The Blade At My Throat - Part 2
A short story by the self titled Master of the Multiverse
Incase you missed it, here’s part 1:
NOTE: I apologise in advance for the terrible accents in the audio version and I really hope I don’t offend anyone.
I wake up tied to the wheel of a cart in the village square. I cast a bleary eye around and see a crowd around me keeping their distance. Two old women and an old man, the elders I assume, stand between me and the townsfolk and I notice that my leg isn’t frozen or even hurting anymore as I focus my slowly clearing vision on the elders.
The first woman has entirely grey hair, slightly wrinkled blotchy skin, and wears well made trousers and a thick stained apron over her slim but muscular frame. I remember seeing her at the smithy on one of my deliveries, but I didn’t realise she was one of the town's Elders.
The second woman is short, overweight, her dress is an attempt at fashion that doesn’t exist in this remote forest village and she is wearing more gems than I’d ever seen on a merchant’s stand at one time. She is leaning on a beautifully carved cane in the shape of a tree and her face speaks of a life many times longer than mine, though her hands tell me it was one spent indoors.
The old man’s head is shaved clean except at the back where his waist length, braided, salt and pepper hair is woven with bone charms and metal ornaments. He wears a long, slightly curved sword but no armour, just light, loose clothing that seems to wrap and fold around him and a woven belt keeping it all together. The belt has an iron symbol hanging from it that I recognise as the town's emblem. Most striking though, is how big he was.
I’ve heard stories of folk like him. People say they are from a distant land where they consider war to be an art form. They are also said to be big. I’ve heard stories saying they are half again as tall as us and looking at his massive frame and how he stands a head taller than the tallest person here, I wondered if it might be true.
Our eyes meet as the Elder notices I’m awake, and I search for any sign of mercy as rolls up his sleeves and raises his heavily muscled and scarred arms. The crowd quiets down after a moment, and he begins my trial while still holding my gaze.
“You have called for this man to be punished for the murder of Chiory Valeborn.” He turns to the crowd, casting a steely eye over the assembled townsfolk. “Does anyone here claim to have witnessed the murder?”
The whole thing is a farce. People I knew hadn’t been in the inn stepped forward to claim they’d seen the whole thing. No-one challenged them and when the barman claimed he had seen me point at the poor woman, laugh maniacally and fire a series of floating ice spikes into her body I just started laughing.
“How could you have seen anything, barman? You hid in your cellar as soon as the one with the axe decided to kill me.” The barman bristled at my words and started shouting protests but the bejewelled elder silenced him by stabbing his foot with her cane as she stepped between us.
“What man with an axe?” She demanded in a croaky voice. I described him and she turned to the crowd, asking if anyone recognised him.
When no-one did I described the cleric and a kid wrestled his way free of his mom’s grip to stand before the aproned elder. To my immense relief the youngster was the first to back up anything I had said, though he too was clearly enjoying the spotlight.
“I don’t know their names but they arrived early in the morning and were asking around for an inn. They baulked at Jun’s prices though so I sent them to the Sleepy Wolf. One of them had an axe, another had a big book and one of them looked like the cleric from The Night The Forest Roared.” That was a popular bard's tale, especially in this area.
The elders looked to me for my version of the events. I told them, and where the villagers' stories stank of embellishment and a desire to be involved in something exciting, mine had the ring of truth.
“You speak like you don’t control the ice, like it’s a curse.” The steely eyed elder stated. “Yet, in the woods you healed your leg. You filled it with ice that melted away, leaving only healthy flesh and a light scar.” He knelt before me, making eye contact and growled out “That does not sound like a curse. It does not sound like you lack control.”
“I believe he is telling the truth about most of it.” Jewellery rattled as she spoke, “but I agree with Elder Sagong. He is lying about his control.”
“I’m not lying! I’ve been running since I first needed to shave! The ice comes, wherever I go, however hard I try to avoid trouble, the ice comes!” I surprised myself by shouting at the crowd. “I’ve never healed anything before, I didn’t even know I could! When I’m in trouble, things just happen! It’s not my fault!”
I keep protesting but the crowd drowns me out and a few throw rotten fruit and vegetables at me until the elders stand in the way and quiet them again but with far more difficulty this time.
Elder Sagong calls forth the barman. He draws his sword and rests the sharp edge on the barmans shoulder, making him flinch. “Bruce Bregan; Did you witness the death of Mrs Valeborn?” A light flares from his blades edge and it sinks visibly into the man's shoulder and draws blood.
The blood flows around his blade as he holds something up between them that I can’t see. Ribbons of scintillating light streak from the blood to whatever Elder Sagong is holding, and a red light illuminates the barmans face.
The barman trembles with fear and shakes his head, which makes the elder growl. “Answer!”
The barman struggles to speak before a tortured “No.” tears its way from his throat.
“Then where were you?” The Elder takes a step forward, the blade sliding along the barmans shoulder, cutting slightly deeper, more blood flowing out and snaking around the blade as the red glow starts to tinge the faces of those at the edge of the crowd.
“In the cellar” the barman screeches but stands very still, his eyes fixed on whatever the elder is holding between them. “I hid, just like he said” and he gestures at me as I feel myself sag with relief.
The glow fades, the blood falls to the ground with a splatter and with a smooth motion the sword is sheathed. He backhands the barman and states: “You have been a blight on this town, Bregan. You lie at every opportunity and only the worst of our visitors seem comfortable in your inn.”
The barman whimpers and is shoved back into the crowd as Elder Sagong turns to the other two and says “Once we’re done here I wish to discuss his punishment for lying. I recommend the harshest of measures in his case.” The other two elders nod, then all three turn to face me.
The aproned one says “We have only your word for it. Would anyone here vouch for you?” My mouth opens and closes as I try to recall anyone that seemed to like me, or even show me a modicum of respect. “Is there anyone here that will vouch for the accused?” She asks the crowd.
Elder Sagong turns slowly, casting his gaze over the assembled townsfolk, calling for someone to stand for me again but no-one does. I look for the murdered woman’s daughter but I don’t see her anywhere. I look for my employer, but he won’t meet my gaze. I look for the people to whom I delivered milk and cheese, but they turn away.
“Where are the travellers?” The bejewelled Elder asks. “Are they still in the village?”
The boy speaks again. “They left yesterday, Elder Sally. I saw them rushing out of the gates shortly after the men went out to hunt down the sorcerer!”
Sorcerer. Not the worst thing I’ve been called. It actually sounds quite impressive. At least, I hope it does as I’ve not heard the word before.
The elders gathered before me, whispering and seeming to agree on something before announcing a decision. “We will consider the matter and make a decision in the morning. He will be kept here, under guard by Elder Sagong until then.” With the decision made, the crowd dispersed. I got the feeling that most were disappointed not to witness me getting my head chopped off or maybe hung. Hangings were always popular after all.
The old man stood facing me, one hand on his scabbard, glaring at anyone that got close. After a few hours a guard brought him some water and food. He shared the meal with me, feeding me by hand since he refused to untie me from the cart.
As the sun dipped behind the buildings, and the cold started to set in I remembered the feeling I got that morning when healing my leg, and tried to feel it again. It was there though much weaker, and only reached a little past my skin, but I could feel the rope, the wheel of the cart, the ground beneath me.
‘Let's see if I can control this, since they’re so convinced I am able to.’ I thought, and focused on the rope. I focused on its threads, on the cold I could feel in the air around me, and willed it to freeze the fibres and make them brittle.I felt the air grow cold and got excited. It was working!
I grunted with the effort and then the world shifted sideways suddenly, my breath left me and I sagged against my now slightly child bindings that were digging into my wrists.
“I do not recommend trying to escape. I have the authority to end your life should you attempt it.” He was kneeling beside me, examining the rope, and then called out to someone. They ran over and pointed a spear at me as he walked away. He came back some time later with the elders.
“I witnessed your attempt to break your bonds using your powers.” Elder Sagong states. “You clearly have trouble controlling it however.” He raises a bushy eyebrow and continues with a hint of amusement. “You were grunting with effort, sweating and staring intently at your bonds for a full minute before anything happened.”
The bejewelled elder rattles a step forward and pronounces her judgement. ”Banishment. You are clearly guilty, but you acted in your own defence. It would be worse but as is our custom we ask ourselves what punishment we would want our guilty child to suffer.” Her voice mellows a little, “Were it my child in your shoes, I would want them to live to learn from their mistake.” She looks down her nose at me before stepping back.
The last elder steps forward, now without her apron and her hair loose and framing her face such that her natural beauty was obvious, even at her age. “If it were my child I would agree that their crime was not forgivable, but that they need guidance if they are to live. We cannot risk their power running wild and killing others.” Before she can say more though, Elder Sagong steps forward.
He draws his sword and to my shock, clutches the blade and slides his palm up it, drawing blood. He then takes out his holy symbol and speaks the name of a god I don’t know. “I swear that were it my child I would banish them, and be the guide they need. I would be the blade at their throat that promised death, should they lose control, that they might never fear hurting an innocent again.”
His words hang in the air for a moment as the other two elders reel in shock. “Surely you aren’t suggesting that you go with this… Vagrant?” the bejewelled elder asks, outrage clear in her voice.
“I am.” Sagong speaks and the holy symbol flares, its light glowing as red as his blood which still flowed around the blade.
“I… bah!” The bejewelled elder stormed off shouting over her shoulder. “Do as you will, you giant oaf!” The other elder watched her go, then turned to Elder Sagong.
“Are you certain? You would leave with him, guide him, and vouch for him?” She spoke as though stood in a royal court, surrounded by witnesses, her voice projecting, her stance firm and authoritative even though no-one was there to see it beside the guard who’s spear tip now rested on the ground, alongside his jaw.
“Yes.” Is all the old man says and the light flares again, so she turns to me.
“Do you accept Elder Sagong as your guide? Swear to follow his guidance, and allow him to be the blade at your throat, ensuring you cannot hurt anyone else?”
My words freeze in my throat. I can’t believe what is happening. I’m going to live? Because of some foreigner from a distant land I’d only heard stories about? A man who clearly has the trust of a god? This man has decided that if I were his child, which I most certainly am not, he would vouch for me, guide me, and protect the world from me?
I look between them, eyes wide, as tears run down my face and I hastily nod while trying to force words through a throat that seems to have sealed shut with shock.
“Then it is done.” She pulls out a knife, cuts my bonds, helps me to my feet and tells the guard to leave before she turns back to the old man “Elder… No, Master.” She corrects herself “Master Sagong. It has been a privilege.” She bows deeply which causes him to tense before bowing in return.
“The feeling is mutual, Elder Ignia.” He states. She speaks again before he has risen from his own bow, her voice once again courtly.
“Sagong Chi-Won, I hereby banish you from Wood Shade. You are never to set foot here again, and all your titles and privileges are stripped from you. Leave before the sun rises, never to return. And… May the forest always shade you.”
With that she turned and left us alone. Sagong told me to follow and I stumbled along behind him, my legs barely able to move after being seated for almost a whole day and the trials that came before. I realise that even if I had frozen and shattered my bonds, I could barely have made it a single step before this huge swordsman, or the guard, or some old lady with a hefty kettle, would have cut me down.
We stopped at his home, which was entirely un-decorated and had only the essentials and a shrine to his god. He packed up food and water into two bags, and handed me one of them.
“Is there anything in the inn you wish to claim before we leave?” There isn’t. I have little to nothing left after running for my life so many times. The last time left me with only the clothes on my back, a pouch of coins, a knife and a gourd and I’m not sure where any of that is now.
We head for the gate, the moon starting its journey across a sparsely clouded sky and the guards open the gate just enough to let us out, one of them giving Sagong a pack with rations for the road, and outside are all the other guards standing at attention. One of them barks something and they all salute, nearly in unisson. As I trail after Master Sagong, I feel their resentful gazes on my back.
We march off into the night and the giant trees seem so much scarier by moonlight. He marches in stern silence until, as the sun starts to shine over the immense roots I decide to ask him where we are heading.
I clear my throat, which is dry and rough after recent events, “Elder…” And that’s as far as I get.
“I am no longer an elder. Call me Master Sagong.”
“Right. Where are we…”
“To my homeland.There are sorcerers there, like you. People who don’t need books or teachers to have power. They are born with it.”
“Isn’t your homeland a long way from here?”
“Yes.” I waited for more, but nothing was forthcoming. “Right. If they don’t need teachers, will they know how to help me?”
“They teach control.” He stops and pokes me in the chest. “The power is already there.”
“Oh… Yeah, ok. Thank you.” He didn’t answer. In fact, unless he needed to communicate something, like “Stay here.” or “Build the fire.” That was the last conversation I had with him for months.
P.S. Thank you for reading so far. My best guess is there are two sections left, though the first two were the longest, and the last two need the most editing because I originally wrote this all in one night and as I got progressively more tired, my writing got worse and worse. As I mentioned before I’m also editing out some things I decided won’t be part of my world anymore and they feature most prominently in the second half of the story so that’s taking a little more effort to write out.