Blacksleeve

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The air didn’t always smell of brimstone and your eyes didn’t always sting of sulfur. Birthdays and weddings weren’t interrupted by screams, and nightmares didn’t happen during the day. Swords became stained with crimson sacrifices, and axes became dull against bones. This was a new age, a new era, and the light was dimming fast.

The wanderer stuck to the path because that was always the safest route. Wagon wheels and animal tracks abounded in the dirt below. He had no destination, he no longer had purpose. He would not allow himself to guide his own life, but yet he would allow fate to order his steps. Decades of tracking and hunting had tuned his senses for danger and potential food. He wasn’t worried about thieves, murderers, and toll collectors, he was worried about what he would do to them if they started any trouble. He had gone three years without any trouble and he had hoped to keep it that way. His exile was catastrophic, it had destroyed his entire path, his entire existence and he still regretted nothing. Every moment with Via was worth it. Her long dark hair, the way silver jewelry contrasted her bronze neckline. Every detail is what kept him breathing. Most men in his position found liberty in death. They would either take suicide missions, or just do the impending deed themselves. The wanderer could do neither. The only thing that kept him alive was to one day see Via again. Her almond eyes digging into his heart. He never stood a chance from the very beginning. She was always a blessing, nothing even remotely a curse. She was another man’s wife, and worse he was a reputable Silversleeve. The thought of her made him look at his arm as he had a thousand times since his banishment from the Order. His full arm from shoulder to wrist was brimstone black tattoo ink. It was his curse to wear for the rest of his days. It wasn’t a brand of shame though, it was a reminder of love. The long sleeve shirt he always wore to cover it was slightly too high and showed the skin canvas beneath near his wrist. He tugged at the sleeve and kept up his pace.

For several miles now he had noticed the beaten path of a small band of tracks along the roads edge. Weeds were bent and grass tread in an obvious line to try and hide numbers. Someone ahead was trying to cover their tracks, which meant possible trouble. To anyone else these details would go unnoticed but to an expert Greensleeve tracker, it was a normal observation. He wasn’t a Greensleeve anymore though, he was a rejected Blacksleeve. His mind abided in his tormented recollection as he began to think about what had happened. Flashes of memories began to explode in his mind like fireworks. Via’s skin, the flash of a blade, the gavel hitting the block. He had been a part of something big, something pure, the Great Order, now he was nothing. Nothing for her, was everything.

“Come out, you’re as loud as a quail mother” he said with irritation out of nowhere. There was slight rustle of bushes but no other sound.

“I’ve known you have been following me for an hour now. Come on out, I don’t like being followed, not even by little feet” he said absently tugging his sleeve again.

From the woods emerged a young girl. No older than ten, she carried a stick and her face was dirty. She had ragged clothes and sandy brown curly hair. She was a tiny thing and had no business being out here alone.

“You shouldn’t be following strangers.” He said as he kept pace walking along the clear path.

“I’m Hanniya” she said with a little toothy smile

“You shouldn’t tell strangers your name either” he grumbled

“Tell me your name and we won’t be strangers anymore.” she said skipping beside him.

“Trust me you don’t want to know my name. Where are your parents?” the wanderer said

“My daddy died in the battle of Pitslogo, he was a great warrior. My mom is ahead at our village about ten miles” she said heartily.

The wanderer knew that Pitslogo was a one-sided massacre. The skirmish lasted less than an hour and a thousand farmers with oxgoads and plows were obliterated.

“You’re gonna end up like your father sneaking around people on the outland road.” He said monotonously. Hanniya didn’t even flinch at the mention of her father and continued with him.

“If you were dangerous I would have been dead an hour ago when you heard me following you” she observed.

He was slightly impressed with her quick wit and innocent charm but she could still be a threat. Many poor thieves used children as a distraction and he kept his eyes sharp to the trees and the area behind her.

The wanderer grunted his disapproval and kept his brisk pace, the girls little legs were like cattails blowing in the wind as she scampered to keep up.

“Did you see a group of people pass before me?” he asked the girl trying to gather some information.

“No sir, just you. Why are you wearing such a hot shirt in a summer afternoon?” she inquired

“That is none of your concern. Now if you’ll leave me alone, I’d like to travel alone.” He said

“You look sad” she said empathically.

“You look like you lived long enough to know happiness is a fleeting vapor.” He replied gloomily

“Sometimes my cat gets sad. Her name is Pickle. I call her that cause of the funny face she makes when she smells pickles. Do you like pickles?” the girl continued her curious inquisition.

“Why so many questions? Leave me in peace” he said trying to walk faster so her little legs would falter to no avail, her resolve to keep pace was impressive.

“I don’t like pickles either, the food, not my cat, I love my cat. She snuggles me and purrs when im sad. When she’s sad I sing to her. Want me to sing to you? It might make you happy.” She said practically running to keep pace.

“No I want silence. You are a beacon of sound that travels for miles to an expert ear, these woods aren’t safe.” He said stopping abruptly and watching her stumble forward trying to keep up.

“Ive played in these woods my whole life. Nothing ever happens.” She said with authority regaining her footing.

“You’re the expert then? How about you go the opposite direction and sing as loud as possible.” He suggested.

She giggled a little at the thought.

“You act mean, but I feel like the whole world has been really mean to you.” She prodded a little.

“The world does as it wants despite my wishes.”

“Do you have a lady?” she asked and this time he stopped and stared daggers into her.

“Look you little brat, you need to get home to your mother and stop pestering me with that fake smile and all these damned questions! Say another word and you’ll go home with a shaved head and a stinging rump. If you see anyone don’t talk to them. Now get away from me!” he growled.

“My smile isn’t fa…” she started

“Now!” he roared.

Soft tears welled up at the edges of her eyes and she scampered off ahead as fast as her cattail legs could take her. His stone heart closed around any inkling of compassion and he lumbered on through the woods. The one concept he had learned in his forty years is that no one ever actually cared. Hard work, discipline and self-preservation were all that mattered in life. He gave his life to his oath among his sleeved brothers. He hunted with them, he protected them as Warden of the Seal. He gave everything he had for the kingdom and the Order and what did it get him in the end? He tugged at his sleeve to idly answer the question in his mind.

A couple miles ahead he came to a clearing and belayed a potential ambush. He scanned the tops of the trees and skimmed the edge of the tree line. The sun was getting low and he had hoped to make it to Hanniyas village by nightfall. He may choose to sleep on the outskirts of the village or die by a thousand questions. He preferred arrows to be honest. There was a rustle to the left of him and he became irritated.

“Kid I swear…” mid-sentence a beast came from the brush charging him. He cursed himself for not checking the wind for the scent and side stepped the bounding tusks at the last moment. With lightning fast reflexes his fingers pulled a blade from his belt and he threw it with terminal precision as the boar squealed and rolled from the impact. He took a moment and caught his breath looking around for any other danger before having clarity of mind. He knelt beside the animal and slit its throat with another blade to end its suffering. He withdrew his throwing knife from the beast and let the blood pool for a moment before he looked to the sky and felt the essence of the animal shroud him. It was legend that a every time a Greensleeve hunter cast down a beast, he would gain a small bit of its power. The boar was cunning and sharp and he could use both of those in these perilous woods. He put a hand on the boar and recounted the hunters oath:

“The beast is the hunter and provider.

The beginning and the end.

The nourishment of our body and the sharpener of our wits.

Your sacrifice is not in vain.”

As he finished the mantra he began to gut the animal with his hunting knife.

“That was so amazing!” a tiny high pitched voice came from over the path ridge. It was Hanniya.

“Can we eat em?” she asked innocently keeping her distance from him.

“I will bring it to your village as a goodwill offering. Your mother can decide if you can eat it.” He answered. Her eyes were still a little red from crying but her resolve was renewed as he didn’t yell at her this time. He felt a tinge of guilt despite his greatest effort.

“You jumped to the side, I thought for sure you would get tusked in the ankle and scream AHHHH, but instead you pulled out a knife and went whoosh and that pig just…”

“Why don’t you lead the way little fox, show me to the village.” He smiled at her impressive sound effects. Her face opened up in a wide split smile and she grabbed her stick and sat and watched him dress the animal before they set off toward the village.

The sun began to set as they came out of the woods to an open field and he saw it before he heard it.

After many years as a ranger, he was not a warrior but he knew the sights of battle. He saw the smoke billowing to the dusk sky and fire upon thatched roofs. He unslung his bow and scanned the area. A shriek erupted to the north away from the village.

“Wait here.” He commanded Hanniya and unshouldered the pig to the grass beside her. He had tried to make out how many tracks were in the band of boots along the road. His assumption was twelve to fifteen men. If that was the case his odds weren’t very good in a melee. He kept his distance and tried to make a decision. Go to the shriek in the woods or go to the burning village? He decided the woman in the woods was being ravaged and her attacker would be alone so he bounded toward the source of the noise. He had seen all the signs and he wouldn’t even be getting himself involved if it wasn’t for Hanniya. Her mother was in this village and if they were farmers from Pitslogo, they didn’t stand a chance. This was not a Sleeve affair. He had no business being here, but he had no business being anywhere. As he got closer he heard muffled noises as someones mouth was being covered. He heard a voice say:

“Stop struggling you’re only making me want it more!” the mans sentence was punctuated with a flint arrowhead protruding from his throat. The woman beneath him screamed as his hand fell away from her mouth and his blood gushed onto her face. She pushed him off of her and stood up her breasts were bare and pale. The Blacksleeve blinked and he brought his bow down as a sign of peace. She looked for an instant at him and grabbed the hem of her dress with one hand and the front of her blouse with the other and sprinted into the woods. The wanderer secretly hoped it was the girls mother, she looked of the right age. He turned and saw Hanniya standing there her mouth agape.

“I told you to stay put!” he yelled at her.

“That was Annarae” she said softly. “You just saved her.”

He grabbed her chin forcefully.

“Stay here this time! If you die I will never forgive myself, Do you understand? Climb that tree right there.” He nodded over to a medium oak that had easy branches for climbing.

“Tell me you understand” He said gripping her chin tighter.

“I understand sir.” She said and quickly without another word ran to the tree and began to climb.

The rapist was a fool and he had hoped the others were just as much. His lust overshadowed his reason and he imagined the greed and murdering rage would consume the rest as well. Reavers were all the same. They preyed on the weak because they were weak themselves. They had no organization or skill outside of what they were born with, and they were often simple minded. These truths always changed when it came to sheer numbers. His odds at a dozen to one were a bit steep. He finally resigned to skimming the edge of the village hoping to find isolated conflict away from the general group.

As he approached a burning mud hut he heard the wild baying of a horse and saw several able bodied men pillaging and slaughtering the denizens of Hanniyas village. A woman kicking and screaming. A boy laying in a pool of blood. Such cowards. Who was the fool now? The Greensleeve advantage was range, and stealth. If he is discovered his odds would get much worse. He looked through the window of the hut and saw a body bleeding and splayed on the mud floor. It was an old man, he wondered if he could recognize Hanniyas mother. Maybe she shared the same sandy brown hair, or the soft freckle round face. The men seemed to be finishing up loading their horses and they didn’t seem to be taking any prisoners. The wanderer didn’t hear or see anymore signs of life by any of the villagers and began to weigh his level of risk. If he died, Hanniya would certainly die. He was not a hero, this wasn’t his fight. He decided to retreat to a brush in range to listen and gauge what the men were saying.

“Where is Rogath?” a voice said. “Where is my brother?”

There was a sharp pain in Blacksleeve’s stomach as he realized he may have just killed Rogath.

“I saw him run over there!” a man pointed right toward where Hanniya was obediently staying put where he told her to in the tree.

Three men bounded in the direction of where Rogath died and Blacksleeve had a decision to make.

“Greensleeve” he yelled as he emerged from his hiding spot.

The three men stopped abruptly and turned. About ten men started to emerge from huts and corners and they were staring at the wanderer as he came out with his bow ready.

Simple minded indeed.

“You all got what you needed. I am Gammon Rathe, Warden of the Seal. Greensleeve of Yen. Move along now, your friend Rogath was it? He is dead because he tried to steal my boar, which is a sacred offense. If I were you I would keep moving.”

The men exchanged sidelong glances. Rogaths brother was obviously enraged at the news of the fate of his brother.

“If you’re a Greensleeve why are you hiding your arm?” said a man from his flank.

Gammon knew he was there.

“Make another step and ill split your throat with two arrows before you can remember your mothers name.” said Gammon with authority. The man stopped. He lifted the sleeve of his shirt and showed the men his jet black arm. Upon seeing it all the men backed up.

“Hes a Blacksleeve?!” one of the men gasped.

“That’s right, which means I’ll leave twelve more corpses in a pile on top of Rogath if you don’t get moving like I said.”

The men were obviously unorganized, and for a split second he thought maybe Rogath was their leader. The wanderer wasn’t hiding, he wasn’t scared. They were simple minded. The problem with simple minded people is they always think everyone else is smarter than them and these men were not ready to lose their lives at the cost of fighting with an exiled Greensleeve.

“I’m getting quite offended by the fact that you all are still standing here as if to fight me. Make your first move, go ahead. I have a lot of rage I need to satiate with your blood.” He said commandingly.

“You can’t take all 14 of us.” Said the brother of Rogath.

“Thanks for telling me exactly how many there are of you, but I think there are only 13 now. If I was worried about any of you do you think I would just show myself instead of shooting you from the trees? Say another word and your stupid gawking reaver mutt hiding behind me in that thicket will be the first to die. Im begging you to please try something, anything, please.” The wanderer said.

The men decided against combat and commenced with their tactical retreat. The villagers were dirt poor and they massacred all of them for a silver cup, a ring, and a necklace.

When the last man was gone he began to scan the village. There were bodies strewn everywhere. Then he heard crying. He moved over to a supply cart and saw a young boy beneath hugging his knees with his little arms. Further scanning showed he was the only survivor in the village.

“Come out lad, they are gone.” He said loudly hoping someone else would come out from hiding.

There was no one. The boy flinched away and stared at him wide-eyed. Gammon whistled a loud shrieking whistle hoping to call Hanniya from her perched shelter, again no response. He didn’t want to leave the boy to get her.

“Can you walk?” he asked the boy. The kid just stared at him terrified a wet spot on the front of his trousers.

“I have Hanniya and Annarae in the woods. They are looking for you.” When he mentioned the names the boys clouded mind found substance and he nodded.

He walked over to his boar on the outside of the village and then to Hanniyas tree. When he arrived he saw her still in the tree.

“Come down girl. We have much to talk about.” He yelled to the tree. Hanniya came down and ran over to the boy and hugged him.

“This is all that is left. Everyone else is dead.” He said to her.

Hanniya looked up at him, at the boy and then began weeping uncontrollably.

Gammon started to walk away when he stopped and turned. The boy and the girl were clutching each other and Annarae emerged from the outer brush. She ran to them and hugged them tight as well.

“Take care of them. Find another village nearby. If I were you I’d go south.”

He looked at the three of them and sighed. They would be dead in a week. He wasn’t a nursemaid. He cant care for children. They would be dead if they went with him as well. He looked at the small girl who had once been smiling and playful. Who had said to him that he looked sad. Her whimpering sobs and tear streaked dirty face.

A small calico cat scampered over curiously to the edge of the woods.

“Is he dangerous?” he said nodding at the cat

“Pickles!” the girl screamed and ran over to the cat nuzzling it.

He weighed his next words carefully and knew what he was about to say was a huge mistake.

“I will escort you to the next village. I can not care for you, we will find someone who can.” He said regretfully.

“What about the village?” asked Hanniya, wiping the wetness from her eyes. He could tell she was trying hard to be as brave as a ten year old could be in a situation like this.

He just shook his head and began to walk back toward the path choosing to go east away from the direction of the reavers.

The three of them looked at him, stood and ran over to follow the banished criminal. Hanniya grabbed one of his massive hands and he looked down seeing her holding Pickles. In his mind he saw Via smiling. They always talked of having children together.. He would leave the children at the next town with a woman who could properly care for them, where the Blacksleeve walked, only death and darkness followed. These young ones were better off far away from him.

“Gammon” he said matter-of-factly. The girl looked at him curiously.

“My name is Gammon”