The Tales of Neroman: The Silver Savior

by Tom Burton

  Aaron maintains his firm grip on his sword. He soon realizes that the figure is that of a man. It is George Carrick, the former leader of the rebellion, who approaches him.

  “I believe we’ve met before?” George says rhetorically.

  Aaron immediately lowers his sword.

  “George Carrick…?” Aaron asks.

  George nods as he smiles back at Aaron. The two men then shake hands. Aaron sees that a crowd has followed behind George.

  “The famous Aaron Silver, returning home,” George says, introducing Aaron to the crowd. Some of the men and women in the crowd express relief, which confuses Aaron.

  His focus moves back to George.

  “What happened to you?” Aaron asks.

  “We were called to help a few villages under attack near the bridge. However, we were too late. But we followed a trail left behind by the attackers, leading us back here. We soon realized that the attackers were the species of old—the orcs. They were led by a human-turned-mage called Luke Snow. I assume when our paths crossed, you knew this information?”

  Aaron nods his head in response.

  “The less people knew of our purpose, the easier it was for us to do what were asked by the king.”

  The two men continue talking. The crowd then begins to disperse behind them. George leads Aaron deeper into the forest as he walks by Aaron’s side.

  “When I came back, you were nowhere to be found. What became of that?” George asks.

  Aaron takes a few seconds before he answers.

  “We broke through the prison cells. Slowly but surely we snuck ourselves out without being seen.”

  George remains unconvinced. He looks at Aaron doubtfully.

  “When we returned…some of my soldiers were butchered. How do you suppose that came about?” George asks.

  Aaron refuses to look at George. Then he shrugs his shoulders.

  “Mutaro has orcs everywhere, perhaps they arrived at Meldom before you did.”

  George quickly turns his gaze from Aaron. Both men look ahead, and see a camp deep in the forest.

  George moves away from Aaron and approaches a pile of chopped wood. He grabs a few pieces of the wood and throws them into the fire at the center of the camp. George then signals Aaron.

  “Come and take a seat.”

  Aaron walks over to the fire and sits on one of the tree logs surrounding it. Some of the men and women sitting around the fire stare at Aaron.

  “So, it’s true, you’re Aaron Silver,” one of the men says.

  Aaron looks over at the man.

  “Why am I so famous?” Aaron demands.

  “We heard about the battle of Dellmoor, and how you saved thousands of lives that night,” another man tells him. “They say without you, many more would have been consumed. People are now calling you the Silver Savior.”

  Aaron looks down and shakes his head vigorously.

  “I called for the evacuation, that’s all I did. Tens of thousands of people are lying six feet under despite doing just as much, if not more than, I did that night. Maybe they deserve the songs and titles.”

  Aaron’s sharp reply is met by an awkward silence.

  After a few moments, Aaron turns to George.

  “Survivors of Greyshore?” Aaron asks.

  George quietly nods his head as he looks into the fire.

  “What happened?” Aaron asks.

  George regains his focus. He sighs sadly but continues looking at the fire.

  “When Luke Snow came to our doorstep, he demanded you and Daniel Rane. But as you were not here, they had no need for us. We resisted, and the fighting started. Luke Snow simply left the battle, thinking he had a sure victory. Most of the villagers died in the fighting, allowing the rest of us to flee to the forest—where, thankfully, the orcs declined to follow.”

  “If you know me,” Aaron says, “then you know my father, and my brother…George, where are they now?”

  George reluctantly looks back at Aaron, then stands up from the tree log by the fire.

  “Come with me,” George says.

  Aaron stands up and follows George away from the fire.

  Just outside of the camp, George stops and shows Aaron a field with no trees. Instead, the field is full of wooden boards planted in the grassy grounds. Aaron sees that individual names have been carved into each of the wooden boards. As he reviews the crematorium, tears roll from Aaron’s eyes.

  “Come,” George softly offers, “let me take you to them.”

  Aaron reluctantly follows George through the crematorium. Shortly, George moves to one side, allowing Aaron to see the two wooden boards that bear his father’s and his brother’s names. He starts crying uncontrollably then falls to his knees in front of his father’s grave. He places his hand over the wooden slab.

  George looks on sympathetically.

  “Your father was the only one who stood up to Luke; he showed him the strength of the West, using nothing but the strength within himself. I have never seen a man so brave.”

  Aaron does not respond. He continues to cry at his father’s grave. His hand over the wooden board soon clenches as he holds the board with a tight grip.

  Then, Aaron screams.

  Aaron’s scream is long and loud. George moves back a step. As Aaron’s scream soon fades, his crying also stops. George looks on as he sees Aaron silently looking down at his father’s grave.

  Hours pass. The sun begins to set on the Forest of Els. Aaron and George return to the fire, which now looks larger than it did when they left. Aaron finishes off some deer meat wrapped around a wooden stick. He then throws the wooden stick into the fire.

  “How many soldiers do you have?” Aaron asks.

  George faintly shakes his head.

  “We have few soldiers here; we have many fighters.”

  George’s reply does not comfort Aaron.

  One of the men leans forward hesitantly, looking at Aaron.

  “What happened that night?” the man asks.

  Aaron looks to the ground. The other conversations around the fire quickly die down.

  “It was a long night—the longest I have ever endured…” Aaron starts.

  He glances back up and sees everyone looking at him.

  “When the orc army arrived at our doors, we held our own against them. The defenses remained strong, and we resisted them like rocks in the rain. Then…then the dragon came. The beast’s armor meant we couldn’t attack it. The dragon burned our gate to ashes. The orc army swarmed into the capital, and our hope died with the city.”

  “What happened to the king and queen?” George asks.

  Aaron looks down once again and closes his pain.

  “I could not save them,” he mutters.

  George puts his hand on Aarons shoulder in comfort.

  “What you did saved lives. You should not feel guilty for that.”

  But his reply is met by no response from Aaron.

  After a few seconds, the comfort in George’s eyes soon turns into bitterness.

  “We sent someone to the capital, telling them of our attack. We needed their help,” George tells Aaron, “but we received none.”

  Aaron, slowly looks up to George.

  “The king felt it necessary to defend what he had in his domain, as he believed he could not afford to sacrifice more soldiers.”

  “Did you see the message?” George asks.

  Aaron takes a moment then slowly nods his head.

  George then jumps up into a standing position. He raises his voice as he accuses Aaron:

  “You abandoned us, allowing the orcs to overrun us, so long as the capital was protected!”

  The men and women gathered around the fire look nervously at the two men.

  Aaron stands up and looks back at
George.

  “You’ve always had a personal vendetta against the capital, since the days of your futile rebellion,” he replies. “You are now responsible for these people. If you continue down this path, you will get them all killed, and history will blame you.”

  After a few moments, the tension between the two men is suddenly cut by the screech of a dragon above them. Some of the men and women jump up from their seats on the wooden logs then look through the trees above them. Aaron looks up and sees the dragon flying casually over the forest.

  “Extinguish the fires…stay quiet!” George orders.

  The men and women of the camp drown out the fires around them and grab their chosen weapons. George and Aaron rush toward a tree to get a good view of the dragon.

  “I thought they died out centuries ago,” George whispers. “What’s it doing so far away from Redlock?”

  “I was there a few days ago.… Redlock has been emptied; all military forces, including the dragon, have been set upon Neroman.”

  The two watch as the dragon soars over the camp.

  “I need to leave tonight…. I need to ready everyone for the coming fight,” Aaron tells George.

  “Don’t leave tonight,” George advises. “If the dragon is flying over us, the orcs are not far behind.”

  Aaron looks at George, and nods in agreement.

  They look back up to see the dragon flying away from the camp. Some of the camp residents breathe sighs of relief.

  George turns to Aaron again.

  “I suppose now would be a good time to turn in. Let me find you a place to sleep.”

  He then turns and walks through the camp, with Aaron following behind him.

  Hours pass while the camp sleeps in the night. Aaron sleeps in a tent that has been newly set up for him. His clothes rest on the tent floor next to him; his arm is tightly wrapped around his sheathed sword.

  Outside the camp, George stands at the edge of the forest. He folds his arms across his chest as he looks toward the village of Greyshore. Suddenly, a man approaches him.

  “Aaron is going to ask you to accompany him back to the Dellmoor,” the man says.

  “Of course he is,” George replies.,

  “What will you do?”

  George looks back at the man.

  “Why should we help those in their time of need when they refused to help us in ours?” He gazes at the man for a moment then slowly looks back toward the burnt village. “They’re on their own.”

  Soon, the two hear a single beat of a drum. After another few seconds, they hear the drum beat again. The single drum beat repeats every few seconds.

  At the camp, Aaron is soon awoken by the drum. He sits up, holding his sheathed sword in his hand.

  “No.”

  He rushes off the mat and puts his clothes back on.

  At the edge of the forest, George and the other man are intrigued by the drum beat, which now is getting louder and louder.

  “What is that?” the man asks.

  “I don’t know,” George replies, as he squints at an object ahead of him.

  Just then, Aaron comes running behind them.

  “The orcs…they’re here!” Aaron tells them. “I recognize those drums from Dellmoor.”

  George does not respond. Looking ahead of him, he sees torches in the distance. The ominous drone of orc chants bleat in synchronization with the banging of the drums.

  George turns back into the forest,

  “Archers!...Archers, get into positions!” he yells.

  Other men and women in the forest echo George’s instruction. In camp, the residents come charging out of their tents.

  Aaron sees the archers rushing to climb the trees around him. They quickly rest themselves on individual branches, nocking their arrows and drawing their bowstrings. He then sees some infantry join the archers in climbing to the top of the trees. The rebels who cannot fight then move farther into the woodland, away from the campsite. Aaron and the rest of the infantry soldiers join George on the other side of the camp.

  As the soldiers remain silent, one of the archers looks ahead and sees the impending orc army. After a few moments, he looks down to George and raises three fingers.

  “They have three thousand,” George whispers to Aaron. The two men are crouching low to the ground. Aaron looks at George worryingly.

  “There aren’t enough of us. We have to get out of the forest.”

  “We cannot leave now, we have elders among us; the orcs will hunt us down without trouble.”

  Aaron unsheathes his sword. He grips the hilt tightly with both hands.

  As the soldiers get into formation, the archers aim their arrows down into the forest not far beyond them.

  “Stay alert, everyone,” George instructs. “They’re inside the woods.”

  The soldiers slowly draw their swords. They all remain silent as they watch the orcs cautiously enter the woodlands. The orcs see the campsite in the distance. They make their way there, remaining perfectly silent, too, waiting for any noises that might signal the humans’ location.

  The archer who first climbed into the trees looks to George. He places his index finger to his right eye.

  George nods.

  “Loose!” the archer cries.

  The other archers in the trees shoot their arrows toward the orcs below them. Many of the arrows pierce the orcs’ throats and necks. The orcs who survive begin to panic. They spot the human archers in the trees but struggle against the swarm of arrows flying at them.

  “Drop!” the lead archer shouts.

  Several of the soldiers armed with swords jump from the branches of the trees, landing on the grassy floor of the forest. They immediately fight the orcs charging them.

  As the fighting continues, George and Aaron—along with the rest of the infantry soldiers—watch from a distance. The teeming mass of orcs scatter. The soldiers pursue the battle, slaying more of the orcs. But Aaron looks on in concern.

  “We have the upper hand,” he asserts. “We need to charge.”

  “Wait,” George replies, keeping his focus on the fighting before him. But as the battle continues and the human soldiers become surrounded he draws his sword.

  “Now!” George roars.

  Aaron and the hundreds of soldiers behind him draw their swords and charge alongside George.

  As the rest of the infantry sweep through the orcs, the archers above them continue to fire waves of arrows down on the orc ranks. George and Aaron fight through the horde, slicing down every last orc in front of them. The human infantry successfully push the orcs back, as the bodies of countless orcs lie bloodied and lifeless around the forest.

  Soon, a loud horn sounds in the distance. The surviving orcs begin to retreat, some dropping their weapons as they turn. The soldiers look on in surprise, then continue to fight the orcs trying to flee. Seeing the soldiers give chase after the fleeing orcs, George barks:

  “Regroup!”

  The soldiers pull back. One of them approaches George.

  “We have them on the run,” the soldier tells George.

  “They want us out in the open field,” George says, defending his actions. “From there they have the advantage.”

  The man softly nods. The rest of the soldiers return to him, and the archers in the trees jump to the ground.

  “Let them tell their story,” George says.

  He turns and walks back to the campsite, as the rest of the soldiers follow him.

  Aaron, who stands over one of the fallen orcs, looks on as he sees some of the human soldiers fallen before him. He sees the rest of the survivors march back to the campsite. He sheathes his sword, and slowly follows them back.

  As the soldiers make it back, George walks away from the group and heads toward the civilians walking back to camp from deep in the
woods.

  “Father…!” George shouts, as he barges past people and searches for his father. Aaron observes the panic in George’s eyes as he moves quickly through the crowd.

  Eventually, George sees an older man in front of him. He breathes a sigh of relief.

  “Father.”

  “You did well, George,” his father says, as the two embrace. “The strategy worked.”

  “But it was paid for by lives who don’t deserve to die,” George replies as he releases his hold.

  “It is not in our judgment to say who lives or dies,” his father advises.

  But this is met by no response from George.

  “The Silver Savior…?” the father asks.

  “He’s alive, he fought well,” George replies.

  “Just like you. He was born and raised here, at home. If he returns to the Crown Lands, some may follow. It may be wise of you to unite with those in the Crown Lands.”

  George’s relieved tone turns defensive.

  “I will not sacrifice my people to save those who would not do the same for us,” he replies. Then he walks back to the campsite as his father looks on with worry.

  As the night goes on, Aaron chooses not to sleep. Instead, he sits around the same fire pit at which he had sat before.

  George sits across from Aaron. Other men and women have joined them.

  Aaron deliberately coughs, hoping to get George’s attention.

  After a moment, George looks across the fire at Aaron.

  “We need to head back across the bridge, to the royal forest,” Aaron suggests to George.

  The suggestion silences all conversation around the fire.

  “They turned their back on us, they betrayed us in our hour of need,” George tells the gathering. He then stands up to address Aaron directly. “When the bridge fell, we received nothing. When Luke hunted us like animals, we received nothing. When Greyshore—our home—was burnt to the ground, we received nothing.”

  George begins to walk around the fire, approaching Aaron.

  “And all the while you were sitting in the throne room with our beloved king, drinking toasts to his health and his good fortune!”

  Aaron is unimpressed by George’s bitter remarks.