Thrain - Part 10
Chapter 4 - Teacher
Tylen
Tylen wanted Torp to sprint out the tavern with all haste, perhaps call some guards and shout. Instead, he walked out and stayed silent.
“Shouldn’t we--”
“No.”
“You don’t even know--”
“The guards work with this group. Calling them would ensure we never see your bag again.”
They worked with thieves? That couldn’t be right.
Torp gave him a grim smile, like someone who just told a fun little secret except they regretted doing so. “You left prevailing decency in whatever village you came from. But come, we can enact a little justice for today.”
Turning down an alley and quickening his pace, Tylen found himself needing to jog to keep up, and scrambling several times as Torp made twists and turns through odd intersections. He nearly fell over what seemed to be a sack of garbage, but it almost grabbed his leg as he tripped over it. A foul version of the tavern smell washed over him, spewed out of the crouched man’s mouth. Gagging, he gained his feet again, then ran into Torp. It was like hitting a brick wall.
There in a dark corner, nowhere he knew any longer but nonetheless in Ildris, three men went through the contents of his bag. One leaned against the wall, Marn’s sword in hand as he twirled it in lazy spins. Another sat on a wooden box, chowing through the last of Tylen’s jerky. His massive hook nose cast a crooked shadow over his mouth, a single dim Runelight doing less than he hoped it would for illumination.
The third stood, large corded forearms flexing as his meaty hands settled on two knives in his belt. He dropped a crocheted pattern to the ground as he stood and his boot trampled it when he waltzed forward.
“Ay think, ya found yerself in the wrong part of town.” Then his eye caught the armband, and he snorted in derision. “Barracks ain’t down this way, recruit.”
Tylen agreed. The darkness swarmed his heart again knowing he would now have nothing at all from home. But, having his life would be best. Torp was kind for having attempted to help him, but watching an old man get knifed in an alley over his bag would crush him even further.
“Put the boy’s things back in the bag. Give it to me.” He took a wider stance and his left hand dropped down then inched up behind his back. “Apologize too.”
The other two men stood up, reaching for their swords. Tylen stepped back. If Torp thought blustering or being a recruit would make them obey, it seemed he miscalculated. His left hand began twitching oddly.
“An what is yer plan, if I drive a knife through yeh instead?”
“The bag. I won’t ask again.” And then behind his back a green Rune formed as his fingers moved in their odd way. Tylen gasped. A Runecaster.
The large man darted forward. Tylen felt his entire being scream in fear; the man was unbelievably fast. It was like watching a snake strike, by the time it began there was no way to stop it. Both knives in hand, lethal.
Torp stopped him. Tylen saw almost nothing. The Rune vanished, his arm glowed green, flicked out like a whip, and then the burly man flew into the wall, daggers spinning away harmless.
The other two shouted, enraged rather than deterred and both swung their swords. He had some hope for Torp now, but the narrow alley left no room for movement, and the swords offered reach. They would not need to get as close as the first man had. Torp was big, but it was more in his belly than anywhere else.
Green flashed again, and one sword bounced off a strange barrier of the color as Torp turned his back to it. His fist punched out so much faster than Tylen thought humanly possible, crunching into the other thief’s arm. The man dropped the sword, and his wrist bent at a strange angle. Torp lowered himself down, then drove his shoulder into the attacker’s sternum. Tylen couldn’t believe his eyes as the body went flying into the air and bounced off the alley wall before crashing to the ground, unmoving.
The other swordsman paused. Eyes wide, it seemed he began to realize Torp was serious and able to deliver on his threats. Raising his sword, he squared his stance and rather than attack, prepared to meet whatever onslaught might come.
Torp raised his left hand, his fingers twitched in odd ways and another Rune glowed green in the air. The thief slashed at it with a yell, and the sigil disappeared. A haggard look of relief came to the man’s face, and he took a step towards Torp. Tylen has a feeling that this wasn't a good thing for the thief. His friend had been tossed into the wall when Torp’s last Rune faded.
A green haze that moved like lightning and smelled like fire seared from his hand and struck the vagabond in the chest. He stiffened, groaned, twitched, and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed.
Torp turned. “You ok, kid?”
Tylen sucked in a breath, struggling to control the rapid beating of his heart. “You’re a Runecaster.”
“Good observation.”
“Only…only people the King chooses can be Runecasters.”
Torp’s eyebrows shot up, in the first genuine expression of shock Tylen had seen. “Cursed runes, kid, is that what they told you?” He shook his head, something like sadness passing over the shock. “Anyone can. Once they did.”
He began collecting Tylen’s things, and did not elaborate. Tylen did not understand what exactly he meant by that, but then, he started to feel he understood a lot less about everything than he thought he did.
“Torp!” He lurched forward and just managed to snatch his mother’s pattern from the ground before Torp stepped on it. Torp looked at him, eyes piercing. He said nothing, but Tylen saw his eyes soften for a moment, before he went back to gathering the scattered contents from the ground.
He held the yarn in his hands. The dirt had gotten deep into it, and there was a musty, dank smell. Yet, unmistakably and ever so small that familiar smell of yarn reached into his eyes and pulled, until he stood silent, wracked with sobs. Torp pressed his pack into him some time later, and guided him back around the alley corner.
They walked back slowly, and Tylen missed all the turns just the same as before, as he relived the well and the fire. Out from the pack, he withdrew the Crestguard emblem again, and held it tightly.
“Torp?”
“That’s my name.”
“Teach me.”
He stopped, and Tylen almost ran into him again. He felt him study his frame in detail, eying both the crochet patchwork his mother made, and the hand that held the symbol. After a while, he began to wonder if he had said something wrong, for Torp said nothing. An even longer moment later, he turned back to the alley and continued walking without answer.
They came at last to the turn they had entered through. The familiar lighting of the square and tavern, with larger and brighter Runelights greeted them, warm and comforting.
“You don’t know what you’re asking, Tylen. But, I have decided it probably would not matter if you did.” He chuckled. “I do not know yet if that is better or worse, but…yes. I will teach you.”
Next
Catalog
Ope, here we go. Again, the magic system is super cool.
I will say, I love stories that have multiple points of view. However it is so easy to get lost as a reader or blend characters together as a writer. I do think you are doing a good job of keeping characters separate in your writing style. I haven't gotten lost yet, and it is interesting to see how all of their stories will fit together.