Warwielder - Book 1 of The Evernoth Odyssey

Chapter 7 - To Survive

Night fell onto the forest.

Marschal sat on the leaf cushioned ground, gazing into a campfire that shouldn't have been lit. He knew it wasn't safe; although Marschal was too tired to fully articulate why he knew that. They weren't moving anymore. That was all that mattered.

Pitch black shadows lurked at the border of the fire's light, dancing to the flame's flickering tongues. Like Marschal, Kollo and his remaining four men were also gazing deep into the bright beacon combating the darkness. Apart from the faint crackling of burning wood and the sounds of the forest night, the small group sat in utter silence around the radiating warmth of the central heat source. Marschal couldn't help but shift himself forward to ward off the chill attacking his back and sides.

When he was comfortable, Marschal glanced up at the bandits sharing the fire. Since their escape from the war elves, Kollo and his bandits only now numbered four now. Five including Walton and his stupid glaring face. His recently-attained black eye made Marschal smile internally. Walto's lip curled up into a snarling expression. Clearly, Marschal's smile wasn't as internal as he thought.

"You have to teach me how to fight!"

Marschal shut his eyes and sighed at his horrific mistake.

"Are you listening to me?" the boy demanded.

He should have dropped him down that cliff.

"I already told you why I can't," Marschal answered. He refused to tear his eyes away from the fire as the boy's standing form intruded his periphery vision.

"I don't believe you," the boy whined, "All Paravellans can fight."

Marschal continued gazing into the live flame.

"Are you ignoring me?"

"I should have dropped you," Marschal muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

Marschal knew he should have been careful with his words. So he faced the boy directly.

"I said I should have dropped you off that cliff."

For Marschal, it was worth seeing the boy's mouth hang open in stunned silence.

Suddenly, a bout of uproarious laughter echoed through the forest darkness. Everyone at camp turned to the bandit leader to see his chest heaving from whatever he found humorous.

"Leave him alone, Centes," Kollo said when his laughter began to die down, "The man's entitled to his secrets."

"But he's our prisoner. He has to do what we say."

That was when Kollo's smile and jovial demeanour suddenly vanished. The silence that followed was so palpable Marschal could have sworn he saw the other bandits flinch when Kollo pulled himself up from his seating position. As he stood up, a loud and repulsive sound ruptured from Kollo's chest and throat followed by a sloppy stream of spit hitting the ground.

Then he took steps towards Marschal and the boy. As the bandit approached closer, Marschal noticed Kollo's slightly pale face sheening with sweat. Marschal tilted his head at the observation as he glanced down at the bandit's missing hand wrapped in dark red cloth. He kept staring at the severed stump until it hung uncomfortably close to his face with its owner looming over him and the boy.

When Marschal reluctantly looked up to meet Kollo's eyes, he was surprised when he saw the bandit gazing down at his son rather than him. He was even more surprised when Kollo's large hand struck the boy's face with a loud smack. Marschal could feel the strength of the hit from how the boy's whole body shifted to the side from the impact. To the boy's credit, he quickly recovered to look back up at his father with wide eyes and a hand on his cheek. Marschal could see both the tears building up in the boy's eyes and the strain in his facial muscles to keep them from escaping. Marschal braced himself as the intense silence emanated from the locked gazes between father and son.