Dypes The Soul Keeper. (2)

Chapter 27: Change.

The green field was large and the sun was high in the sky, the clouds parted ways and the air was fresh and full of life. A small house made from basic bricks stood in the field its roof made from straw and a small well stood outside. A window was placed next to a small wooden door and a number was written into the wood. The number was twenty eight. A good distance from the house a lone figure stood in the field looking up at the day sky and it pondered on thoughts. Today was like any other day in Skov, long, boring and uneventful. The figure that stood in the field was a young man no more than nineteen years old. He had short brown hair and bright blue eyes. He had a built body that off a worker or fighter. His clothes were baggy and lose like they were hand me downs. A tree near him had an older gentleman sitting underneath it. He had a sword scabbard in his hand and he watched the younger man.

“Do I have to do this?” The young man said disappointingly to the older one.

“Yes, hurry and do it Res.” Barked the older man, he had annoyance ripping out his face. His hair was long and black with a pony tail and he grew a large beard on his face. His clothes like the boys loose and baggy.

“Fine,” shouted Res as he clapped both his hands together and started to scream.

Mana swirled around him and exploded out his body before he flew back onto his butt. A great thud follow as pain shot up, Res and he gave off a sharp scream.

“You aren’t making progress, you need to pick this up Res, Your mother and I aren’t going to be around forever. The days of us running around wildly are gone, this isn’t like years ago. You need to be strong to survive this world.” Standing up from the ground he unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Res, as he picked himself up from the ground. “Strength is all that matters now and you need it to survive our stalkers.” Twisting his sword up and holding it like a javelin the old man threw the sword at Res.

With a swish the sword narrowly missed Res face as he dodged. Turning his head he looked as the sword impaled the ground. Turning his head back the old man was in front of him and with a great smack his old fist was in Res stomach. Lifted off his feet once more Res gasped for air but before he could even register, another punch landed onto his nose and he fell back onto the ground once more.

Looking down on the bleeding breathless youngster the old man coughed. “Weak, you aren’t making progress,” Res watched as he walked over to his sword pulled it from the ground and placed it back into its scabbard. “You need to practice more Res; otherwise you will be a burden on her.” Then he walked away towards the small house.

Still on the ground Res watched the man enter the small house before exhaling and looking up at the ground. The sharp pain running through his body would go soon enough and his bloody nose would heal soon as well. The grass felt nice on his skin as he watched the clouds move in the heavens.

“Always so harsh on me, eh uncle Jmor.” Res puffed to himself as he fell asleep.