“No, sir. I was not aware that I was in a position to take control over anything.”
“Officially, you are not. However, Mordecai has convinced me that this is a special occasion and I have agreed.”
“Sir, I . . . don’t know what to say.”
“Say, ‘thank you.’”
“Thank you.”
“Now, what is it you have here?” Lord Malchus asked noticing the extravagant sword belted to his waist.
“It is another gift from Godfrey the blacksmith,” he explained. At the name, Lord Malchus jerked his head towards Godfrey’s store and gave a look that would have burned it down had he could. Recovering himself, Malchus returned his attention to Landon.
“It is a most precious gift. Take care of it,” he said in soft voice and Landon thought he caught a strange look in his eye. Malchus peered over his shoulder at Mordecai.
“I believe we are finished?”
“Aye, Lord.”
“Then, you two must be getting home. There are fields waiting for you.” And with that, he strode off in the direction of the cathedral. Landon turned toward his uncle.
“What was that all about?” he inquired.
“It is nothing.” Mordecai said “Let’s be on our way.” He then grabbed Abaccus’ reins, jumped up onto the horse and began riding towards the town’s gate before Landon knew what was happening. Quickly, he mounted Aquila and hurried to catch up.
By the time the two of them had left town the sun was high in the noon sky burning down on the world. Speedily they rode while remaining silent about what had transpired between either of them. An hour passed as the amber fields ran by and the sun continued its onslaught. Eventually, the ruins of Bodam came into view. They stopped for the customary water break while Landon readied the afternoon snack.
“I am not hungry,” Mordecai grumbled.
“Are you sure? It has been hours since we last ate.”
“I am sure!” he exclaimed walking away to investigate the ruins and be alone. Feeling sorry for asking, Landon slung the knapsack over Aquila’s saddle and sat down to eat his apples and bread in the shade of a tree along the stream.
Suddenly, he heard a yell and a metallic sound coming from behind the main gate. Landon tossed aside his unfinished meal and sprinted towards the noise behind the ruins. There he saw a man holding a sword to Mordecai’s neck threatening to kill him if he did not hand over their money. Drawing his sword, Landon faced the attacker.
“Hold criminal! What manner of man would waylay an unarmed man?” Landon asked trying to provoke the man into letting Mordecai go.
“Don’t lecture me, boy. Hand over the money . . . and that pretty sword of yours,” the bandit said noticing Landon’s sword and imagining how rare it must be, “or he dies.” Thinking quickly, Landon devised a plan.
“It is in one of the saddle bags. Allow me to retrieve it.”
“Sheath your sword first.” Agreeing, Landon put his sword away.
“Now, any sudden movements and he dies.”
“Agreed,” Landon said as he made his way slowly to Aquila. He grabbed the knapsack and held it up for the bandit to see. Walking back towards the man gate, Landon flung the bag on the ground.
“Now your sword,” the bandit warned pulling the sword closer to Mordecai’s neck.
“Fight me for it.”
“Landon, no! Don’t be a fool,” Mordecai interjected.
“You should listen to him, boy. It would be a shame to have to kill you both.”
“If you want it, then you will have to earn it like a man.”
“So be it. It is your funeral, boy!” the man retorted. Landon, thinking back to the lessons Godfrey had given him only a few hours earlier, stood in a defensive stance. The bandit released Mordecai by flinging him to the ground and raised his sword. What am I doing? I’d have never guessed I’d have to use this so soon, Landon thought.
The bandit was the first to attack. He advanced upon Landon swinging his sword overhead. Landon moved to his left and blocked. The bandit released the lock and swung towards Landon’s left side. Quickly, Landon rotated his wrist to block the attack and met the man’s sword an inch from his side letting a loud clang echo against the stone remnants. Immediately, the bandit swung his right fist and caught Landon on the chin. Unsuspecting, Landon staggered backward reaching a hand toward his face. It had not occurred to him that in a sword fight, people might use their fists as well. Pulling his hand away, he saw that there was no blood. It had smart though. He knew a bruise would form. Sweat began to bead upon his brow; his palms became sweaty.
“You should have run when you had the chance, boy!”
The bandit charged thrusting his sword at Landon’s midsection. Landon parried the blow and turned toward his right side; however, the sweat from his hands made him drop the sword. Reacting with intense speed, he threw a right hook that connected to the left side of the bandit’s face sending him to his knees. When he looked up, blood was trickling from a small cut at the edge of his mouth. Landon hurriedly retrieved his sword, but seeing an opportunity, the brigand slashed at Landon’s arm. Landon tried to move away from the blade, but was a hair’s breadth too slow. The blade cut through his tunic and left a slight gash in his left arm.
“Enough of this child’s play, you are obviously no match for me. Give it up, boy!”
“Quit calling me boy!” Landon roared. All of his anger built up inside of him like a barrel of powder sitting over a flame. He then stepped back and raised his sword above his head in an offensive position. The outlaw advanced again, but the barrel exploded as Landon parried with all of his anger sending the sword flying out of the man’s hands. Then, as fast as a lightning strike, Landon reposted striking the assailant’s ribcage with the edge of his blade. Landon pulled free his sword revealing a large wound from which blood flowed freely. The man’s face twisted with surprise. He fell to his knees and turned his face up towards Landon.
“Why couldn’t you–” but the words were cut short as he toppled over to move no more. Landon knelt frozen by the man’s side, stunned. It took time, but finally Landon came to his senses, and realized, though in self-defense, he had just killed a man. He turned away and retched. Mordecai walked up behind him and put his hand on Landon’s back.
“You did what needed to be done,” he said then reached down to retrieve the dead man’s sword and belt. Repulsed by this action, Landon yelled, “Uncle!”
“He has no more use for it,” Mordecai said. “Besides, we have not had bandits on these roads for twenty years. If they are not safe to travel, I will need something to defend myself with.”
Knowing his uncle spoke truth, but unwilling to say anything further, Landon wiped clean the blade on the grass then resheathed his sword. Mounting Aquila he looked down sullenly at his sword.
“I will call you, Affliction, for you have brought grief upon me and my enemies,” he said softly. He then ripped the sleeve from his tunic to inspect the wound. It was not deep, but was bleeding. He wrapped it around his arm and using his teeth tied it tightly into a knot.
Mordecai strapped the sword to his waist and mounted Abaccus. The two men continued on their way home in silence. By the time they reached the edge of the farm, the sun had begun its descent. In the fading light, Landon stabled the horses while Mordecai entered the hut for the night unwilling to see to the fieldwork that needed to be done. Exhausted from his day’s excitement, Landon could not blame him. He felt the same. He turned to watch the sun dip behind the tall mountains to the west. Aquila nuzzled him as he stood by her stable.
“I know, girl. Everything has changed.”
Chapter Six
Letters
The next day came sooner than Landon expected. He opened his eyes to the new day only to be greeted by pain in his left arm. Reaching for it, Landon remembered the heavy price the bandit had paid giving it to him. The thought gnawed at him, but he forced it out of his mind as he sat up. The rain would be coming in two d
ays, and it would take that long to finish the fields. Hopefully Uncle is in a better mood today than the night before, he mused. Mordecai had gone to bed without a word. Landon had eaten dinner and changed his bandage alone before falling asleep himself.
He stood up next to the bed still wearing his clothes. He trudged sleepily through the hut attempting to shake the fog from his mind. As he passed by Mordecai’s room, he noticed a silence from within. Uncle must have woken early. He stopped short when he spotted a dagger stuck above the door pinching a piece of paper against the wall. Landon felt fear grip him. He had not seen the dagger before and wondered suddenly if a stranger had followed them yesterday. He feared Mordecai had been attacked during the night and dragged off by the culprits leaving a ransom note behind. Something was amiss. He strode towards the door and without removing the dagger and read these words:
“I have been pressed upon with a matter of due importance. The need of my presence was greatly requested. I shall return shortly.
Mord.”
Of course he wasn’t here, he thought. Of course he would leave at such a crucial time and make me carry on without him! This note stirred familiar feelings in him. No one ever really cared about me. Not my parents, not my uncle. Neither wanted the burden of parenthood. This world didn’t even want me. Why did I think things would change? He felt completely alone. Upset. Scared. He paused to regained more control of his emotions.
“What kind of a goodbye is this?” Landon fumed. “To leave, without any further notice, and what ‘matter of due importance’ could possibly have called him away without my knowing?”
Frustrated, Landon removed the note and jammed the dagger through it stabbing the table. He then grabbed an apple and decided that since there would be no immediate answers, he should simply carry on with the work to be done. So, leaving the strange note where it lay, he proceeded out to the field to prepare Octavius and Sertorius with the new harness acquired from Archer’s.
He bit into the apple tearing a huge chunk out of it as he strode across the road towards the oxen pen. Its sweetness awakened him. He had left the harness on the fence yesterday where it would be easily accessible for him. He continued to eat his breakfast as he opened the gate to the pen. The two oxen were resting in the shade on the far side of the penned area. He took one last bite then tossed the apple aside onto the road where the scavengers could have what they wanted. He grabbed the plow and loosened the broken harness from the metal. The metal had buried itself deep into the leather, so it took him a good while to fully loosen and remove the unnecessary straps. When he finally finished, he wrapped the new harness around the plow locking it into place. It took Landon nearly an hour to complete the process of replacing the harness.
Wrapping the straps around his shoulders, Landon bent down to pick up the entire plow. He pushed hard with his legs but dropped it back to the ground with a grunt. A sharp pain coursed through his left side. The wound in his arm throbbed from the exertion. Gritting his teeth, he bent down again and pushed with his legs. This time, expecting the sting, he lifted himself upright and balanced the weight of the tool on his thighs. He carried it across the farm to place it into the field to prepare for the next row. The strain from carrying the plow usually wasn’t much, but with the wound in his arm, crossing the farm seemed like an eternity. Every step forward was torture. Pain burned in his left arm and radiated up towards his shoulder. His other muscles were trying to compensate for the lack of strength, and it made the whole endeavor much harder than it usually wound have been. Landon felt as though he was reliving the cut each time the plow bounced on his shoulders. Finally, Landon dropped the plow into the dirt relieving the tension in his body. He rubbed his arm as his wound throbbed.
Once it was set in place, Landon crossed the farm again to let loose Octavius and Sertorius. They were the easiest beasts on the farm. They always knew exactly what to do and never struggled against Landon or Mordecai. He opened the gate, and obediently the two oxen trudged towards the field and stood directly in front of the plow waiting to be connected. Landon set the yoke upon the two animals then connected the harness to it. He then stood behind the plow and surveyed the vast expanse of dirt he was about to trudge through. Even though it was still rather early, steam could be seen rising from the surface indicating the extent of the sun’s power to come that day. Landon was not encouraged.
Plowing was difficult work. Not only did he have to hold the plow steady in the dirt by using the full strength of his arms and legs, he also had to make sure the oxen which pulled did so in a straight line. To do so, he had to keep his eyes completely focused on a point at the end of the row he was making. Each row was five hundred feet long. Luckily, Landon had already plowed part of the field before the first harness broke so much of the work had already been completed. Looking ahead to the day’s work, he figured it would take him about the rest of the day to complete.
He decided that it was time to stop lingering and simply plow. He got underneath the plow and whistled for Octavius to move forward. As he did, Sertorius moved with him. Both animals, together under the yoke, began to move forward inch by inch as Landon dug the spade of the till into the ground creating a perfect triangular groove in the dirt. The dirt was quite hard from the beating of the sun, and it took much effort to break through the topmost soil. It also hurt a good deal due to the sore radiating in Landon’s arm. Ignoring the pain, Landon pushed on.
“Uncle should be here helping me,” he muttered. “He knew the work we had to do. This errand better be worth it.” Finally, after half an hour of pushing, the first row was completed. He turned the oxen for the next row and paused to catch his breath.
He pressed on again, and soon he had another three rows created. The work began to get easier the longer he worked, but he still knew he had a long way to go. The sun rose in the sky and with it came the blast of warmer air. The sweat which was condensing on his back and neck did little to cool him. Already, the sun had waxed to noon and Landon had nearly half of the field completed. Stopping to survey the work he told the oxen, “I believe we can afford a slight break. Now I’m going to let you go, but no more than five minutes. I should think we can take no longer than that.”
He loosened the harness which bound the oxen to the yoke. Then, he eased the yoke from their shoulders. Slowly they shook themselves loose and trotted over to their water trough. Landon decided to do the same and walked over to a barrel full of water on the edge of the field. This barrel was covered and sat continuously next to the field for such a time as this. Often Landon and Mordecai would take breaks from their work to keep themselves hydrated in these kinds of situations. Using the ladle which hung at the side of the barrel, he opened the lid and scooped out a large bowl full of water. The cool water refreshing as it poured down his throat. He took two more long draughts then returned the lid.
Lingering at the sight of the farm, Landon caught a glimpse of what it could be when it became his. He saw an extra grove of trees extended beyond the property line secluding the farm further. Landon envisioned a brand new stable separate from the barn for just the horses, possibly even an upgrade to the hut. Eventually, Landon would have wanted to clear the land behind the hut to make room for another field. Mordecai had never done so because he did not see the farm’s potential. He was content to work it just as he was given it. He had no plans to expand or put risk into it. Mordecai liked his life to be safe and predictable.
In four day’s time Landon would be turning twenty. The staggering words from Lord Malchus yesterday resonated in his mind. In fact, the events from the entire day burned in his mind. Not only had he learned more about his father, he received a man’s weapon of status, and would soon be acquiring land. No longer would he be the son of a poor peasant. He would be the first of his family to own land; a true noble. But the tragedy of the day remained in him. He had heard many stories of great deeds and wars, but to experience them was a shock to his system. He had never imagined the feeling would haunt
him. He decided at that moment that he would never take another life if it was within his power to do so.
Feeling that he had halted too long, Landon returned to the plow and whistled over the two oxen. Sertorius trotted over, but Octavius was missing. Looking towards the pen, Landon could not see the ox. Turning to Sertorius he ordered, “Stay here,” then jogged over to the pen to begin his search. Behind the stables he found the animal staring off into the line of tress encircling the farm. “What is it, boy?” he asked.
The animal moaned softly but continued to stare at the trees. Landon scanned the horizon to decipher what could possibly have captured the ox’s attention. He slowly looked about and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, a great shockwave rumbled from behind the trees pelting Landon in the chest. The force of the tremor was so strong that he reeled backwards many steps and fell to his knees. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Landon wondered if God was trying to tell him something, or if the world was coming to an end. The ground continued to roll, and Landon struggled to gain his footing. With a strong effort he crouched down with his hands and knees on the ground lowering his center of gravity. Over the noise of the earthquake the oxen and the horses could be heard making a horrendous fright. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the movement vanished.
Landon stood breathless for a moment waiting for another spasm from below. Octavius snorted then walked over to the spot where Sertorius stood. Landon continued to gaze out over the borders of the farm, but nothing else stirred upon the horizon line of the trees. Curious and unsatisfied without an answer, he turned to finish his work on the field. Once again he yoked together the oxen and continued his long toil under the brutal sun.
Hours passed as Landon made one row, then another, and soon the field was nearly complete. All the while his mind continued to return to the quake he had just experienced. Could it have been just his imagination or was this something felt all over the realm? He refused to stop again fearing for another tremor before he finished. His toil swiftly increased as his muscles ached from the caked dirt of the field and weight of the plow. The sun moved from its perch atop the sky to a more distant bench parallel to the horizon. The light was waning and Landon had just a few more rows to finish.
The Awakening (The Stones of Revenge) Page 6