Shielded - Short Story

The Branded Short Story Part 4

Fenn hunkered down behind a tree, his heart pounding in his chest as the voices of two men drew closer in the twilit gloom. He gripped his sword in his right hand. I’ll try my luck and fight.

Fenn had spent the last two days journeying east towards the tower. He had little to go on, other than scant directions a magician—he had stumbled across—had given him. The journey so far had proven uneventful, with him passing a handful of weary travellers heading toward Bantis on the first day. After that, he was alone.

The scenery had gradually shifted as he drew closer to the tower. Open fields had been replaced with dense copses of malformed trees that seemed to sway where there was no wind, and sinister thickets with twisted purple-tipped thorns populated the roadside, even covering sections of the road, making it difficult to traverse. The ominous landscape made him uncomfortable. It all felt wrong. To make matters worse, he had caught some of the conversation between the two men approaching. They were here to kill him. He didn’t have time to think about who would send killers after him. He could barely keep his knees from shaking. Whoever these men were, he needed to deal with them, even if it meant taking their lives.

Crimson tendrils of fog rolled sluggishly across the land, obscuring Fenn’s vision, which meant the same for the two men. He would use that to his advantage. He needed the element of surprise if he wanted to survive.

The men drew closer, the crunch of their boots on the gravel road growing louder. Fenn closed his eyes and held his sword at the ready. Just a little closer. He opened his eyes and peered around the tree’s trunk. He could just make out the silhouettes of the men. One was a brute of a man who held a cudgel in one hand, while the other was gangly and fidgeted with a dagger. The fog thickened, and they vanished. Fenn pulled back and waited for them to pass by, then he would strike.

Crunch.

Fenn’s body tensed. They were passing by the tree. He took a deep breath. It’s now or never, he told himself, and stepped out from behind the tree.

A twig snapped beneath his boot. I’m done for, he thought as the two men whirled around, brandishing their weapons.

The gangly man’s eyes narrowed. “That’s him!” he said and darted at Fenn, his dagger poised. The brutish man was not far behind him.

Fenn scrambled back, trying to get some distance between him and his attackers, but the gangly man was quick and the next moment Fenn was dodging to the side as the man thrust out with his dagger.

“Stand still, you skittering rat, so’s I can gut you,” he said, and took another swipe at Fenn. To both of their surprise, Fenn blocked the attack with his sword.

“He’s mine,” the brute said as he swung his cudgel, barely missing his partner and Fenn.

“Watch it!” his partner said.

“I said he’s mine!” The brute growled and swung wildly again.

His partner ducked, snarling, but none-the-less dropped back. Fenn tried to deflect the cudgel, but the blow was too powerful and sent him reeling to the ground, his sword leaving his grasp. The brute laughed and pressed his attack, raising the cudgel for the finishing blow.

Fenn, terrified, raised his hands up in defence. “Please, don’t kill me!”

The brute looked at him. “Sorry boy’o. The price for your head is too good an offer to pass up,” he said and brought down the cudgel. Fenn shielded his face with his arms in a desperate attempt to stay alive.

Suddenly, a blinding light erupted from the golden ring Fenn wore on his left hand, and a shimmering translucent shield formed in the ring’s place. The cudgel bounced off the shield, and the two attackers cried out in pain, dropping their weapons to clutch their faces.

“What did you do?” the brute said, his rage building.

Fenn, seizing the opportunity, grabbed his sword and scrambled to his feet. He screamed, adrenaline coursing through his body, and ran the sword through the brute’s chest. He pulled the sword free, flicking fresh blood across the road, and the brute toppled over, dead. Fenn turned on his remaining attacker, whose sight was returning. The man made out his partner lying dead on the ground and stumbled back in fear.

“Please, spare me!”

“Why should I?” Fenn asked. He pointed his sword at the man’s throat. “Why should I show mercy when, moments ago, you wanted me dead?”

The man prostrated himself on the ground. “Because you’re not a killer. Not like us. Please, have mercy.”

Fenn could see the man was no longer a threat and lowered his sword.

“Go. Before I change my mind.”

The man scrambled to his feet and stumbled off into the swirling fog.

Fenn looked down at the blood-soaked sword in his quivering hand, and the glimmering shield in the other.

“I… I killed someone.” His whole body trembled at the statement. He looked at the brute’s lifeless body. His stomach lurched, and he retched.

“Is this what it feels like to take another’s life?”

Even if it had been in self-defence, he felt terrible. As if he had lost a piece of his soul. With the adrenaline fading, a weariness washed over him. He needed to rest, but not there. He couldn’t stand the thought of spending the night next to the dead man. But he couldn’t just leave the body lying in the middle of the road. So, he dragged it off to the side and said a brief prayer for the man’s soul before he moved on, picking up the dagger and slipping it through his belt. He left the cudgel behind.

He walked until his legs almost gave out beneath him, and too tired to do anything else, nestled up against a tree trunk and slept.

The next morning, he pressed on. The fog only seemed to have thickened overnight, and the trees grew more twisted with each passing hour. Fenn tried his best not to think of the previous night’s attack, choosing to bury the memory deep within his mind. He did, however, spend some time examining the ring—which had returned to its original form—while he walked. He shook his head in disbelief. The hag’s magic was powerful indeed. He wondered what secrets the bracelet around his wrist held. I guess I’ll find out in time.

As the sun began its descent, the fog thinned. Fenn came to a stop. A great monolithic structure rose in the distance, dwarfing everything around it. Jagged protrusions of chiselled stone stood out like the bristling spines of some monstrous beast. The medallion felt like Fenn had a branding iron being pressed into his chest. He had found the tower.

He braced himself for whatever he was about to find within and walk towards it.

“Into the maw of the beast I go.”