Ranger's Apprentice Shorts

Four

Max kicked a stray rock as he walked along the docks. He'd just recently gotten out of what he called a Bully Session.

It was a session where he got bullied by some of the older kids in Hallasholm.

Yes, Max was a Skandian. Slightly blond and brown hair with sea green eyes and slightly tan from spending time in the sun during the summer.

He always wore a white shirt, tightened around his waist with a purple scarf, held there by brown trousers with pockets just above his knees and to the sides. He normally carried a sword, but rarely used it, since he had no one to practice with and no one else had weapons. The scabbard wasn't on his side, nor was it on his back.

He had the scabbard resting on his backside, just so he could make sure that he always had it with him.

The only problem was that Max couldn't speak. He was mute.

The older kids decided to take advantage of the fact that he couldn't cry out for help, so they pushed and shoved him, they hurt him in any way they could.

All the adults, even his mother, refused to help him. Max had also been denied the right to BrotherBand Training.

Because of that, a majority of the girls in Hallasholm never spoke to him.

Max had no friends, no father, and had a mother who was unkind to him. So, in total, he had no one o talk to, not that he could talk anyway.

But he had no idea that his chance for freedom would come today.

Even though Max was Skandian, he was skinnier than most Skandian boys. Once Max turned eleven, it was already forgotten that he was a full Skandian.
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He saw the ship arrive with a stooping red hawk at the masthead. He wondered what it was. It's too foreign-looking to be one of our ships. He thought. He was about to walk back the way he came, towards the strange ship, when a hand pulled him back and slammed him onto the wall of a nearby building.

Many buildings in Hallasholm fell victim to the incessant bullying that Max went through. Years of the treatment had taught him to also philosophically accept it. He still gave the impression that he was still trying to get help, even though he knew already that he wouldn't get any.

It was soon revealed to him that the hand belonged to a boy named Albern.

Albern was the leader of one of the bigger, more stronger groups in Hallasholm.

Knowing that this was the owner of the hand, Max went limp. He knew he didn't stand a chance against the bigger boy.

Albern threw a punch, causing Max's nose to bleed a little, before making his taunts heard. "It's time you left us for good, mute boy." He said, his voice unnaturally loud.

Fear won it's way into Max's heart and he began kicking and thrashing around. Eventually, Max managed to free himself. He began to run toward where the strange ship's passengers were getting off of the ship.

He reached out his hand to try and gain their help, but another hand grabbed the back of his collar an lifted him clear off the ground.

Albern turned to the edge of the dock, where it suddenly gave way to a deep trench filled with sea water.

And Max couldn't swim.

He struggled to free himself, but Albern's grip was like iron.

Max slowly became aware of approaching footsteps. He heard three pairs of feet coming in from the left. He looked to his left, which proved to be more difficult than he thought, to find three foreigners swiftly approaching him and Albern.