Although I wrote this story in high school, I believe that some segments of the narrative had been drafted in Grade 8. I’ve also re-opened this story several times since finishing it, and I have every intention of tackling it again in the future. It’s a story that is of immense significance to me and my life, as well as to an ongoing story that I've been working on for many years. I first came up with the idea of this story in third grade, and this story is the story that really got a much larger project going in my mind,
This is a flawed story in many ways that have become more and more apparent to me as time has gone on, but I’m cementing it here for a simple reason. This was a major accomplishment for me in high school. I was very proud of it then, and I am very proud of it now. I’d love to give this story the attention it needs so that one day it can be a story worth sharing with others, but I don’t want to leave the voice of my high school self behind.
So here it is – an excerpt from 'The Dawn' for your reading pleasure. With luck, this will not be the final version, but it is nonetheless a finished product unto itself that I treasure. I hope you enjoy it.
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Midnight.
The moon's stolen light shone down between the leaves of the forest, dimly illuminating Eol's steps as he weaved his way through the trees. Though the sun had long since disappeared under the horizon, the small sounds of night proved that the woods were not asleep. His footsteps were silent and purposeful as they avoided dead branches and stray foliage. A large, bulging, tied-shut pack was slung over his back, and a long scabbard hung at his waist. In the darkness it was difficult to make out any of his features, and his hood shrouded whatever details would have otherwise been visible. With all of his travel clothes it was uncertain as to whether or not he was a man at all. Eol's steps gradually slowed until he came to a full stop, kneeling to conceal himself behind a bush. Taking a quick glance over the bush into the clearing ahead, he removed his hood.
The moonlight reached his face, revealing peering dark green eyes and a mature but ageless appearance. His long, brown hair hung over his ears to his shoulders. Quietly pushing the bush's branches out of his way, he looked at what lay in front of him. A small grouping of huts stood not far off, lit up by the countless glittering stars above and a sparse number of torches along the walls of the structures. A tired elderly man sat next to a dwindling campfire, a long wooden pipe hanging from his lip and resting in his hand. His old eyes sparkled like the stars, Eol noticed, and his grey beard hung down over his robe.
Eol surveyed the old man and the huts for several moments. The soft chirping of crickets continued as Eol then shifted his position so he was sitting with his back to the bush. Frustration was evident on his face but he stifled his expression after rubbing his forehead. Reaching into a fold in his tunic, he removed a small piece of folded parchment and opened it up. Though it was dark, the moon provided Eol with enough to see the details of the poorly-drawn map. He then pulled a small vial of ink out from the fold, along with a short, thin reed. Dipping the reed gingerly into the vial, he used it to draw a short line of ink on the map. At the end of the line he drew a small dot, after which he dried off the reed and placed both it and the vial back within the fold of his tunic. Careful to remain quiet, he blew on the map to dry the ink before shaking it in the air, and then folded it away.
"Where are you?" he whispered, glancing at the stars. The sky, whether out of indifference or spite, refused to respond, so at last Eol shook his head and began tracing shapes in the dirt.
A rustling in the forest nearby seized his attention immediately and he darted his head in the direction of the noise. It had come from his left, but the night shrouded the trees in darkness, concealing whatever it was that had made the sound. Moving quickly but stealthily, Eol moved onto his feet while keeping low. He scanned the forest for any sign of movement, but was unsuccessful. He realized his heart rate had quickened and tried to calm himself. Turning to look at the small village again, he spotted the old man still sitting at the fire. It looked like the man had heard something too, as he was sitting more alert and was holding his pipe in his hand instead of his mouth. After a few more moments, seeing nothing with his aging eyes, the old man turned back to stare at the dying fire. Though the elder had given up, Eol's eyes remained vigilant. His hand moved slowly to the pommel of his sword as he continued looking between the trees. Then, a jolting war cry resounded and the forest came alive with the sounds of crashing underbrush. Eol leapt to his feet, horrified.
The Raqmeth were here.
"Run!" Eol yelled, sprinting into the clearing towards the old man. The man's eyes were wide, and his pipe had fallen aimlessly onto the ground. "Raqmeth! Get up!" Eol persisted, reaching the man and helping him to his feet. Out of the shadowy woods emerged at least a dozen ragged men with glistening swords and maces held high above their shoulders. Thick scraggly beards surrounded their yellow-toothed gaping mouths. Across each of their tunics was painted a large red 'X'. Repeating their vicious battle cry, the throng sprinted towards the village.
"Flee!" Eol urged, throwing back the curtain that covered the entrance to one of the huts. A middle-aged man and woman lay on straw beds inside, bolting upright at Eol's presence. "The Raqmeth are attacking! Leave now!" Eol knew there was no more time. He couldn't give the other huts enough warning. The Raqmeth were almost at the nearest hut. Unsheathing his blade, he turned to the oncoming rabble. "Loa help me," he prayed before stepping into the path of the lead barbarian. Swinging his weapon with alarming speed, Eol countered the man's downward attack and replied with a deadly thrust into his chest. Eol didn't even get to watch the man collapse before he had to withdraw his blade and step back from one of the other advancing Raqmeth. There were too many, Eol reminded himself as he sidestepped the swing of the second Raqmeth's mace. Behind him he heard the terrified cries of the townspeople.
Just a few more seconds, he told himself. They needed more time. Twirling his blade effortlessly, he swung towards this new opponent but had his attack deftly blocked. Eol drew back to send forth another blow, but by now yet another of the men had arrived and thrust his own weapon towards him. Eol managed to block this one, but was forced to step back again. Without his armour, he couldn't afford to let a single blow land. Stepping back once more, he glanced at the huts behind him.
Two Raqmeth had somehow passed Eol and already reached the first hut, grabbing sticks from the fire and setting the straw roof ablaze. Screams began to ring out in the night. Eol spotted the man he had awoken dash out of the hut with his wife at his side, the woman carrying some sort of small roll of cloth in her arms. Another younger man emerged from the hut, presumably the couple's son. He was too late, Eol thought. Dodging another strike from the Raqmeth, Eol turned and sprinted away from the throng, hastily sheathing his blade to run faster. Several freshly-woken villagers grabbed scythes and sickles to try and defend themselves.
"Run!" Eol tried to warn, waving his arms as he ran towards them. Some ignored his warning and ran past him towards the approaching Raqmeth. Eol knew it was unwise to look around, but found his head turning to see the Raqmeth cut down the humble villagers. An all-consuming fire was spreading across the settlement and before Eol and a handful of others had reached the forest, the first hut had turned into a raging inferno.
“Hail the Queen!” Eol heard one of the raiders cry far behind him. Looking around him as he ran further into the woods, he only spotted three running with him. Two were the man and woman from the first hut, and the third was the younger man. The old man from the fire was missing.
"They're after us!" The woman cried. Eol whirled about and spotted two Raqmeth pursuing them, their features indiscernible in the darkness. It was then that Eol heard the cry of a baby, and realized what the woman had been carrying.
"Keep running!" Eol yelled at the villagers before halting and tearing the pack off of his back. It fell to the ground with a clang and he unsheathed his blade again, now with better use of his shoulders unhindered by the weight. Turning to the approaching shadows, he drew the sword back and prepared to swing. "Blath mattan, Raqmeth," he hissed before charging towards the nearest raider, weapon raised.
* * *
Eol's run through the dark forest ended as he entered a clearing where he spotted the three villagers who had escaped from the Raqmeth. Upon seeing him, the thin younger man gasped and the older man stepped between Eol and the woman. Eol was out of breath after having disposed of the pursuing Raqmeth and re-donning his large backpack.
"It's me," he said in between breaths. The woman holding the baby recognized him first.
"Krucus, he's the man who warned us," she said, placing a hand on the older man's shoulder. Krucus' grim expression softened, but only for a moment.
"Stay back, Aeona," Krucus said, not taking his eyes off of Eol. "Who are you?" he asked him.
"I'm not your enemy," Eol replied, sensing the man's distrust.
"No?" Krucus asked, fists clenched. "I've heard that sometimes the Raqmeth will let some villagers go to find out where they run to. Helps them find the next village."
"Krucus, he's not-" Aeona began.
"It's alright," Eol said. After wiping the sweat from his brow, he slowly removed his backpack and placed it gently on the ground. He then unbuckled his scabbard from his waist, and gingerly set his blade down as well. "I am now unarmed," he declared. "And I applaud you for being cautious, but wish it had started before this evening."
"What do you mean?" the younger man asked.
"Grab him, Ewen," Krucus said to the younger man. Ewen hesitated, but then moved quickly to grab Eol from behind to restrain him.
"Where was your night watch?" Eol asked, as Krucus stepped forward and took the sword away. "No patrol? No walls?"
Krucus' eyes filled with rage, and he grabbed Eol gruffly by the collar of his shirt. "How dare you," he said bitterly. "We've lost everything. Our home. Our..." He stopped for a minute, refusing to allow tears to fall from his eyes. "There's a time for reparations and a time for mourning."
"Yes, and this is neither of those times," Eol agreed calmly. Krucus slowly released his grip on Eol's shirt. "We have to reach the nearest village as soon as possible."
"How do we know you're not one of them?" Krucus asked, drawing Eol's sword from its scabbard.
"Careful with that," Eol replied, raising a hand towards. "You haven't held one before, have you?"
Krucus pointed the blade towards Eol.
"Krucus!" Aeona warned.
"It's sharp," Krucus said to Eol. "Just because I don't know how to use it properly doesn't mean I can't hurt you."
"An excellent point, but we are wasting time," Eol replied cautiously. "My name is Eol. I am here to help you. I know that the nearest village is just under a day's walk away if we run northeast, so clearly I don't need you for information. If it will help you, I'd let you hang onto my sword until we reach the village, but I believe that I'll better be able to run with it than any of you."
Krucus regarded Eol underneath the moon's light for several moments before responding.
"What's in the bag?" Krucus finally asked. Eol frowned.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not say," Eol replied. "And you'd be wise to leave it at that."
"I'm the one holding the sword," Krucus reminded him. "Now what's in the-"
Before Krucus could finish his sentence, Eol had lashed out with a quick backwards kick at Ewen, freeing himself from the young man's grip. He then bolted forward with lightning speed and lashed out with a carefully placed punch into Krucus' wrists that sent the sword clattering onto the ground. Ewen yelped in surprise, and only a moment later Eol was standing with his sword back in his own hands, breathing heavily from exertion.
"I think that settles it," Eol said, wiping a stray strand of hair out of his eyes as he caught his breath. "If I wanted you dead, we'd have stopped talking long ago. Now, shall we?"
There was a long pause as Krucus rubbed the hand that had taken the brunt of the hit. He looked back at Aeona, then at Ewen, who shrugged painfully. At last he turned his head to face Eol again.
"Lead the way," Krucus growled. Eol nodded.
"With pleasure," he said, picking up his pack and slinging it over his shoulder. "May I have my scabbard back, please?"
As the group began walking in silence, Eol reasoned to himself that it would be nearly morning before the group finally arrived at their destination. He knew what to expect from looking at other maps of the area: It would be a small village surrounded by farmland on all sides, separated from the eastern coastline by a thick forest. Though it wasn't a village he had visited, he had little hope that he would find what he was looking for there. None of these people could help him; he knew that much.
"You said your name was Eol?" Ewen asked, breaking the silence as the group moved through the woods. "Where are you from?"
"Your outburst after I kicked you was loud enough to attract any Raqmeth who might have been listening, boy," Eol said without turning his head. "For your sake and your sake alone I suggest you attempt experimenting with non-verbal activities, like walking." The young man frowned, but Eol didn't notice. Instead, he glanced up at the moon, which was disappearing behind a thick cloud.
"Then again, it'll be a long night anyway," he muttered to himself as he pushed a tree branch out of his way.
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