Surfingpichu
Authors note (7/26/10): Hey you guys, Surfingpichu here. I realize I haven't been here for very long, or haven't been posting for very long, but long story short I've decided to put up a bit of my story for some critique. I'm still working on my diction, and I'm still not sure of the starting point I've picked. This is one of many drafts I've written, not the final by a long shot and definitely not the first, so any criticism, big or small is appreciated! =3
It was almost midnight, and the dim light of a candle, was the only light for miles. The quiet little town of Layne lay silent, long settled in for a night of rest after a long day's work. Wyatt Tellerman was sure he should be joining them in that soon, but even with the heavy hand of sleep pressing upon his shoulders, he knew he couldn't rest until he'd fished (finished) what he'd set out to do. Pen in hand he continued writing, blinking back the thoughts of sleep.
Abruptly his pen came to a halt on the grainy parchment before him. He frowned, looking over his written words carefully. He bent down, drawing out a large heavy book that he kept beside him and flipped through the pages, steadily tracing the jumbles of letters with his eyes. At last he found what he was looking for and hastily grabbed his quill once more and jotted it down while it was still fresh in his mind. For someone who had been illiterate for most of his life, Wyatt had to admit, he wasn't a bad writer. It was a grueling process, stringing together letters to make words, words to make phrases. The Matrian language was needlessly difficult to write in, with so many different ways to make the same sound. Picking out the correct letters to form the correct words was almost as hard as finding a rope in a pit full of snakes, but at last he was sure he'd managed to get the hang of it. After a long struggle, Wyatt was sure he'd triumphed (this sentence is missing a subject, kind of. Some type of re-iteration on what he had triumphed over, even something like "...he'd triumphed over the herculean task"). He'd managed to achieve literacy, and along with it, a way to contact his sister after five long years of separation.
He lay the sheet of parchment flat, tracing his lines with the tip of his finger to make sure everything was in order. It looked correct enough, and at the very least, readable. He knew his sister, Nadia was literate. She'd tried to teach him things like letters and words long ago, but he'd always preferred the company of the other children and the promise of spending the afternoon playing bandits and heroes with sticks to reading quietly with his sister. He regretted that now, for now (repetitive) all he really longed for were those two things he'd once taken for granted: (colon as the next sentence would be a fragment otherwise) his sister's company, and the knowledge of words.
She'd saved his life;after all. after all these years he'd still never found a way to repay her, and still he looked. At least now he had a way to contact her, and that was all he really wanted right now. The rest would come in time.
Looking over his printed words one last time he read over the letter one last time to make sure everything was in place. It was about a half a page in length, blotted with crossed out words and the marks of hastily changed letters. Some of his words ran together, others were far too spaced out, but even so, his work looked good to his eyes.
Dear Nadie,
I wish I new how to start this letter. Having never ritten before, I hope I am doing this corectly. I also must hope that this letter reaches you in ample time, and that you are well enouf to read it. It has been 3 long years sinse I saw, or herd from you. 3 years is far too long to be seperated from the ones you love, and since I coudn't stand it any more, I took the time to lern how to rite. Are you all well? What has happened sinse I left? I have been very well. Mr. Watres is a hard man, but he is kind and he treets me well. I have lerned many things sinse started my apprentaceship, and eventualy, I may be able to make enough gold to live on my own. I wish I coud be with you all rite now, but unfortunatly, that cant be. I miss you all, but being able to rite to you all gives me lots of hope.
Wyatt Tellerman
He lay the parchment flat again, content with his work. Still he felt a pang of loneliness as he read. Being separated from Nadia for so long made him yearn for her companionship, but there was a chance that she might be a different case altogether. She may have forgotten about him. Perhaps she didn't care any more, or perhaps she had moved on. At any case he was nervous, he couldn't help it. It had been five years since he'd spoken with her last. Perhaps she had changed.
Still, he had always been closer to Nadia than any of his other siblings. It was Nadia that had taught him right and wrong when his mother and father weren't around. Nadia had brought him on adventures through the marshes when they were younger, catching toads and dredging up buried treasure. She was the one who had stood by his side and held his hand when their father died, and she who had wept the longest when he went off to fulfill his apprenticeship. He could still see the tears in her eyes, how sad she had been.
She wouldn't have forgotten me. Wyatt assured himself as he smothered out the candle. It's only been a few years. I'm her brother after all. It's not as if we all forgot who Daniel was after he became a blacksmith. Brothers don't forget brothers.
Still he was sure that after five years she would have changed quite a bit. She'd be a woman now, no longer the child he'd last seen her as. She would probably be married by now, perhaps with children.
Wyatt had to admit he'd changed quite a bit since he'd seen the rest of his family last as well. In a way he'd grown up, learned to be obedient, polite, and efficient just as his master, Mr. Watres, was. Obviously he'd also gained literacy, but that was easy enough to see. He still had the nervous twitch he'd developed as a child, though it was less pronounced, and he was sure he'd never correct the stutter in his voice, but other than that he was barely the child he'd been before.
Sighing Wyatt returned to the course (coarse) straw mattress he called a bed, laying down gently so as not to disturb the fleas. He was lucky in a way, Mr. Watres was a rather wealthy man. Wealthy enough to have a house that consisted of more than one room. The workshop, Mr. Watres's bedroom, and the room of Mr. Watres's son, now fully grown studying to be a scholar that Wyatt had been given temporarily. It came in handy in the end, with all the writing supplies laid out before him, all he had to do was make use of his resources in order to achieve literacy. Really, the entire thing was a blessing.
Wyatt looked out the window, staring at the bright crescent moon that hovered over the mountains. A great valley stretched out, dipping down into the verdant middle lands of Matria. Towering above the great forest lurked the giant fortress itself, Castle Matria, the largest structure in the land, and one of the best fortified castles to date. It made sense for Matria's castle to be that way, since Matria was one of the strongest countries in the land but even so, it was an incredible sight to behold. The town of Layne was one of the closest towns to the castle, save for Matria City itself. Many travelers passed through the small town on a daily bases. They did get some interesting characters in Layne every so often, he'd admit that, but for all that it was a rare occasion that anything particularly interesting happened there. It was a rather boring place to tell the truth.
At last Wyatt felt himself beginning to drift off. Sleep was beginning to catch him away and allow him to rest at last. All of the nights he'd spent up until all hours of the morning were starting to catch up to him, and he could feel fatigue pulling at his limbs. He closed his eyes lightly letting himself rest, when at once a sound pulled him from his sleep. The sound was soft, light, just barely audible, and Wyatt was sure that if all hadn't been still and silent moments before he would have missed it entirely. Yet now the sound was unmistakable, the soft patter of footsteps coming from the main room. For a second Wyatt lay still, waiting for the sound to pass, but it didn't. The patter of footsteps persisted until at last he could hear voices.
“You're sure they're all asleep?” the voice was soft, whispered, barely audible to anyone who wasn't listening carefully.
“Positive. No-one would be up at this hour of the night. I'm sure old man Watres is as sound as can be right now.”
There was a grunt of affirmation, and a short silence before the same voice that had spoken before chimed in again.
“What about the other one?”
"What about him?”
“You think he's asleep?”
“I just said, no one in their right mind would be up at this hour.” the voice was starting to sound agitated.
“But what if he wakes up?”
“Oh for the love of the gods.” there was an exasperated sigh, “We're not here to slit the old b*****d's throat. Watres has a debt with my father. We're just here to collect is all.”
Wyatt sat up slowly, his hands suddenly shaking. Ye gods, what could they possibly want to steal? We've got nothing to give. Unless they're keen on stealing food. He bit his lip, but without that we'll never make it through the winter. He breathed softly, trying to stay as quiet and still as possible. He was alert now, more awake than ever as feverish energy pumped through his veins. He knew about break-ins, he knew about how easily a simple act like stealing could transform into cold blooded murder within seconds. If Mr. Watres awoke, he'd try to fend the group off on his own, and in his advancing years, Wyatt couldn't imagine that ending well.
I'll catch them off guard, before anything else happens. he slid from his bed, treading as softly as he could upon the dirt floor, and took up a small knife into his shaking hand. He donned one of his hooded cloaks carefully, and approached the doorway, being sure to check his movements.
There was a group of about four of them. All of them were young, two farm boys, and the two sons of Mr. Raddison, the local blacksmith. Wyatt knew those two boys. The larger, stockier one was Dalton, a rather soft brained fellow who had inherited the large stature that his father was known for. The smaller of the two was Levi, though he wasn't smaller by much. He was however, quite a bit smarter than his companion. He had a shifty, intelligent look to his eyes, and Wyatt had gotten an impression early on that the boy was not to be trusted. Now he knew why.
Even now Levi Raddison looked nervous. His wide eyes darted about the room warily, like a child searching for monsters beneath his bed. Every so often his eyes would dart to the far corner of the room, as if he'd heard some non-existent sound, only for him to return to his walking. On the outside he was a confident young boy, the leader of his group obviously, but at the same time even he seemed to have his own doubts.
Wyatt's breath lay heavy in his lungs. He crept out into the main room, his knife gripped tightly in his shaking hand, his grip white knuckled and tense. He filed in behind the group, his knife concealed in his cloak, and his footsteps barely seeming to make in imprint in the heavy silence.
All of a sudden one of the farmboys piped up again, the one who had been doing the questioning before, “Do you suppose we're being followed?” he asked.
Levi frowned, “What? No. Why do you ask?”
“I... I suppose I just have this feeling... you know, like we're being watched.”
Levi looked around warily, squinting in the darkness, “It's probably just your head. We'd have seen someone by now if we were being followed.”
Wyatt crept closer now, practically holding his breath. He drew his knife now, ready to descend upon one of the boys. All he needed was to frighten one of them. Chances were the rest would flee if he did. The house would be saved, and the boys probably wouldn't return again. The idea was a comforting one, but one that would never come to pass. Just as Wyatt readied himself to spring forwards and catch one of the boys off guard, one of the boys whipped around, and stumbled back giving a startled cry. Wyatt faltered, stumbling back slightly himself only to be caught in the back of the head with a wooden staff.
“Demon! Ghost! Phantom!” one of the boys cried as he struck at Wyatt again, “Begone foul being! Back to the netherworld where you belong!” He raised his staff again, preparing to bring it down hard upon Wyatt's head.
“Wait! Stop!” Wyatt covered his head, attempting to bat away the boy's staff, “I'm no demon! I swear!”
Levi, looked at Wyatt once more frowning. The color was returning to his features now, and the look of pure terror that had once crossed his face now turned into one of confusion and relief. He approached Wyatt, tearing the boy's hood back to reveal his face. A smirk pulled at his lips.
“I know that face.” Levi said at once, “Wyatt Tellerman, isn't it? Father told me about you. I had no idea you were still around. Could have sworn old man Watres would have had enough sense to kick you to the streets by now. What do you want now, Tellerman?”
“I.. I didn't... I mean...” Wyatt's throat felt dry, “What.. what are you doing here?”
Levi raised an eyebrow, giving a forced, dry laugh, “So, you do have a voice. That's all fine and well I suppose. The question here is, can you fight?”
Wyatt got to his feet slowly. Just about all of the young men were taller than he was and far broader and better built. They towered over him, Dalton being the tallest. Dalton was taller than anyone else in Layne, save for his father, but they all looked great and powerful compared to Wyatt who was small and rather lanky to begin with. He looked down at the knife in his hand, and then at Levi. A shiver arced down his spine.
“I'm not going to fight you.” Wyatt replied, finally finding his voice “Get out or I swear you'll be thrown out. My master and I don't take well to trespassers and thieves.”
“You'll throw us out? Really, Tellerman?” Levi laughed, grabbing one of the knives from Watres's tool bench, “I'd like to see this now, how you propose to throw us out, Tellerman? Honestly I'd like to see you try, it should be at least interesting to watch.”
Wyatt took a step back, looking around warily. As it stood he was in a bad position. He wasn't armed well, he only had a little knife to protect him, and that wouldn't do much for him. Then again, he could have been wielding a halberd for all he was worth, and he still wouldn't be able to get past the four of them. Wyatt's stature put him at more of a disadvantage than his lack of a proper weapon did.
One of the boys has a staff. Wyatt reminded himself, Otherwise the rest of them are entirely unarmed. If I had a long enough weapon, I could fight them at a distance and probably stand a much better chance. Perhaps... he looked around, eying the darkened walls for something to use as a weapon. At last his eyes fell upon Mr. Watres's old walking stick. He grabbed the weapon without a second thought, brandishing it before the group of them, and stowing his knife in a pocket on his cloak.
Levi stepped forward, laughing, “Well come on now. You aren't going to just stand there, are you?”
Wyatt gritted his teeth, rushing forward with his weapon brandished, ready to strike at Levi. The boy jumped out of the way as Wyatt advanced and at once the rest of the boys filed in around him. He spun around, swinging his staff and hoping to catch one of the boys off guard. Instead his attack was stopped by Dalton, the other Raddison brother, who grabbed Wyatt's staff out of the air just as it came around. A smile spread over his features as he pulled the staff out of Wyatt's hands, and whirled it around, knocking Wyatt in the back of the head with it. He fell to his knees dazed, only to be grabbed from behind and hoisted to his feet once more. In a second Levi Raddison had him in a headlock with a knife to his throat.
“Now, you're going to be a good boy and stay quiet for us, aren't you Tellerman?” Levi said softly, a sadistic smile on his face, “I'd hate to see what would happen if Mr. Watres woke up to find his apprentice split into two halves.”
Wyatt gave a small grunt, struggling to pull himself out of Levi's grip, but the boy was too strong. He held him back almost effortlessly. The cool touch of steel against his neck sent a shiver down his spine, and he looked up at Levi with fear in his eyes.
“Y-you can't do this.” Wyatt protested in as loud a voice as he could muster, “When the rest of Layne hears of this your names will all be tarnished. You won't get off of this charge so easily. You'll all be driven off for this. Banished.”
For a second a hint of fear flashed into Levi's eyes. The rest of the group faltered, for a second seeming to fear the words of the otherwise helpless young boy they'd caught. One of the boys backed away, as if intimidated, and a rush of pride filled Wyatt for a moment. That pride was crushed when all at once a frighteningly cool smile worked its way onto Levi's lips. A cold rush of fear flew down Wyatt's spine as the knife began to dig further into his neck.
“So, you're not going to cooperate, are you?” he asked, “Well then I suppose we don't have much of a choice now. It would be better for you to be found dead to an anonymous killer than for you to go about spewing out your filthy bile to tarnish our names. We'd have to kill you for it anyway, so why not skip the middle man while we're here? We'll kill you now so we don't have to clean things up later.”
Wyatt felt a wave of horror sweep down his spine. They're going to... to kill me? At once he grabbed a hold of Levi's hand's forcing the boy's knife away from his neck.
“Mr. Watres!” he cried out in desperation, “Mr.-...”
A hand clamped tight around his mouth, muffling his cries and pulling him back. Wyatt gave a grunt, struggling to free himself when another pair of hands grabbed his wrists, forcing his hands away. Levi had caught a hold of his hair pulling his head back to reveal his throat. He was breathing hard now. His head was spinning with all the confusion. He could barely tell what was happening. On top of that he could barely move. He struggled to get out of the way of Levi's knife, but what felt like one million hands held him in place and pinned him down. The world was spinning. Already he couldn't breathe, even though his throat was still intact. He had to imagine that if this kept up that wouldn't be the case for long.
With one last flailing struggle he managed to free one of his hands. Immediately he grabbed his knife once more and made a quick swipe at one of the boys that was holding him down. The boy gave a sharp cry, dropping Wyatt, who immediately tore himself from his captor's grasp in the moment of confusion and scrambled to his feet, brandishing his weapon. The boy he'd struck at grabbed his calf protectively as blood trickled down his leg.
“Well, it looks like he's got some fight in him after all.” Levi noted, twirling his own weapon in his hand, “This could prove pretty exciting really. Come on Tellerman, why don't you show us what you can really do with that weapon of yours.”
“I'm not going to fight you.” Wyatt shook his head, “If my Master finds you here he'll...”
“He'll what?” Levi laughed, “That old man could barely pick up a sword, let alone wield one. You think we're afraid of some haggard old wretch like him? Or are you really useless enough that you'd rely on your half-decaying master to pull you out of a situation you're too weak to handle like a man?”
The blacksmith's son looked over his weapon, smirking, “And if you don't think I'd cut down an old man like Watres, you're sorely mistaken.”
“You wouldn't dare.” Wyatt cried at once, rushing forward with his weapon brandished.
Levi quickly stepped out of the way, letting Wyatt swipe at the thin air.
“Now there's what I'm looking for.” he commented, “Good to see that you've at least got some fight in you.”
A smile spread out upon the boy's lips, as he struck back at Wyatt. Wyatt stumbled back out of the way, cutting down to try and catch his arm, but Levi was too fast and pulled his hand out of the way. He came around with his unarmed hand and drove his elbow into Wyatt's chest, driving the air from his lungs. Just in time, Wyatt managed to raise his arm and catch Levi in the hand before he could manage to drive his knife into Wyatt's neck. The boy let out a cry, drawing his hand back as a thin line of blood formed across the base of his hand.
Levi's eyes narrowed as he glared up at Wyatt, his free hand balling into a fist. With a feral cry he launched himself at Wyatt knocking him back to the floor, his weight pinning him down. Wyatt caught Levi's hands, struggling to keep the boy's knife away from his neck, but his strength proved too great. He could see the weapon inching closer every second. Ye gods, I have to do something. He looked around. No other weapons were to be found. Only the one in his hand. He gave a grunt, pushing back against Levi's hands, desperate to fight back against him. At last he couldn't hold him any more. He let his unarmed hand relax. Immediately Levi tumbled forward caught off guard, his knife only just missing Wyatt's neck. Immediately Wyatt reared up with an attack of his own, and caught the boy across the face with his knife.
In the next moment Levi reared back, howling in pain and clutching the side of his face. Wyatt was released, and he stumbled back to his feet. By now he couldn't stop himself. Lunging forward he gave a feral cry, knocking Levi to the ground and diving on top of him, his knife poised to spear him in the chest, or the throat, or any vital area he could hit at this point. A hand grabbed him at once from behind and hauled him to his feet. The dull, heavy sound of Dalton's laugh rang heavy in his ears. Levi righted himself immediately, brandishing his own weapon as he approached Wyatt, a smirk on his face.
Wyatt gave a whimper, struggling to free himself from from Dalton's grip, but the boy was a giant, nearly twice his size and triple his weight. He already knew any struggles he could make were futile. Dalton could probably crush him with one hand. However, it was Levi's turn to deal the final blow as he approached Wyatt with malice in his eyes.
“Well now, I suppose you think you're pretty impressive eh?” Levi sneered, “I'll admit, I didn't expect you to be able to draw blood. Bravo, Tellerman. I'm impressed.”
He gave a chuckle, drawing close to Wyatt as he placed the cold tip of his knife against the boy's neck, “Now here's your reward.”
Wyatt whimpered, pressing himself against Dalton in an attempt to get as far away from Levi's knife as possible. Of course, he couldn't escape, he knew that well enough.
“L-Levi, you don't want to do this.” Wyatt stammered, fear in his eyes, “Don't be a murderer, don't do this.”
“You weren't thinking that when you were trying to kill me were you?” Levi accused, his eyes narrowing.
Wyatt's voice caught in his throat.
“I didn't think so.” with that Levi pulled his arm back, his eyes shining. Wyatt looked away, unable to watch any longer as what might have been the last moments of his life flashed by.
“What in the five hells do you think you're doing?”
Wyatt blinked, looking back up to see Mr. Watres catch Levi's hand and twist it forcefully behind his back. Levi gave a sharp cry, dropping his weapon, and arcing back, his face contorting with pain. For such a feeble looking old man, he certainly did have some fight still in him. The lines of age etched into his face and the tufts of fine hair that floated before his eyes only seemed to make him more menacing as he subdued Levi Raddison.
“Levi!” Dalton gave a cry, dropping Wyatt at once and making a grab at Mr. Watres.
Wyatt reclaimed his weapon, lunging for the giant as he lumbered towards the fragile old man, but a single sweep from Dalton's fist was enough to send Wyatt flying back. He landed hard, slamming into the wall, and for a second could only watch in a daze as Dalton stomped towards his master.
“Mr. Watres, look out!” Wyatt cried, struggling to right himself.
The other two boys were gone now. Presumably they'd fled when Mr. Watres appeared, but of course, Dalton would never abandon his brother. Instantly alert Mr. Watres shoved Levi to the ground, grabbing one of the wooden canes in the corner.
“What're you going to do with that, old man?” Dalton laughed as he advanced upon the old man.
“Wyatt, run while you can.” Mr. Watres cried out. He twisted the cane's head, sliding the knobby head away from the rest of the wooden body to reveal a sword housed inside. Dalton's face seemed to fall “Get help! Quickly now! I'll take care of things in here.”
Wyatt nodded, turning at once to dart out the door. He could hear footsteps behind him following closely. Ye merciful gods. Levi. He looked around, I have to lose him somehow. It won't help Mr. Watres much if I'm slaughtered in the middle of the street before I can get help. I have to lose him somehow.
Mr. Watres's house lay near the edge of town. They were surrounded on all sides by thick forest. Their entire town lay at the edge of a deep valley that seemed to sink deep into the earth. It was rather dark out to begin with, and Wyatt was rather confident in his abilities to get through the woods on his own. Perhaps I'd be able to lose him if I went through there.
Chapter 1: Letters home
It was almost midnight, and the dim light of a candle, was the only light for miles. The quiet little town of Layne lay silent, long settled in for a night of rest after a long day's work. Wyatt Tellerman was sure he should be joining them in that soon, but even with the heavy hand of sleep pressing upon his shoulders, he knew he couldn't rest until he'd fished (finished) what he'd set out to do. Pen in hand he continued writing, blinking back the thoughts of sleep.
Abruptly his pen came to a halt on the grainy parchment before him. He frowned, looking over his written words carefully. He bent down, drawing out a large heavy book that he kept beside him and flipped through the pages, steadily tracing the jumbles of letters with his eyes. At last he found what he was looking for and hastily grabbed his quill once more and jotted it down while it was still fresh in his mind. For someone who had been illiterate for most of his life, Wyatt had to admit, he wasn't a bad writer. It was a grueling process, stringing together letters to make words, words to make phrases. The Matrian language was needlessly difficult to write in, with so many different ways to make the same sound. Picking out the correct letters to form the correct words was almost as hard as finding a rope in a pit full of snakes, but at last he was sure he'd managed to get the hang of it. After a long struggle, Wyatt was sure he'd triumphed (this sentence is missing a subject, kind of. Some type of re-iteration on what he had triumphed over, even something like "...he'd triumphed over the herculean task"). He'd managed to achieve literacy, and along with it, a way to contact his sister after five long years of separation.
He lay the sheet of parchment flat, tracing his lines with the tip of his finger to make sure everything was in order. It looked correct enough, and at the very least, readable. He knew his sister, Nadia was literate. She'd tried to teach him things like letters and words long ago, but he'd always preferred the company of the other children and the promise of spending the afternoon playing bandits and heroes with sticks to reading quietly with his sister. He regretted that now, for now (repetitive) all he really longed for were those two things he'd once taken for granted: (colon as the next sentence would be a fragment otherwise) his sister's company, and the knowledge of words.
She'd saved his life;after all. after all these years he'd still never found a way to repay her, and still he looked. At least now he had a way to contact her, and that was all he really wanted right now. The rest would come in time.
Looking over his printed words one last time he read over the letter one last time to make sure everything was in place. It was about a half a page in length, blotted with crossed out words and the marks of hastily changed letters. Some of his words ran together, others were far too spaced out, but even so, his work looked good to his eyes.
Dear Nadie,
I wish I new how to start this letter. Having never ritten before, I hope I am doing this corectly. I also must hope that this letter reaches you in ample time, and that you are well enouf to read it. It has been 3 long years sinse I saw, or herd from you. 3 years is far too long to be seperated from the ones you love, and since I coudn't stand it any more, I took the time to lern how to rite. Are you all well? What has happened sinse I left? I have been very well. Mr. Watres is a hard man, but he is kind and he treets me well. I have lerned many things sinse started my apprentaceship, and eventualy, I may be able to make enough gold to live on my own. I wish I coud be with you all rite now, but unfortunatly, that cant be. I miss you all, but being able to rite to you all gives me lots of hope.
Wyatt Tellerman
He lay the parchment flat again, content with his work. Still he felt a pang of loneliness as he read. Being separated from Nadia for so long made him yearn for her companionship, but there was a chance that she might be a different case altogether. She may have forgotten about him. Perhaps she didn't care any more, or perhaps she had moved on. At any case he was nervous, he couldn't help it. It had been five years since he'd spoken with her last. Perhaps she had changed.
Still, he had always been closer to Nadia than any of his other siblings. It was Nadia that had taught him right and wrong when his mother and father weren't around. Nadia had brought him on adventures through the marshes when they were younger, catching toads and dredging up buried treasure. She was the one who had stood by his side and held his hand when their father died, and she who had wept the longest when he went off to fulfill his apprenticeship. He could still see the tears in her eyes, how sad she had been.
She wouldn't have forgotten me. Wyatt assured himself as he smothered out the candle. It's only been a few years. I'm her brother after all. It's not as if we all forgot who Daniel was after he became a blacksmith. Brothers don't forget brothers.
Still he was sure that after five years she would have changed quite a bit. She'd be a woman now, no longer the child he'd last seen her as. She would probably be married by now, perhaps with children.
Wyatt had to admit he'd changed quite a bit since he'd seen the rest of his family last as well. In a way he'd grown up, learned to be obedient, polite, and efficient just as his master, Mr. Watres, was. Obviously he'd also gained literacy, but that was easy enough to see. He still had the nervous twitch he'd developed as a child, though it was less pronounced, and he was sure he'd never correct the stutter in his voice, but other than that he was barely the child he'd been before.
Sighing Wyatt returned to the course (coarse) straw mattress he called a bed, laying down gently so as not to disturb the fleas. He was lucky in a way, Mr. Watres was a rather wealthy man. Wealthy enough to have a house that consisted of more than one room. The workshop, Mr. Watres's bedroom, and the room of Mr. Watres's son, now fully grown studying to be a scholar that Wyatt had been given temporarily. It came in handy in the end, with all the writing supplies laid out before him, all he had to do was make use of his resources in order to achieve literacy. Really, the entire thing was a blessing.
Wyatt looked out the window, staring at the bright crescent moon that hovered over the mountains. A great valley stretched out, dipping down into the verdant middle lands of Matria. Towering above the great forest lurked the giant fortress itself, Castle Matria, the largest structure in the land, and one of the best fortified castles to date. It made sense for Matria's castle to be that way, since Matria was one of the strongest countries in the land but even so, it was an incredible sight to behold. The town of Layne was one of the closest towns to the castle, save for Matria City itself. Many travelers passed through the small town on a daily bases. They did get some interesting characters in Layne every so often, he'd admit that, but for all that it was a rare occasion that anything particularly interesting happened there. It was a rather boring place to tell the truth.
At last Wyatt felt himself beginning to drift off. Sleep was beginning to catch him away and allow him to rest at last. All of the nights he'd spent up until all hours of the morning were starting to catch up to him, and he could feel fatigue pulling at his limbs. He closed his eyes lightly letting himself rest, when at once a sound pulled him from his sleep. The sound was soft, light, just barely audible, and Wyatt was sure that if all hadn't been still and silent moments before he would have missed it entirely. Yet now the sound was unmistakable, the soft patter of footsteps coming from the main room. For a second Wyatt lay still, waiting for the sound to pass, but it didn't. The patter of footsteps persisted until at last he could hear voices.
“You're sure they're all asleep?” the voice was soft, whispered, barely audible to anyone who wasn't listening carefully.
“Positive. No-one would be up at this hour of the night. I'm sure old man Watres is as sound as can be right now.”
There was a grunt of affirmation, and a short silence before the same voice that had spoken before chimed in again.
“What about the other one?”
"What about him?”
“You think he's asleep?”
“I just said, no one in their right mind would be up at this hour.” the voice was starting to sound agitated.
“But what if he wakes up?”
“Oh for the love of the gods.” there was an exasperated sigh, “We're not here to slit the old b*****d's throat. Watres has a debt with my father. We're just here to collect is all.”
Wyatt sat up slowly, his hands suddenly shaking. Ye gods, what could they possibly want to steal? We've got nothing to give. Unless they're keen on stealing food. He bit his lip, but without that we'll never make it through the winter. He breathed softly, trying to stay as quiet and still as possible. He was alert now, more awake than ever as feverish energy pumped through his veins. He knew about break-ins, he knew about how easily a simple act like stealing could transform into cold blooded murder within seconds. If Mr. Watres awoke, he'd try to fend the group off on his own, and in his advancing years, Wyatt couldn't imagine that ending well.
I'll catch them off guard, before anything else happens. he slid from his bed, treading as softly as he could upon the dirt floor, and took up a small knife into his shaking hand. He donned one of his hooded cloaks carefully, and approached the doorway, being sure to check his movements.
There was a group of about four of them. All of them were young, two farm boys, and the two sons of Mr. Raddison, the local blacksmith. Wyatt knew those two boys. The larger, stockier one was Dalton, a rather soft brained fellow who had inherited the large stature that his father was known for. The smaller of the two was Levi, though he wasn't smaller by much. He was however, quite a bit smarter than his companion. He had a shifty, intelligent look to his eyes, and Wyatt had gotten an impression early on that the boy was not to be trusted. Now he knew why.
Even now Levi Raddison looked nervous. His wide eyes darted about the room warily, like a child searching for monsters beneath his bed. Every so often his eyes would dart to the far corner of the room, as if he'd heard some non-existent sound, only for him to return to his walking. On the outside he was a confident young boy, the leader of his group obviously, but at the same time even he seemed to have his own doubts.
Wyatt's breath lay heavy in his lungs. He crept out into the main room, his knife gripped tightly in his shaking hand, his grip white knuckled and tense. He filed in behind the group, his knife concealed in his cloak, and his footsteps barely seeming to make in imprint in the heavy silence.
All of a sudden one of the farmboys piped up again, the one who had been doing the questioning before, “Do you suppose we're being followed?” he asked.
Levi frowned, “What? No. Why do you ask?”
“I... I suppose I just have this feeling... you know, like we're being watched.”
Levi looked around warily, squinting in the darkness, “It's probably just your head. We'd have seen someone by now if we were being followed.”
Wyatt crept closer now, practically holding his breath. He drew his knife now, ready to descend upon one of the boys. All he needed was to frighten one of them. Chances were the rest would flee if he did. The house would be saved, and the boys probably wouldn't return again. The idea was a comforting one, but one that would never come to pass. Just as Wyatt readied himself to spring forwards and catch one of the boys off guard, one of the boys whipped around, and stumbled back giving a startled cry. Wyatt faltered, stumbling back slightly himself only to be caught in the back of the head with a wooden staff.
“Demon! Ghost! Phantom!” one of the boys cried as he struck at Wyatt again, “Begone foul being! Back to the netherworld where you belong!” He raised his staff again, preparing to bring it down hard upon Wyatt's head.
“Wait! Stop!” Wyatt covered his head, attempting to bat away the boy's staff, “I'm no demon! I swear!”
Levi, looked at Wyatt once more frowning. The color was returning to his features now, and the look of pure terror that had once crossed his face now turned into one of confusion and relief. He approached Wyatt, tearing the boy's hood back to reveal his face. A smirk pulled at his lips.
“I know that face.” Levi said at once, “Wyatt Tellerman, isn't it? Father told me about you. I had no idea you were still around. Could have sworn old man Watres would have had enough sense to kick you to the streets by now. What do you want now, Tellerman?”
“I.. I didn't... I mean...” Wyatt's throat felt dry, “What.. what are you doing here?”
Levi raised an eyebrow, giving a forced, dry laugh, “So, you do have a voice. That's all fine and well I suppose. The question here is, can you fight?”
Wyatt got to his feet slowly. Just about all of the young men were taller than he was and far broader and better built. They towered over him, Dalton being the tallest. Dalton was taller than anyone else in Layne, save for his father, but they all looked great and powerful compared to Wyatt who was small and rather lanky to begin with. He looked down at the knife in his hand, and then at Levi. A shiver arced down his spine.
“I'm not going to fight you.” Wyatt replied, finally finding his voice “Get out or I swear you'll be thrown out. My master and I don't take well to trespassers and thieves.”
“You'll throw us out? Really, Tellerman?” Levi laughed, grabbing one of the knives from Watres's tool bench, “I'd like to see this now, how you propose to throw us out, Tellerman? Honestly I'd like to see you try, it should be at least interesting to watch.”
Wyatt took a step back, looking around warily. As it stood he was in a bad position. He wasn't armed well, he only had a little knife to protect him, and that wouldn't do much for him. Then again, he could have been wielding a halberd for all he was worth, and he still wouldn't be able to get past the four of them. Wyatt's stature put him at more of a disadvantage than his lack of a proper weapon did.
One of the boys has a staff. Wyatt reminded himself, Otherwise the rest of them are entirely unarmed. If I had a long enough weapon, I could fight them at a distance and probably stand a much better chance. Perhaps... he looked around, eying the darkened walls for something to use as a weapon. At last his eyes fell upon Mr. Watres's old walking stick. He grabbed the weapon without a second thought, brandishing it before the group of them, and stowing his knife in a pocket on his cloak.
Levi stepped forward, laughing, “Well come on now. You aren't going to just stand there, are you?”
Wyatt gritted his teeth, rushing forward with his weapon brandished, ready to strike at Levi. The boy jumped out of the way as Wyatt advanced and at once the rest of the boys filed in around him. He spun around, swinging his staff and hoping to catch one of the boys off guard. Instead his attack was stopped by Dalton, the other Raddison brother, who grabbed Wyatt's staff out of the air just as it came around. A smile spread over his features as he pulled the staff out of Wyatt's hands, and whirled it around, knocking Wyatt in the back of the head with it. He fell to his knees dazed, only to be grabbed from behind and hoisted to his feet once more. In a second Levi Raddison had him in a headlock with a knife to his throat.
“Now, you're going to be a good boy and stay quiet for us, aren't you Tellerman?” Levi said softly, a sadistic smile on his face, “I'd hate to see what would happen if Mr. Watres woke up to find his apprentice split into two halves.”
Wyatt gave a small grunt, struggling to pull himself out of Levi's grip, but the boy was too strong. He held him back almost effortlessly. The cool touch of steel against his neck sent a shiver down his spine, and he looked up at Levi with fear in his eyes.
“Y-you can't do this.” Wyatt protested in as loud a voice as he could muster, “When the rest of Layne hears of this your names will all be tarnished. You won't get off of this charge so easily. You'll all be driven off for this. Banished.”
For a second a hint of fear flashed into Levi's eyes. The rest of the group faltered, for a second seeming to fear the words of the otherwise helpless young boy they'd caught. One of the boys backed away, as if intimidated, and a rush of pride filled Wyatt for a moment. That pride was crushed when all at once a frighteningly cool smile worked its way onto Levi's lips. A cold rush of fear flew down Wyatt's spine as the knife began to dig further into his neck.
“So, you're not going to cooperate, are you?” he asked, “Well then I suppose we don't have much of a choice now. It would be better for you to be found dead to an anonymous killer than for you to go about spewing out your filthy bile to tarnish our names. We'd have to kill you for it anyway, so why not skip the middle man while we're here? We'll kill you now so we don't have to clean things up later.”
Wyatt felt a wave of horror sweep down his spine. They're going to... to kill me? At once he grabbed a hold of Levi's hand's forcing the boy's knife away from his neck.
“Mr. Watres!” he cried out in desperation, “Mr.-...”
A hand clamped tight around his mouth, muffling his cries and pulling him back. Wyatt gave a grunt, struggling to free himself when another pair of hands grabbed his wrists, forcing his hands away. Levi had caught a hold of his hair pulling his head back to reveal his throat. He was breathing hard now. His head was spinning with all the confusion. He could barely tell what was happening. On top of that he could barely move. He struggled to get out of the way of Levi's knife, but what felt like one million hands held him in place and pinned him down. The world was spinning. Already he couldn't breathe, even though his throat was still intact. He had to imagine that if this kept up that wouldn't be the case for long.
With one last flailing struggle he managed to free one of his hands. Immediately he grabbed his knife once more and made a quick swipe at one of the boys that was holding him down. The boy gave a sharp cry, dropping Wyatt, who immediately tore himself from his captor's grasp in the moment of confusion and scrambled to his feet, brandishing his weapon. The boy he'd struck at grabbed his calf protectively as blood trickled down his leg.
“Well, it looks like he's got some fight in him after all.” Levi noted, twirling his own weapon in his hand, “This could prove pretty exciting really. Come on Tellerman, why don't you show us what you can really do with that weapon of yours.”
“I'm not going to fight you.” Wyatt shook his head, “If my Master finds you here he'll...”
“He'll what?” Levi laughed, “That old man could barely pick up a sword, let alone wield one. You think we're afraid of some haggard old wretch like him? Or are you really useless enough that you'd rely on your half-decaying master to pull you out of a situation you're too weak to handle like a man?”
The blacksmith's son looked over his weapon, smirking, “And if you don't think I'd cut down an old man like Watres, you're sorely mistaken.”
“You wouldn't dare.” Wyatt cried at once, rushing forward with his weapon brandished.
Levi quickly stepped out of the way, letting Wyatt swipe at the thin air.
“Now there's what I'm looking for.” he commented, “Good to see that you've at least got some fight in you.”
A smile spread out upon the boy's lips, as he struck back at Wyatt. Wyatt stumbled back out of the way, cutting down to try and catch his arm, but Levi was too fast and pulled his hand out of the way. He came around with his unarmed hand and drove his elbow into Wyatt's chest, driving the air from his lungs. Just in time, Wyatt managed to raise his arm and catch Levi in the hand before he could manage to drive his knife into Wyatt's neck. The boy let out a cry, drawing his hand back as a thin line of blood formed across the base of his hand.
Levi's eyes narrowed as he glared up at Wyatt, his free hand balling into a fist. With a feral cry he launched himself at Wyatt knocking him back to the floor, his weight pinning him down. Wyatt caught Levi's hands, struggling to keep the boy's knife away from his neck, but his strength proved too great. He could see the weapon inching closer every second. Ye gods, I have to do something. He looked around. No other weapons were to be found. Only the one in his hand. He gave a grunt, pushing back against Levi's hands, desperate to fight back against him. At last he couldn't hold him any more. He let his unarmed hand relax. Immediately Levi tumbled forward caught off guard, his knife only just missing Wyatt's neck. Immediately Wyatt reared up with an attack of his own, and caught the boy across the face with his knife.
In the next moment Levi reared back, howling in pain and clutching the side of his face. Wyatt was released, and he stumbled back to his feet. By now he couldn't stop himself. Lunging forward he gave a feral cry, knocking Levi to the ground and diving on top of him, his knife poised to spear him in the chest, or the throat, or any vital area he could hit at this point. A hand grabbed him at once from behind and hauled him to his feet. The dull, heavy sound of Dalton's laugh rang heavy in his ears. Levi righted himself immediately, brandishing his own weapon as he approached Wyatt, a smirk on his face.
Wyatt gave a whimper, struggling to free himself from from Dalton's grip, but the boy was a giant, nearly twice his size and triple his weight. He already knew any struggles he could make were futile. Dalton could probably crush him with one hand. However, it was Levi's turn to deal the final blow as he approached Wyatt with malice in his eyes.
“Well now, I suppose you think you're pretty impressive eh?” Levi sneered, “I'll admit, I didn't expect you to be able to draw blood. Bravo, Tellerman. I'm impressed.”
He gave a chuckle, drawing close to Wyatt as he placed the cold tip of his knife against the boy's neck, “Now here's your reward.”
Wyatt whimpered, pressing himself against Dalton in an attempt to get as far away from Levi's knife as possible. Of course, he couldn't escape, he knew that well enough.
“L-Levi, you don't want to do this.” Wyatt stammered, fear in his eyes, “Don't be a murderer, don't do this.”
“You weren't thinking that when you were trying to kill me were you?” Levi accused, his eyes narrowing.
Wyatt's voice caught in his throat.
“I didn't think so.” with that Levi pulled his arm back, his eyes shining. Wyatt looked away, unable to watch any longer as what might have been the last moments of his life flashed by.
“What in the five hells do you think you're doing?”
Wyatt blinked, looking back up to see Mr. Watres catch Levi's hand and twist it forcefully behind his back. Levi gave a sharp cry, dropping his weapon, and arcing back, his face contorting with pain. For such a feeble looking old man, he certainly did have some fight still in him. The lines of age etched into his face and the tufts of fine hair that floated before his eyes only seemed to make him more menacing as he subdued Levi Raddison.
“Levi!” Dalton gave a cry, dropping Wyatt at once and making a grab at Mr. Watres.
Wyatt reclaimed his weapon, lunging for the giant as he lumbered towards the fragile old man, but a single sweep from Dalton's fist was enough to send Wyatt flying back. He landed hard, slamming into the wall, and for a second could only watch in a daze as Dalton stomped towards his master.
“Mr. Watres, look out!” Wyatt cried, struggling to right himself.
The other two boys were gone now. Presumably they'd fled when Mr. Watres appeared, but of course, Dalton would never abandon his brother. Instantly alert Mr. Watres shoved Levi to the ground, grabbing one of the wooden canes in the corner.
“What're you going to do with that, old man?” Dalton laughed as he advanced upon the old man.
“Wyatt, run while you can.” Mr. Watres cried out. He twisted the cane's head, sliding the knobby head away from the rest of the wooden body to reveal a sword housed inside. Dalton's face seemed to fall “Get help! Quickly now! I'll take care of things in here.”
Wyatt nodded, turning at once to dart out the door. He could hear footsteps behind him following closely. Ye merciful gods. Levi. He looked around, I have to lose him somehow. It won't help Mr. Watres much if I'm slaughtered in the middle of the street before I can get help. I have to lose him somehow.
Mr. Watres's house lay near the edge of town. They were surrounded on all sides by thick forest. Their entire town lay at the edge of a deep valley that seemed to sink deep into the earth. It was rather dark out to begin with, and Wyatt was rather confident in his abilities to get through the woods on his own. Perhaps I'd be able to lose him if I went through there.
Just some things I noticed, figured I give it an in-depth look.
They honestly tapered off after that point though, and your action scene, while a little hard to follow in the beginning, was entrancing and I actually found myself a little pissed when it was over because I WANTED MORE.
