Rage and Redemption

Foreward: This will be the first in a series of chapters, I will endeavor to publish at least once a week, more if I can manage. I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Awakening

Jack had always been a curious boy. Ever since he could remember he was always making excuses to wander off. His father would always scold him when he returned. “Quit wandering, Jack,” he would tell him, “evil lurks in the dark places of the world, I don’t want you to meet the same fate as your mother.” Jack never really knew what his father meant by that though, so his feet often carried him into trouble somewhere or another.

Jack had grown up in the quiet village of Skallsbrough, its wooden walls built high to keep anyone, and anything the village guard deemed unfit, out. But to Jack it was like a prison. The walls were patrolled by the guards, and there was only one gate to get in or out. Merchants would occasionally show up, peddling whatever they could from the outside world, but mostly the villagers just kept to themselves, looking with distrust at any outsiders. The king’s tax collectors would show up once a month like clockwork, much to the villagers’ dismay. Workers would head out to work the fields in the morning, and they would return at dusk. They were the only people Jack knew that regularly left the village, and he would often overhear conversations between them describing odd happenings and sightings of mysterious shadows in the gloom of the neighboring forest. Jack’s father, Damon, was the village blacksmith, and for the most part his days were full of mundane repairs of broken farm equipment or the odd wagon pin. In his youth he had apprenticed under the King’s blacksmith, and, although he didn’t talk of it much, he was reputed to be one of the best bladesmiths the kingdom had seen in the modern era. Jack was always fascinated by his father’s craft, but try though he might, Damon would not allow Jack anywhere near his smithy. “Small hands and an overly inquisitive mind don’t belong in a smithy Jack.” He would say, much to Jack’s frustration. His mother had died a few months after he had been born, so he desperately wanted something to connect himself to his only remaining parent. Damon, however, had no interest in teaching Jack about the ways of the forge. “You’re too curious for your own good boy, you’ve got too much of your mother in you.”

His father always had some reason or another for keeping Jack away, so eventually, as all young boys do, Jack got bored with sitting around all day, and decided to find his own entertainment. His first expedition outside the walls happened in the evening of the day after his 13th birthday. It was late spring, and Jack had been wandering the dim alleyways between the walls and the houses that butted up to it for months now. The ramparts above overhung the wall a ways, so Jack was able to stay mostly out of sight of the guards and found a strange excitement in slinking his way through the village trying to stay out of sight. In his wanderings, he noticed a small ray of sunlight, shining like a beacon from between the west wall and a stack of storage crates. Curiosity getting the better of him, he pulled the crates away from the wall and discovered, much to his glee, a small hole where a sizeable chunk of the wood had rotted away, just big enough for him to squeeze himself through. He looked around, making double sure there was nobody watching him, and he quickly slipped behind the crates and, for the first time, looked out upon the world outside of the walls. The fields beyond undulated like waves in the wind, the setting sun shining golden on the vast green openness. It was late afternoon, and Jack knew he had at least a couple of hours before the workers would start heading back in for the evening. He looked to the north and saw the dark, foreboding darkness of Skall forest. In his silent explorations through town, he had overheard many strange tales about the things that go on in the forest. While he was not the most attentive parent, Damon had managed to instill in Jack a firm sense of practicality, and many of the stories Jack overheard challenged his simple, straightforward view of the world. Stories of monsters and evil, men controlled by dark forces, all of this seemed to fly in the face of his view of reality, so he convinced himself it was just people telling stories to pass the time. Curiosity, however, would not allow Jack to accept all these stories as mere fairy tales. There had to be a grain of truth to at least some of them. So, as he looked out over the world outside, he decided to see for himself what was really going on.

Jack slipped through the wall quickly, and reaching back through his newfound exit hole, he pulled one of the crates back against the wall, hoping that nobody would happen upon it. With his opening hidden to his satisfaction, Jack turned and, keeping his body as close to the wall as possible, he headed north towards the forest. He knew once he reached the end of the wall, he would have to make a break for it to avoid being seen by the guards, so he watched them and waited for their upcoming shift change. Jack had been watching the comings and goings of the guards for months now, and he knew that shortly before the workers would be returning, the day guards would head down from their posts and a new group would replace them shortly after. As he waited, he looked to the forest for his entry point. The underbrush was overgrown in most places and very thick, but there was one small opening below two massive oak trees that he decided would be the perfect spot.

“Hey, you hungry?” he heard from above.

“All this standing around and looking at nothing always makes me hungry Dave” another voice responded.

“Alright, let's head down and send in the replacements, then pub for a drink and some food?”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing, especially the drink part. Let’s go.”

The voices chuckled and Jack listened as the footsteps above moved away from his hiding spot and descended the stairs on the other side of the wall. Knowing this was his only opening before the night guards were on duty, Jack took off like a shot towards the opening he had spotted in the woods. He was panting and sweating as he entered the cool shadows of the forest, and he paused to look around and catch his breath. Certain he had made it to the forest unseen, Jack took a moment to revel in his newfound freedom. He studied his surroundings and quickly noted the opening he was in was not just an opening, but in fact was the start of an old forgotten road leading deep into the forest. Jack hadn’t heard of any roads leading through the forest. People in the village were wary of it, and when they did discuss the forest, it was always in hushed tones, as if they were afraid to speak of it openly. There was one particular story he had heard on more than one occasion though. People often talked about an old man who lived close to the edge of the forest, and it was said that he was the vessel of some evil spirit that lorded over the forest and all its inhabitants. Jack didn’t believe all the stories, but he did wonder if there was really an old man living in the forest. So, with his curiosity piqued, he determined the only thing to do was follow the path and see what he could find. As he set off, a brisk breeze sifted through the trees, and Jack pulled his cloak tight and headed in.

He didn’t have to walk too far before the sun was completely out of sight, only a dim mottling of light penetrated the depths of the forest. As he walked, Jack took note of all the different plants and trees, a whole new world it seemed to him. After curving a bend, the road began to drop steeply, and he found himself struggling to keep from sliding down into the darkness below. As he carefully made his way down, he started to wonder if being this far from home was a good idea, but the thought of turning back seemed even worse, so he continued down. The road began to level out, and Jack walked more confidently with every step he took. Before long the road turned again, and in the distance, Jack thought he could make out the dim outline of a small hut. A voice in the back of his mind told him to explore further was foolish, but once again his curiosity got the better of him and he pushed on, although a little more cautiously. The hut was fully in view now, and Jack was not able to determine whether it was occupied or not. His days of wandering the village had prepared him for this, he thought, so he crouched down and began to sneak his way closer. No smoke rose from the small chimney protruding from the top of its slanted roof, and Jack could see no light coming from within.

The hut seemed old, the thatching of its roof was almost black with mold, and the walls were covered in a dark red moss. At its entrance hung a shabby wooden door, and Jack approached it tentatively. Reaching for the handle, the door began to slowly swing open. Jack’s heart skipped a beat, and he jumped back, ready to run if someone was inside, but as the door fully swung open, he could only slightly make out the interior of the hut. Again he crept closer, squinting his eyes as he tried to peer into the murky darkness of the hut, but seeing nothing to explain the door opening by itself. He made his way warily inside and soon discovered that there was nobody there. Steeling himself, he stood tall and strode around, taking in every detail of what he could see. A fireplace, with remnants of its last fire long cold, stood opposite the door. To his left, he saw a table with strange, obscure objects and apparatus that he had never seen before. Beside that stood a tall, narrow bookshelf, cluttered with ancient manuscripts and tattered scrolls. To his right was a small wooden cot, lined with straw and covered with the hide of some long-dead animal. A large cloak hung on a hook above it, and next to that was an ornately decorated candelabra, with a half-burnt candle still residing within. The rest of the hut lay open, and in the gloom, Jack could see the floor was worn between the table and cot. Clearly, the owner of the domicile was a creature of habit, while there was a worn path between bed and table, the same could not be said of the door. Jack wondered who would have lived here, but, since nothing else stood out to him, he concluded he would never truly know.

Once his curiosity was satiated, he turned towards the door, only for it to slam in his face as he approached. Suddenly Jack was struck with a sense of dread, and his eyes darted around, looking for another way out of the hut. The wind outside began to whip through the trees, and he quickly became fearful. Without warning, the fireplace sprung to light, and the candle above the bed as well as three others he hadn’t noticed also sprouted flames. Jack’s eyes struggled to adapt to the overwhelming new light, and he blinked desperately trying to get his vision to adjust. As he looked around, the shimmering visage of a man slowly took shape in front of him. The man was old, very old, his face so deeply wrinkled and weathered it seemed to be inhuman. Even his clothing was ancient, tattered from unknown years of wear, repair, and filth. Jack blinked again ass the form solidified, Jack had the sudden urge to run out of the hut and as fast as he could from the forest, but something in his mind told him to stay put.

“Why are you here!?” the man demanded.

“Well, I, uh, I was just looking around.” Jack responded.

“This isn’t your place to be looking through, you shouldn’t be here.”

Fear had gripped Jack tight, and he now desperately wanted to be back within the safety of the village. “You’re right, I…I was just leaving. I didn’t take anything though!” Jack didn’t want to upset the man further, and since he was clearly in possession of some sort of magical powers, Jack was sure leaving now was his best course of action.

He began to back away from the man, making his way towards the door, unable to break his gaze. The man watched him, his eyes dark and unyielding.

“You shouldn’t be here. Why have you come here? You need to leave. You need to leave. Get out. Get out now!” His voice cracked with rage. The fire grew larger as his last words were spoken, and Jack turned and ran out of the door, his feet barely touching the floor as he left.

Jack didn’t stop running until the village was fully back in view. It was dusk now, and the last of the field workers were filing in through the main gate as Jack stopped to catch his breath. Feeling thankful he didn’t have to go through the gate and explain himself, he took off towards the west wall again. Once he reached the wall, he made his way back to his hole, the events of his trip still running through his mind. His trip had left him with many more questions than answers, but all in all he was relatively happy with himself and his first taste of the outside world. As he reached the hole and pushed the crate out of the way, he crawled back through and into the relative safety of Skallsbrough. His self-congratulations were short-lived, however, and as he pushed the last crate back into its spot, effectively hiding his escape route, he felt strong hands grip him by the shoulders. He was unceremoniously spun around, and there staring at him was the stern face of his father.

“And what do you think you are doing boy?!” Damon roared. “Outside the walls?! How many times do I have to tell you to stay where you’re told?!”

“I didn’t go far” Jack lied, “I just went out to look for a minute and then came back in. The village is so boring!”

“I don’t care if it’s boring!!” Damon shouted, “If you’re going to insist on getting yourself into trouble, then I guess I have to find something better to fill your time then eh?”

“Like what?!” Jack responded defiantly, “You don’t even let me in the forge, what am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, I’ll think of something…”

The remainder of spring and summer was a blur for Jack. His father had signed him up to work as an assistant to the village herbalist, Diana. Most of his days were spent weeding gardens and preparing herbs for different concoctions and potions. The work was miserable, but Diana had taken a fondness to Jack, and soon was trying to teach him all she knew about the different herbs and plants that grew in the area. Jack had no interest in herbalism, but he did realize the value in knowing which plants were useful and which ones were poisonous. It was during one of his lessons that Diana proved herself to be far more interesting than he had originally thought. The onset of fall was in full swing, with the fields now flowing golden yellow in the midday sun.

“I need to go on a trip, Jack, and I would like you to accompany me. There are some important plants we need to collect if I’m to make the fertility potions some of the village women have requested of me. They only bloom at this time of year, and they only grow under certain conditions, we need to go get some.”

Jack’s heart raced. Finally, he thought, something interesting to do.

“You’ll have to ask your father if it’s alright, and if he has any questions, he can come see me about it. Before you go though, there are a few more plants ready for harvest in the gardens. Go finish with those, bring them back here, and then you’re free for the rest of the day.”

Jack stumbled over his feet as he raced outside, wanting to get his chores done as quickly as possible so he could go and inform his father of his upcoming adventures.

“Absolutely not!” Damon declared.

“But Dad!! Diana needs my help with this, she specifically asked for me to go!”

“No Jack, there is no way I’m letting this happen.”

“Can you please just go talk to her? She’ll make sure I’m safe.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to her, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you go.”

“Thank you, Dad. Just keep an open mind, will you?”

“Fine. You stay here, I’ll be back in a little while.”

Jack sat nervously at the table waiting for his father to return. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the door opened and his father strode through with Diana following.

“Diana here has made a compelling argument, and although I still think it’s a bad idea letting a boy wander through the wilderness, she has assured me that there is no real danger in the trip.”

“So… I can go then?” Jack asked, hardly containing his excitement.

“Yes, you can go, but first Diana has some things she would like to say.”

Jack looked at her, holding his breath in anticipation.

“We leave first thing tomorrow morning, Jack.” She told him, “But you need to get some things ready. I need you to go to the pub, talk to the owner. He has some packs that I regularly borrow for these trips. Then, go to the butcher and get us some cured meats, we’ll be gone for a week or so, so make sure we have enough to eat. I have some loaves of bread and cheese already, so we won’t need anything else. Here, you’ll need some money to get the meats.” She said, handing Jack a small pouch of coins.

“Oh, and bring your bow as well, just in case. Once you have all that, come back to my house and drop the packs there, then come back here and try to get some sleep. It will be a lot of walking, and I need to know you’re going to have your wits about you.”

With that, she strode out, and Jack sat there beaming at his father. Damon met his gaze apprehensively.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” Damon muttered, “But since I am, I want to give you something for your trip. It’s not much, but it may be helpful to you if things get exciting.”

He crouched down in front of his bed and reached underneath, retrieving a small, rolled bundle of cloth, and returned to the table with it.

“This is the last piece I made to complete my apprenticeship, Jack.” He said quietly as he unrolled the package. Pulling the last fold over, he uncovered a medium-sized hunting knife, its handle simple, yet elegant. It was in an intricately decorated leather sheath, and as he pulled it from the leather, Jack noticed the beautiful, waved pattern of dark and light steel melded into the finest knife he had ever laid eyes on. “I intended to give this to you on the day of your wedding, but since you insist on living in a world larger than mine, I think now is the time you should have it.”

Jack took the knife with reverence, admiring every exquisite detail. He held it in his hand, the handle fitting well and he felt an odd shiver as he held it.

“It’s made of a very special metal, Jack.” Damon explained, “Only the foremost smiths in the world even know of it, and fewer still are able to work with it. It’s very hard, but it has enough give that it will hold up to any abuse you can throw at it.”

“What is it called, father?” Jack enquired.

“Moon steel, and it’s exceptionally rare. It’s not like most metals, you can’t mine it or refine it from any stone found in the earth. You must be lucky, very lucky, to stumble across it. My master gave me a small piece of it as my final test, and this knife is the result. Moon steel is also said to have some mystical powers, though I don’t put much credit into that. At any rate, it will hold up well, I doubt you’ll ever dull the edge.”

Jack was in awe of the knife, and his father. The knife was a masterpiece, and he could not understand why his father insisted on his mundane work instead of making more knives like this one.

“Thank you, father. I’ll keep it close and take the best care of it.”

“I know you will, boy. I just hope it doesn’t have to take care of you.” He said cryptically. “Now, off with you, you have errands to run before dinner. Go.”