The Forgotten

Suzy left the woods early that morning, Decan only a few steps ahead of her leading the way. Sniffing bacon in the air they arrived back to the town in good time. She had barely noticed their progress as she dwelled on her short time in the woods and how the boy was surviving as he clearly knew what he was doing. Vowing she would help him, though for now she needed to get back for Ralf. No matter how injured he might have been, the fact that she did not return home that night would have meant that he’ll be out before dawn with anyone he can muster to look for her.

Arriving back at the stables, she was greeted with Ralf shouting at the stable master, demanding a horse though it still seemed like he could hardly stand. So riding would clearly be questionable and certainly painful.

“Ralf, you old lout, what are you doing?” She shouted from the archway.

Turning his head, his wife stood in one piece with a dog next to her. He ran over to her with a limp on his left leg while also clenching his ribs which were still tender when breathing. Embracing Suzy, her head dipped on his shoulder for a moment before his tirade came.

“Where have you been? Why didn’t you come back last night? You’re lucky the doctor didn’t let me out till this morning otherwise I would have come out last night.”

“I’m fine Ralf.” She replied, having to interrupt his onslaught of questions.

“I found him, he is in the woods to the north. He truly lives in a place magical, I will tell you all about it. For now you need to rest. Let us go inside.”

Ralf, though confused, relented and the pair walked into the keep and towards their room. Decan ran back to the stable master where he had already laid out a bowl of food for the dog which Decan didn’t wait to tuck into.

-

Rendall sat staring ahead of him, deep in thought he recalled meeting the woman yesterday, he didn’t like the fact she found him so quickly. The herding of such a number of animals made it easy for others to track, and if Rendall was honest, he knew that home was not that far from other dwellings and the capital of the kingdom itself. He resolved to think on it some more, perhaps nature could reclaim some of the surrounding woods and abandoned homes that were nearby.

He also thought about how well he was able to communicate with another person. He was a quiet child all those years ago and although he always had his head in a book or was running through the forest in his own little world, he thought that he would have forgotten his own language.

After time Rendall stood and looked in the direction to where Suzy had left only a few hours ago. There were footprints scattered around the woodland and spending so long in the woods, tracking these fresh prints were nearly second nature to him.

“Stay here Celer, protect the forest. I will be fine.” He said to the wolf while they joined their heads together in an embrace. The pair closed their eyes, their bond was unbreakable and their love for one another was unrivalled.

Not wanting to catch the woman, Rendall went at a leisurely pace following the tracks. He didn’t want anyone coming back in a hurry so he disturbed each track he went past, making them look like an animal or a gust of wind had moved some of the dirt and leaves on the floor.

Not long after setting out, Rendall had made it to a road, fields to each side with the faintest image of the town on the horizon. Even from this distance, the tall stone walls were hiding the inhabitants within. A large tower and a few church spires were the only structures that could be witnessed though there were many small houses scattered in the land around the town.

He still had his bow. Not wanting to draw attention to himself he looked to the skies for birds. He spotted two pigeons sitting on a small shelter in the middle of the field, not more than a hundred meters away. He drew his bow back, taking in a deep breath and with two swift movements he fired the first arrow in less than a second, with the next already in the air soon after. Striking both birds, they dropped lifelessly to the floor, both had been killed by the impact of the arrow.

Hating the idea of killing the birds as he didn’t plan on eating them but knew he needed some form of disguise for going into town, a hunter would be an easy fit with his equipment and demeanour. Hopefully, he could sell the two birds so they wouldn’t be wasted. The idea of money was odd, he never had much experience as a child but even after all these years he knew it was the desire of most mens’ lives.

With two birds tied to his belt, he soon made it up to the town which according to the signpost on the road was named Tocking Vale. He remembered the name, though this signpost was clearly new, the oak post printed with gold writing had barely been weather-worn.

As Rendall walked down the road, he saw several people wondering about performing many duties. Carts filled with wood or produce were being pulled in the direction of the town centre, a lumberjack splitting wood on a nearby log, freshly washed clothes still dripping were being hung out and cooking pots could be smelt with aromas of spice, sweet and cinnamon.

Rendall watched as memories came flooding to him. His mother holding his hand as they walk towards the market just further down the road. He was small, no more than four wearing a long tunic that was stained with dirt and had holes all over. His mother seemed to be well dressed in a long black dress overlaid with orange and red flower patterns. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back with braids that had small flowers tied around it. She never turned around in his memory, a cruelty he thought, and a result of the head trauma no doubt. Rendall wondered if he would ever get back the memories he lost, but thought it was unlikely.

Coming back to himself, he was standing in the centre of the road with a man pulling a wagon shouting at him to get out of the way. Barely able to jump to the side, Rendall shouted an apology back at the man though he would never hear it.

He walked down the street, with the dead pigeons tied to his belt hitting his legs as he walked. He followed a group of traders with their wagons to a great square. Full of stalls all with different colour flags and symbols to mark their trade and the goods they were selling. Looking around the area the boy wandered over to a hunter’s stand that had rabbit and foxes hanging from rope around the stall. On the tabletop the well-muscled man was defeathering and gutting a chicken for a woman standing next to him.

Rendall waited patiently for several minutes where the hunter finished his work. The chicken meat was given to the woman who in exchange handed the man a handful of coppers.

“What do you want boy?” Said the hunter as his gaze fell on him.

“Um, I was wondering if you would buy these birds?” The boy said hesitantly.

“Freshly killed this morning?”

Rendall nodded in reply and the man continued “I usually catch my own meat though I haven’t got any pigeon today, it is a popular bird for the nobles and the rich as they are always a bit harder to catch and kill. I’ll give you six coppers for the both of them.”

Not knowing about the currency of the land, he didn’t know if he was getting a bad or a good deal. He didn’t know nor did it really matter as the boy had no real use for money, the boy just got the pigeons to avoid suspicion when entering the town.

Accepting the offer from the man, who handed over the money the hunter got straight to work making them presentable.

Rendall tied the money pouch around his belt and walked around the market. He saw stands of clothes with fur-lined coats and leather gloves that he sorely wanted, though he doubted that his six coppers would get him far. He then saw a bowery stall fashioning many fine bows and newly fletched arrows. Strolling over to peruse the design he looked and found that most bows were made from red oak, a common wood that was cheap allowing hunters to still turn a profit. Rendall’s current bow was made of dogwood that was more robust and allowed high tension to be put on it when drawing back.

Having spent so much time in the woodland he got to know what wood was best used to craft bows with. Rendall was envious of the man’s bowery tools, with the knives, oils and wood-shavers putting his sharpened rocks to shame. These bows were far better than anything he’d made, especially around the grip. Where Rendall used rope as a handle on his bows, the bowery maker used fine leather which provided a much more comfortable grip when using the bow.

He kept looking at the items, seeing they were all higher quality than he had. The quivers particularly made him jealous. The hard-brown leather was tapered at one side with bronze buttons and the strap adjustable with a buckle so that it would not fall loose while running. Remembering all the times that he had given up using his own, made from cloth that he would tie around his waist with a bit of rope. It would often fall loose when hunting, ending up with him losing his catch and carrying a couple of arrows.

While gazing at the goods, Rendall started to notice all the people that were now around the market. Becoming anxious around the crowds the boy looked for a quick exit, but not before asking, “Excuse me, how much for the quiver?”

Before the trader could answer a man in a fine green tunic with a knife around his waist that held rubies on its hilt replied, “Ha, don’t be silly boy, you commoners need to learn your place. This isn’t for you.”

The trader looked at the boy, clearly displeased with the fine gentlemen’s presence and replied, “This quiver is two silver, though I do have some used quivers and some less fine ones that range from a few coppers to a silver piece.”

Rendall looked up at the trader, though also seeing the well-dressed man that now stood next to him. He was clean-shaven with green eyes, his hair was blonde, showing no dirt or knots. The man’s face turned to disgust when he saw the boy, clearly the opposite of him. Rendall with his silver eyes, dirty skin and hair that could be brown but it was hard to tell, with so much dirt and grease in his hair from years of living in the forest.

“You shouldn’t waste your time with this orphan sir.” He said to the trader.

Continuing, the man looked at Rendall and said “You know what, I could use another servant in my household. I’ll make you a bet, if you beat me in an archery contest, I’ll give you two pieces of silver. If I win, you have to serve me and do as you are instructed.”

“Sir Reemal, this boy won’t be able to beat you. This isn’t a fair challenge.”

“Silence! This is nothing to do with you.” Sir Reemal replied.

Rendall started to feel claustrophobic. The challenge from the noble made many people start to look at him. He wanted to stay out of sight when he came into town but despite his best efforts was unable to do so. His hand began to shake in his pocket, though before any onlookers could see something inside him changed. He felt Celer’s presence inside him, giving him courage and memories of them together. How now had the resolve to look into the man’s eyes.

“I accept. What are we hunting?” Rendall asked Sir Reemal.

“Nothing so primitive. Follow me. We are going to the archery range just down this street.”

They walked one hundred and fifty meters down the street then took a right to see a field with three targets at the end. They were made of hay and propped up with wooden legs. From the front of the hay there were three different colours, yellow, blue and red with the latter being the centre and the hardest shot to pull off with the blue just outside the red. Rendall noticed Sir Reemal talk to the instructor, and the archers who were practising soon ran to collect all their arrows across the floor and the targets.

“The rules are simple, you have five arrows, whoever shoots the best wins. Got it?”

Rendall nodded in reply and Sir Reemal continued.

“Good, we will shoot at the same time to avoid any cheating. I can also see you have your own bow though lacking arrows. We will then use our own bows and use the arrows supplied by the master archer here. Are you ready?”

Rendall took off his bow from around his back then walked over to the barrel full of arrows, taking five. He slowly walked to the area marked in white for the archer to shoot then looked at the target. It was around a hundred and twenty paces he guessed, a distance that was easily within his range.

Standing ready, he was holding four arrows in one hand while also gripping his bow and an arrow nocked, ready to draw the bow back.

The noble looked at the bow and smirked then gestured to someone in the crowd to start them off.

“Begin!” the bowery merchant shouted.

Without a second’s hesitation Rendall drew the bow back and fired. The next arrow held in his other hand he quickly knots the bow with a fluid motion, moving the arrow to the string by ninety degrees from his hand holding the grip. Firing again, again and again. Within the space of three seconds, Rendall has fired all five of his arrows and looked to the target. Each one of them hit a perfect centre.

Looking over to Sir Reemal, who was only on his third arrow and clearly wasn’t faring as well. While good shots, both arrows had only hit the blue area. Seeing Rendall in the corner of his eye looking at him and then glancing at the target, he froze in place, losen the tension of his bow.

The crowd of onlookers seeing Rendall’s shots looked at Sir Reemal, no one making a sound. The noble gritting his teeth and his face beginning to redden.

“Who are you boy?” The noble asked in a flat voice with spit flowing out from his mouth after each word.

“Um, Sir, that would be two silver you owe him.” The trader says with a slight tremor in his voice.

Sir Reemal rounded on the trader, though having let go of his bow his knuckles began to go white.

Several long seconds pass. The noble released his grip and threw two coins to the floor. Without another word, he walked off.

Rendall picked up the coins. He looked at the trader and smiled.

“I would like to buy something from you.”

Rendall went back to the stall. Picking up the quiver and handing the money over, the trader interrupted, “I know you want this quiver but it seems like you could do with a couple of other items too.”

He made a clear gesture, referring to the boy’s shoes and clothes.

“Perhaps a bath too?” he added with a smile on his face.

Rendall looked at the quiver, clearly seeing that he is right yet still would like to walk away with such a great item.

“Look I have several used items, a couple of items that I made and no one wants. I think you’ll like this quiver. It’s actually the same design though apparently, blue-black is not a popular colour and so it has been getting dusty for almost a year now.”

Rendall’s eyes lit up and the man went on. “I’ll give it to you for one silver and two coppers, I believe that is a fair deal, plus I’ll throw in a bundle of arrows for the show you put on.”

The man started to laugh “Sir Reemal will certainly be hiding away for a while, such a public display won’t soon be forgotten.”

Rendall’s face was gleaming, the black leather suiting him better as he would easily be able to hide at night with it on.

“I’ll take it please. Though may I ask how many coppers to a silver is it still ten?”

In confusion, the trader replied, “Well yes.”

Rendall, happy with the purchase, handed over the money to the trader. Putting his new quiver on his back, he felt comfortable and for the first time in a long time, there was a sparkle in his eyes.

“Thank you for your generosity, could I ask what your name is?”

“Benny. I don’t have any last name to speak of so if you ever are looking for me ask for Benny the Bowery and they’ll point you in the right direction. With the winnings you have left you might want to go see Drent over there, tell him I sent you and you need some new clothes. Then if you are looking for a place to stay tonight go to Wanderer’s Warren, it’s a tavern with some food. You can stay the night for a copper as long as you don’t mind a hard mattress and a few rowdy men.”

“Thank you.” Rendall held out his hand and shook the big man’s callus worn palm.

He walked over to Drent. Rendall picked up a new simple top, trousers and shoes for five coppers. They were all used, but none had holes or were stained with dirt. Nor did they look too small for him as his other clothes did. Not able to trade his old clothes away as they were little more useful than a rag, Yet not wanting to be wasteful he bought a sack from the man for another copper and slung the bag over his shoulder.

Rendall wasn’t sure what to expect when he came into town but was thankful to get some new clothes that fit him. His old clothes had lasted some several years now and barely covered his waist, where years ago they were a perfect fit.

The young boy left the market to explore the rest of the town. He was surprised by the amount of colour around the houses. Many had orange, yellow and red window sills with green doors that had some form of blue climbing plant that grew around them. The street he was walking down was paved with slate that had been well kept showing no signs of dirt.

A couple holding hands walked towards him and sneered.

“You shouldn’t be here commoner, get gone or I’ll call the guards.”

Confused for a moment, Rendall realised he must have wandered into the upper-class part of town where they looked down at someone not like them. Probably more so for him as his face was dirty and his hairs were clumped together from the weeks of no proper bath.

He turned a left corner that soon took him out of the district and found himself in a less respectable district. While still colourful the houses and streets were certainly not as well kept as the other houses. There were also lines between houses put up with clothes hung out to dry. He heard others shout to look out below, before throwing buckets of brown water out the window that had a less savoury smell.

Trying not to breath through his nose, Rendall continued until he saw a sight that made his blood boil. Two guards wearing black full plate armour with a red outline held a man in a corner refusing to let him out. The man was obviously doing whatever he could to please the armoured pair though it did not stop the beatings he was receiving. His face was worn, a long grey beard with long brown and grey hair that fell to his shoulders. An open sack to his side with pots, cloths and some rations thrown to the ground. Rendall got closer to try and listen to what was happening.

“We’ve told you, if we see you, you’ll need to pay us.” Said one of the guards.

“But I’ve never done anything.” The man said sobbing.

“Why should that matter?” The other guard replied.

“We’re in charge here so you do what we tell you.” He finished as he knocked the man to the floor.

“What on earth are you two doing?” A man in silver armour addressed the two guards. This man seemed the complete opposite of the others. He was on the back of a warhorse, it was pure white that stood around five and a half feet from the floor to the saddle with another foot or so to add if the horse stood with its head up. The man himself had brown hair with brown eyes and a days-old beard, clearly having spent some time on the road. With a knife and simple sword at his waist, he had a huge two-handed sword on his back with a pommel of silver and a leather strap.

He dismounted his horse and approached the guards while holding the hilt of his sword.

“Who are you?” One guard asked in a guttural voice.

“A man who will have an answer from you or will see your blood etched on the floor.”

One of the guards didn’t even spare another moment, he ran at the unknown man with his sword out. He swung with a downward arch which the silver warrior sidestepped. Grabbing the attacker’s sword hand, he elbowed his face with his free arm and kicked the guard’s feet from beneath him, causing him to drop his sword. The defending knight caught the man’s sword and plugged it into the guard’s shoulder as he laid on the floor.

“Arghh, I kill you.” He shouted, though clearly in too much pain to be a threat or move.

He looked at the other guard “Now are we going to have a civilised conversation or are we going to have another incident?” The man glanced back at the guard lying on the ground, groaning in pain.

“We, we were investigating this man for contraband?”

“My good man, is that a question or is that a statement?”

With a little bit more resolve the guard repeated. “We had received word that he was carrying contraband.”

“I see, did you find any?”

“No.” The guard said while moving his hand towards the hilt of his sword.

“Well, it seems like you have done your job, let’s not make this into more of a mess. You have clearly wronged this man so you best apologise and be on your way.”

The guard’s hand gripped his sword and he gritted his teeth. He stormed off, grabbing his friend in the process, not saying another word.

“To be honest the last request was a bit of a long shot.” The unknown saviour said to the elderly gentleman who was still quaking in the corner.

Realising the other man was not in a talkative mood the warrior helped the man pack away his things into his sack and handed him a small pouch. The old gentleman put his head on the other’s shoulder and thanked him.

The warrior acknowledged Rendall then, who was watching the whole scene with his mouth slightly open. He was no longer slightly hidden, but standing in the middle of the street looking at them.

“You there, do you know anywhere we can get a drink?”

Rendall looked around as he assumed, he was talking to someone else. Realising though he was the only one in the street, Rendall replied, “Sorry, I only came here today. I’ve been told there is a tavern called Wanderer’s Warren somewhere around here that I have been looking for.”

“Well then, how about we go look for it together. Say would you mind leading my mount? He’s a harmless thing really, unless in battle.”

“Um, sure.” Rendall said as he cautiously walked over to the horse.

He hadn’t of worried. As soon as he grabbed the reins to lead the horse it licked him, putting up no resistance.

The unknown man smiled as he looked at the exchange between the two and walked on.