Ablaze

He carried the old man to his bed. He was of an average height and light complexion. His icy blue eyes appeared saddened as he balanced his mentor on his young, strong shoulders. Slowly, the rolled Margrem off his shoulders and into bed. The old man’s thin shoulder-length grey hair lay contrasted intensely against his bronze skin, and his long face spoke of an origin in the east.
“An old man grows tired of thanking others for such menial tasks,” the old scarred face spoke and smiled.
“And a young man expects no thanks for a service freely given,” the young man Ronem responded.
“Perhaps, wisdom has finally found its place inside your skull.”
Ronem smiled, “I find your confidence in me encouraging, Margrem. If you are finished showering praise, I must go to the trading square. We have little meat left.”
Margrem lay still and said, “I have little appetite for meat anymore, and you rarely travel to the city. Is that the only reason for your departure?”
Ronem looked in a corner of the small, wooden shack, scraped some thatch off a potato sack, and picked the large tan bag up from the floor. “No, it is not, and you may have a greater appetite tomorrow.”
“I always have a greater appetite when I watch you train with the stick. My mind and stomach remember the days when I trained much and ate much. Though they do not understand why you find it so difficult to strike a practice post.”
Ronem turned and opened his mouth to retort when he saw the old man’s face with eyes closed and mouth smiling. No, let him rest with a good humor. He left Margrem’s room and moved toward the door. He nearly walked out before remembering to pick up his wooden staff.
As he walked outside, he saw the sun beginning to set over a dark horizon. Ronem stared for a moment as the bright lights in the sky were slowly overcome by black; he shook his head in rejection and walked down the dirt road toward the eastern gate of Sannox.


After a short trek down the wooded dirt path, Ronem approached the great logged fort of the west. The fort was encircled by a wall of logs standing ten feet tall. Except for the dirt road on which Ronem walked, the wall was surrounded by a trench. The wooden gate in front of him stood open to welcome travelers and merchants. A wooden battlement stood atop the frame of the gate with three guards armored in leather and chain.
As Ronem passed through the gate, he was stopped by a guard’s spear across his chest. . He asked, “Why do you desire to enter Sannox?” The man spoke with an air of authority though his appearance was comical. His youth betrayed this ; as Ronem looked in his face, he saw the guard as a boy who had not even seen twenty years. The guard’s leather helmet was entirely too large for him, and his shirt of mail fell well below his waist.
Ronem looked forward, “I come to trade.”
“And how do I know this to be truth?” the guard responded taking a step closer. “How do I know that you are not a spy for Hadrin, Brin, or one of the other city-forts?”
“Ask your captai-”
“Do not tell me what I ought to do!”
Ronem felt warmth flood into his face and chest, and his hands no longer remained limp but turned inward. He turned to face the young guard who continued to stare in the most intimidating manner he could conjure.
Another voice spoke, “Let ‘im pass, boy. ‘Is name is Ronem, and ‘e lives down the dirt road.” The voice belonged to the captain of the guard..
The young man did not move his spear. Ronem turned from the boy and faced down the road. He moved forward, and the young guard’s spear slid across his chest.
The young guard spoke in words just loud enough to hear, “Stupid peasant.”
Ronem stopped involuntarily. His mouth became tight, and his teeth ground against each other.. Then he summoned his will and took a deep breath. No. Remember Margrem’s words, “The measure of man is found in his ability to reward hatred with kindness.” Ronem shook his head. No. He deserves no kind reward, but I will walk away.
Wooden walls and thatched roofs surrounded Ronem as he walked. Beggars covered in grime lay on the side of the street. One approached him, and Ronem tossed him a silver coin and hurried onward before other beggars swarmed around him. An ironworker beat a sword into shape with strong, bronzed hands and arms as children stared from across the street. Women stood in front of a brothel beckoning customers to enter. Ronem focused on his goal and kept walking forward. Three little boys charged out from an alley and pointed their short, wooden swords at him.
The leader of the bandits stood in front of Ronem and spoke. “Hanth us your gold!”, he shouted with a dramatic flair and a lisp.
Ronem held back a smile as he held up his hands, “Would you deprive a peasant of what little gold he possesses?”
The fierce bandit leader fidgeted and looked inquisitively at his two cohorts. He looked back up at Ronem. He sheathed his sword in his thin leather belt and responded, “I will spare your golth, but you musth bring uth a reward.”\
“And what reward befits a fierce bandit chieftain?”
The boy’s brow became knotted, and he turned to hold conference with his advisers. Afterward, the bandit chieftain turned and spoke, “The reward we desire is canthy.”
Ronem’s smile found its way to the surface as he replied, “Your request shall be granted.”
The horde of bandits shouted a victorious war cry and charged down the street searching for more helpless pilgrims. This occurrence brought memories to Ronem’s mind, memories of a boy living on the streets, a boy who stole to live. He remembered how Margrem had found him fleeing from the guards and took him in. The old man had shown mercy by confronting the guards. The guards insisted on the boy’s guilt and searched him; a handful of gold coins were found in his belt pouch. To the guards’ amazement, Margrem insisted that the boy be set free into Margrem’s apprenticeship. Afterward, Margrem took the lad to restore the lost gold to those from whom he had stolen. After finishing this restorative task and returning to Margrem’s shack without a word, Margrem sat the boy down and spoke these words, “If you leave, I cannot protect you from the rightful authorities. They have every right to imprison you, but if you stay here, I can offer you a new path to tread. And I will teach you everything I know.” So, it had begun. And now, Ronem was providing for the old man who had provided for him time and time again. His mind came back to the present, to his task. And Ronem continued to walk toward the trading square.

Ronem entered the plaza. The square appeared to be a human stampede. Mobile carts on wooden wheels stood all around while tradesmen attempted to sell their goods from the back of these carts. A few tradesmen began to close their carts and walk home before the horizon eclipsed the sun. People stood all around listening to these merchants. The road encircled the horde of trading carts and humans. Guards patrolled around the road and occasionally checked the carts ensuring that nobody committed thievery (and often collected a small price for their efforts). Across the square lay the Lord’s Hold. The Hold was an impressive fortification: it was not composed of wood as the outers walls of Sannox were, but it was composed of stone. Great banners of blue and white fluttered in the wind, and fully chainmail-clad guards stood watch from the hold’s battlements and gates.
However, one scene grasped Ronem’s attention even more. In the center of the square, a man stood upon a cart delivering a speech of sorts. He spoke of the goodness of every man, of the injustice of the society in which they lived, and of justice to be provided by the Surlords. Ronem smirked. A politician.
The politician was arrayed in brown leather. By appearance, the man is no better dressed than a peasant, but his words are no words of a simpleton. As Ronem studied him more thoroughly, an object caught Ronem’s eye. Though the man’s entire appearance seemed to indicate the status of a peasant, he wore a silver necklace with an ornament on the end. It appeared to be an image of an upraised fist. Many of the peasants and a few of the tradesmen listened to the man with baited breath. Not only were his words inspiring, but his fiery red hair added to the captivating speech. Ronem smiled as he saw guards move toward the red-headed man.
The guards are finally attempting an arrest before the carrot begins a rebellion. Certainly enough, the guards caught the man and bound his wrists with a short rope. A few cries of anger arose from the crowd, but the guards had no resistance. The theymarched the man into the hold.
No doubt, Lord Draejan will hear of his treason. Ronem meandered through the crowd to the necessary trading carts, bartered for the necessary goods, and left. As he walked away, he breathed a sigh of relief. Too many people. Too many memories. Too much noise.

Ronem returned to the place where the legion of bandits had held him hostage without pity or mercy. He waited with a bag of candy in his hand, but the boys were nowhere to be seen. He frowned and chose to wait another minute.
Nobody walked the street. The great hill-fort of Sannox was enveloped by darkness. Noises of the night floated through the air. Then Ronem heard another noise moving quickly toward him . Footsteps. Being followed by more footsteps. Heavier footsteps. Ronem held his ground in the center of the road and dropped his bag of recently purchased goods. His staff found its way into a diagonal combat hold. Maybe, it’s not what-- A man burst from the alley. He held a dagger in his hand. His eyes met Ronem’s, and he slid to a halt a few feet before Ronem. The man’s eyes fell to the jeweled necklace he held in his left hand.
A shout rang out from behind the thief, “Stop! In the name of Lord Draejun, I command you!”
The man began turned to his left to run. Ronem stepped in front of him.
“You must return what you have stolen.” The thief stared at him in shock. As the man hesitated, Ronem studied him more closely. A boy. Not older than sixteen years. Probably an orphan.
Ronem’s concentration was broken by a glance of desperation in the boy’s eyes which Ronem was trained to understand. Yes, you will fight.
The boy lunged at Ronem with his dagger. With a simple step backward, Ronem evaded the dagger and brought his staff around in a right sided strike. The staff impacted the boy solidly in the neck and sprawled him across the ground. Stunned, the boy rolled off his stomach and onto his back. After a failed attempt to rise, he found his feet. The boy grimaced. Both the dagger and the necklace lay at Ronem’s feet: all the thief’s efforts were brought to nothing. And the shouts grew ever closer. The boy stood paralized by surprise and fear. Then Ronem spoke.
“Run. And quit this life. If you desire work, come to the small shack near the clear stream in front of the eastern gate of the city.” Guardsmen rounded the corner of the alley. The close danger brought the boy back to his senses, and he ran. And the guards chased. Ronem turned away and retrieved his bag of goods; then a voice spoke to him.
“Why did you allow the boy to pass?”
Ronem turned; as he did, his eyes widened in surprise.. The man who stood before him was gigantic. He stood nearly six and a half feet tall with a thick, ripped body. Long, blonde hair ran down his neck, and a grungy beard ran down his chin to his midriff in a braid. The man wore plate gauntlets and a shirt of chainmail. In his hands, he held a battleaxe with a length of five feet. The man raised the volume of his voice and spoke again. “Why did you allow the boy to pass?” Ronem’s surprise left him as the words were spoken. He took a breath and calmed himself.
“By what right do you interrogate me?”
“By my own right. If you do not consider this valid, then I interrogate you by the laws of Sannox and Lord Draejun.”
Ronem began to retort quickly and stopped himself. Remember Margrem’s words: “Do not allow your words to be spoken in haste.” Be diplomatic.
“The necklace lies here. Your mission is to retrieve the necklace, is it not?”
“The large man smiled. Yes, it is. I also punish those who disrespect Lord Draejun and his laws.”
“Then I ask you to forgive me.”
The gigantic man laughed, and the bombastic noise rang throughout the street.
“Forgiveness? Perhaps, allowing you to go free is enough. Someone must pay for that boy’s crimes.”
“Since you know the law so well, perhaps, you ought to pay in the place of the boy.” The man’s face grew tight. He stepped forward and looked down into Ronem’s grey-blue eyes..
“You should leave before my forgiveness fails.” As he spoke the words, he shoved Ronem. Though the large man’s strength threw Ronem backward and off balance, he recovered himself.
Ronem’s right hand gripped the staff more tightly. His heart raced, and he began to
sweat. No, this is not the time. Leave your pride. Ronem nodded in obedience to the man and
walked away.
As he left, the large man yelled, “If we meet again under similar circumstances, boy, I will not be so merciful.” Ronem tried to hold it back, but it returned as it always did. He smiled. And neither will I be.

Ronem walked away from the city-fort. By this time, the night had fully enclosed the sky, and noises of the darkness rang loudly. Wolves sang their mournful songs in the distance. Crickets spoke without end. And the patter of a running deer woke Ronem from his reverie. His mind had been lost for a time as he walked through the grassland to the west of Sannox. I am home. After this thought, he stopped and cringed. He looked around him at the trees, shrubs and stream. Why is this home? Why is a wilderness home? He stared at the ground in thought. He frowned, gritted his teeth, and continued walking. Let it go; I must not be late for this meeting.
The grassland gave way to a small patch of woods which swayed and danced in the wind. A stream trickled through the midst of the woods. And Ronem followed because the stream led to his destination: to the end of the wood and to Liara.

Other than Margrem, Liara was the only friend he had. He had met her as a child, and he remembered. A small, gold coin dropped by a hand smaller than his own. That had been his first time he met her, the first time he knew kindness. A merchant had pointed out Ronem, the beggar-boy, in scorn; instead of hating or despising, she gave him a gold coin, smiled, and left. Ronem did not forget. He had seen kindness-not only kindness, but a goodness-in her. And he remembered.
And so he was bringing supplies to her and her family. Yes, this is the real reason why I left. He smiled. Margrem knew; he always knew. Then his mind returned to Liara and her family.
They were a respected family who owned a small amount of farming land. Ronem ran all of the errands for the family after Liara’s father Japhan had been crippled. Ronem knew nothing of her mother.
As he emerged out of the woods, he saw a light in the distance and a wooden house covered with thatch and hay. All thoughts gave way as he approached the house. He wanted to see Liara; for the moment, he wanted that alone.
He nearly reached the front door before he noticed the unusual. A horse was tethered to a post outside the house. It was not Liara’s white mare, and the family had no other horses. They must have a visitor. His brow knotted as he knocked on the door. A few seconds passed before the door opened and gave way to light. Liara stood in the doorway. Her long auburn hair flowed down her shoulders, and her green eyes glowed through the darkness. She recognized him, and her mouth smiled. Ronem smiled back; then he saw her eyes. Her eyes did not smile; they showed fear. She spoke unsteadily.
“Thank you for buying our goods,” Liara spoke and hastily handed him payment.
Ronem handed her the bread and meat her and her father needed and frowned. “Do you remember what I did when you last gave me payment?”
Liara nodded, “Yes, I do; please do the same.”
Ronem nodded his head in understanding and conjured a smile..

He crouched silently outside the door. He could hear talking and a voice he didn’t recognize.
“Bring me more food. Old man, what happened to your legs?”
Ronem could hear Liara’s father respond, “A horse cart.”
“Ah...fortune is often cruel. This is good meat. Did your daughter cook it? If so, I may have an offer for you.”
The old man’s silence spoke loudly; the refusal was apparent.
“I will give you fifty gold coins for your daughter.”
Ronem heard footsteps moving toward Liara’s father. He pictured Liara moving behind him.. Even though he had lost his legs, Ronem knew the old man never lost his courage.
“Leave us now.”
“No, old man; I will not. I offered you money; I offer it once more.”
Japhan began to speak again, but he was cut off. Liara screamed, and Ronem burst through the door. He held his staff like a spear pointed toward his enemy.
The man had pinned Liara to the wall. Japhan lay on the floor unconscious. Then he recognized the man-no, not the man. He recognized the silver, chain necklace hanging from his neck. The fist at the end spoke words; it was a show of force, a desire to take anything and everything. The man turned, throwing Liara into Ronem. He caught her and received a stunning blow to the face as the man sprinted out the door.
Ronem laid a stunned Liara on the floor and pursued. The man leaped onto his horse and wheeled the stallion around to flee. It had taken a few quick steps when Ronem threw his staff end over end. It somersaulted through the air and struck the beast in the flank. The horse kicked, threw the man to the side, and ran. The man stood and stumbled toward the woods through which Ronem had passed. Ronem’s face turned to cold stone as he retrieved his staff and pursued the man into the woods.

He had lost him. The man’s footsteps could no longer be heard, and Ronem knew that they were both playing a dangerous game. They were both hunters, and they were both hunted. Ronem played the game as best as he knew. He waited. Waited for movement. Waited for the man’s shadow. Waited for anything and everything. His own form was hidden between two thick patches of foliage.
A twig snapped behind him. His skin grew cold, and his heartbeat sped up. He found me...no, no. If he knew that I am here, he would have been upon me when the twig snapped. Ronem heard the barely audible steps the man was making. He too has played this game before. Then the man’s form entered Ronem’s peripheral. He moved in a half crouched position using trees to conceal himself.
A thought puzzled Ronem. He hunts me, but he has no weapon. Ronem searched his mind. Perhaps, it is concealed. No. I saw no sword at his side nor bow on his back. If he has any weapon, it must only be a dagger. Ronem could barely discern the rotation of the man’s upper body. The man seemed to look directly at Ronem and continued moving his head. He stopped and continued. Ronem stealthily stood and followed the man moving when he moved. Once, the man turned; as he did, Ronem took a silent, quickstep to his left and placed himself in front of a tree.
Ronem closed the distance. Two more steps, and he was prepared to strike. One, two-- Ronem roared and leaped at the man. The effect of the war cry was successful. The man yelled and turned as Ronem brought his staff across the man’s left shoulder. The man groaned, and Ronem withdrew his staff to strike him again across the face. Finally, he pull the staff inward and thrust in out landing a solid stab to the man’s sternum.
The man groaned and fell into the ground. He continued to moan in pain as Ronem spoke.
“Never come here again. If you do, your punishment will be not be so slight.”
Then something strange occurred. Some moonlight burst through the woods and revealed a smile on the man’s face as Ronem pushed himself to a knee.
“Boy, you meddle with what you do not understand.”
The man raised his right hand as if to surrender. Then the impossible happened. An orange flame issued forth from the man’s hand lighting up the darkness and striking Ronem in the chest. Ronem flew backward at the force of the conjured flame. He was stunned by the intense heat, and his singed clothing burned against his skin. He regained his composure and saw that he was not on fire.. Not on fire. How? How did he-no! Stand! Fight him.
As Ronem began to stand, the man’s boot struck him in the chest and pinned him to the ground. The man held his hand toward Ronem’s face just as he had done seconds before.
“After I have finished you, I am returning to her house.”
Ronem saw the man’s sickening smile. The man’s hand began to glow. The temperature rose. A shadow flew into the man, and he disappeared. Ronem heard screams ending in a dark, guttural, growl.
He lay dumbstruck without composure or courage. His sweat from the heat soaked his clothes; the sweat from his fear soaked the ground. He had seen death, yet ye lived. The shadow-what had it been? An animal? Yes, it had been an animal, but why did it attack? Perhaps, it had been a cougar defending its young.
Ronem felt his staff beside his right hand. He grasped it while sweat dripped from his hand. And he rose on unsteady legs.

Ronem walked back to Liara’s cabin. His confident stride had disappeared. Instead of carrying his staff, he dragged it across the ground. His eyes studied the ground in front of him, and his ears heard everything that was around him. They had to know; he had to know if it was coming for him. A cold sweat ran from his pores. Fear had nestled itself into his heart.
He had found the man; no, he had found some of the man. Blood had been splattered across the ground. As Ronem had fled out of the woods, he saw more blood and more of the man. Finally, after reaching open ground, he had tripped. Laying on the ground, he realized the truth. If it had wanted me, I would be as he was. He took a small amount of comfort in that thought.
And he walked. He heard words in the distance, but he did not understand because his mind was clouded by nightmares he knew to be real.
Liara threw her arms around Ronem, and then stepped back.
“Are you ok?”
Ronem’s mind came back to the land of the living.
“Yes.”
“Yes? Is that your blood?”
“No.”
His eyes met hers.
“Is it his blood?”
“I think it is.”
Her eyes grew large, and she took a step backward. Her next question was uttered in a whisper.
“You killed him?”
“No.”
“Then...then...what happened?”
“I think an animal killed him.”
“An animal? I do not understand.”
“Do not worry. He will not return…” His words trailed off into thoughts. What if it came for her? “Please go inside and bar the door.”
“Do you want to come inside and rest?”
“No, I need to return to Margrem. Stay inside and bar the door.”
Her eyes questioned him. She doesn’t need to know of the animal; she does not need such fears.
“Perhaps...other robbers may be outside.”
Liara nodded and ran inside.

Ronem walked home. He had regained some composure, and walked with a semblance of his normal stride. He had wanted to be with Liara and her father, but he left. Liara thought that I left for Margrem’s sake. No, that is not truth. I left because I was afraid that it will return. I am afraid.
Ronem found himself in his home. Margrem weakly sat up in his bed and addressed him.
“Why do you return so late?” Ronem responded quietly..
“I fought a man for the first time tonight.” Ronem felt Margrem’s penetrating eyes focus on him. “He had tried to take Liara, and I chased him into the woods. We fought and…” Ronem’s voice trailed off into nothing. Margrem continued to stare into him. “Margrem, have you ever seen something that is impossible?”
“I have not, but I have experienced the impossible. I have told you many times about how the Ancient One changed me.”
“Yes, you have. But I speak of something I saw. I saw something tonight that cannot happen.” Ronem told Margrem the tale of the night. How the man’s hand shot fire. How it had instantly changed the temperature surrounding them into an inferno. How the shadow had taken the man’s life and strewn his body throughout the woods. “For the first time, Margrem, I do not know anything. I do not understand. I have control over nothing.”
Margrem’s tone became strong and compassionate. “Boy, do you remember when you surrendered to the Ancient One?”
“Yes.”
“He has a plan; if you trust Him, he will guide you through whatever faces you. And if you walk in his tenants, you will have nothing of this earth to fear.”
“It might have done to me what it did to the man.”
“I have recited the holy text to you many times. ‘You must not fear earthly destruction, the destruction of the body.’”
“What I saw tonight can not be of this earth.”
“Then, you must trust Him all the more.”