Out of Nowhere

by William Cali

  Her father had been bold and stern. To Peter, perhaps, he was kind, but she had seen that side of him more sparingly. But he was a loving man, with great wisdom to navigate a harsh world. He had spoken to her only briefly before leaving for Somerville, telling her, “You need to be strong, Catherine. Never assume that you will survive on the kindness of others. If you live by another’s whim, you are admitting weakness. And then all is lost.” The words rang in her mind even as the tears streamed down her face.

  “And now he’s gone. He’s gone from this world, and we need to go on without him.” She needed her mother now. The pain was too great to bear alone. But Marjen had behaved oddly. She hadn’t shed a tear for her husband and instead had stormed off with a bizarre look on her face. “We need to go find Mother,” she repeated to her brother.

  They walked the halls together, Catherine clutching her brother’s small hand. The image of her father, broken and destroyed, was burned into her mind. How could life be so cruel? He was so strong and tall, so full of courage.

  Somerville. The people there killed Father. She wanted to join the men going to fight, to make the horrible villagers pay for the horrible things they had done. The taxing never sat well with her. It was a cruel gesture, and she couldn’t see the need for the liquor. Her father was a mean man when drunk. But a cruel killing such as this only proved the village was full of monsters. She tried to clear her mind and continued the search for her mother.

  * * *

  Lady Marjen stared out into the forest, a blank expression on her face and a bottle in her hand. The guard on the tower eyed her cautiously, occasionally moving to correct her balance as she wobbled back and forth.

  She straightened her posture when Catherine approached. Her daughter had put on a brave face while Peter was weeping silently, his eyes sealed tight. “My dear children, you have always been my world. We are in a desperate situation, a situation that demands caution.” She clasped her daughter’s hands in her own. “Catherine, you are not nearly old enough to bear this burden, but life is markedly unfair. I pray I am wrong, but there is little doubt in my heart. You must promise me that you will never let your brother out of your sight.”

  “What are you talking about? What of Father?”

  “Your father is dead.” At that, Peter sobbed loudly. “You will have the rest of your lives to mourn but hear me now. Your father kept the peace here. He kept us in safety and security. I fear this pale man and the ill tidings he brings. Yozer will send our soldiers off to fight, and our home might descend into chaos in their absence.”

  “But Mother, I want to join with the soldiers!” Catherine pouted, stomping her foot on the stone floor. “Father always spoke of justice. I want to fight for his justice!”

  “Those are just pleasant words that men like your father are in a position to say. There is no justice in this world for women and children, and orphans least of all. You need to promise me that no matter what happens, you will stay with your brother, and you will keep him safe.”

  She rose and shuffled over to the wall. “Go to your room now, Catherine. Remember what I said.” Catherine left, new tears welling up in her eyes as she dragged Peter along with her. Lady Marjen looked down over the castle walls. She could vault over the side before the guard even realized what was going on. It would be easy, and it would be final. Gilbrand, you old fool. You have ruined us. She wept noiselessly. The guard shuffled in place, desperate to not make eye contact.

  * * *

  Ricard looked over the soldiers. Master Yozer had demanded their entire stock of two dozen horses, a soldier on every mount. Another thirty men marched in rows behind. Ricard inspected the men, swelling with a sense of pride. What an odd moment in time, he thought to himself. Gilbrand was dead, a great leader and the only lord he had known his entire life. Replaced by this odd man at such a convenient hour. Gilbrand had spoken of Master Yozer, of course. Anyone with an ounce of knowledge of the world had heard of the sorcerer. But those were just legends. How can a man fly over a wall like a bird? I feel as if I’m in a storybook.

  It was impossible to doubt the man’s legitimacy; he had vaulted the castle walls by his own power. But still, his intentions were a mystery. His hairless, pale face was disturbing, like no other person in existence. Ricard tried not to think about it, worried that Yozer could peer into his mind and read his thoughts. At that moment, the gaunt old creature spoke, making the captain jump.

  “This is all the men, Captain Ricard?”

  “Almost. We have another five in the castle, most of them new recruits. A guard at each tower should be sufficient to keep threats at bay. Per your orders.”

  “Excellent. It will be no trouble bringing these monsters to rout. Don’t let me deter you. Lead the way, Captain.”

  “Of course, Master Yozer.”

  Captain Ricard barked a solitary order at the men, who all grunted affirmations. He shuffled in his saddle, checking his gauntlets, his boots, making sure everything was in working order. There hadn’t been wars to march off to in his lifetime. The surrounding towns had either folded to Lord Gilbrand or were spoken for by another vassal of Yozer. Times were peaceful, but he had trained for this moment. A strong hand is needed to keep the peace. Gilbrand had shared the importance of that lesson early on. A village that makes liquors and little else, how many strong hands could they possibly have?

  A small part of him was happy to be off to war. He was better at this than anything else, Gilbrand had made that clear. And he was never good at matters of state. Those were always better left for Lord Gilbrand or Lady Marjen. He beckoned his horse forward, his reservations towards his new leader fading by the second.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Pent walked through town with Hanar, enjoying a brief moment of calm before he went back to training. Hanar had mapped out his route and had been discussing his plans with Pent.

  “Still, something is missing, and I am not sure what,” Hanar said. “I’m not sure what else I’ll need that I don’t already have. I’ve restrung my bow, I’ve sharpened my knife.”

  “Well, hopefully, it doesn’t come to that. You aren’t gonna get any mileage with that knife if you have to fight a dude in armor.”

  Hanar nodded, his face grim. “I hope it doesn’t come to that either. But you never know.”

  They both paused as they heard yelling in the distance. Someone was approaching.

  “Pent! Hanar!” It took Pent only a second to recognize Ellie’s voice. The situation in Somerville was regrettable for many reasons, one of them being he hadn’t had much time to spend with her. I’m sure there’s something there… She’s gotta be feeling me too, right? Damn, I suck with the ladies.

  A brief glance at her face snapped Pent out of his trance. She was sprinting towards them, a frantic look in her eyes. She’s definitely not looking for a date… She skidded to a stop before them, panting for breath.

  “What’s going on, El?” Pent asked. Hanar raised his eyebrow at the nickname but stayed silent.

  She struggled to regain her composure. “It’s… It’s Riven. Something horrible has occurred.” She gasped out her explanation through labored breaths, desperate to tell them everything. When she finally had, she led them off to Riven’s home.

  * * *

  The three of them barged into Riven’s well-kept house, startling the doctor. He had been preoccupied with his medicines, examining and reorganizing them. He clearly hadn’t expected any visitors.

  “Ellie, are these men in need of medical attention? That was quite an abrupt entrance.”

  “I’ve told them of what you plan to do.” She mumbled the words out, afraid to look Riven in the eye. She added a “sir” after a moment’s pause.

  “I see. Judging by the looks on your faces, you don’t seem to understand.”

  Hanar’s face had reddened, matching his bushy hair. Pent was doing a better job keeping his emotions in check. “I understand that we don’t have time for you to be stirring the pot,”
Pent said. “You’re a doctor. I thought you cared about matters of life and death.”

  “I knew you would react this way. The chief’s plan, and your plan by association, is insanity. We stand no chance of defeating Gilbrand and his armies. That old man is a fool. He’s no soldier and he’s no strategist. He’s leading us all to our deaths.”

  “I don’t see an alternative at this point. You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to,” Pent said as he crossed his arms. “Besides, you approved of the plan, remember?”

  Riven stood up, walking away from his medicines toward Pent. “We need new leadership in Somerville. The chief has been in charge for long enough.” He pressed his hand against his own chest. “I am the most qualified to lead Somerville. I should have been put in charge a long time ago. The only chance we have is to negotiate a peace with Gilbrand. If we can discuss things with him in an intellectual manner, instead of just swinging swords like barbarians, we can reestablish the terms which you fractured.”

  “That’s all this is?” Pent asked. “Some lame attempt at a power grab? How are you even planning on negotiating with Gilbrand?”

  “I believe all Gilbrand would need is a couple of prisoners as an apology for the insult against him. We should offer a few of Somerville’s dangerous elements as a tribute. Lemen and the chief make the most sense, being the principal causes of all this mess.” He stared Pent dead in the eye. “And you, of course.”

  Pent gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, ready to punch Riven in the jaw. But before he could unfold his arms, Hanar threw a haymaker and hammered Riven in the face, knocking him over a chair and onto the ground. Blood spurted out of his nose as he cried out. Hanar locked eyes with him, searing with rage.

  “You bastard! You’ve been undermining the chief for months.” He scoffed at the confusion on Riven’s face. “Don’t believe we’ve been blind to it. At first, you spoke of standing up to Gilbrand, and as soon as the chief found his nerve, you lost yours. You speak against everything he’s for, all to try and take his place.” Hanar loosened his fists and raised his hands in a disbelieving gesture. “And now when we’re at our most desperate, you would betray our people for your own gain?”

  Riven pushed himself ungracefully to his feet, one hand pinching back the flow of blood from his nose. “Constantly you resort to violence. There can be solutions to our problems that aren’t marred with violence!” He waved a blood-stained hand at the pair. “Not that I should expect either of you brutes to understand. Sometimes the needs of a few men should be abandoned to the needs of the entire village.”

  “So, are you part of the few men in this example, or part of the many?” Pent asked as he took a threatening step forward.

  “You take me for false, but I have done nothing but support you from the very start,” Riven said. “Despite the risks to myself, and despite the harm you’ve brought to this village. I never assumed you were a threat from the beginning, not like the chief.”

  “Oh, please,” Pent said, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t you listen to what Hanar just said? We all know that was just a ploy to undermine the chief. Whatever you could do to keep him on his toes and put yourself in charge. I knew there was something off about you from the moment I met you.”

  “Make your petty accusations of plots,” Riven replied, starting to clean himself up. “I am someone who always has Somerville in his heart. And in your hearts, you all know it’s true. I would be the leader this village needs.” To Ellie, he said, “Let’s go then, my dear. We will have to venture forth alone to fix this mess.”

  She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head decisively. “No! At a time like this, we all must come together. You’re a doctor. Are we not supposed to cherish every life? You can’t sacrifice Pent’s life to those wolves.” She spared a glance at Pent and wiped away fresh tears as she continued, “You can’t sacrifice any of our friends, our family. We’re meant to save lives, isn’t that the purpose of being a doctor?

  “Sir, you’ve taught me so much, and I’ll forever be indebted to you for that. But this is not the way. Somerville is my home, just as it is yours. I will not abandon it, and you shouldn’t either.”

  Riven glared coldly at his apprentice. “Very well. All I ever do here is save people, and what do I have to show for it? Not even the trust of my apprentice. Don’t worry, you ingrates, I’ll save you all again.” With that, he brushed past Pent and Hanar. They watched, disbelieving, as he stormed down the road and out of town.

  * * *

  Pent was deeply shaken by Riven’s betrayal.

  The chief was less than thrilled, but he accepted what had happened. “There is nothing for us to do now. We need to stay the course, and Ellie will have to manage without the good doctor.” He sighed. “I was always perturbed by his demeanor whenever we spoke. Had I given the reins of leadership to him, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened. But dwelling on the past like that will do us no good now.”

  Aside from the Riven distraction, Pent’s training had been progressing well. Most of the able-bodied men and many of the women had expressed an interest in taking up arms. The chief and Pent agreed that putting unarmed or unarmored villagers on the front lines was a suicide death sentence. Cenk had been doing a fine job of crafting new equipment for the would-be soldiers, but there still wasn’t enough.

  So, they made do with what they had. Faldo had created two impressive towers, each over twenty feet tall, the walls made of wood reinforced with metal plates provided by Cenk. Cenk wasn’t sure if such a piece was an appropriate use of his time, but Faldo was adamant.

  “A well-drawn arrow will go right through a single wooden plank, and, if the men holding the towers all die, then the fortification is useless.”

  A sturdy ladder reached up to the top of each tower for the defenders to use and long reeds of wood had been woven to be used as fire grabbers. Pent laughed the first time he saw one in person, they resembled nothing more than giant matches.

  When Pent wasn’t leading combat training or in conference with Somerville’s leaders, he walked about town and checked in with everyone. There was an ominous feeling in the air, and his presence seemed to help. People had no way of knowing when Yozer and Gilbrand would arrive, and daily life took on a certain edge.

  He stopped at the graveyard in town. Among the mostly unmarked stones, he saw Faldo kneeling at a grave, his fancy sword by his knees. Pent realized that it wasn’t the grave with the statue for Faldo’s grandfather. It seemed like an intimate moment, but Pent’s curiosity got the better of him, and he approached Faldo slowly.

  Faldo’s eyes were closed, but he had still noticed the approaching footsteps. “My father’s final resting place. He was a warrior true, like his father before him. But he passed here in the village.” He looked up at Pent, rising to his feet. “I think he would be proud of what we’re all doing here.”

  “I bet you’re right. I bet he would be proud of all of us.” Pent felt awkward making all these assumptions about people he had never met. It wouldn’t be very motivating for me to tell him that his father would disagree though, would it?

  “It’s scary to think about,” Faldo said, a deep frown on his face. “Death. It comes naturally to many but for it to be forced on you so suddenly… It’s hard to make any kind of actual peace with it, some kind of acceptance. I’m not sure how many of us have been able to. I know that I haven’t.”

  “Yeah, I get that. I definitely don’t want to die here.” Pent glanced around at all of the small graves. “I’ve never really liked graveyards that much. It’s just kind of eerie being surrounded by all these tombs. Get the feeling a hand is gonna spring up and Romero my leg.” Faldo looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “Guy who makes zombie movies in my world. Never mind.”

  “I fear that we’ll have to expand this graveyard by the end of this,” Faldo said.

  Pent scratched his head and looked away, trying to find something else to focus on and failing. “Well, let’s just hope the
re’s someone left to do it.” It came out sounding more depressing than Pent had intended. Faldo only nodded, still wearing the grim look.

  The pair stood together in silence for some time before the builder spoke again. “I must take my leave, then. I have mourned enough. Preparations are almost complete.”

  “Good luck.” The two men crossed paths out of the graveyard and then went their separate ways.

  * * *

  Minutes later, Pent walked into Lyle’s house. She was sitting at the table, talking to her brother.

  “Pent! My friend, this is another instance of fine timing.” Hanar gestured to the open chair. “Have a seat, drink with us.”

  “Drink?” Pent saw a jug on the table, full to the brim with the potent liquor.

  “I had Lemen bring over a bit of his whiskey,” Lyle said. “I wanted to spend a moment away from this present insanity we’ve been swept up in.”

  Pent sat down and grabbed an empty mug, but hesitated. “Shouldn’t we be saving this stuff? We’re counting on the firebombs to make a difference.”

  Lyle glanced at Hanar, who returned her look. They both shrugged at the same time. It was one of the first times Pent noticed how similar they were. Their faces were set in such different ways, but the shared gesture made them look alike.

  “Perhaps we should save every drop, it could mean our lives. That would be the safer choice. But…” Hanar trailed off, struggling to make his point.

  “But we’ll be fine without a single jug,” Lyle said. “You’ve both seen Lemen’s stock, and you couldn’t miss this lowly amount if you tried. And besides, I need something to calm my nerves.”