Nameless

Chapter one of The Nameless.

Nameless

 

Nameless looked over the destruction that had come upon his once thriving town. Before, children had run around in the dirt roads, while their parents worked in one way or another. Shopping, watching the kids, working the nearby fields... It didn't really matter. Animals, generally stray pets saved before they had died, used to roam and run just as much as the children, letting out their own unique sounds to mingle with the children's laughter. But now...it was all gone.

The streets were torn up from heavy boots, as compared to the normal light sandals or bare feet that went across them usually. Buildings had been razed to the ground, and the fields had been burnt to ashes. Animals and people alike lay slaughtered in the streets, the coppery scent of blood wafting up and assaulting Nameless's senses. He slowly walked down the road, a mixture of sadness and rage building up inside him with each person he passed, as each villager that he recognized and could put a name to went by his slowly moving feet.

The only reason for the attack had been because of their status. The people here were Nameless; perhaps the lowest one could go. Lower even than criminal, slaves, and beggars. For that, they had come, killing the men and any others who resisted, while sparing some of the women (very few had not wanted to put up a fight) and most of the children below the age of thirteen. They probably hadn't wanted to kill those. Few were heartless enough to slaughter women and children. But the men they had cut down without a thought. Nameless had to admit that he himself was lucky to be alive.

The young man of twenty-four stopped in the middle of the small town and crouched there, in the dirt. He held his upper arm, where a gash bled freely around his fingers. Other cuts were visible on Nameless's face, arms, legs, and even a small cut across his back. They were the injuries he'd sustained protecting some of his own before he'd retreated, not wanting to die or become captured himself. If that had happened, who would lead after him? Who would take it upon themselves to return the other Nameless people to the community? Surely there were some, but a majority of those brave souls lay at his feet, their life blood drained from their bodies, their glassy eyes staring ahead at nothing.

Nameless bowed his head, his black hair falling in front of his storm grey eyes, hiding the repulsion, hatred, and anguish from view. In front of him lay a young boy, one of the few reckless children who had tried fighting back and had been brutally slaughtered for his efforts. A dagger was still in his hands, and his face showed his fear and shock. Nameless recognized this child, as he did with all of the other villagers. This one had named himself Joseph and was only eight years old. It was sickening, how anyone could do this, simply because of another's status.

            Reaching out, Nameless gently closed the boy's eyes so he at least looked like he was having a somewhat frightening dream. But the expression would disappear shortly, replaced with the blank look of the long-dead. A single tear rolled down Nameless's face as he regarded the boy, much too young to get killed, targeted only because his mother had died in childbirth and his father had abandoned him, leaving him without a name.

            It was silent for a good five minutes before Nameless caught the sound of the soft tread of feet coming down the road toward him. It sounded too gentle, too quiet to be the Named returned to make sure they were finished, and so Nameless was not alarmed. He just looked up, turning his head slightly so that he could see whoever was approaching. As he did so, he couldn’t help a trace of surprise flickering across his face. He had been sure everyone had been killed or captured " the last thing he had expected was for there to be another survivor.

            Looking down the road, Nameless was quick to spot the young woman. Admittedly, she stood out amongst the dead, still bodies of his villagers, though she herself looked almost dead as she shambled down the street with an uneven gait. Her skin was deathly pale and splotched with red. Even from the distance that Nameless was seeing her at, he could tell that she had at least minor injuries " there were streaks of blood compared to spots, and her simple dress was torn. With each step, blood dripped from a wound in her foot, making her limp heavily. A light curtain of hair fell about her face, stained with blood and ashes. Even though he couldn’t see clearly from here, Nameless knew she would have bright blue eyes, because he recognized this young woman. Her name was Sky, and she was just a couple years younger than he was.

            Nameless rose, using his good arm to lever himself up into a standing position before covering his wound once more. He told himself to keep his eyes up, to not look down at the battle ground that he stood on. He met the young woman half way, and in normal circumstances he would have smiled in greeting. As it was, he simply nodded, looking her over swiftly. At the very least, Sky seemed to have sustained minimal injuries, aside from her foot, where it appeared as if she had been stabbed with a sword.

            “Sky,” the young man said, a tinge of happiness and relief leaking through the otherwise grim word. “I thought you had died. Or had been taken as well. Everyone else has.” Nameless grimaced and couldn’t stop himself from looking around once more. Just the day before he’d had over one hundred people that he governed. Now they were dead or gone, save for him and Sky.

            The young woman reached out and gently fingered the area near the wound on Nameless’s arm. On reflex, the young man drew back, and Sky quickly retracted her hand, letting it dangle down at her side. “I’m safe. Though I worry about those who have been taken. And you. You’re pushing yourself now, Nameless. We don’t need you gone, too,” she said quietly. Nameless pursed his lips and closed his eyes, turning his head away. He knew that he was pushing through the pain and blood loss from his injuries, no doubt a foolhardy move, but he felt as if this should be dealt with before his own wounds.

            Looking up at Sky again, Nameless shook his head slowly. “Hold off on worrying about me until we’ve taken care of this,” he said, cautiously starting around her, as he tried not to tread on any of the deceased. Sky reached out and grabbed his arm, his uninjured one, in order to stop him. Nameless looked at her darkly, but she bit her lip and didn’t let go. While it was extremely unusual for people to try and keep Nameless from doing anything, Sky felt it was necessary.

            “We can take care of this later,” she said gently, though his dark look didn’t disappear. “They… they won’t be going anywhere.” Sky’s voice broke and she bit her lip again, harder, to keep from crying. Nameless continued to glare but his expression soon softened a shade as a tear ran down Sky’s face and her shoulders shook once in a muffled sob. “We can give them a funeral once we know you won’t be buried too.”

            Sky stared at the young leader whose arm she still held in her grasp, silently pleading with him. Nameless finally sighed and looked away, closing his eyes again as he slowly nodded. “Very well. But we shouldn’t hold off too long. They need a proper burial soon,” he said, and Sky’s hand slipped from his arm as he continued down the street. Though he knew she wouldn’t stop him again " he had said he would allow his wounds to be treated first, and Nameless never backed out of a promise.

            Nameless ghosted through the streets, his eyes trained on nothing and everything at the same time. Despite his efforts to avoid looking at the dead, Nameless’s eyes kept drifting their way, taking in their faces, noting the brutal ways that they had been killed. An arrow through the skull, a farming scythe through the gut, a cut throat, a chest caved in by a war hammer… The Named had been ruthless with their attacks, holding nothing back.

            Gritting his teeth, the young man walked through the mass of bodies, toward the edge of the village. He was finding it difficult to walk without swaying or stumbling, as blood loss was making him light-headed and each of his injuries was either burning or stinging, depending on the severity. Yet Nameless kept himself upright and walking normally, as if trying to prove to himself and Sky that he was perfectly fine. He didn’t know what Sky thought of it, but he himself wasn’t buying it.

            The two reached the edge of the village, though nothing much had changed between here and there. The one building that sat on the outskirts, Nameless’s own home, had been destroyed just like the rest of them, and the motionless forms of bodies still littered the ground. Nearby were two more destroyed buildings, their wooden planks sticking up sharply like teeth, with glass from the windows scattered across the road, glinting in the early morning sun.

            As soon as they reached the end of the village, Sky disappeared into one of the buildings, carefully picking her way across the rubble, minding the hole in her foot. Nameless watched her go and sank down to the ground, a little ways away from the streets, his back pressed very gently against a tall, singed, but otherwise undamaged tree. There was a faint heat still residing in the bark, as if the tree had soaked up all of the fire’s heat and the smoke, storing it within the wood. In any other circumstances the warmth would have felt good " now it just made Nameless think of the fires that had lit up the night sky and the smoke that had swept through the town like a wraith.

            Nameless leaned his head back against the tree, closing his eyes. Though now he could see it, the attack in its entirety. Children screaming, shouts, the clanging of metal on metal, the laughter of the Named, buildings and fields suddenly bursting into flame, animals racing away and screaming in their own unique languages, the young children and women gathered up to be taken… Nameless snapped his eyes open, letting them stare up at the rapidly brightening sky instead of watching that massacre again. He vaguely noted that the bright blue of the sky starkly contrasted what had happened the night before " he’d almost expected the sky to be red or black, not such a bright, cheerful color.

            It was a full five minutes before Sky returned, a somewhat crushed and warped box tucked underneath one arm, a bowl in hand, and her clothing and skin covered in more soot and ash than it had been before. She set the box and bowl down in front of Nameless and then joined him on the ground. “Some of the stuff in here was no good anymore, and I had to find new supplies,” she said, pulling open the lid of the box with a bit of difficulty, as the metal had bent oddly. Though Nameless figured that could only be expected after being subjected to intense heat and then the weight of the walls and roof all on one little box.

            Inside the box was a decent collection of medical supplies. Rolls of bandages, medical tape, a sewing kit, disinfectant, a very basic and simple healing salve, tweezers, a scalpel, syringes, and bottles of medicine, none of which Nameless was quite sure of their properties. Overall, he was rather surprised at the great number of supplies, having expected more damage to them. The bowl the salve was held in was cracked, and a couple of the medicine bottles were warped, but otherwise everything appeared to be in working condition. He just hoped it wasn’t just appearance.

            Sky moved so that she could easily reach his arm, gently pulling his hand away from the wound. Nameless let her, watching as the young woman cleaned off the blood with some of the water that was in the bowl she’d brought. Once the blood was washed away, it revealed the severity of the wound " a deep cut, which was already starting to swell and become red, though not from blood stains. Nameless watched as Sky took out the disinfectant, unscrewing the bottle, before carefully pouring some over the injury.

            At the touch of the liquid, Nameless hissed and made to jerk his arm away, but Sky held it still, keeping a firm grip on his elbow. The disinfectant had made the injury burn, sending pain and discomfort shooting up his arm. Once she was done and the disinfectant had soaked into the injury, Sky allowed him to snatch his arm back while she prepared a needle, as the wound would need to be stitched closed. Nameless held his arm once more, only to have to relinquish it once more when Sky was ready.

            The young woman took her leader’s arm gently, washing the blood off again, and put the needle to his skin. Nameless felt a pinching and tugging sensation in his skin which, while not exactly bothersome, was most definitely unpleasant. Watching the needle going in and out only made the feeling seem to be amplified so he looked away, allowing Sky to quickly finish up her work. Every few stitches she’d pause to clear the new blood away before going back to efficiently sewing up Nameless’s sword wound, until a minute later, the large gash had been entirely closed up.

            As soon as a bandage had been wrapped around his arm and tape used to keep it there, Nameless made to rise, only to be pushed back down. He glared, his eyes flashing, and Sky glanced away this time. “At least wait for my help. Please?” she said. Nameless looked at her and then at the hole in her foot and nodded, sitting back against the tree once more.

            As he waited for Sky to tend to her own injuries, Nameless fought off a sudden wave of fatigue, which had crashed over him without warning. True, he hadn’t slept the night before, and so he’d been awake for quite some time. And he had exhausted his body physically, fighting and pushing himself despite his injury. So it wasn’t exactly surprising, yet he did not want to fall asleep just yet. He had people to attend to; things that needed to get done as soon as possible, before even sleep. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to relive the night before in a dream.

            It took another few minutes, but finally Sky was finished with her first aid. A bandage was wrapped securely around her foot much like a sock, and she wobbled a bit as she stood. Nameless rose as well, much more fluidly, and helped Sky to right herself. “Search the houses " see if anyone is inside. I’ll gather the villagers,” Nameless said, frowning at the words leaving his mouth. They sounded so casual, as if he was simply declaring that he was going to assemble everyone for a meeting. The words, in reference to the dead, tasted like ash in his mouth. Though that was probably enhanced by true ash in his mouth.

            Sky nodded and limped off while Nameless headed forward just a few feet before picking up the limp form of a teenage boy. The freshly-attended injury in his arm screamed in protest to the sudden weight, but Nameless ignored it, gently carrying the boy off to the center of the village, where he would bring all of the Nameless to rest until graves were dug for them. He tried to block off his emotions, become dead to what he was doing, as Nameless prepared himself for the grim task of preparing a funeral for approximately three fourths of his people.