Rise

Chapter Five: A Clash with Death

In the morning Matt awoke rested and ready to move on, even though he was a little sore from sleeping on the ground. It wasn't much worse than the old mattress he slept on at home, so it didn't bother him. He had more important matters to worry about. Matt tore a small chunk off of one of the loaves of bread stored in his pack and chewed, trying his best to enjoy its bland flavour. Nothing can ever remain fresh after being in the heat all day. He also pulled out one of the apples his mother had packed him, wishing he had left them behind. They must have cost her a small fortune, and now they would probably go bad before he could eat them.

He washed the bits of bread that remained in his mouth down with a sip of water and got up. After seeing Flint still curled up in the blanket he tore off another piece of bread and a chunk of his apple, holding them before the dog's nose. Flint's nostril's twitched and his lips curled back before he opened his mouth and accepted the breakfast. He too realized it was the best they had out in the barren plain.

After their measley meal, the duo set off once more, keeping with their westerly bearing. Matt hoped they could cover ground quickly while the sun was still low. As soon as it reached the middle of the sky the plain would become incredibly hot and uncomfortably so. Matt planned on breaking then, to try to avoid dehydration. He wished for there to be a tree to rest under, one with broad branches and thick leaves to provide shade in the swelterling heat but he knew he would never find one. Resolving to make due with the heat that would soon bear down upon the world, Matt strode onwards. His eyes fixed on the western horizon.

A little over an hour had passed since Matt had risen when he heard shouts coming from afar. Rose! he thought, the voice so similar in pitch and tone to that of his sister. She's alive! He held onto this hope as he sprinted towards the sound, cresting the low hill that stood between him and the source of the shrieks and shouts.

Matt's face fell along with his heart when he reached the top of the mound and saw that it was not his sister but another girl, similarly built but with much darker brown hair. Her ponytail swung violently from left to right as she sprinted, fleeing men in the exact same armour as those Matt had previously engaged. The sadness he had felt moments before was instantly replaced by a burning rage and desire for vengeance that roiled within his chest. He gripped his rod tightly and broke out into a run, charging for the metal-clad men.

As he propelled himself forwards with each stride Matt felt no fear, remembering his last encounter. He knew the soldiers would not shoot at him and this time he had the element of surprise. He would not scream out, no battle cries this time. As he sprinted he formulated his plan. The first blow would be to the neck of the leader, the one with the stripe of red down his right shoulder pauldron. Then he would move to the next one and do the same, bludgeoning the soldier out of consiousness. As for the third, he figured that would be the wild card, hoping his luck held out and he could take care of him before the man realized what was going on. Matt remembered the heavy fist that had jammed into his gut and the thick boot that held him down. There would be no repeat of that blunder.

The moments he spent sprinting felt like eternities of their own as Matt rehearsed his plan within his mind. His pulse quickened at the black figures of the armoured men grew larger and the prospect of battle grew closer. Matt's courage began to dwindle as he doubted his strength and the reach of his rod. What if they are allowed to shoot me? What if they break their orders? Matt worried, butterflies dancing in his stomach. These thoughts were instantly replaced by anger as he watched a net fly and envelop the fleeing girl. He cringed as her form tumbled to the ground, rolling three times before coming to a rest in the dirt.

Quickly banishing his fears, accepting that it was too late for second thoughts, Matt raised his walking stick, the metal glimmering in the sunlight. He didn't even notice Flint loping beside him, fangs bared and eyes focused. Matt had time to take two deep breaths before he swung his rod down, cutting into the soldiers neck.