False Dawn

Chapter 2: Innocence is Not All

The next morning, Iscariot and his family were up about an hour before dawn. His mother had prepared two packs the night before, packed with delicious road rations like dried meats and cheese that would become stale by the late afternoon.





                “Mmm. Delicious. My favorite meal.” Said Iscariot’s father sarcastically. “Put in a ton of effort for this one didn’t you hon? Really outdid yourself this time.” Iscariot’s mother gave his father a playful slap on the shoulder.





                “I didn’t see you working all that hard. Besides, I’m pregnant! I can’t be expected to do everything now can I?”





                “Something tells me if you could be pregnant all the time for that excuse, you would be.”





                “No, I think you would like that way too much.”





                “Cause, certainly. But the consequences? I could do without the little brats running around all the time.”





                “HEY!” Iscariot and his sister said simultaneously.





                “I’m just kidding. I need someone to do the heavy lifting around here.” The family laughed at that, then embraced and the boys went out into the morning.





                Coming down the path at that moment were Max and his father. One had a boar spear over his shoulder, the other had a bow slung across his back and a quiver at his hip. Iscariot’s father headed to the back of the house and came back with a hefty spear and a bow of his own. He handed the spear to Iscariot.





                “Ready to head out?” Max’s father asked. “We got some lunch, cheese and bread.”





                “Oh, we got you beat. We got some tasty rations that a rat would turn his nose up at.”





                “But it’ll last forever!” Max’s father replied, feigning shock.





                “It’s almost as if it already has.” Iscariot’s father twisted his mouth and they all started walking down the path, heading towards the forest.





                Max, hefting his spear, swung it playfully toward Iscariot’s back. Expecting something like that to happen, Iscariot pivoted and brought his spear around, knocking the boar spear toward the ground. Stepping inside its reach, he quickly raised his right hand and gave Max two soft little taps on his cheek.





                “Better luck next time.” He said. Max brought his foot down on Iscariot’s. “Ow!”





                “Don’t drop you’re guard now. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt now would we?” Max barely had time to gasp before Iscariot tackled him to the ground. They wrestled around for a few moments before their fathers turned around and separated them.





                “Save your energy for the hunt! I won’t have you two complaining that you’re tired before the sun has even reached it’s peak!”





“You’re lucky your dad stepped in Squigs. I had you beat.” Max said, flexing his muscles and posing.





                “Not likely. Your “muscles” kept getting in the way of doing anything.”





                Max snorted and Iscariot rolled his eyes. That being settled, the group continued on its way toward the forest.





Within the hour, they had entered the first boughs of the forest. Immediately, they were inundated with the various sounds and sights of the flora and fauna. Both of the fathers began to move stealthily. Iscariot saw this and tried to emulate their moves. Max, however, bumbled about like a rampaging rhinoceros, with the same amount of stealth. It took many minutes before he started to move more silently. It still sounded terribly loud in the woods, but it was better than what it was. The fathers strung their bows and nocked an arrow, prepared to take aim should any game present itself. Max and Iscariot brought down their spear and began using it to move the brush aside in front of them, reducing the noise they made. For the most part, the only animals they saw were field mice and squirrels, neither worth an arrow. There had recently been some reports of deer and boar in the woods so it was the general hope that they would run into either of those.





                By about noon, they came upon a little glade, surrounded by birch and oak trees. Here was one of the few places where sunlight could filter in and truly light up the area. Setting up on a little hillock, they sat down and cracked open their provisions. Bread and cheese was passed about, as was the meat. Surprisingly however, there were no complaints on their simple fare. The morning had passed quickly, but passing through the forest quickly wasn’t nearly as simple or as restful as they had thought. Max opened his mouth to speak but his father interrupted him.





                “I swear, if that’s a complaint that’s going to come out of your mouth, I will finish the job Iscariot had started on you this morning.” Max immediately shut his mouth. “That’s what I thought.” His father finished to the sound of Iscariot and his father laughing. Max’s mouth twisted into a pout and the others laughed all the harder.





                The sun shined down and the day was good.





                The group was back into the forest within the hour. For the most part, they saw nothing but the same squirrels and field mice. As the day started to darken toward night, the group turned back and started heading toward home. Only a few minutes later, they began to hear snuffling in some nearby bushes. Iscariot’s father brought his hand up and the group froze. The arrows on the bow, which they thought would never be fired, were fired quickly into the bush. An angry squealing erupted as the boar came running out of the bush. Max quickly ground his spear into the ground and pointed it at the boar. The boar turned and charged, as it believed Max to be the largest threat. There were two broken off arrows in its right shoulder, making it seem more fearsome. As it charged, Max seemed to shrink in on himself, yet he stood his ground. Another squeal keened through the air as the boar impaled itself on Max’s spear. It went into its left shoulder and broke off as the boar jerked itself, flinging Max into a nearby tree, were he struggled to get back up, dazed. Both fathers drew up to their full height and started walking in a straight line toward Max, keeping their bows toward the boar and firing as quickly as they could. Iscariot, seeing that it wouldn’t be enough, sprung into action.Yelling a wordless cry, he lowered his spear and charged the boar. He put all of his strength behind it as he drove it into the side of the boar. Breaking it off once he had gotten it in, he drove the shortened end he had left in next to it, widening the wound as blood started to pour out of it. He reached over to the other side and grabbed the remnants of the boar spear and wrenched it toward him as hard as he could, widening that wound as well, causing blood to soak the ground. He then broke off the multitude of arrows that were in the boar by this time and attempted to drive them in deeper. The boar, driven mad by pain and knowing it was dying, spun around and charged toward the now limp frame of Max. Iscariot, unwilling to watch his friend perish beneath the angry hooves of the boar, reached at the tusks, and, drawing upon strength he didn’t know he had, tugged upward and to the side, managing to make the boar stumble and fall. Iscariot’s father jumped on the chance, drawing his short hunting knife and, charging while the boar was still getting up, drove it into its eye. A short squeal was all that was released as the boar shuddered, collapsed, and breathed its last.





                Within a moment, Max was back on his feet, if a bit unsteady. Both fathers clapped their sons on the back for a job well done and went about trying to collect what few arrows remained whole. Iscariot walked into the woods to look for a decent stick that they could use to carry the boar back in. A few minutes later, they had all gotten some food and water into their system, Max could walk in a straight line and the boar was tied by its hooves to a thick stick that Iscariot and his father would carry on their shoulders. Making sure all was well and ready, they set off at a relatively slow pace, as the boar was quite heavy. In a few minutes, Iscariot was trumpeting out his side of the story and how heroic he was and Max walked, somewhat crookedly, and tried to claim all the credit, for it was his spear that had inflicted the first real blow. Their banter continued on for an hour as they continued to walk home. After that hour, they were all too busy fantasizing about how the boar would taste over a nice open fire with its fat sizzling and popping. It was almost as if you could hear their drool hitting the ground.





                As they neared the edge of the forest, they spotted smoke on the horizon and they all broke into grins.





                “Well lads, it looks as if the wife has prepared the fire for us!” There was a cheer at that. They picked up the pace, all anxious to get around the fire and enjoy the meal. The banter resumed as it was before and laughter began pouring from the group as they cracked jokes.





                Cresting the hill, they saw the fire that their families had prepared. They were much bigger than expected. In fact, they were engulfing the entire hamlet. They grins froze in place, yet became terrifying. Their eyes conveyed all the horror they were feeling. In between the houses, they could see men armed with weapons knocking down the doors of the cottages. They heard the screams of women as they were raped and then torn to pieces, accompanied to the wild laughter of the barbarians striding through the village.





With a roar, both fathers charged toward the hamlet while the two boys looked on in abject terror. The men fired their bows at the barbarians, striking down first one, then two. They kept roaring out in desperation as they jumped toward them with their hunting knives. Max’s father managed to take out another two before falling to a blade that nearly split him in half. Max cried out and tried to run toward him but Iscariot grabbed him and held him back. A cry rose up that Iscariot recognized.





                The door to his cottage burst open and his mother ran out, with a barbarian calmly walking behind her. She cried out as nearly a foot of steel erupted from her chest, blood quickly staining the ground. She collapsed, giving barely a sound. Her eyes searched the hill and found Iscariot, standing there. She pleaded with her eyes, “Please son, leave this place, survive this.”





                Before he could move, before his mother’s corpse had even hit the ground, he heard another scream. He saw his sister running down the street, fleeing toward him. Her eyes pleading, her screams ripping through him. He took his first stride to her when he froze. A wolf, the kind that barbarians trained to chase down enemies running away, trained to kill mercilessly. Some said, their souls had been torn out, leaving just a perfect killing machine. Iscariot fell to his knees, reaching out with his hands towards his sister. The wolf pounded closer.





                “Issy! Save me!!!” she screamed. The wolf got closer. “Issy-“ the wolf pounced. She didn’t have time to scream any more than that. The wolf looked up, his muzzle dripping blood. Tears flowed freely down Iscariot’s cheeks. His father, still fighting, stopped his continuous roar. His father bent over and picked up the blade of one of the warriors he had slain. Quietly, not saying a word, he swung at the nearest warrior. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he fell into a rage, still not uttering a word. It was terrifying and the barbarians fell back before him, as he fought his way to the wolf that had taken the life of his daughter. He slew it with one stroke to its neck. Turning, silently, like a ghost, he fell upon the others. He was like a whirlwind of silent death and the barbarians continued to fall back. Eventually, his strokes started to slow and the barbarians closed in, like wolves to a kill. His father stopped moving completely, then slowly turned around to face the hill where Iscariot and Max were. He raised his hand as a final farewell, then turned and fell upon them again, once more under the grip of his silent rage. Iscariot rose to his feet, turned, and with Max, started to run at a breakneck pace toward the forest, grabbing the provisions and slinging them on his back. The battlefield was silent except for the clashing of swords. He never heard the final blow, nor any cry, yet he knew that there had to have been one. The tears continued to fall as he entered the forest. They continued to fall as they began to make camp. They continued to fall when he lay down on a bed of leaves. They fell until he went to sleep. Even then, they fell. Innocence was not all that he had lost.





                In the dark, a seed falls. It finds fertile ground.