"Good, Gar. A fine piece of work, Mistress Culin will be pleased." Garren beamed with pride as Master Percy, the town blacksmith, went over his work. Garren was hot and sweaty, having worked at that for a long time at the forge, which still sat cooling next to him. Percy looked up from the piece of ironwork - a plow - and smiled at him. "It's been two years since I took you up as an apprentice, and your skill is excellent." The young boy beamed with pride at his master's praise. "Thank you, Master Percy." Percy gave it another look, then set it down. "I believe that's all for today, you've done very well. Oh, right. Tomorrow is the, uh, Harvest Festival, right?" Garren nodded, trying to hide a smile, he hoped this was what he thought it was for, "Yes sir, it is." Percy stroked the large black beard covering his chin, considering. "Very well. Tomorrow you have the day off to enjoy the festival." Garren smiled brightly and hugged Percy, although he was so big, Garren could only hug his leg. Percy smiled and patted him on the head, "Just don't eat too much, eh?" Garren smiled and simply responded: "Yes sir!" Percy chuckled, "Very well, I'll walk ya home, come on." The young apprentice nodded and followed Percy as he walked out of the shop, Garren putting his leather apron up quickly.
Jennifer hummed a little song as she swept the porch of the Inn, letting out a little sigh as she finished, wiping her brow. "Hey mom! I'm home!" a voice called. She blinked and turned in the direction it came from, and smiled. Garren, her short curly blonde haired son, was dancing around Percy, a very large and broad shouldered man with black hair and a full beard, "Why hello Garren. And hello to you to, Master Percy." Percy smiled and made a small bow, "Good afternoon ma'am. I'm returning Garren home today early because of his fine work." The blacksmith looked down at Garren and smiled with a touch of pride, "I let Garren here work on a project. He did a very excellent job; I couldn't have done better myself." his mother smiled brightly with pride and looked at her son as well, "Oh? Well, then, we'll have to have a small celebration, huh? How about I make some of your favorite, Garren, roast?" The boy's eyes lit up with delight and hugged his mom, "Yeah, yeah!" Jennifer laughed and looked up at Percy, "Would you like to join us for dinner, Master Percy?" Percy smiled again but shook his head, "Nay, I would love to, and I'm sure my wife would too, but she's cooking my own favorite, and well... I can't refuse!" Jen seemed a little disappointed since she knew her son would welcome his company, but she understood. "Aww, that's too bad. Well, it'll likely be at the festival, so you can drop by and sample some, OK?" This, the blacksmith knew, he could manage. "I'd be honored to. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to finish. Good day," Percy turned and headed back to his shop.
"Mommy guess what!" little Garren asked with characteristic enthusiasm. "What is it, Garren?" The boy squealed with delight and told her: "Master Percy gave me tomorrow off! I can go to the festival with you!" Jennifer made a surprised gasp and smiled at Garren, "He did? Well, did you thank him?" Garren nodded, "Well, that was nice of him. Now why don't you go wash up?" Garren moved off to the wash basin near the door and proceeded to take off his shirt. "OK mom!" come a muffled voice through the worn cloth of a young apprentice.
Later that night, the Rayne family had their roast. Jennifer Rayne, being the town's best cook, received many compliments. She made extra, of course, and saved it for the festival for tomorrow as a picnic. However, no one in the town had the slightest inkling what was about to befall them, and she merrily made her plans for a wonderful outing with her family.
The next day was filled with joy and laughter. The annual Harvest Festival where everyone in the village brought some type of food and let everyone sample it, was one of the town's most joyous occasions. And the day went by quickly, as the saying goes "Time flies when you're having fun". Garren especially had fun, he sampled every food there was with his friends, and played a few of the games they usually had. He was sad when it was time to return home, and less than happy when he was sent off to bed while his parents stayed up to attend to the other guests in the Inn (which they ran). It was about ten in the evening when it began.
Garren stirred in his bed and his eyes wrenched open as he heard the crash, followed soon by the scream of a woman that abruptly ended in a choke. A sound of scuffling, then a sharp cry. Garren began to breathe hard, it was another bar fight, though they happened once every three years or so, maybe. But this seemed different. It seemed, well, worse somehow. He couldn't tell how he knew it, but it just felt wrong. All was quiet for a time, then soft footsteps on the stairs sounded and Garren tried to control his breathing while quickly jumping under his bed, hiding. The footsteps seemed to enter each room, one by one, followed by a quick swiping sound. As the footfalls entered his room Garren completely stopped breathing. The silhouette of a man stood there, casting his shadow over the floor. Soon it moved on and Garren barely took a breath until the footsteps receded down the stairs and he heard the front door slammed shut. It still took awhile for Garren to catch his breath and gain the nerve to crawl out from the bed and downstairs.
What he saw would forever scar him. His father had a dagger through his heart, and was thrown in a corner like a sack of potatoes. His neck was also bent in a weird angle; it didn't look right. His mother's clothing lay in tatters, a moistness coming from between her legs, and a wide red gash across her neck. Several other patrons were mangled in different ways, one poor fellow even was missing his head from his shoulders. Garren stared in horror at this, tears forming, and he slowly walked to his mom, shaking her gently. The night air was completely still, no sound whatsoever. "Mom... momma... please... wake up." the words choked him. The still form of his mother never stirred, so he tried again, "Please momma... I'm scared." No response, the only sound that of a shivering little boy. Garren began to cry, but only in silence, except for his sniffling, no sound emanated from a room filled with death. He kneeled next to her and shook her again, harder, "Momma!" Nothing. Garren got up and went over to his father, Richard. "Daddy, please, wake up, mommy won't wake up!" His father didn't move either. He cried harder now, his sobbing clearly audible while moving back to his mother, "Momma... Daddy..." he kneeled and buried his face into his mother's arm, crying loudly. When he finally calmed down he sat there for a long time. The silence was maddening. There wasn't a single sound. He began to whisper to himself, "Someone has to be OK... someone has to talk." His mind refused to accept that which no small child should have to bear. The disbelief of it hung there, a kind of reality to stay the facts too hard and cold to absorb. The silence was deafening, pounding in his ears until finally Garren yelled at the top of his lungs, "SOMEBODY SAY SOMETHING!" A few birds, resting near the tavern took wing and flew away. Garren breathed heavily, and began to cry again. This time he cried himself to sleep next to his dead mother, confident if he could just wake up, this nightmare would be over.
In the morning, Garren's nightmare did not go away. Slowly moving around town, looking for help, he found the nightmare only deepened. Everyone had been slaughtered. Even Percy, though it seemed as though he had put up a good fight. Garren returned home and sat next to his mother's corpse for a long time. Until one day, at night, a man walked into the tavern. Of course, Garren was looking at the floor, and saw the man's shadow first. It looked exactly like the one that was in his room that night. He screamed and flung himself at the man, screaming incoherently at the would be murderer. The man simply caught him in his powerful arms, but he did not end the child's suffering as Garren had almost hoped he would, sending him to join his parents and friends, but only held him, softly swaying, comforting the boy instead.
After a short conversation, the man learned it all. Garren learned that his name was Rand, and being the most expedient thing to do, he took Garren with him. Rand was a very well-known bard. However, he lived alone in the woods that were a good distance from the town. Garren wasn't privy to all the information, but Rand reported the massacre to the authorities, though they never did learn who had done this horrible thing. The Nahechaian Dynasty had better things to do. Still, it matter little compared to what did impact on the boy's immediate future, that being the elderly, but kindly bardic character who took Garren in and raised him as his own son. Garren was taught the arts of a bard. He was good, and soon mastered the lute and the violin, and several other entertaining acts. However, Garren never forgot what took place at his hometown, and to boot, he gained a heavy fear of the dark, and of silence.
When Rand passed away, he left Garren a book and a enough gold to get by for a year, maybe a year and a half. Now a bit of a bard himself, he traveled, entertaining taverns and the like. Although many women where hot to him, he was far too shy, and thus became a 21 year old virgin, which was a little unusual, but not overly so. Along his travels he discovered a love of the sea; well, actually, mostly about the epic tales of the sea, and learning all he could he feel in with many followers of the god Poseidon. It was almost natural that he adopted the religion of Poseidon, as his love for the sea and its bounty grew, and he felt relief from life's burdens when he give thanks to its guardian. A natural student, he picked up the teachings of the inner workings of temple life as well, and years passed until such time one would be hard pressed to call him other than bard and priest of Poseidon.
Garren now adventures, where he may, entertaining those who wish it and trying to find his center in the world, a kind of peace, but somehow he feels until he may find out who slaughtered the whole of Leeshade, he will never know it. Not really. Even the comfort of Katsumi, his present lover and traveling companion, does not fill this painful void or heal the deep emotional scar. Leeshade, its empty streets and disused buildings now only fit for animals, no one dared, as yet, try to move back into the place, its mines being considered no longer rich with copper ore to warrant it. Yet, Garren will one day return to this scene, this ghost of a town nestled at the foot of the mountain of the same name, two days southeast of Erol on the boarder of the Nahechaian Dynasty. Yes, someday, he will return.
Posted May of 2000
by
James L.R. Beach
Waterville, MN 56096