Write to Rank Submissions

Round 6 - The Messenger

Matthew nervously bit his lip as he surveyed his map. He patted his horse Cleo who melted into his touch.

During the war of Islae, his job as a messenger was just as important as those risking their lives on the front lines. In fact, he would be risking his life on this journey through the forest of Sorrow, where bandits were prominent. 

He briefly considered taking his banner off which classified him as an agent of the crown off but ultimately decided against it. His fear of bandits didn't outshine his pride at being chosen for such an important task.

He was to journey to Picklam and notify them of a peace treaty offered by his king. For a messenger, carrying such a message was akin to killing a commander on the battlefield. 

Not that Matthew would ever put himself in such a position. To him, killing for the sake of commonly superior commanders left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He sighed, making sure his satchel was latched shut before hopping onto Cleo.

He had stalled quite enough. Facing fears were the truest sign of mental strength as his grandma used to say.

With a tug on the reins the pair made their way to the entrance of the forest. The summer sun beamed down like a predator observing its ill-fated prey, but as Cleo trotted into the forest, its rays became subdued by the closely knitted trees.

The shade failed to great relief, instead adding fuel to Matthew's growing anxiety as his source of light dimmed. 

He imagined that was the reason bandits liked the forest that much. The trails were canopied by the abundance of overhanging trees, causing for great areas to ambush. 

Matthew stayed on full alert, ready to draw his bow and arrow at any moment. The forest was relatively silent but every creak of a branch or change in the sun's rays felt like a bandit preparing to strike. 

Even Cleo seemed to pick up on Matthew's unease looking around often. Matthew always joked Cleo was like his other half, always picking up on current emotional state and offering support.

After about ten minutes of tense trotting along the trail, Matthew heard a cry for help off the trail. Matthew immediately drew his bow and arrow, whirling around to look behind him but seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

It was likely a trap set by bandits to lure travellers off the trail and into the shrubbery but as another cry laced the air, Matthew redirected Cleo toward the sound. 

Sure, he was on a mission and hightailing it away might be the best option for himself; but how could he ever sleep soundly with the prospect of having ignored someone actually in danger weighing on his mind?

He was no hero, but he certainly was still humane, though the same couldn't always be said about his peers.

The cries led the animal and human pair to a clearing. Matthew almost vomited at the sight that greeted him, or rather, the smell that greeted him.

Death.

A carriage lay on its side with bodies decorating the red grass. Needless to say, red was not the grass' natural color. On top of the carriage were three men who seemed intent at getting out something from inside and judging from the cries and a foot weakly trying to kick the men back, it was a person.

Matthew took a deep calming breath as he notched an arrow to his bow, taking aim at the perpetrator closest to him. Instinctively he judged the wind as it blew against his skin, his eyes calculating the distance as he pulled back and let it rip.

The arrow shot forward, finding purchase in the back of the man's skull. Without even uttering a noise the man fell back off of the carriage and landed with a soft thud. The thud was enough to alert his buddies that something had happened but not before Matthew notched another arrow, judging the new distance in a split second and letting a second projectile fly.

The second guy's eyes sparked with fear just as a matching arrow slammed into his neck. He fell to his knees, elicting a sickening gurgling noise as he clutched fruitlessly at the arrow embedded in his throat.

His buddy didn't spare him a second glance, sliding off of the carriage from the other side to get out of sight of their attacker. Matthew cursed as the sound of a horn broke through the humid air. 

The bandit had called for backup.

Matthew grabbed the reigns, instructing Cleo into a gallop toward the carriage. He hopped on top of it as Cleo skidded to a stop, reaching in quickly and was promptly rewarded with a shoe to the face.

He reared back as his nose stung from the blow. "I omf en peafth"

Dammit.

He collected his bearings, warily risking a glance inside the carriage. "I come in peace, miss."

The woman's eyes was full of distrust. "How can I be sure?"

Matthew held up his banner quickly, very aware of their time ticking away. No bandit would risk taking the banner of the crown.

The woman started to say sorry but there was no time for that. Matthew hauled her up quickly and all but threw her onto Cleo with himself not far behind. The woman seemed to be some sort of noble judging by her expensive attire but why in the world would they choose to travel through here?

Matthew pushed his curiosity to the side as the marching sound of nearing hooves attacked his ears. He launched Cleo into action, the mare racing back to the trail like a dodge challenger on a police-less highway.

The woman wrapped her arms around Matthew's waist with a sharp cry as he leaned forward, urging Cleo to go even faster. He didn't have time to observe his map again, he could only hope they were more or less going the right way as Cleo made it back to the trail.

Shouts could be heard behind them but Matthew dare not look back, focusing all of his attention on making sure Cleo stayed on the trail.

At some point the voices vanished but still Cleo ran on until the trees were far behind and a castle could be seen on the horizon.

Matthew stopped to let Cleo rest and to collect his bearings. Somehow what was supposed to be a simple message run had turned into a scene right out of a campfire story.

"Oh, heavens. Thank you so much!" The woman exclaimed between tears.

Matthew nodded as he sat beside Cleo.  "Glad I could be of service."

"Of service? You saved my life! My father is sure to reward you handsomely."

Matthew shook his head, assuming her father was some random noble. "There's no need for all of that. Though it would be nice to have an escort through the forest when I'm done my business here."

"Not to worry, my father will provide you with the Picklam military force. I myself should've been escorted by them but I went behind his back."

Matthew smiled. "That sounds-"

Wait.

"The Picklam military force? Just who is your father, lady?"

The woman smirked. "You didn't recognize me, then? My father is the king of Picklam!"