Prologue: New Homes

Not very good I know. I still have a bunch of kinks to work out. Just something I do in my spare time when I'm bored.

 

Prologue: New Homes

A gray cloaked figure moving with unusual stealth and grace sprinted out of the screen of the overgrown forest. He carried in his leanly muscled arms a young girl with dark hair and a fairly light complexion, and he suddenly darted up to an ominous stone keep that loomed over him. He wove through the intricate patterns of armored guards and soldiers that patrolled the open grounds and leapt easily over a tall, red brick wall without touching it; it stood a few feet higher than the top of his hooded head. The child in his arms whimpered softly, and he froze, cold fear coursing through his veins and glanced down the invisible path he had traversed. No alarm was sounded, and the guards shifted from foot to foot to hold the frigid cold that threatened to seep into their bones at bay.

            The man continued, silently skirting along the castle, edging carefully along its stone wall. The small girl shivered in sleep, and he cuddled her closer to him, tucking her into his broad chest. As he slunk gracefully across the lawn, melding with the shadows, his piercing gaze searched the yard for watchful guards.

 He turned the final corner around the keep, and a cluster of crumbling hovels came into view. He dashed through the dim lights that glowed from the interior of the candlelit shacks. Somewhere a baby cried. The man ran faster, targeting his destination. The infant’s wails grew louder, and the tiny girl looked up at the man with blurry, sleep-filled eyes. She blinked, and her eyes became round, emerald orbs, suddenly understanding and full of comprehension. He raced through the dark, heading for the house from which the screams and shrieks of the babe emanated.

            He reached the front door and hesitated for a brief moment. He set the child on the crumbling stoop and hugged her, kissing the top of her head. They embraced one last time before the man turned away from her and headed into the night. She took a deep breath and knocked gently on the rough, wooden door.

            It was opened by a short, thin woman who, despite cradling a tiny baby lovingly in her arms, was extremely muscular. The girl turned and gazed into the distance where a dim figure sprinted across the horizon, silhouetted by the rising sun. A lone tear rolled down her cheek before she was pulled into her new home.

*            *            *            *            * 

            A small boy with brown hair ran alongside his dark-haired mother, dashing through a city’s cobbled streets as a group of grim soldiers armed with weapons chased them. A single, broad-shouldered man stepped out of a home, seeming to bar their way. As the woman prepared to break her way through, he wordlessly opened his door and ushered them into a little, four roomed house. He led them to a cellar where they hid, crouching desperately behind barrels and crates of dried food and jars upon jars of preserves. Shortly after, soldiers flooded the tiny room.

            “They’re in here. Yes, I tricked them.” It was the man’s rough voice.

            The woman turned her head frantically from side to side before, yanking the boy’s arms behind his back so hard he almost cried out. She took a piece of ragged rope lying on the ground and gagged and tied him, all the while whispering urgently in his ear, “I’m not going to be able to come with you, but I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” The boy stared deeply into his mother’s eyes, seeing the doubt and fear in them. Even so, he nodded, trying to be strong. She continued, “Someone will come for you in time. Be patient. Pretend that I have kidnapped you from your home, pretend I have killed your parents, pretend that you are just a scared young boy. Do whatever they say and survive.”

            As the soldiers were about to spot them she dragged the boy back, spun him around so that he wasn’t facing the soldiers, threw him to the ground, and attacked the armed men.

            As much as the boy struggled, he couldn’t see his mother desperately fighting the soldiers. The woman whipped her head around, taking one last glimpse at the boy. Suddenly a silence filled the cellar; the fight was over.

            An officer walked over to the boy and picked him up, carefully untying his bonds. The boy, crying and stumbling on the words, out his story.

            “Then,” the officer declared quietly, “since you no longer have a home, it is fitting that you should be given to our cause, both because we found and rescued you and also because you may then be dedicated to avenging your parents. Welcome to your new home as the youngest of our ranks."

*            *            *            *            *

            A lone boy crept along the wall of a building, silently drawing closer to a back door that led only to the garbage heap. He made his way through the garbage and stood at the door for a few minutes, gathering his courage.

            Slowly but surely, he pulled a crumpled, dirtied slip of paper out of his tunic. The writing on it read:

Isaak Leach,

Please take my son as your own. He will work well for you despite his age and as he grows I am sure he will only become more dedicated and loyal. Teach him your trade and take him as your apprentice. I know you do not have a son of your own nor a wife to provide you with one. He will be there to take care of you when you grow old and need assistance. Please, take him. I cannot care for him, and his father is dead. Please. Thank you. May fortune smile well upon you, kind sir, and may all your wishes and dreams be granted. You truly are a better man than most in these times. Most heroes’ tales remain unsung but every night and every morning when the sun rises and sets, I will pray for your continued health and well-being.

A Desperate Mother

 

            The boy curled into a ball and tucked the corner of the letter under his elbow so that it was still visible, but it wouldn’t be blown away. Then, staying in his position on the ground, he raised his fist and knocked on the door, five careful, slow raps. Footsteps could be hear approaching the door and as it opened, the boy closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

            A middle-aged man stood in the door. He looked down, took in the boy and letter in the same instance and picked up the letter. He quickly scanned the words and sighed.

            He bent over and gently scooped up the boy, who pretended to open his eyes and yawn in bewilderment.

            “Where am I?” the boy mumbled.

             The man looked down on the boy with soft, pitying eyes. He sighed again before replying, “I suppose it’s now your new home.”