On the Path of the Giants

Chapter 8: Lydia

        The cool morning air was biting at Lydia’s tired eyes. Even though it was now well into spring, the morning still held the last breaths of winter, as the aura of the sun peaked on the horizon as dawn approached. Lydia had tossed and turned restlessly the night before, and had barely been able to sleep. She had gathered her belongings, and had packed them into a leather bag. She remembered to bring with her a substantial amount of the herbs and spices that the Sharpmen loved, in the hopes that it would keep them happy and her alive.

       She had meant to say good bye to some people in the village, but quickly realized that all the ones she cared about were dead. Except for Joshua. But with him gone, there was nothing that held her attached to this place. She still feared that one day he might come back, only to find her gone in some faraway land. But so many things had changed in the past week that there would be nothing left for him to understand.

        Lydia was sitting on a log next to the western gate of the village, where Sharp’s horse had been installed in an improvised stable. Lightning. She comes with the thunder. Lydia made sure for what felt like the thousandth time that her leather sack was properly fastened. She had rarely ever been allowed outside of the village walls, let alone outside of the forest. Even the hunters try not to leave the forest, as the curses still roam the outside world. Lydia wondered whether the Sharpmen had even been affected by the curse, or if they had been born out of it. "It would explain their destructive behaviour" she thought.

        As the light from the sun started to shine above the horizon, Lydia heard the Sharpmen march towards her. They were stamping their hard boots to the ground, waking up anyone that could still be asleep. Some of the soldiers looked sleepy themselves, and Lydia noticed that one had his eyes closed. Ron Sharp was leading the column, wearing his metal shirt, which looked ominously dark. A man behind him was carrying a pole that hung a piece of cloth – which he called a banner – and bore the sigil of the Sharps: two blades intercrossing. A third blade had been added on top of them, to indicate that Ron was the third son of the his father the Sharp King.

        Lydia feared that she might not have been waiting at the right place, as she spotted other women following pace behind the Sharpmen. Some of them Lydia recognized from the village, but some others she did not.

        When it became obvious that Ron Sharp could see her, Lydia stood up and made sure to look at the ground, so as to avoid his gaze. She could feel his presence getting closer and closer to her, as his shadow swallowed her whole.

        “I am glad you are here, Lydia. Join the other women at the back of the ranks” he said so firmly that it startled Lydia.  She almost ran her way to the end of the column, before realizing that some of the faces of the Sharpmen looked familiar. It dawned upon her that they were some of the hunters from the village, wearing armour and knife that paled in comparison to the blades of the other soldiers. She took place amongst the women, and silence fell upon the whole group.

        Ron mounted Lightning, and turned towards his soldiers. Lydia could not hear the speech he was giving, partly because she was at far end of the column, and partly because she was too busy trying to hold back her tears at the thought of leaving the village. She heard something about a commander in charge, and peace to come, but Lydia did not understand. Peace was gone, it had fled when the Sharpmen arrived. It had fled when Joshua was forced to leave.

        One of the Sharp women next to her put a hand on her shoulder. “It will be okay, you will see. You are going to like Tarto, I am sure of it.”

        Thunder rang, and the column started marching out of the village. The sun was rising behind them, and she could see the shadows spreading over the ground in front of them. They were still in the thick of the forest, and she could see Ron ahead of the column, almost struggling to get his horse to move straight amongst the roots of the trees. In an hour they would be out of the forest. Lydia would be somewhere she had never been before, and she dreaded the thought.

        A bird was singing on top of a tree outside the village walls, but soon the sound of the marching men drowned it, and Lydia lost sight of it in her advance.