Fallen

Homeland

Zak stood and admired the view from the top of the large shelf of rock he was perched on.

His village, Airedale, a small shepherd community of nearly one thousand, had seemed quite large from the ground and yet was tiny from his new vantage point high up the northern mountains and high cliffs overlooking his village. Despite this, Zak took a certain pride in the humble beauty of his home. Its small and sturdy cottages sat arranged in neat rows arranged into three clear circles. Encompassing the town stood a sturdy wooden wall, ten feet high and three feet thick. It had four twenty-foot towers manned by watchmen ready to ring the large bells present at the top of each watchtower and draw the able-bodied men of the village to its defense. It was the most important part of the town, repelling bandits no less than three times in the town's history.

Zak had hoped to be one of the watchmen one day, but that honor had fallen to his brother Michael. Zak had tried not to be angry about the decision, especially since it made sense. He was tall but skinny at the young age of nineteen, with unruly brown hair and a wild look to his eye. It also hadn't helped that he was known to be a daydreamer, often slow to do his chores as a result. He often dreamed of going to Caron, Dune, or one of the other great cities and becoming a knight or hero, like the ones his mother used to tell him about as a child.

"I'm doing it again..." Zak muttered to himself.

He turned back to the mountain, and the sheep he was looking after. "Back to the real world."

He tried not to grimace as he guided his family's seventeen sheep back down the long old road to the village. It was his older brother's lot to be a watchman, and his to be a shepherd. Zak didn't hate his lot in life. He had a full belly every night and the best family anyone could ask for. His mood fast-improving at the thoughts, Zak continued to allow the sheep to graze as he headed towards the town.

The wall came into view as he approached the north gate. He smiled as he looked up to the tower above it to see Michael grinning back down at him. Michael had always been the shorter and stronger of the two brothers, the eldest by four years, and as stubborn as a mule. 

"Missing a sheep there Zak!" Michael called down. "You daydreaming again?"

Zak cursed under his breath. His father would be furious if he had lost one. He quickly began to count his sheep when something wet hit the back of his head. Zak laughed as he dodged the next clump of wood moss Mika aimed at him. "Oh... I'll be returning the favor." He shouted.

"You'll try!" Michael chortled as he gathered up more moss. "The way I see it. I've got the advantage up here."

Zak smiled even wider as he saw the shadows shift behind Michael.

"What the hell are you doing boy?" The sharp voice caused Michael to let out a rather unmanly squeal and turn just as a wrinkled hand shot from the darkness and grabbed him by the ear. "I leave for five minutes and you shirk your duties. What is wrong with you?" 

Zak snickered quietly from below as old-man Owen followed his hand out of the shadows. The old man's face was as wrinkled and dry as his hand, yet Zak knew from personal experience the deceptive strength in the watchman's hands and did not envy his brother's position.

"It's just my brother returning from the mountains sir..." Michael stammered out, his face going visibly red, even in the approaching gloom. "We were just having a bit of..."

"Shut up, open the gate."

Zak smiled to himself and shook his head as, after a few hurried footsteps, the gate began to open wide for him. As he and his sheep walked into the town Zak took a deep breath, enjoying the sounds of the town as people rushed about finishing the day's work. This was his favorite part of every day, coming home and smelling the cooking of the village wives, knowing full well that his mother would have something waiting for him.

This night in particular was bound to be interesting as well. Agatha, the old wise woman of the village, had predicted a large shooting star would pass above Airedelle and would light up the night sky on its journey. Zak personally believed old Agatha to be proper mad, but the villagers were excited to see the spectacle and he had to admit it was hard to not get caught up in the excitement.

"Zak!"

Zak looked up to see his young sister Lucy. Beautiful and raven-haired, the sixteen-year-old girl caught the eye of most of the young boys of the village. Beautiful as she was, however, the person who ran to greet him every day was as loving and caring and equally as beautiful on the inside as she was without. Lucy reached Zak and proceeded to crush his ribs with her hug. 

"Hurry and put the sheep away, as soon as you do we can have dinner before the shooting star is supposed to come! Mother made your favorite. Hurry, hurry!"

Before Zak could say a word, she had already run back into the house. He chuckled at his sister as he led the sheep into the barn. Despite all of her looks, she was still very much like a child and he envied her ability to get so excited about Agatha's prediction.

Zak smiled and walked through the front door of his brightly lit home, complete with the smells of his mother's cooking. Their home was humble, as most homes were in Airedale, with three small rooms adjacent to the main family room. As warm and kind as her daughter, his mother Mary, a portly dark-haired woman, as warm and kind as her daughter, busied herself about the kitchen as she put the finishing touches on the wondrous meal. Sitting wearily at the dinner table sat his father William, tall muscular, and bearded, the town's finest blacksmith had always inspired Zak. His father was respected and well-liked and was the most disciplined man he knew. Most everything within the house had been created by those calm, powerful hands, from the chairs and table he sat at, to the beds they all shared. 

"How goes it, son?" The deep voice of his father carried easily across the room. "You going to stand there watching, or are you going to join us?"

Zak grinned as he rushed across the room and sat down with the rest of his family, Lucy hurrying out of her room to join with a giggle. 

"Where is Michael?" his father asked with a slight smile, reaching across the table to hold his wife's hand. "He should be back by now."

Zack grinned. "Old-man Owen caught him slinging moss down at me from the wall, hopefully, he's not in too much trouble." 

His father let out a loud belly laugh. "Michael's a grown man and strong as an ox, but I'd put money on Owen still being able to put him over his knee and give him a good lashing."

"Don't you think he's a bit too harsh on him?" Mary wondered aloud as she set aside a bowl for Michael.

"Owen is a gruff old man, but you won't find anyone more reliable, or more loyal. He'll teach our boy right, don't you worry..."

Zak's father was cut off by the exciting commotion that started up outside the house. Lucy smiled as she heard. "The star is here, the star is here!" She said happily. Told you the old woman was right Zak!" before anyone could say anything, she had stood up and run out the door.

His mother Mary laughed. "I suppose I can't blame her. I'd like to see this star that everyone is so worked up myself." She rose to her feet and walked to join Mary outside. 

"Zak?" His father asked. "Shall we see what the fuss is about?"

"You go ahead. It's just a shooting star. I see a few every year."

"Suit yourself, I'm gonna take a look, its high time this town had a little..." His father cut off abruptly.

Zak turned in time to see his mother run back through the door in a panic. "Wil." She said frantically. "Something is w-"

Whatever she was lost as a brilliant, blinding explosion of light lit the room, a blast that picked the three of them up and hurled them violently against the wall. Zak felt his head smash into the wall as he fell to his knees. "Zak!" he heard his dad gasp, he tried to reach out his hand towards the voice, and the figure crawling towards him as blackness consumed him.