, a white-washed beard covering most of his face. Not waiting for an answer, he rounded on the other two. “Breaking out of prison! You two were in enough trouble when you attacked the tax collector.” He mumbled about broken noses and bitten legs. “They could’ve done a lot worse to the both of you. And now, you just had to go and play the hero, didn’t you.” He was a large man but worn thin and he hobbled as he closed in on Marrok. “Were you seen, boy?”
Marrok’s immediate response was no but the Captain had seen him. The expression on the guard’s face was burned into Marrok’s mind. No one had ever looked at him like that before. As though he were death swooping in to claim a lost soul. “Yes,” He said, “I was seen.” He still didn’t understand why his Uncle was so concerned.
“You two!” the old man said, waving off Jack and Joshamee “Get back to your mother. And for the love of magic, don’t show your faces in public for a while.”
A soft squeaked ‘yes, sir’ and the brothers took off for their home half a league away.
Calith gave a heavy sigh from the very bottom of his soul as his knotted hand pinched the bridge of his crooked, greying nose. His entire appearance was worn thin from the muted browns of his fraying tunic to his mud-caked nails.
“Why do you get yourself into trouble?” He asked, eyes closing. “You always have to make the wrong choice. Never think about the consequences.” The old man’s trailed off as he hobbled back into their small, brick cottage.
Marrok stood out in the field, silent for a moment. Ha had done the right thing, hadn’t he? The boys were taken unjustly. The guards had stolen that money and food. Taking it back had to be the right thing to do. Rubbing the back of his neck, he followed his uncle at a slower pace. Inside the house, he undid the leather strap across his front, letting the gilded chest thunk onto the oak table.
Calith turned. His face was blank and impassive as he stared at the innocent box. Eventually, his shoulders eased down and his face softened. He thumped over and ruffled Marrok’s black hair “Go fetch my toolbox.”
The young man’s face split into a grin as he ran outside, loping straight towards the barn. The tools were always kept underneath several straw bales tucked in the very back corner. Tools were a rare commodity out in the country. The guards always made sure that they had only the equipment they absolutely needed and no more.
Marrok pushed the straw aside, dusting off the solid wooden box. The hinges were rusted and squealed whenever the lid moved. It took three attempts before he could lift it up, staggering back under the immense weight. His palms sweated against the slick sides, making the box slip from his hands when he crossed the threshold. Everything spilled out onto the floor: hammers, chisels, crowbars, nails, and ever a few knives scattered across the floor making Calith scowl again.
“Can you give me a chisel and hammer without killing anyone?”
Marrok only laughed in response, careful in his steps and he brought the right tools over. It took three poundings but the brass lock splintered.
Calith’s knotted hands lifted the lid as if it were a sacred thing. His fingers spread out as he caressed the gold pieces and jewelry inside. The old man gave a deep sigh as he straightened to his full height. Marrok watched in confusion as Calith rifled through the gleaming treasure before picking out a small leather pouch with a cord tied tightly around its center. He held the pouch close, tucking it in against himself as a mother would a child. Marrok recognized it. He had seen it in his uncle’s room countless times but had never understood what value it could hold. All it contained was an old necklace. Marrok shrugged it off to sentiment as he started scooping out handfuls of gold.
“No.”
“But-“
“I said no.”
“I wasn’t going to take all of it.”
Calith scowled, eyes narrowing. “What you’ve taken out already is more than enough. Go around and give it back to the other families,” he said, tucking the pouch away, “and tell them to hide it better this time!”
vvv
Marrok couldn’t help but pout as he stared into the recently emptied chest. Everyone had thanked him for having their money returned and he didn’t mind the kisses of gratitude from the girls in the village but gold would’ve been better. He could’ve escaped this place with that kind of money. Build a home of his own, far away from the reach of the guards. He could live like a King in his own little kingdom. With lots of beautiful women.
The extensive image of his domain was rudely interrupted when his face met up with the stone wall of his own cottage. Marrok cursed as blood poured from his nose. Holding his sleeve up to stem the flow, he kicked the door open. He froze on the threshold. His uncle was dashing about the room, acting twenty years younger as he stuffed two large burlap sacks with all that they had.
“What’re you…?” Marrok trailed off. His arm came down to his side and he let the blood flow from his broken nose.
Calith didn’t even bother to look up at him, continuing in his business as he packed away everything that they could easily carry. Clothes, provisions, the knives from the toolbox, all the money they had but nothing that could weigh them down. "Saddle Farrow and Garrett. Let all the other animals loose.”
“Why?” Marrok couldn’t understand. The guard’s station had a several walls missing now. What did it matter if one of them saw his face?
“Just do it, boy!” Calith yelled.
Marrok took a step back as if he’d been physically pushed. Calith had never acted this way before. Ever. He was the most patient man Marrok had ever seen but he’d been transformed into a madman, tearing up the house.
“Okay.” Marrok said, following orders as he went back out into the barn. The sun was starting to dip low, casting long shadows that looked like fingers reaching out across the fields. He watched as the gentle yellows and pinks burned into a blood red. He slipped into the barn, unable to shake the feeling that something was coming. Gathering up the two brown work horses, Marrok set two worn leather saddles on top of their backs, strapping them into place.
“Come on, boys” Marrok clicked his tongue, coaxing the two horses out as he opened the pig and sheep pens. A sharp pain developed in his chest as he watched the sun set, letting the shadows consume him. They were leaving. No, they were going to completely abandon the only home that he’d ever known. The dreams of riches and luxury dimmed somewhat in his heart as his uncle came out, lugging the two sacks behind him. They packed the stallions with everything they needed in silence.
Marrok mounted his horse, following his uncle as they headed off towards the mountains in the east, leaving their home behind them.
I liked it! The beginning is really interesting. I'm gonna go read the second part now.
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