Horizon

A story I wrote a few months ago, for a GCSE course, actually. I though it was alright.

A sudden chill woke me from my bed that morning, if I had said something about that then maybe the villagers would have seen it as an omen of bad luck. I didn’t, perhaps just one of many mistakes that I made that day. My clothes lay in a pile beside my bed, freshly washed the previous day in the nearby lake. I picked out a crumpled pair of brown, slightly damp trousers and put them on, then a tunic built for battling the cold northern winds that so often ravaged my town. The hut in which I had lived in for most of my life was looking very much worse for wear after the storms of the previous week. I did not know how long those repairs would have taken, but with the state of our resources I can imagine it being a long time.

Outside the village was in uproar. A man stood at the centre of what seemed to be a crowd consisting of the entire population was a tall, broad shouldered man in a hood that cast a vivid shadow across his face. This stranger had obviously said something that the village did not like. Little did I know then exactly what his words meant. He told us that a fate worse than death and eternal damnation in the deepest pits of hell awaited us if we stayed in our village for more than a week. Of what exactly this death was we were not informed, but the elder council heeded his warnings without a second thought. We were to move East, to the Mountains where this man had come from. He was to be our guide, that was what we called him. We never found out his name, nobody seemed to question him, not even I dared to speak against his word. We simply packed our bags, got together once more and set off, the Guide’s hulking figure leading the way.

The Guide had said East to the mountains, but nobody had asked him how far away these mountains were. An arduous journey spanning the entire country stood between me and freedom, three weeks into our travels we stopped. We were at the top of a huge hill, the Guide and I up at the front, villagers following closely behind slowly spread out over the top. The horizon stretching out in front of me glowed a faint blue, a calming and welcome colour that invigorated me. I wanted to set off, to run the whole way over to those faint snowy peaks. Behind us, however, was a totally different story. The Guide had not lied, the sky back where we had come pulsed an angry red, Blood rained down from the skies and lightning started huge fires, burning every forest and leaving huge wasteland of dry, cracked earth. A disturbing thought crept into my mind as I stood on that hill, what if the Guide had not come. What would have become of me? This evil sky was spreading, the reason for it and it’s source were unknown to us and the Guide would not talk about it, he simply told us that if we stop for too long then we are doomed. So we walked.

We walk for hour upon hour, a week came and went, people stopped talking to each other, every day was the same as the last. Every day the evil sky got closer. We all knew one thing, the sooner we get to the forest at the foot of the mountain, the better. Through constant quizzing and thinking we managed to discover that the evil will not spread past the sacred grove. But the Guide did not speak of this grove as a safe haven, he spoke of it with disgust, he spat out it’s name as though it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe if we knew why we would have thought about this trip more thoroughly, but we knew that we were too far in to stop now. One more day and we would be upon the fringes of the forest. The following night, the Guide stopped walking, pulled down his hood and looked straight at us. His face was scarred from what suspiciously looked like battle wounds, his eyes were a deep, bloody red. Suddenly I feared the man who I believed would bring salvation to us all, every one of us feared the Guide. His hulking figure silhouetted against the forest behind him. But he did not attack us, instead he spoke to us with a voice like thunder; “This forest holds more secrets then you could imagine. I am here to guide you through it, and to bring you out the other side of the grove alive. You must keep in constant contact with the person ahead of you, keep your heads down and for God’s sake do not lose your minds. Some of you are going to die, the others will have to move quickly to fill the gaps. If all goes well I expect perhaps just ten to die.” We could tell from his voice that this was not a joke. I had no family in this village but I knew each and every person as though they were my own brother or sister, and this man stood before me telling me that ten or more of them would be dead by the next day? I did not know what to think. Nobody did, this sudden revelation shocked us all, but we knew that there was no other choice. We continue or we all die. The answer was obvious, we continued.

The forest was more dense than I had expected. Weeds clung to our feet and thin, thorny branches cut our faces. Even the Guide appeared to struggle at some points. But nothing could have been worse than what came next. Whooping, inhuman cries echoed through the forest. Leaves rustled at our ears, some thing was out there, perhaps more than one, the Guide sank down closer to the ground, almost crawling beneath the bushes and thistles that now barred our path, we tried to get down to his height without going totally prone but to no avail. The trees were pushing us inward, there was no room to breathe. Claustrophobia began to set into my mind and those of the other villagers. The animalistic cries grew closer, it felt, at some points, as though the things were right behind me. It wasn’t long before one of the villagers cracked. He started shouting and screaming, ahead of me the Guide cursed under his breath, passing me a small serrated knife and told me to cut the line. The man that broke free burst out through the trees and was shot dead, countless arrows sticking into his chest. The heavy breathing of those around me stopped, every man woman and child grew totally silent, however the relentless pace of the Guide did not slow down at all.

We broke out into a clearing, I realised that we had reached the Sacred Grove. Some villagers thought that this meant safety. They were wrong. Sprinting out across the grounds they soon met their fates in the form of two, hulking beasts of men. Before the villagers had a chance to react they were cut down, scimitars taller than me cut gracefully through fat, muscle and bone. Everyone around me froze. The Guide did not, he threw away his cloak to reveal a tight leather suit, covered in leather straps. Each strap held a weapon, each one deadlier than the last, positioned about his person for ease of use. Without hesitating, he threw me one of the long swords on his back and charged towards the two hulking monsters. The Guide took these monstrosities by surprise, they had not anticipated an attack of this ferocity. Nor had they expected someone so coolly calculating in a high pressure situation. The Guide fought with extreme offensive skill, however his defence never lacked. Every enemy attack was either countered, dodged or both for good measure. The great beasts throw punches at him with their free hand, while slashing wildly about with the scimitar, but the Guide simply flicks his wrist, deflecting the blows easily. Then, suddenly, the realisation dawned on me. The two beasts were not winning, but what of the countless other monsters that filled this forest, those with bows and arrows, they were still out there. I was in awe watching The Guide fight, but those two were keeping him busy, and I had to act.

Upon turning around I found my worst fears confirmed. The villagers were desperately fending for themselves at the back of the group, against beasts just like the ones The Guide was fighting, but this time we had numbers. I rallied the villagers with a raucous, bloodthirsty call and told them to draw whatever arms they had. We were to fight off these attackers. Men came up with pitchforks and rakes, others with huge swords, scavenged from the graves of long dead crusaders. Regrouping near a huge rock we turned defensive, aiming more to block attacks rather than launch in our own. After a few minutes of battle a blood stained Guide returned to our sides. That was the turning point, what we had all been waiting for. We were not to fall to the hands of these beasts without a battle, and a battle they got. The villagers at the back began to climb the mighty rock, allowing those at the front more freedom to move. Then as one line we surged forwards.

Our numbers completely overwhelmed the minority force that had crushed us, however this was only temporary. Our plan came back against us in the end, for we had not expected what was to come. I and four other men had just disembowelled another opponent, his figure having previously been blotting out the danger that awaited us. There, on the edge of the forest, was a shroud of blackness, racing towards us at a heart stopping speed. We were finished, our only option to retreat. And so retreat we did. We blundered through the other side of the forest with a renewed vigour, slashing blindly at the vines that swung down, ready to hang us. I broke through the dense jungle, right after the guide. I swung round with a cry, awaiting the horrors that were to come crashing through after me. All that came were a crowd of panicked, crippled villagers. We had left with over one hundred brave souls. Only 30 remained. That night, the forest was burned to the ground, it's blazing fire would serve as a beacon of hope for others travelling the same path, and a warning to those who would stop them.

I look out across the horizon now and see clear blue stretching far over the mountains. A feeling of hope sends shivers down my spine as I imagine what kind of life awaits me there, beyond the horizon.