A Hard Fought Promise

Abrie was already up when Malik rolled out of his bedroll. He made a quick glance to the sky, seeing it was not mid-morning. Mollie sat alone by the last remnants of the fire. Malik sat up, stretching the sleep from his sore muscles. 

“How are you feeling?” Malik asked Mollie. 

She looked at him, just seeing he had woken. She shrugged lazily. “Guess I feel fine. Just ready to get going.” 

Malik looked over his shoulder at Abrie. Abrie rubbed down Sally and spoke with her like most mornings. Malik was never privy to their conversations. Malik slid over nearer to Mollie. 

“Breakfast?” he asked. 

Mollie replied with another shrug. “I don’t have a pack anymore.” She looked to Malik, who looked back over at Callie. 

“I don’t believe we have anything good. We should have been at the Green Markets yesterday afternoon. Something held us up,” he laughed. 

Mollie must have missed the humor of his joke. “I will live without breakfast.” 

Malik noted she was more stoic in the morning light. Her eyes lacked the emotion he had seen the night before. They were dry and distant now. 

“I believe we at least have some bread and maybe some jam?” 

Mollie nodded. “That will be fine.” 

Malik stood and walked over to the mules. Abrie had already rubbed down Callie. Malik could see the brush lines along her fur coat. He reached under her and grabbed the food pack. 

“We ate the last of our stores yesterday,” Abrie said, breaking away from Sally. “No use digging for items you won’t find.” Abrie handed Malik the water canteen. “Fill your belly with water, give her some as well. It will be the best we can do until we get to the Green Markets. There we can restock and continue on.” 

“Continue on?” Malik was confused. “Don’t you plan to stay at the Market for the night?” 

Abrie shook his head. “We will head west starting today.” 

Malik looked to Mollie. She had told him the night before that the Tempre were heading east. Now Abrie turned them toward the west. It was no coincidence. 

“You heard Mollie last night, didn’t you?” 

Abrie already turned away from him and walked back toward the tent. “I will break things down. You pack up Callie, and then we will head out. If we can make the Green Markets by late afternoon, we can make another few miles back west before sunset.” Abrie walked as he talked, trying to separate himself from Malik and his questions. 

Malik jogged up to him and stepped in front of him, barring his path forward. Abrie let out a deep breath. “Believe me, this is the best route for us, Malik.” Abrie looked downtrodden. Malik was not used to seeing any emotion pass over Abrie’s calm face. It threw him off guard. He almost sidestepped and let Abrie through toward the tents. Then he remembered talking with Mollie about the Tempre Warriors. He remembered they were so close and even though he knew the night before that he would fail, sleep had rejuvenated his passion. He would rather die trying than run toward the west like a coward. 

Abrie tried to step around Malik again. Malik stood firmly. He had stood aside enough. He had let Abrie dissuade him too many times. 

“Just tell me how you knew to shoot a bow? You have never shot a bow or even talked about one before yesterday.” 

Abrie closed his eyes and turned around. Malik knew that if Abrie wanted to avoid a conversation, he would find any way in his power to do so. “Just this once, talk to me!” Malik pleaded. 

Abrie continued to walk away, not showing any signs of breaking his will. 

“Not even my people shoot that well,” Mollie said. 

This made Abrie stop. He still did not turn around to face them, but he stopped moving away. 

“We train from the time we can hold a bow steady. I knew how to shoot before I was seven. I was a perfect shot by the time I was eleven. I have seen no one shoot as fast and accurate as you. Not to mention the target,” Mollie continued. 

Malik watched Abrie’s shoulders tense. Malik wondered what got under his skin. The infallible man lost his mask. 

“Where did you learn to shoot?” Malik asked again. 

Abrie turned his head. “Will the story make you both stop asking?” 

Malik tried to not shake his head from his shoulders. He had never been so excited in his life. Abrie would give him something other than the useless motivational quotes. 

“I would find it interesting,” Mollie replied. 

Malik was glad someone had answered. He was too busy trying not to pee himself with glee. 

“Then I will tell you a brief story. Afterward, we will pack our things and make double-time to the Green Markets,” Abrie said. 

Mollie and Malik both agreed to the terms. Malik almost ran back to his seat next to the dying fire. Abrie took his time joining them. When he did, he stared at the fire for so long Malik was sure he had changed his mind. 

Malik almost opened his mouth to urge Abrie, but he seemed to come to terms with everything. 

“I learned to shoot when I was young, very young.” Abrie looked up. “I was a great shot by the time I was seven and a perfect shot before I was nine.” He looked to Mollie. 

Mollie seemed impressed. Malik wanted to know more. 

“My village was not a combat village like yours, Mollie. My village learned to shoot for other reasons. Reason’s that were sadly not our own choosing. We learned out of necessity and we learned to hate the bow.” Abrie shifted focus to his feet. Malik tried to look at his face by cocking his own, but Abrie angled just right to block him. “No one bothered us on the outskirts of the small kingdom I grew up in. Most people had probably forgotten we existed, honestly. We traded rarely and never left the comforts of our homeland. That was just the way of our people. However, it would be false to assume no one knew we existed. There was a certain species of creature who never left us alone. A creature who pursued us until we were fewer than three hundred in our village. That was when we picked up the bow. Long before I was born, in the time of my great-great-great-grandfather. The bow was taught from birth and you learned it, or you died.” 

Callie brayed and Malik shushed her. Abrie would look for any reason to stop telling his story. Abrie pretended not to notice, deciding against his usual witty banter about the mule and Malik. 

“The creatures were much like what we saw yesterday afternoon. They were large, mean, and ugly. Most of all, they were deadly. We hunted them daily during my youth. Not for meat or pleasure, but for survival. If they lived, then we died. They would raid a home, or a farm; it mattered little to them. They were carnal and cared little for man-made barriers. They were much too strong to fight in sword combat. At least for most men and women. The bow was something that everyone could use. Even the elderly could stand on the high ground and pepper the creatures with arrows. That is how I learned to stay calm shooting at the unknown. We never knew where the creatures came from or where they went when they disappeared. That never really mattered. They were there, and they were always plentiful, and that was always the real concern.” 

Abrie stood and dusted off the front of his pants. 

“I guess that about sums up everything. I left my village at fifteen with my mother. I became a bard after. I had not shot my bow for an awfully long time, but it never leaves you.” Abrie walked back toward the mules. “Pick up the rest of the camp and let us be on our way then.”

Malik stood. “Why did your mother want to leave the village?” Malik asked before considering the question. He was too enthralled to think just last night he had asked Mollie a similar question about her parents. He had not liked the answer then, and from Abrie’s face, he knew he would dislike the answer this time as well. 

“My mother joined a band of misfits. Actually, she fell in love with one member of the band. I do not recall his name now⎯it was never that important to me. We left my father. I should have been upset when we left, but I do not believe I was. I felt nothing about leaving that village except relief. I felt the relief that I would not have to fight for my life every single day.” 

Malik tried to process the story. Abrie had been born in a mysterious village off the beaten path of some unknown kingdom. When he was young, he learned the bow to fight an unknown enemy. Then his mother left with an unknown man, in an unknown band, and then he learned the lyre and became a bard. Malik felt there were still a lot of unknowns in Abrie’s story. 

“Why are the creatures here? Is your village close?” asked Mollie. 

Malik busied wondering about Abrie’s story, but Mollie thought about the present. The creatures were not on the outskirts of an unknown kingdom. Malik knew where they were and what kingdom they traveled through. Luberg was the largest kingdom in the southern region. Surrounded by many smaller kingdoms that swore fealty to King Bently Hardwalls. 

Abrie placed his hand on Sally’s snout. Malik saw his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. 

“No, we are not near my village. I do not know why the creatures are here. I do not even know if the creatures are the same. It was a long, long time ago. I could be mistaken on what they looked like. All I know is that if they come again, we don’t want to be sitting here.” 

That seemed to be enough for Mollie to stand. “Then we will head toward the Green Markets. There, I will find my band to fight the Tempre Warriors.” She grabbed her sword off the ground and slung it over her back.

Malik turned to Abrie, who stocked Callie with the packs from the ground. He wanted to know more. 

“Abrie can’t we do more to help her?” Malik pleaded.

He wondered for a moment if it was her, he wanted to help, or himself. He wanted nothing more than to get revenge for his family. He wanted to erase those screams from his memory. 

Abrie shook his head. “We will help her get to the Green Market. From there we will turn toward the west. We can play the taverns and inns until we reach the Kingdom of Opallum. There, we can at least be away from all of this.” 

Malik would have protested further, but Callie brayed, breaking his concentration just long enough for Abrie to start off down the road. Malik could have chased him and continued, but it was too late to get any more answers. Abrie had told what he planned to tell, and now he would say nothing more. 

Malik turned back to Mollie. She was on her feet, stomping out the remaining coals of fire. She would travel with them and then move on. She would find the Tempre at some point. She would die in doing so, but she was braver than him. 

“We better get going,” he called to her. 

She was already moving toward him. “I suppose we had better.”