Harvest Day

Harvest Day

         The sun has stagnated at its peak, embedded in the sky along with streaks of white that patterned against the blue background. It is a busy and bustling day for New Hesperia. The first day of the harvest season has begun and Tiller wants nothing more than to get away from the hectic village and help it at the same time. This, of course, would call for his favorite pastime, hunting.

         The soles of his boots mold to earth beneath Tiller’s feet as he takes one silent step after another. A jumble of sunlight splinters through the treetops and creates silhouettes of different shapes around him. Tiller peers through the light and shadow of the trees with minimal curiosity, being that he knows this small forested area outside of New Hesperia like the back of his hand. He spots nothing, relaxing his stance, when all of the sudden the Weave shows him a puzzling vision of birds taking flight overhead.

         Tiller immediately recognizes the warning as he continues to scan the trees with his eyes. All the birds appear content sitting on their branches, singing their unique songs above in their high perch, teasing the squirrels. Something was going to startle them all. Tiller understands that as he tilts his head to one side, listening, waiting, although he cannot see what that could possibly be. Wishing the Weave would show him more of a warning, he hunkers down, ready to spring into action from his position. He backs up slowly, putting his back to a large tree trunk as he studies every bit of the area slowly. Just then his sixth sense screams one word that echoes through his mind, making his ears ring and his eyes water.

         Dive!

         Tiller reacts to the warning without thinking, hitting the soft ground, his body making a small “thud” noise. Only his body could not have made such a loud noise on impact as he heard. Looking up at the tree he had his back against only a moment before, Tiller spots a tomahawk shaped axe wedged firmly between the newly cracked wood. The silhouettes the sun made around him started to change and shift violently as the birds took flight away from the safety of their high branches.

         Tiller’s eyes darts back towards the direction the axe came from. He sees a swift moving figure slipping silently between the trees. Tiller rolls to his left then leaps to his feet, spinning rapidly to press his back against the tree opposite where the axe hit. He reaches into his hunting backpack, not thinking he’d need them, pulling out two sturdy yet light bracers traced with faintly glowing insignias. Given to him by Ninex, enhanced to defend against attacks just as well as a shield would and twice as durable, Tiller is glad he is prepared for battle. He slips one bracer on each arm then produces a common rapier from the sheath at his side.

         The sound of a twig breaking when stepped on cracks loudly from Tiller’s right, so he spins off the tree to his left only to meet a curved blade being swung toward his neck. Tiller shakes himself, thinking to himself, this is happening in real time. I guess the Weave can’t warn me of them all. He quickly retracts both of his forearms to cover his face and neck. The oriental, ancient, and to be frank, useless looking blade struck his bracers evenly, emitting sparks. The blade cut long, even grooves in both bracers as Tiller’s attacker stood in front of him as he yanked his sword from Tiller’s defenses.

         Tiller, seeing the damage done to his bracers, realizes that this useless looking blade his enemy wielded might not be so useless after all. Only magical properties could damage his bracers. Tiller brought his arms away from his face to look at his enemy for the first time, who had the appearance of a smirking elf, but an elf the likes he has never seen. Eyes the color of pure gold stare back at Tiller. He sees the light brown hair, and skin, the only way Tiller could describe it, the color of melted down gold mixed into a strong dark lager.

         The Weave comes to life again, showing the blade coming from the side at a downward angle toward his kneecap so Tiller responds by bringing his rapier down to parry while jabbing his elbow at his enemy’s face. His rapier barely holds up against the blade, almost getting cut clean in half. The man backs off, a look of surprise on his face, in awe that Tiller had not only lived this long, but actually struck him.

         Tiller, taking advantage of the opportunity back peddle a few steps, tries to bide time until he can figure out a possible plan of attack or an escape route.

         “Who are you?” Tiller asks simply, almost pitifully, as he attempts to buy some precious moments with a bit of a chat.

         “You can call me Tenax, Tenax Exaltare.” the man replies, a smug smile on his face.

         “Draconic...” Tiller mumbled but loud enough for Tenax to hear. “An impressive language to know, let alone be named after,” replies Tiller casually.

         “I dabble,” Tenax announces as he stretched his muscles.

         Tiller startles a bit at Tenax’s movement, taking it for a feint. He mentally slaps himself in the head for letting his guard down, even for a scant moment.

         A smirk spreads across Tenax’s face. Then Tenax starts to lunge at Tiller, or at least that's what the Weave has shown Tiller. Tiller sidesteps the anticipated blow. A look of frustration appears on Tenax’s face as he swings and misses with his blade.

• • •

         Tenax grows weary as his prowess fails in battle, not understanding what about this “Tiller”, as “Ninex” told him, gives him such excellent dodging abilities. He stretches his arms out casually, and Tiller jumps. Tenax grins as Tiller relaxes, knowing he threw his opponent off guard, so he waits a few seconds more and then charges.


         Before he even starts to swing his blade, Tiller is already standing to his side, four feet from where he was suppose to be, leaping forward with a jab from his rapier. If Tenax isn’t as skilled in combat as he is, he’d have taken a blow from the blade.

         Expecting there might be a chance that Tiller would evade the attack, Tenax is already preparing to change his inertia by changing the motion of the attack to swipe his blade towards Tiller’s rapier.

         Tenax notices the look in Tiller’s eyes, a knowing look of fear, before Tenax even starts to parry and the loud grating metal sound accompanied with a loud snap. Tiller’s weapon shatters under the pressure of Tenax’s magically enhanced blade.

         Tenax decides to take quick opportunity of the situation and heaves his blade one last time to finish it. Tiller blocks the attack tenaciously with his left bracer. Another loud grating noise is heard and Tenax yanks his blade from the groove it created in Tiller’s bracer. Tenax brings his arm back for another attack when he gasps then examines his sword, surprised to see the dull jags along the blade. Tiller just stares wide-eyed at his enemy’s sword before he backs up slowly, taking advantage Tenax’s shock.

         “That’s the price you pay for trying to kill me,” Tiller informs Tenax, regaining some confidence in his situation.

         Tenax looks up at him with a visage filled with fury.

         “Trying?” he spits in contempt, then his face calms considerably. “To kill you?” he continues somewhat hastily.

         Tiller simply raises an eyebrow at his sudden mood change, trying to discern what Tenax is getting at.

         “I’m not trying to kill you, I was simply testing you.” Tenax replies with a reassuring smile.

         Tiller laughs heartily a bit, not really caring this time that he lets his guard down.          “Right, right. That would obviously explain your pathetic failed attempts of stabbing me after you disarmed me, right?” he inquires, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

         Tenax glares momentarily, rather perturbed at Tiller’s insult. “Believe me, Tiller, if I want you dead, you would be slumped against that tree with that axe lodged in your head, blood pouring around your face and brain mattered scattered across the forest floor.” Tenax grins.

         “Or...perhaps you just have really, really terrible aim,” Tiller retorts with a smirk, ignoring Tenax’s sadistic description.

         “Or...perhaps I didn’t want to splatter such pretty scenery with your blood. This really is a pleasant landscape you know, but I suppose now I was wrong in worrying about splattering your brains around, since you appear to have very little of that going for you,” Tenax adds with a mocking sigh, as he spreads his arms across the area then points to the axe as he talked.

         “A weak retort, Tenax Exaltare, but nevertheless, if you haven’t come here to kill me, you better tell me what you do want from me as I grow bored of this pitiful attempt to test my abilities.”

         Tenax grips his ruined sword’s pommel as he suppresses some of his rage at Tiller’s comments. He calms himself quickly, not wanting to show the weakness of outrage.

         “Well it just so happens to be that apparently I have some poor people skills...” starts Tenax, as he begins to stroll to a tree and rests his arm against it, confident even if the unarmed Tiller strikes him, he’d have no problem avoiding the attack. A bead of sweat drops from his forehead and lands on the ground, and as if Tiller times when it would, Tiller throws out a retort.

         “No, really?” Tiller interrupts.

         Tenax glares at Tiller before continuing. “Somehow, I managed to get half the under-dark and even some Drow from above the surface to want my head. The ones on the surface of course being dogs of Vhaerun.”

         Tiller stands there for a bit, confused at some of Tenax’s comments. “Vayrawn? Under dark? Drow?” Tiller asks, trying to get at what crazy rant Tenax was on to.

         Tenax replies impatiently. “Surely you’ve heard of a Drow, I mean...look at you. And the under-dark, the Drow domain, it’s where they come from.”

         “Well of course I’ve heard of Drow and the under-dark, but why would they be after you? And that still doesn’t explain this ‘Vayrawn’ you speak of,” Tiller replies, trying not to seem too ignorant.

         “Vhaerun, a Drow ‘God’, only dogs worship him though. They’re a bunch of lowly knaves with nothing better to do than horde useless treasure. And some Drow encampment near the surface were starting skirmishes of those of Vhaerun’s cult, fighting over more useless treasure I suppose.” Tenax says nonchalantly.

         “And where do you figure into all of this, my newly found, overly complex friend, Tenax?” Tiller inquires, absorbing Tenax’s information.

         “Oh, it’s quite simple really...I may or may not have contracted a professional thief to steal some of the said useless treasure, either way, I don’t have it now and they are assured that I do,” Tenax replies evasively, looking around as if expecting death from every corner.

         Tiller examines the sword after taking in Tenax and his belongings. He isn’t sure what to make of it all. Tiller quirks an eyebrow as Tenax follows Tiller’s gaze to his sword.

         “This is NOT their treasure,” Tenax exclaims, obviously a bit angered by Tiller’s silent accusation. “You could say that’s a family heirloom.”

         “All right, all right,” Tiller replies quickly. “Fine, now settle down.” He wants to bring this encounter to an end and get back to town. “Now where do I figure into all of this mess. It sounds like I have very little going for me if I’m even seen around you.”

         “Well its quite simple if you think about it. All I need you to do is serve as a guide in this immediate area. I know very little of it and as long as I move straight forward I run into some sort of Drow blockade. If I don’t move straight forward in a direction, I just get lost, or go in circles.

         “You see, I’m from the under-dark, the City of Portals to be exact, and I really have no sense of direction while I’m up in this damnable above-world.” Tenax explains, taking in a breath as he finishes.

         “And you needed to test my ability to become disarmed so I could guide you ...interesting.” Tiller does not even try to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Very well, you need a guide. I’m going back to town and discuss this with Ninex, although the likelihood of me accepting your task is slim to none. You see, I have lots to do in New Hesperia, however, I will at least set you up with supplies and show you out in the best possible course.”

         Tiller knows he has already made his decision about helping Tenax and finishes with a tone of finality in his voice. Tiller heads back toward New Hesperia. Tenax shrugs, not completely satisfied with the decision, before following behind Tiller.

• • •

         Nethick Grenagier was once a hard working farmer of New Hesperia, the smell of grains and farm work following him every where he went. He always dressed in casual commoner’s clothing but always presented himself in the best way possible. Then, one fateful day during an attack from gnolls, his wife disappeared and his children were slain. There were no gnolls in sight of his farmhouse at the time, so he went over to the neighbor’s farm since smoke was billowing from their house, helping to fend off the attack there only to return to his life’s devastation. Now, he smells of alcohol, you could almost see the fumes coming out of his mouth. His clothing is reduced to tatters of what he once wore while he spent all his earnings on alcohol at the tavern in New Hesperia.

         He has little to live for and maybe that was best. He hears the door to the tavern creak open, not an abnormal occurrence, followed by a faint chanting noise. Nethick turns his head, ready to yell at whatever children were playing tricks on him, but only sees a small marble sized spec of fire flying at his face.

         His body chars immediately as Nethick turns to ash while others in the tavern catch fire. The marble explodes into an area effect, engulfing the whole tavern in flames.

• • •

         The storage room smelled a bit of alcohol as Ninex cleans up the remains of the celebration from the night before. He waited until the afternoon because his tavern would be mostly empty with only a few slackers lazily bumming about because of the first day of harvest. He finishes his task by placing some alcohol soaked rags on top of a crate, then sighs loudly, wiping his forehead of sweat.

         Then an explosion sounds from the tavern area. Groaning loudly, Ninex figures one of the patrons just did something extremely stupid, a rare occurrence, but one that still happens from time to time. He grabs the battle axe he keeps in storage just to be safe, an prized heirloom passed down through his family for generations.

         He opens the door to see his life long work being decimated. People were running in a panic, either trying to put the flames out of others or themselves. Ninex sees movement of a more murderous intent as several dark figures pull weapons as they silently move around the flames, going in for kills. Nethick, one
of Ninex’s favorite barflies, perhaps the quietest, is no where to be seen, which is quite unusual for this time of day. Ninex watches in horror as Ictir’s throat is slit, his head almost severed by a short sword.

         “Damn.”

         Ninex could barely manage as he braces for battle. He worries about his wife and daughter, even though he gave them directions to exit the tavern in the safest possible manner in case anything like this ever happened. He just so happened, with Tiller’s help, to have installed a trap door in the kitchen where a crawl space turns into a tunnel that leads west out of town to a small grove of trees, purposely designed so his family could flee. He is willing to go down with his tavern but not his family members, friends, or customers.

         He charges the nearest enemy who tries to perform some sort of fancy but obviously novice footwork to parry the attack. Maybe this one isn’t trained in the finer point of how to fight one who wields a battle axe, Ninex figures. Not that it’s his problem however, as he lodges his battle axe into the head of this enemy.

         Up close, Ninex notices the attackers are all drow. Muttering some vicious curses, he thinks back to the night before when he gladly took that stranger’s silver when he had his doubts.

         Some chanting starts on his right, magical incantations no doubt. Hastily thinking of the best course of action, Ninex jumps out of the main window, trying to get out of sight from the spell before he is targeted.

         That's when he sees it, the five drow he counted in the tavern and now there seems to be another dozen wreaking havoc in the town. Being one of the few experienced fighters in the town, especially since Tiller is no where in sight, Ninex knows there is little hope of survival unless all his enemies are as easy to kill as the first.

         When three drow start to advance on him using expert circling tactics that's when Ninex realizes that his hope that the rest of his enemies may be as easy to kill as the one in the tavern is perhaps overly optimistic.

• • •

         As Tiller continues through the forest, the Weave starts to blare loudly inside his head as if stretching his brain out. He holds his head as he grimaces, falling to one knee.

         Tenax raises an eyebrow, observing Tiller’s actions, then asks, “Is that normal for you? Are you all right? Get a hold of yourself man!” he exclaims, trying to get at what was wrong.

         “Something’s very wrong,” is all Tiller could say before rising to his feet then bolting into an all out sprint, weaving in and out between the trees. If Tenax’s reflexes hadn’t been better trained, he may not have reacted fast enough to keep up with this side of Tiller Tenax had not yet seen. Tenax knows himself as a fast runner but he could hardly keep up with Tiller.

         At the edge of the forest they see smoke rising above the large hill that separates the woods from the town. Tiller climbs the base of the hill with haste, and as he reaches the top of the hill, Tenax merely sees Tiller pull out a hidden dagger from his belt and jump, most likely clearing the distance of the rest of the hill in the air.

         Before Tenax could make it to the top of the hill, he could hear a loud yell, more like a war cry come out of Tiller. As Tenax approaches the top of the crest, he could see what was left of New Hesperia and the farmlands to the north of it. Everything is aflame. He sees Tiller charging first for the tavern.

         The remains of the houses would soon collapse on their once trusted, strong foundations. The fire seems to dance lazily as breezes of cool air blow into them, keeping the flames alive, but not powerful enough to stop their slow burn. The smell of burned grain lays heavily in the air mixing with the smell of burning corpses.

         Tenax waits outside of what was left of the tavern, deciding it is better to let Tiller have this time to give his respects. Tenax knows he really shouldn’t be thinking it, but the destruction of New Hesperia does work out to his advantage as now he may have better luck convincing Tiller to help him.

         Tiller emerges from what was left of a wall with a vigilant look in his eyes.

         “From the looks of it,” Tenax starts, observing Ninex’s slain body to the left of him, “he killed about five of them. Five of twenty or so, considering the tracks around here. Considering his enemies, you should be proud,” he concludes.

         “Silence, knave,” Tiller commands as he makes his way around the corpses of his friends with grim determination. “None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you. You attracted these scum drow to my village. You kept me busy in the woods when I could have been here saving my friends. And you destroyed my rapier to boot. How am I suppose avenge my village people with a lousy dagger?” Tiller is shouting now, his temper exploding at Tenax.

         Tiller knew Ninex was getting older, counting his age in decades, and he wouldn’t have lived that much longer while Tiller would outlive him by centuries. He also knew he couldn’t exactly blame Tenax for the attack on the village. It’s not like Tenax invited these hunters into the village or encouraged them to engage in such deadly mayhem.

         Tenax silently stood there, taking the berating being heaped on him by Tiller. He doesn’t think cold thoughts even though he isn’t happy about how he is being treated as he is being blamed for something beyond his control. He respects Tiller’s rage and understands the emotions Tiller is feeling.
         Tiller turns to confront Tenax. “You damaged my bracers. You think of no one but yourself. And you run like a girl,” Tiller continues, not caring about the consequences of what actions Tenax might take in response.

         Tiller has spent too much time in New Hesperia. He has grown dependent on the acceptance he found here. But much like Tenax attracts enemies onto himself, who knows what dangers Tiller could have brought to New Hesperia by being here himself? For all he knows, the drow could have been after him and not Tenax.

         “You disgust me, Tenax I hope you go walk around in circles in the country until this murdering filth finally kills you. I never want to see your face again. Maybe I should kill you myself,” Tiller shouts, dropping to his knees and gripping his hair in frustration. His bandanna falls to the ground behind him and the single black lock of hair is clenched in one fist.

         The battle axe glistens in the waning sunlight at his feet, capturing Tiller’s attention. Ninex cherished that awkward weapon. As Tiller gazes at the ancient weapon he notices the design etched into the handle. The design resembles rune writing of a language lost long ago. Tiller reaches out and touches the axe then draws his hand back quickly as if burned.

         He cannot rip his gaze away from battle axe as it is now glowing a beautiful blue-green and a melodic humming sound seems to be coming from it. Tiller wonders if the battle axe hummed for Ninex. He knows it did not glow blue-green because of all the times he had fought along side Ninex protecting the village. It was beyond comprehension.

         Tenax shifted uncomfortably as he saw the change in the battle axe. “Elven magic,” he points out then spits on the ground as if warding off a great evil. “Dark Elf at that, Tiller. A weapon of unlimited power in the hands of a Dark Elf, if you believe the myths around Dark Elves. Personally, I don’t.”

         Tiller says nothing as he picks up weapon. The humming increases the longer Tiller holds it, giving him great comfort for his grief. The battle axe also becomes more comfortable in his hands, as if the unusual weapon had been crafted for him only. He glances at the body of his friend Ninex and his eyes glow blood red with rage. The battle axe is his link to the past and his friend and his acceptance in New Hesperia. It will serve Tiller well. He hangs the battle axe over his shoulder. The weapon is now a part of him as if by rite.

         He knows he cannot go to Hesperia and there was nothing for him to the North. There is a whole new world for him to the south and a possible friend he was making death threats at in front of him.

         As he grips the awkward weapon in his hands, he realizes he has very little idea in how to use it. But only using this axe will Ninex’s life be avenged properly. Not just Ninex, but the whole village. As far as he knows, he’s the sole survivor, and it’s in his hands now to take the life of those who don’t deserve living, those who would wreak such havoc on a peaceful village such as this.

         Tiller slowly raises to his feet, casually brushing himself off. He wipes at his watery eyes a bit doing his best to regain his composure.

         “Shall we?” he asks.

         Tenax’s eyes widen in surprise at this transformation. He looks around the area then indicates with his hand that the tracks go southeast. “That way?”

         “No, there is a time for vengeance and walking into their defenses now would be foolish. We head west to Hesperia. The new life you seek will either have to wait, or you’ll have to search for it on your own. It is required of me as the godfather of Ninex’s family that I seek out Lowic, his son in Hesperia and inform him of his father’s death. Also, Ninex’s wife and daughter should have been able to escape courtesy of Ninex. These are people I cannot leave left apart,” Tiller says firmly. “By the blood of Ninex covering my hands however, he will be avenged.” Tiller growls, as he continues determinedly.

         “A respectable decision, Tiller.” comments Tenax, though he wishes Tiller would have suggested to head south instead. “I’ll travel with you on the condition that after you take care of these very important but easily manageable tasks that you guide me south. I don’t mind a detour as long as you can help me avoid my enemies,” he concludes, looking at Tiller expectantly.

         “For some reason, it makes me glad to hear that Tenax. We will help each other then,” Tiller says with a meek smile.

         For the next few hours of their journey, neither of them says anything as a mutual silence is shared between them. They start walking west, carrying no supplies, no food, and very little in terms of weaponry.

         It is as if Tiller’s life is starting anew. He isn’t sure why but he just feels that Tenax has gone through the same a number of times in his life.

         The sun is far into setting itself snugly along the horizon, as it paints its different colors along the dusky sky in shades of pink, purple and light blue. Tiller feels as if some higher force is watching over him, something he would never be able to explain, but as he breathes in the air, he is reassured that he had made the right choice to help his newfound friend.

         Is it the Weave? A deity? Or just his own consciousness? Maybe something else? He doesn’t care because whatever it is, it’s telling him what he wants to hear.

         And, for once, he is confident that what he is hearing is the truth.