“Tarness, I don’t understand, why are you letting this man beat you?” asked Angst.
“I’m not letting... I just can’t seem to focus. I don’t understand, I can’t seem to lose my temper.” Tarness wiped a bit of blood from his dark cheek. “I’m simply not angry.”
Ivan stood shakily and walked to Tarness. “This is going to take forever,” he muttered in frustration. The knight leaned forward and began whispering in Tarness’s ear.
His face transformed from distracted to furious. Tarness looked as though he would rip Ivan in half. Ivan grabbed his shoulders and spun Tarness around to face Niihlu.
“That was risky,” Angst whispered to Ivan.
Ivan shrugged negligently. “I could care less if he wins or loses, but I need to get out of here.”
Niihlu roared again, ready to repeat his previously successful strategy, and charged. To every Nordruaut’s surprise, Niihlu collided with the immovable wall that was an angry Tarness. The shock of impact lifted everyone’s hair, and Niihlu collapsed to his knees with a harsh grunt. Tarness smashed his elbow into Niihlu’s face before his opponent could recover. He then lifted the giant man over his head and slammed him down hard. Niihlu bounced off the ground, and blood spurted from his mouth. Tarness kicked the giant in the side, flipping Niihlu awkwardly into the air. The Nordruaut landed on his stomach with a loud thud and remained motionless.
Tarness set his foot on the man’s back and yelled, “Anyone else feel the need to challenge?”
Jarle was actually smiling, almost as much as Maarja. “Well done, friend!” He walked to Tarness and thumped him on the shoulder then looked down at Niihlu. “Hopefully Niihlu will learn from this.”
Angst lifted the sword and returned it to his back. “The challenge has been met and won. For winning this challenge, we want her.” He pointed at Maarja.
Jarle looked startled then outraged. “What?”
Angst was upset, and on the verge of getting angry. “I don’t know what this nonsense was about, but we met your rules, now you can meet ours. Maarja will be our guide, so we can get Ivan safely away from what you call the Vex’kvette then she can return to you if she chooses.”
Jarle stormed over to Angst and pushed roughly at his chest, but found Angst wouldn’t budge. Jarle stepped back, his eyes widening at Angst’s unexpected strength.
Angst looked at Jarle, and dusted the spot on his armor the Nordruaut had touched. “If necessary, we can have another challenge, but I’d rather just have your help.”
The anger melted from Jarle’s face as he eyed Angst with curiosity. Jarle placed both hands on Angst’s chest then leaned and pushed against him as though testing to see if the first time was a trick. Again, Angst didn’t budge. He merely concentrated on anchoring his armor to the ground with his power. Jarle stood, towering over Angst, and for the first time, thoroughly analyzed the armor, the sword, and the man.
“You didn’t need Tarness to fight for you,” Jarle stated matter-of-factly. “If she goes with you, will she be safe?”
“As safe as any of us,” Angst replied.
“I didn’t mean from the Vex’kvette.” Jarle’s stoic features showed genuine concern.
“We won’t harm her,” Angst stated, then in a friendlier tone, “We’re so powerful we can’t even find a path away from the Vex’kvette.”
Hector and Dallow feigned a bit of laughter to keep up the appearance of being friendly. Jarle wasn’t completely convinced, and went to Maarja. He spoke with her in harsh whispers. She nodded at Jarle and whispered something in response that appeared to upset him.
Jarle looked as though he’d lost all his money in a bet. “Maarja will guide you from the Vex’kvette,” he confirmed. “You will be back on a road in three days at your pace. If I find that she has died by your hands, we will hunt you.”
“That seems like a fair deal,” Hector whispered loudly to Dallow.
Jarle reached out his hand as though no threat had ever left his lips. “Good hunting, Angst.”
“Good hunting, Jarle,” Angst repeated, and clasped forearms with the Nordruaut.
“You walk slow,” Maarja proclaimed as she waited at the top of a hill for them to catch up.
During the first several hours, it had been hard to tell if Maarja was upset about having to guide them. This concern quickly passed as it became obvious she actually enjoyed pushing them. Either Maarja had a cruel streak, or she was testing their limits. Tarness, who was sweating like an overworked ox, was the only one not complaining, despite his new limp.
“It’s the armor,” Angst wheezed as he tried to reason with the tall Nordruaut. “The armor and the years. You’re like twenty-something, aren’t you?”
“I’m no child, Angst. I’m sixty-seven, by your years,” Maarja said seriously.
Angst sought to milk this conversation, hoping it would slow her down so everyone could catch their breath. “I would’ve said you don’t look a day over sixty-six.”
She smiled. “A Nordruaut can live for three hundred years. I am still young in many of my people’s eyes.”
“Is it normal for one who’s a mere sixty-seven years old to be on the hunt?” Immediately, he regretted this question.
Maarja suddenly stopped, grabbing Angst’s shoulder, and jerking him to a halt. She eyed Angst as though she’d stepped on something foul and needed to remove it from her shoe. “The others aren’t so sure, but I know I could break you,” she growled with a sneer. Everyone had stopped to watch this exchange. “We waste time. Let’s go,” she commanded and pressed forward faster than before.
Angst stood there for a moment, wondering exactly what that meant. Rose walked by at the new faster pace and smacked him in the back of the helm. Hector and Dallow were slower to follow, tears streaming down their face as they did their best to hold back laughter.
“I’d pay to watch her break him,” said Hector, trying to catch his breath.
“I’m selling tickets,” Dallow replied through chuckles.
The first day ended at sundown, and each one of them appeared exhausted in their own unique way. Only Ivan seemed to fare better since Maarja had guided them away from the worst of the Vex’kvette. Tarness, not wishing to show any sign of weakness, kept moving and made a small fire. Rose crashed onto a pile of blankets and appeared unwilling to move, so they choked down Marissa’s jerky for dinner. Maarja didn’t complain about the meal, but Angst could hear her stomach growling throughout the night.
They rose early the next morning to a gentle steady rain, each of them suffering silently. Tarness seemed much improved. The swelling in his face and his limp were both gone. Tiny Rose was the last to rise. Maarja offered to carry her, but Rose threw her a dark look and refused. She seemed to gather more energy after eating breakfast. Maarja tried to push the group to keep the prior day’s pace, but Angst grew more insistent of maintaining a slower speed.
He attempted to persuade her at first with courtesy and humor. “Can we go a little slower for the short people?” By noon, he was trying reason. “We can keep up with you, and I appreciate your urgency, but there’s too much going on out here for us to be exhausted.” Later in the day, Angst stopped caring about diplomacy and simply yelled, “Hey! Legs! Slow down!” His requests all had the same effect, a scowl, a smile, and a slower pace, for a little while.
Shortly after noon on the third day, as promised, they approached a highway that apparently led from Unsel to Nordruaut. The rain had finally subsided, giving everyone another reason to rejoice.
“I need to return to Jarle and the others, or they will be quickly lost,” she announced, chuckling at her own joke. Before Tarness could react, she kissed him square on the mouth. For five minutes, everyone stared off into the woods while she appeared to feast on Tarness’s face. When she was done, Tarness had a glassy, far-off look in his eyes.
“I should stay and have my way with you,” she said to him. Tarness’s hopeful expression deflated with her next words. “But I need to
return. Remember what I told you, where I am from. I would like to see you again if you live.”
“You don’t have to go back,” Tarness pleaded.
“He’s right. You’re welcome to join us, Maarja,” Angst offered. “We would certainly get there faster.”
“Oh great, another ten mouths to feed,” Ivan complained loudly.
“Tell me again why you wanted to save him?” asked Maarja.
“Good question,” replied Hector.
“I thank you, but I haven’t finished my first hunt. Maybe someday we will meet and trade stories again.” She spat on Ivan’s armored chest before nodding at Angst and the others. “Good hunting.”
Maarja caught Tarness’s eyes and held them with a hot stare before running back into the woods at an incredible pace.
“She’ll be back to them by nightfall,” Dallow said in wonder.
“We should be close to Ravenhill. We can spend the night there before heading back,” Ivan proclaimed, wiping the spit off with a leaf.
“Heading back to where?” asked Angst.
Ivan looked surprised. “Back to Unsel, of course. This trip is over, and I’ll be happy to report to the queen that this mission was the worst failure I’ve seen in my life.”
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“That’s the entire reason he’s here. The queen sent him to sabotage our trip, and ruin any chance of success.” Angst was practically frothing at the mouth as he vented his frustrations to his friends.
Everyone remained quiet, waiting patiently for Angst to cool down. Ivan, feeling better now that they were away from the Vex’kvette, was once again in the lead, far ahead of the others on their approach to Ravenhill.
Angst continued to rant. “I’ve always known Isabelle hated me, but to undermine what we’re trying to accomplish, when there are lives at risk? We’ve barely started!” Angst stopped suddenly and turned to face his friends. As a group, they awkwardly stumbled to a halt. “You aren’t looking to give up, are you?”
“Will you hit me with the sword if I say yes?” Dallow asked.
“Maybe we should go back, Angst,” Rose suggested. “You haven’t failed at anything. You were supposed to find out what’s stopping trade. We’ve done that.” Her words had a slightly pleading tone.
“That’s Dallow talking. Remember? You were the one who wanted to come?” Angst snapped accusingly at Rose then addressed everyone. “We’ve been over this. Ivan is right in the sense that we haven’t accomplished anything. All we know is there’s a giant ditch filled with orange crap that cuts Unsel off from every other country. How does knowing that help anyone?” Spreading his arms dramatically, he then let them drop to his sides in frustration. “There’s something bigger going on, something much bigger than what I was looking for when I picked up this sword, and we’re the only ones trying to figure it out. Everything that’s happened, the monsters we’ve faced, the Mendahir Rise, the obelisk, doesn’t it all seem too convenient? It has to mean something!”
“You’re so desperate to become the hero that you’re seeing conspiracy where there’s none. Angst, you’re going to get us killed,” Dallow said in an equally frustrated tone.
“Me? I didn’t create that stuff. It’s the Vex’kvette that seems to be killing everything, not me.” Angst suddenly turned and began walking again.
“I agree with Ivan. We should head back,” Hector said to Angst’s back. “I’ve known you for a long time, Angst, and, no offense, but this is a bit outside our abilities, even with that sword. This kind of stuff requires plans, and resources, and armies. We should get reinforcements.”
“Hector is right. We should call this done,” Dallow said.
Angst sighed deeply. “I’m going to get some rest in town before deciding what to do next.”
Total devastation cloaked the town in a heavy, thick sort of murk. The air was tainted with the scents of dry ash from old fires, wet earth, and the gamey smell of blood and death. Their arrival at the town of Ravenhill wasn’t met with a weak barricade hiding hopeful eyes, or a safe harborage of soft beds, warm food, and fresh mounts. There was only a horrible silence and small ruins of buildings. The stillness was profound, as telling as a sign with bold letters posted on the city gates declaring, “Nobody came to save us!”
At Oakhaven, Angst and his friends had been prepared to fight, and then almost died of boredom. Having fought the monster before arriving—if that was truly what they’d done—had seemed like cheating. As they approached what would’ve been the middle of Ravenhill, Angst thought about the remaining inhabitants of Oakhaven, and of Marissa, and hoped they’d decided to go to Unsel for safety.
Tarness whistled softly. There was little left but char. A few blackened wood posts rose from the ground, marking the remnants of shops and homes. The white husk of a large, dead tree marked the former center of town, its branches missing and the bark blasted off by the heat of fire.
“I...I don’t understand,” Ivan said frantically. “I don’t get this at all. Was it an army of those one-eyed creatures? What could do...this?”
“We should look around,” Hector suggested. “Just in case.”
“And look for survivors,” Angst agreed.
Ivan didn’t. “Look around? So we can be next? We aren’t good to anyone if we get killed.”
“We stay in groups, and within earshot. After fifteen minutes, we’ll leave. We shouldn’t stay here,” Hector commanded, ignoring Ivan. He sounded nervous, and his voice was as raw as the air surrounding them.
Angst was annoyed with himself for not having said something similar, but shock numbed his mind and froze his tongue. Everyone looked quiet, or sickly. “Ivan, you’re with me. I’ll keep you safe.”
Ivan peered at Angst hatefully but followed him as they split into three teams. Hector and Tarness went straight through the heart of the town while Dallow and Rose searched nearby rubble. They all wandered for a bit but never far enough to be out of view.
“Is anyone here?” Angst finally yelled in frustration, making everyone jump and turn toward him. “Let’s get out of this place!” he commanded, and beckoned everyone to follow.
There was enough daylight to hike back to the spot where Maarja had left them. Everyone had remained quiet. Everyone but Ivan.
Despite Ivan's lead, they could all hear quiet snippets of whatever the knight was muttering. He rubbed the back of his neck then suddenly stopped and stomped his foot. He knocked off his helmet several times, only to turn and flash everyone a wild, angry stare before picking it up and scrambling ahead to remain in the lead.
“I think Ivan is finally broken,” Tarness observed.
“We should catch up and see what’s going on,” Angst said agreeably, quickening his pace.
As the distance closed, some of Ivan’s mutterings became clearer. “Their magics are ruining everything! I need to get out. I need away from the bitch and those freaks.”
“Hey, Ivan. What’s going on?” Angst asked loudly, attempting to interrupt the crazy spilling out of the man’s mouth.
Ivan shot him a mad look with wide, bloodshot eyes. His glare was so frightening it almost knocked Angst to the ground. Ivan was shivering, as though from sickness or anticipation. He took a deep breath to belt out a scream, but instead spat on the ground in front of everyone. Ivan turned to walk down the path even faster than before.
Angst sighed heavily. “I’m done with that man.”
They set up camp far enough from the road that the fire wouldn’t be seen by travelers. Ivan was missing, and they stopped looking for him when it became dark. Shortly after dinner, the knight returned. His helm and sword were gone, his face haggard, and some of his hair had apparently decided it needed to be torn out.
“Hey, Ivan, you’re all right,” Hector said, feigning interest in Ivan’s return before getting a good look at him.
Without replying, Ivan walked directly to Rose and started cursing. The random combination of words didn’t make sense, but every word was a sharp, cutting i
nsult that left his mouth loudly and drenched in spittle. Dallow rushed to her defense, placing himself between Rose and the knight. Ivan paused long enough to punch Dallow in the stomach. Dallow, not expecting the blow, immediately doubled over.
Angst had had enough. He removed the giant sword from his back and rested it on its tip. Chryslaenor hovered over the ground, so unbelievably large it seemed to mock all other swords. Angst dropped his helm at the base of Chryslaenor, where it sat in the foci’s reflective glow.
“Angst, wait,” Hector called, trying to grab Angst’s arm as he stomped over to Ivan. But Angst was in no mood to be stopped.
Rose had moved to kneel by the fallen Dallow as he clutched his stomach. Ivan looked up from Rose and screamed at Angst, “Are you going to push me around with your freakish magic, in the name of your bitch?” He balled up his fist and clumsily reached to punch Angst’s face, but missed.
Angst slapped Ivan across the mouth. There was no great amount of strength behind the slap. No magic, no giant sword. Just the loud crack of hand striking cheek. Angst stepped closer to him, almost nose to nose, and delivered another harsh slap.
Ivan tried to move away, the wild look on his face met with a third and fourth slapping strike. For every step back he took, Angst moved forward, continuously striking Ivan’s face with his open palm. Fear of Angst, of his magic, and the surprise of this unusual attack showed clearly on Ivan’s face, now beginning to redden and welt. Angst was unrelenting, slapping and striking the knight’s face over and over again.
There’s a time in everyone’s life that they remember being humbled, a moment when they’re stripped of their shields and reminded of their humanity. Pride and arrogance are removed, sometimes forcibly, and replaced with a bit more of everyman, a bit more of that thing that makes us equals. For some poor souls, that one experience in humility goes far beyond the reach of its intended lesson.
Weeks and years of anger and frustration poured out of Angst’s open palm. Angst wasn’t just slapping him, he was beating Ivan’s face with pure humiliation. It was a torrential onslaught meant to embarrass and disgrace. Ivan finally collapsed to the ground. Angst scoffed and shook his head. Ivan had been reduced to tears. Tears. A grown man, a knight of Unsel, slapped to the point of tears.
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