Prologue: The Home of Spring

The sun had shone for the last five days, but still the snow held its own. Refusing to surrender to the onslaught of spring, it came up to Markus’ knees as he walked up towards the forest, as he had each day since the sun had arrived. The only effect the sun had on this thick, blanket of snow was to soften the very uppermost layer; just enough for the chill of the night to turn the surface into a hard sheet of ice- and Markus loved it! Each step he took broke through the ice with a crunch and then his leg would disappear into the deep soft snow underneath.  He enjoyed the multi hued prisms of light created by the sun’s rays rebounding from the iced snow surface. Today was the last day he would be able come to the forest, for tomorrow the celebrations would be over and it would be time to return to his home in the south. At home snow was a legend and a fable for most people, and the idea of venturing outside there own Lords realm rarely entered their thoughts. When wanderlust did set a fire in a man’s heels the fear of the journey soon cooled their enthusiasm. 

  Markus’ thoughts wandered to his home as he laboured up the small bare hill to the edge of the forest, he had been away quite some time. It had taken almost five weeks for his father’s party to get to this far northern Realm and they will have spent another six weeks here before they start the long journey home again. Over three months away from his chores, lessons and most of his friends. He was sure he was looking forward to seeing his home again, not too sure about returning to lessons and chores. Some lessons had continued even during the journey, but only those not requiring a scholar, as his school master was too old for such a long period on horse back or carriage, in all honesty too old for very much at all! So Markus’ father saw to it that he received extra lessons in the art of combat and self defence. Which usually meant standing watching Markus receive a beating from a wooden sword held by one of the Lord’s personal bodyguards. While his mother advised him on the political intrigue they were all prepared for upon reaching their destination. Markus was undecided which he preferred, probably the beating (political motives were not much of a concern for a seven year old boy) and he always found his thoughts wandering as he listened to his mothers advice- good advice, maybe just a bit premature. Anyway, he understood the basis of the trip; his sister would marry this Lords son and the fighting over the Disputed Land would stop. How much more did he need to know?

He finally decided he was looking forward to going home, but his anticipation was dampened by the thought of the long period on the road, as well as the new bruises he was sure he would earn from Jak’s wooden sword!

  Upon reaching the top of the hill, Markus stopped to catch his breath then loosen his heavy but warm sheep skin coat. The hill may not have been high but it was steep and wading through the snow upon the hill had tired and warmed him. As he stood puffing and panting, his exhaled breath billowing out of him as if he was trying to create his own fog, he surveyed the valley he and his family were visiting. Built on a small man made hillock, surrounded by the town, all covered with the brilliant white snow- he would definitely miss the snow- he looked down at the small stone castle and saw that morning had well and truly arrived. There were a lot of people moving around in the streets now, it had been light for almost an hour and they all had work to do, snow or no snow. The thicker plume of smoke helped him pick out the forge from the surrounding buildings. Remembering the kindness showed to him by the blacksmith of the town, and wanting to have enough time to say a proper farewell, Markus quickly turned and headed into the forest.

  The forest was bright and clear, the huge trees widely spaced with the sun filtering through the winter-barren branches of the canopy and encouraging up some early spring growth. If he went carefully, the going was easier here. The winter wind, which didn’t reach the hillside, had mounted the snow in drifts. All Markus had to do was stay out of the banked drifts - the snow on the forest floor didn’t even reach the top of his boots. There was no experimentation required here, Markus had already found his path and, regretfully, some of the larger drifts, on previous excursions into the wood. Quickly he retraced the familiar steps until he reached his goal. Once there he assumed his usual position where, lying on his front, partly obscured by a prickly evergreen bush, he could look down into a small hollow, which sank about ten feet down from the majority of the forest floor and was surrounded by a natural grey rock wall.

  Markus liked to think of the hollow as the hiding place of spring and looking down into the small hollow, only about 60 paces across, you could see his point of view immediately. This little isolated piece of forest gave the impression it had never surrendered quite fully to winter - spring was just resting there until time came again for it to return to the whole forest. The only evidence of snow was a small patch here and there, not enough to make more than a few snow balls. The sun’s view into the hollow wasn’t obscured by any of the forest and the rock sides made a natural windbreak, which left the hollow quite temperate, even in this bright but weak winter sun. This early warmth had brought on the new green shoots earlier here than the rest of the forest, creating a very spring like impression to Markus and the hollow's inhabitants. Directly across from Markus’ hiding spot a small stream trickled down the rock wall from the forest floor and along the bottom of the hollow towards him, only to disappear into a hole in the rock below him, effectively splitting the floor in two with a shinning ribbon of water. Just to the left of where the stream came down the wall there was another opening in the rock, and this was the home of the hollow's inhabitants.

  The huge bear and her cubs were not out of the cave when Markus arrived, but he didn’t expect to wait long, so he settled down and endured the tenseness in his stomach born of excitement. He knew his best memory of his visit to his sister’s new home would be these last five days spent in this very spot watching, quietly laughing, enjoying these wonderful young bears and their mother, but he didn’t know it would also be his worst.

  After an agonising wait of what seemed like hours but was closer to thirty minutes, the fully grown brown bear and her pair of cubs came out into the sunshine. Running and chasing each other across their small play ground in that ungainly, unsteady manner of new born animals, they gave the impression they weren't, yet, in complete control of all their limbs. Of course that was the biggest attraction for Markus, he loved those little cubs, and had to exert a measure of self-control his father would have been proud of to stop himself laughing out loud. While the cubs played the parent bear was responsibly hunting out anything she could eat to get her weight back up after her hibernation and birthing. She would turn rocks and hunt out grubs and insects, check all the new growth for edible shoots, and she would even check the small stream for food. Soon she would be forced to venture out of the hollow into the forest and take her cubs with her, abruptly ending Markus’ fun. On his other visits here Markus had had a good hour of watching the cubs before their mother rounded them up and took them up the small grassy bank to his left and out into the forest. Today he was sure it had only been about ten minutes since the family had left their home of rock when the unbelievable happened - death entered the home of spring, where it surely did not belong.

  At first it was the noise made by thunder in a heavy storm, lasting just a second then fading away, but it seemed to come from within the little hollow, not the heights of a cloud filled sky. Markus didn’t understand the noise and the bear family certainly didn’t. As he watched, the parent bear ran to her cubs in an effort to protect them from all comers, but looking around the hollow he could see nothing there, it was the same bright, beautiful spot in the forest it was a few moments ago, yet strangely different. Suddenly there was an atmosphere here that hadn’t been here before, that didn’t belong, an expectation of something about to happen. Markus felt it tightening his stomach, raising the hair on the back of his neck, as it had on the big brown bear. He watched the area in front of him, aware the three bears to his right had backed up almost against the rock. The parent paced in a tight figure-of-eight in front of her cubs, sporadically releasing vicious growls at no one in particular. Something started to appear before him. He was scared now, excitement almost all used up and fear invading, but curiosity kept him pinned to his hiding place, he had to see what played out before him.

  As he watched, what appeared to be a black disc started to form in the air in the middle of the hollow. It started very small, as small as a child’s clenched fist, but grew rapidly until it was as tall as a fully-grown man but still perfectly round. It hung, this strange phenomena, a full pace above the stream, it just hung there and did nothing for minutes. From Markus’ view point he could see in front of it and behind it, there was nothing either side, all he could see was a slither of black, the full flat side of blackness faced directly at the bear and her cubs. She had stopped her pacing and now stared at the disc, examining it from what she must have considered a safe distance. The huge bear stood to her full height with only her back paws on the ground, rising to five paces off the ground she would overshadow the tallest man Markus had ever met. She stared at the alien black disc, watching it with her eyes, listening to it with twitching ears and trying to smell it with flared nostrils, all in an effort to judge its purpose and intent.

  The parent bear finally fell to all fours, her fear depleting at the lack of action from the stationary disc. She started towards the disc, slowly, one leg at a time, head swaying forward and back, her nose leading, tasting the air through wide nostrils. She stopped her slow progress after only a few paces and rose again to stand on her back legs, releasing a challenging roar that set the atmosphere of the forest on a knife-edge. Markus physically jumped off the ground as the bear’s roar echoed out of the hollow, not dissimilar to the thunder like noise of only a few minutes ago. Markus could not see what had caused such a reaction from the bear but he did not need to wonder long. Looking back into the hollow after the echoes had faded, he saw a man appear to jump out of the black disc and land in the stream. How this could be Markus did not understand, for could he not see both in front of and behind this strange object? Where had this man come from? He was a stranger for sure, Markus could tell that just from his clothes. He had never seen anybody in all his short life wear such garb as this man before him. The cut of the clothing seemed simple enough, very similar to what his own father wore at times; a buttoned thigh length tunic with long sleeves covered by a full length cloak, fastened around the neck and to the shoulders of the tunic. On his legs a pair of loose trousers tucked into the tops of his boots and around his waist a wide leather belt with a sheathed sword. What was so very original was the shade of the stranger's outfit, he wore everything in a brilliant white, even his boots and belt, so very white that even the snow seemed to pale after looking down at the man standing in the hollow.

  He didn’t have long to gather his young thoughts on this subject, for as soon as this stranger struck the stream bed the bear charged him in a fearful display of raw power and anger, anger driven by fear. This new comer appeared to take this as a customary welcome. As if without a care in the world he fluently drew a bright, vicious looking curved sword from its waist belted scabbard and faced down the enormous angry bear as she closed down the paces between them in seconds.

  Markus turned his face away and covered his ears with his hands. He couldn’t watch the outcome, wherever this man had come from and whatever he was here to do surely no one would ever know, destined for a terribly painful death as he obviously was. Markus would be the only witness. Although he could look away Markus couldn’t shut out all of the noise from his ears and what he heard was a pure animal scream of pain. A very human, morbid curiosity took over; he had to look to see what had transpired below him. Returning his gaze to the scene all he could see was a blur, his eyes full of tears he hadn’t noticed crying. Markus quickly rubbed away the unwanted tears- his father wouldn’t be impressed to see he had been crying- and tried to take in what had happened. The small stream no longer shone in the sun; it now split the hollow like a great bloody wound had been inflicted upon the earth, running red with blood, blood from a huge sword thrust to the parent bear's throat. She lay dead precisely where the man had stood in front of the disc, her severed throat and head in the stream, her blood running freely into the small water way. The stranger stood to one side, his sword now not so bright, nor his white garb so brilliant, both splattered generously with dashes of red blood. Markus couldn't believe his eyes, how could this simple man still be alive, yet alone standing as the victor of such a meeting?

  Markus was unsure how to feel, he had been brought up to know human life is worth more than any animals', but he had felt affection for this wild bear and none whatsoever for this stranger. A man had just invaded his otherwise happy morning to deal death to an innocent parent protecting her cubs. Who was this man anyway? Where had he come from? As Markus thought these things he studied his intruder pacing near the dead bear. The man was fairly tall, probably a bit taller than his father, he was not heavily built but neither was he skinny. His hair was in contrast to his garb in a very dark black, cut quite close to his head. It was then Markus noticed the stranger’s skin, maybe the white clothes had previously distracted from it, but upon closer inspection it was clear his skin was very pale. As pale as death, was the thought that struck Markus.

  His pacing seemed to hint towards some sort of indecision but Markus couldn’t possibly guess at this mans thoughts. The man came to a stop facing his black disc, he stared at for a while as if he had made his decision and the disc began to shrink. It shrunk right down to its original fist size and then disappeared with a gentle pop that struggled to carry itself as far as Markus’ ears. This stranger had decided to stay, despite his initial less than friendly welcome.

  As the man paced one of the cubs had made its way slowly to where its mother lay. As the man started to leave he couldn’t help but notice it nudging its dead parent and as he still had his sword in his hand he didn’t appear to think twice about dispatching the cub to join its mother. Before Markus knew what had happened the man had swung his sword with such force as to almost cut it in two.  Markus felt physically ill at this point, never having witnessed such casual, unnecessary, destruction of life. Nor had he seen so much blood, he was still young and very naive of life. The man may well have needed to defend himself from the parent but surely the cub was not a threat. Its death was a pointless waste, a vent of some emotion hidden in the thrust of a sword. Again Markus was required to wipe tears from his eyes, but as much as he wiped, his cheeks would not dry, for his tears would not stop.

  The white man then held the blade up to his face looking at the warm red blood running down it, bringing the blade to his mouth he touched the fresh blood to his tongue as if tasting it. Markus involuntarily scrunched up his face as is natural for a seven year old at something revolting. The man’s reaction was immediate, and likened Markus to when he had mistakenly taken a bite from a new yellow fruit brought from the far south called a lemon. The man’s own face soured and he tried to spit the flavour away. He then proceeded to wipe his bloodied blade on the dead mother's fur before sheathing it and exiting the hollow at a brisk but very graceful walk to vanish into the forest.

  Markus quickly got a grip on himself. He was looking in to the hollow at the second cub, realising now with no mother it was doomed to death as much as the first cub killed by the white man. As he was thinking he would have to go down and try to catch it and take it to someone who could feed it another roll of thunder emanated from this normally peaceful forest hollow.

  For the second time that day Markus watched as a small black disc appeared in the centre of the hollow and expanded to the height of a man. This time he knew what to expect, so he watched expectantly for someone to appear. Who would enter his little hollow this time, another man dressed in brilliant white come to slay innocent bear cubs? As he watched, the expected arrival jumped to the floor of the hollow, hitting dry land and just missing the dead bear. The similarities between this man and the cub murderer ended right after you described them both as men. Markus couldn’t believe his eyes and his shock drew a gasp from his lips, unwittingly drawing the attention of the new visitor.

  The new stranger stared exactly at his hiding place. That was all Markus’ nerves could take for one morning, panic struck him a blow he couldn’t control. He was up and running before he realised he’d made a noise in the first place. He ran until he could run no further, he ran until he was at the castle wall. Once there he stopped to catch his breath and compose himself. He couldn’t face questions about his tired and shocked condition, he didn’t have a story ready to explain it and he certainly couldn’t tell the truth. Who would believe him?