Out of every 1,000 people who start a book, only thirty actually complete it. In addition, only twenty percent of people who write a book actually publish it.
Leaving the Broken
The weeks passed and Aran integrated with Bryn's desperate followers, life was not dissimilar to the past one he had led with Bennett's wild clan. Though if Aran really stopped to analyze his feelings he was indeed a cut above when it came to acts of savagery. These men were not like him, they did not prey on settlements, or those weaker than themselves.
They were merely a group of survivors, still fresh, forging a new order and smarting from their recent losses of property and loved ones. They did not possess the hard edged mentality Aran did, kill or be killed, take or starve, and as the days unfurled the young warrior realized with much resignation it would be most difficult for him to stay amongst these people, well meaning though they were; this could never be his place.
Jhary remained subdued and resigned, he felt trapped with the demise of his trusty mule, and his inability to face the danger of the out lying lands alone. The bard spent his time hiding behind his craft, a delight to all others, inside he felt crushed. Neither man shared their inner thoughts or reservations with the other. Jhary fuming that Aran could have led him here to this, and had not spoken civilly with him since the day of his angry outburst in the canyon. Conveniently forgetting it was he who willingly sought the protection of the capable warrior in the first place.
As for Aran, he had avoided Jhary largely as well, he had made his point that day, and saw no reason to embellish on it. He was torn with his own issues, to stay and have a brotherhood of sorts, or leave for possibly worse than he had now on the vague hope he may rejoin his clan or another more prosperous and fierce one. It tore at him.
*****
One still gray day it came to Aran as he stood at the open mouth of Bryn's cave, that perhaps he had indeed been looking in all the wrong places for the object of his desire and salvation. He cast his mind back to the beautiful archer and the day of their fateful meeting in her village. The thought surfaced that just perhaps she had merely turned her trail south, as a ruse designed to fool him. Then once in the dunes circled north, and had quite possibly headed to what was left of her village.
The idea seemed feasible, with her clansmen dead she really had nowhere to go. A man may have, but a lone, attractive woman? She would have little choice but to lay low and hide. Aran could have kicked himself for not seeing this sooner and this galvanized him from his last few weeks of inactivity. Quietly he prepared to leave.
Aran approached the enigmatic Bryn later that evening as he sat enjoying the simple pleasures of a warm fire, tough meat, and the company of his people. Hardship did not seem to have any outward effect on the ebullient man, perhaps that is why he had been chosen to lead.
Bryn welcomed the blond warrior to sit beside him with an expansive gesture. Aran did so happily, sharing what little stringy meat graced the wood platter before him. He was dreading what he must say, but this bland repast laid before him galvanized his resolve. To stay here and live this way with the barest necessities and little hope was not something he could stomach.
Aran sat on his haunches looking sideways at Bryn, he did not intend to get comfortable for this most uncomfortable of speeches. The fire felt good, the sap fizzed from the green branches it was being fed. Every comfort here was scarce, even dry wood.
"What troubles ye my friend?" Bryn asked. He was indeed astute at judging moods and natures of those that surrounded him.
Aran shot him a look in return through his wild golden mane, his intense green eyes on the dark hirsute man, he grimaced, it was a wry smile yet it was not a smile at all.
"I must leave." There it was said.
Bryn set down the bone he was gnawing on, and sighed. "We all have things we must do." Sounding not at all surprised. He looked across at the golden warrior. "As I knew you would, you are not one of us. Not merely a survivor as we are, no." He shook his shaggy black mane and ran his fingers through his oily, grizzled black beard. "I expected it, but remember you are always welcome by the side of brother Bryn and those he leads." The offer was genuine and well meant.
Aran had no words, they would only serve to cheapen the moment. He just nodded and stared into the fire. Part of him saddened to leave, but the restless warrior in his soul was at last gladdened he had made his intent clear to this beneficent man.
*****
It was far from the most inviting of mornings, the wind howled into the mouth of the cave carrying unwelcome debris into its depths, it would have been all too easy to just remain. However Aran gathered up his few belongings taking one last look over his shoulder and plunged into the screaming cold wind towards he knew not what.
The wind was behind his back as he pressed north, he pushed his errant hair under the hood of his cape so he could better see. He felt the comforting weight of his sword slapping against his thigh, he would be ready for whatever came. It would be many days, possibly weeks before he would reach his destination. He thought of Bryn's men he left behind, he wished he could have made their lives better and offered them more hope. However he was but one man, and had little of his own. Only the promise of a lone woman whom he must find if he was ever to return to his people.
Aran was relentless in his pace, he spent most of the day at a punishing jog covering many miles in his effortless lope. It was easy and advisable in this cold. In spite of this he still missed his horse, not at all enjoying returning to the old ways of foot travel. He did not pause in his efforts until the light faded. He set camp in a small depression out of the wind against some large upstanding stones. It was the best he could do caught out on the endless cold plains that ran almost featureless in every direction.
He lit a modest fire, finding there was little about to burn for warmth, withdrawing some stringy meat from his pack. It was unappealing fare but he ate it hungrily, soon he would not even have the luxury of this ready made meal, and game was very scarce. Aran had not sighted a single living creature all day. Hunting would not be easy in the days to come as he ventured further north, this was an unappealing musing even for one who was fairly adept with a bow.
Let those troubles wait until tomorrow he thought as he bedded down on the hard cold ground beside his dying fire, burying himself under his voluminous rabbit skin cape. Even he as hard and attuned to the elements as he was, he felt cold, but he did not complain; it did not merit him any profit by doing so.
*****
He woke, he had heard something, something that was not the sound of nature. Aran sat up, Blacksteel already sliding from its scabbard. He stood alert and intent. There the sound was again that had first awoken him, a stumbling approach of one who took no care in secrecy. He saw the figure now shrouded in the gloom some distance from him, he stood tall and proud awaiting the careless approach of the man beyond.
"By Lord I never thought I'd catch you." The small flustered man was most out of breath, yet he still found the will to vent profanities.
Aran sheathed his sword with a casualness borne of much practice. He smirked at Jhary in the dark but said nothing. Merely resuming his place on the ground and repositioning his golden head on his pack to resume his sleep.
"Jesus did you run all day? I can't believe you left without me. Leaving me with all those barbarians!"
The diminutive bard sounded very hurt, possibly he was too sensitive for the times Aran mused. He did not understand this most changeable man of music and tales, delighted and affable one moment and screaming at him the next. He rolled over and decided he would ignore his mutterings, dawn would be here all too swiftly and he valued his sleep.
*****
The next morn was windy also, but a little brighter than the day previous. Aran woke first and looked at the slate gray sky in hopefulness, but no the clouds were still solid and completely blanketed the sky above. Jhary stirred looking at his companion expectantly as Aran ate and drank, the large warrior saw this and handed him a morsel of meat and the canteen of water. There was little to spare, and he could not believe Jhary had decided to venture here with no food nor water at his disposal. Proof to him this man of song was none too clever.
They did not speak as they broke camp, there was little to talk of and Aran was a man of few words. Besides Jhary was saving all his breath just to keep pace.
*****
Jormugar crouched examining the tracks of his quarry that led away in the vast field of red sand before him. His large rust colored hound sat obediently by his side panting evenly awaiting his master's next command. He had observed the two men breaking camp early this dawn, the smoke from their careless cooking fire of last evening had been what had first attracted his attention.
Like the beasts he communed with, Jormugar missed nothing. The white of many boars teeth glinted in his ears set against his mop of thick, unruly brown hair some of which was braided to keep it from falling in his eyes. Even in this cold he was bare chested with only a fur cape to cover him, revealing many intricate tribal tattoos on his almost hairless chest, back, shoulders, and arms. He was a hunter, a bounty hunter to be most exact. Employment for men like him was never hard to find. His skills as a master of nature and his abilities as a tracker made him a very sought after individual.
He rose lithe and strong, shouldering his longbow. They were not far ahead. His employers would be most happy with the two new prospects he had located. He lingered on the footprints in the sand once more before parting, a small smile of pleasure gracing his usually unreadable features. The tracks of the two companions one large and heavy indenting the sand the other lighter and smaller, yes they would soon know of their fate.
His lean bay horse waited close by, he mounted it and rode back the way he had come. There would be no need to trail his targets too closely. Jormugar already knew where they were headed, the oasis. He would tell his employer of his find then lead them back to capture their prizes. He was already savoring his ten percent of the spoils when they would be sold into lives of slavery.
*****
Bennett soon discovered many secrets he had previously not been privy too via Nathan's ever watchful form of intelligence. Some of the information came as a shock to him, and some of it was to be expected. Many of the men had spoken of the idea of defecting and heading south. Pig, Todd, Dwayne, and even Will desired this, and they had even begun planning and laying supplies aside for their exodus. Sven knew what they were planning and was vehemently opposed, though he did not bring this information to the attention of his old friend and leader.
