Son of Soron (18 page)

Verin watched as the giant man in full armor exited the house slowly with his shield raised high. While Verin’s arrows would kill a man at this range, they would do little against this man’s armor. Nathan would be on his own for the next few minutes. Verin started down the mountain, moving as fast as he could. Nathan faced a battle-hardened northerner warrior, Verin could only hope the training Nathan had was enough to overcome this difficult adversary. He rushed to gain a position where he could help the boy.

As the bandit leader walked out of the cabin, Nathan knew that he was in trouble. The man was as big as Soron, his father, had been, only bigger around the waist. In his armor and with sword and shield, there would be no help from Verin’s arrows, which would be ineffective against this foe. His own weapons would be less effective as well. But armor and shields were heavy and slow, so agility was Nathan’s advantage if he could survive the northerners attacks long enough to find an opportunity to use his speed to deliver an effective blow.

The bandit leader carefully walked around the corner, keeping his shield positioned to protect from Verin’s arrows. The large bandit leader stopped and stood there, scowling at Nathan. He is man-sized but truly is a boy, Ungar thought to himself. How pathetic his men were for dying at his hands. “You never should have come here, boy. You may have killed this rabble, but I am going to cut your heart out and feed it to you. Then I am going to kill your archer. Once I am done, I going to find any family you have and do worse to them,” the giant raged as he prepared for Nathan to attack.

Nathan knew the man was trying to goad him into attacking where the bandit was safe from any of Verin’s arrows. Nathan was not falling for this. He also wasn’t waiting for Verin either. This was his fight and he would meet it head on. Trusting in the lessons his father and uncle had given him, Nathan walked behind the cabin slowly to meet the outlaw who had caused so much pain and terror over the last few months.

Once Nathan was well past the corner of the cabin, Ungar made his attack. Coming fast, he attacked with a vicious downward swing of his sword. Nathan blocked the attack but Ungar used his shield to bash Nathan back. Nathan stepped back quickly but still was hit hard by the shield. He barely had time to raise his weapon and block the next attack. Ungar was relentless in his attacks. He wanted to kill the boy quickly before the unknown archer could join the attack. But Ungar was unable to get past the defenses of Nathan. While this boy was young, he was quick and almost as strong as Ungar. And he had skill with those damned daggers, thought Ungar. He would not go down. He had underestimated the boy and, as much as he was intending to kill him, he actually admired the boy’s.
Yes,
he thought,
the little bastard has guts
! 

It only took Verin two minutes to get down the mountain and into meadow where he could see the fight taking place. Verin did not fire on the bandit chief. Instead he walked up and just watched.

Ungar saw the man standing there and was baffled that he had not yet joined the fight. The boy has skill, but surely this man didn’t think the boy would beat him. As much as he was glad for the reprieve of not having to fight this second man, he was further infuriated by him watching Ungar fight a boy. He would kill that one slowly.

Nathan sensed his body beginning to tire. He started to worry that he would not be able to defeat this giant. He was too strong, and Nathan was getting too exhausted. The relentless pounding of the giant man’s sword was taking its toll, but Nathan began to breathe deep, despite being in constant motion. He was able to control his breathing and keep his adrenaline from releasing too fast. While Nathan breathed his way back into control, the giant man was starting to lose his. While bigger and stronger than Nathan, Ungar had heavy armor, a shield and a large sword to wield. The continued attacks were beginning to leave Ungar short of breath. He would need to end this quickly or have nothing left, with which to face the archer.

So Ungar surged forward, giving one massive effort into a downward swing.  Nathan’s instincts kicked in and, as he had learned to do against his father, Nathan pivoted on his right foot, swinging his body out of the way of the sword coming down at him.

Bringing both blades up, he crossed his daggers and let the sword strike the blades. But instead of trying to push the sword off to the side, he turned his daggers and forced the sword to continue on past his turning body to hit the ground. He pushed down on his daggers, keeping the sword momentarily pinned to the ground. He then used the momentum of his pivot to swing his left leg around and behind the legs of Ungar.

As Ungar pulled back on the sword to release it from the wedge formed by the ground and Nathan’s daggers, his own momentum forced him back onto Nathan’s leg. He lost his balance and took an awkward step back to try to regain it.

During this step back, Nathan kept his left blade on the sword, now pushing it off to the side. Still balanced on his right foot, he pushed up and forward bringing Nathan close enough to his opponent’s body to strike him. While he had only tapped his father on the chest to finish the maneuver, this time he struck hard, sinking his dagger into the bandit chief’s exposed neck. Ungar was dead before he hit the ground. Ungar did not even complete the thought going through his mind, that his awkward step would be trouble.

Now that the battle was over, Nathan looked over at Verin, then around at all the men they had killed. With the sun out, he could see the faces of the men. They weren’t just dark forms in the dusk that needed to be killed, they were cold pale corpses. In the light, Nathan saw that the two sentries on the wall, were in fact the two bandits that previously attacked him on the road. This did little to make the sorrow that was building in him go away. He felt nauseous. Death was ugly. He looked at the blood spatters on himself. He felt remorse and satisfaction at the same time. His eyes showed their confusion when they looked toward Verin.

Verin embraced him, placing a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let it out, boy. It is okay to weep for the loss of life here today. Even bandits, thieves and murderous scum like this deserve someone to cry at the lost. There is no shame in feeling bad about having to kill. The shame comes when you no longer care.”

Tears streamed down Nathan’s face as he held his uncle tight. Adrenaline had carried him through the battle but now it was fading fast, leaving only sorrow.

“The number of lives you saved today and the number of wronged souls that you have avenged is worth that pain. Let it out now, so it doesn’t haunt you later. Whenever you wake in the night and see the faces of dead foes, concentrate on their deeds and the lives that have been saved because of your actions,” said Verin.

Nathan absorbed his uncle’s words, and understood them. When he thought of Ava and the rest of the villagers who would be safe now, the emotional pain started to dissipate. He did what was needed here, nothing more. They started burying the bodies. Verin was tempted to leave them to rot but the mountain pass intrigued Nathan and he did not want to have to look at the bodies ever again. The battle itself took only a little time, less than half an hour from the first arrow till the falling of the northern bandit but the cleanup took a full day. By the time Nathan and Verin finished burying the bandits, it was almost dark.

Despite the availability of the cabins, they chose to spend the night camped outside where they could see the stars and not think about sleeping in a dead man’s bed. Someday, the cabins might be useful but it was much too soon to use them without thinking of the men that slept in them.

Chapter twenty five

HAVING SLEPT LATER than usual, Nathan woke to the smell of Verin cooking breakfast. He looked around to see where the aroma, that wetted his appetite, was coming from.  He stretched. A few muscles protested. The soreness in his arms was from grave digging, not fighting.

Verin saw the wince Nathan made as he stretched his arms above his head. He made a joke that next time they should let a few bandits escape so there would not be so much digging.

Nathan looked apologetic.  He had insisted on burying the men. He appreciated his uncle’s attempt at humor. Dealing with the emotions of having killed these men was hard. He wondered how his father had felt after his first kills. Would his father have been disappointed that he had hunted down these men?

Verin watched Nathan carefully; he could see the range of emotions he was struggling with. The boy would make it through this, but it would change him. “Should we head back to the village, check on the potion making?” asked Verin. He did not want to camp here any longer than necessary; doing so would keep Nathan focused on death, something Verin wanted to avoid. Going back and seeing the people he was fighting for would be a good reminded of why they had come here.

Nathan thought about this, he remembered Ava’s last word to him. He wasn’t ready to deal with it yet. “Actually if it is okay with you I kind of want to try this path over the mountain. The nearest pass through the mountains dad had mentioned was weeks of travel to the west." Nathan paused to see Verin’s reaction, when no negative response came he continued “This would be a good opportunity to get into the northern lands and gather some witch oak, there are some projects I want to make before we leave the village for Balta. I am going to need some for them. I also want to try making a bow out of a witch oak.”

Verin nodded, he knew a bit about making black steel from Soron. Verin knew the value of witch oak, the strongest and most dense wood known to man. It was only found in the northern lands and was vital to getting the forge fires hot enough to work the graphite and phosphorus into the metal. “Making black steel are you? Well, I’m okay with that. I would like to watch you do it. I have seen black steel blades like yours before but never seen it made." Verin had no problem with the idea of spending a few days traveling through the north. New country always intrigued him and a quest for the rare wood would keep the boys mind off more unpleasant things.

“Black steel?” asked Nathan, unfamiliar with this term.

Verin explained to Nathan that while in the east the metal was simply called northern metal after the men who forged it. In the south, it was simply called black steel, for the dark tinge the graphite added to the metal. Steel was a rare commodity throughout the land, black steel an even rarer commodity.

Preparing for the journey into the north, Verin and Nathan went through the bandit’s supplies. While they had not wanted to sleep in the beds the previous night they had no problem taking some of the food supplies on hand for their trek over the mountain. Being that it was late summer, it was a perfect time to travel north. Despite the cooler weather they would encounter at the summit, they would likely be dropping to lower elevations right away and would not need to worry about freezing. With restocked supplies and no real time table for the journey, they began the trip to the summit.

Normally to get to the northlands one would traverse over several large mountains with very hostile conditions. The altitude, high winds and barren rocky lands made travel near impossible. In a few places like this one, there were natural breaks in the groups of mountains. One only had to travel over a small mountain top and down a much less forbidding path than what most of the mountains had to offer.

The weather was clear and Nathan could see for miles. He had never been this high before and was taken aback by how far the eye could travel. Mountains and more mountains comprised the view to the east and west. To the south, he could look past the woodlands that he called home and onto the plains beyond. He wondered how much farther the plains went beyond what his eye could see before you got to the coast. To the north, all he could see was the mountain rising above. They journeyed above the tree line now and were rapidly approaching the rocky summit. While the mountain itself rose much higher on both sides the pass was low and not so steep that they could not walk up. On this side of the mountain, they could easily use horses or mules to travel with. What the other side of the mountain looked like remained to be seen.

By early afternoon, they reached the summit of the mountain pass. Nathan took a moment to survey the northern lands. His first impression was that   the land seemed more patchwork than the south. While the south had a gradual transition from mountains to hills, woodlands to prairie. The north seemed to be quillwork of valleys forests and dry barren looking land.

Verin interrupted Nathan’s musings on the different land formations with an important question “Where do you expect to find witch oak, Nathan?”

Nathan had been thinking about this when not absorbed in the raw beauty of the land they looked upon while traveling through the high mountains. “The mountain pass father used is to the west of here, but he mentioned that witch oak was fairly common all over the northern valleys. So if we keep heading north into the valleys we should find some. If not we can just keep heading west until we reach the lands my father mentioned.” Soron had given several descriptions of the landmarks he used traveling the north to Nathan growing up. He had described the twin mountains, that marked the western pass, well enough that even from the north side Nathan thought they should be recognizable.

When darkness fell, it found them camped under a ledge. The ledge had been formed by an outcropping of rock, which jutted out from the otherwise slow slopping mountain. Under the ledge, they had plenty of room for a fire. They were sheltered from the cool winds that hinted the changing of seasons was about to come.  The fire danced, shooting sparks up every now and then. It was a comfortable camp. It was a perfect time for conversation, a perfect time to ask Verin more questions as they sat eating a meal of dried meat and fruit.  Nathan asked Verin what he did back in Balta; there was so much he wanted to know about his mothers' family.