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The Vengeance of a Death
Author's note: I decided to write this for a class that I was taking.
A woman felt the earth moving under her feet. She smelt their stench. The stench of unwashed bodies, of eating raw meat, and of other disgusting habbits. A small amount of fear ran through her, but
it then turned to anger. Blowing on her hands, she wished that she could stand and streach her tired muscles.
Marwin sat in a forest. She was in leaves up to her neck. A chill breeze made them rustle around her.
Even after the breeze had passed, she still heard them rustling. She looked around wildly, then to her relief, her dear friend and fellow knight steped from behind a tree.
Johnathan was tall, with white hair, a crooked nose, and whiteish grey eyes. His skin was ashen, and his face protrayed a look of utter fear. As he walked, Marwin saw that he was injured.
"John!" she exclaimed. "What has happened?"
"Hush M'Lady. They might hear." He said in a pain laced voice.
"Who will hear? The Dryads, or the Niads, or the Nymphs? Come and tell me what has happened."
"Th.. The ogers will hear."
"They attacked an hour before dawn. The camp had no warning. We, and the other watchmen are the only ones left. Though they have all fled." He was gasping for air. "I.." His voice cracked.
"I...Am...Sorry....." With that, he fell face down, and lay still.
Marwin cried out, sorrowing even in anger. "Estas minalay shivnlaka ta Johnathan!" A king's fire for Johnathan.
A fire sprung imidiatly from the ground around Johnathan's body, and consumed it, with the flames leaping towards the sky. She then wispered, "Shivnlaka ta shivnlaka. Dremnek ta dremnek.
Johnathan shamay avengmik!" Fire for fire. Blood for blood. Johnathan will be avenged.
Marwin rose, strode down the hill, in to the devestated camp as the tears fell freely down her face.
As soon as she passed the first tent, she was aware that she was being followed. She did not turn around, she did not stop, but most importantly, she did not quicken her pace. When she reached
the next tent, she quickly sliped in, and hide by the entrance. The foot steps stopped outside the tent, then a voice wispered,
"Shventi, shventi. Mi laknda." Fear not, fear not. I am a friend.
"How do I know that?" she asked. At the same time she moved from her position, fearing that she might reveal her location by speaking.
"Li shala. Bentay sigi?" My kindness. Can I enter?
"Yes," she said. "But as you do, keep your hands where I can see them."
"Haventi. Mi lavla neski fallaw." Agreed. I have a companion.
"Why did you not say that before?" she asked. "Your companion may enter as well. Though the same rule applies."
"Wallaow." Thank you. The owner of the voice entered, as did it's companion. The voice belonged to a tall, black haired fellow. His black eyes gazed down at her with a bit of apprehension, and
Marwin's eyes blazed with fear, and courage. She was determined to fight her way out if things
turned ugly. She was also ready to take on a couple of alies so she could hunt down the ogers who killed Jotham.
Marwin let her gaze travle down to his left leg. She let out a little scream.
"It...It's a mouse!" Like most girls, she still retained her fear of the small critters. This looked like anyother mouse, except for the fact that her was standing as high as that man's knee.
"I am not like any mouse you have ever seen," came a high, squeeky voice, that seemed to come from the mouse. "I am Swift Foot at your service."
"And I am Marwin at your's," she said, before realizing that she had just told them both her name.
He said, "My name is Donatar. I was travling with this mouse, when we ran across the path of these mountain
ogers. We decided to track them, and we followed them here. I was wondering when your camp was destroyed, so I might know how long it would take us to overcome them."
"We where attacked this morning, and I myself wish to follow them, and destroy them. They killed all of my men, but most importantly, they killed Johnathan. He was my friend and fellow knight. I will
find those ogers, and none will remain when I am done with them."
"Well Lady Marwin," said Donatar. "We should head out soon. Have you anything you wish to take with you? I will wait here while you go and fetch them."
"I will return within the minute." She turned and ran out the door, and through the camp to her tent, where she grabed her sword, bow and arrows, her wistle, and har daggar. She headed back to the
tent were Donatar and Swift Foot where waiting. When she reached it, they set out, determination clearly read on the faces of all.
"We will need to go at a fairly quick pace. I spent a lot of time trying to find which way the band of ogers went," said Donatar.
They set out at a quick trot, but after a few miles, Marwin had to slow down.
They went on, now and then taking a break. They reached a clift towards the end of the day, and stopped.
"Because these are mountain ogers," said Donatar. "They will probably want to sleep on the overhangs in this clift. We can attack tonight. Marwin and Swift Foot, you rest. I will take first
watch. I will wake you an hour after midnight."
As darkness fell, and Swift Foot and Marwin slept. Donatar crept to the edge of the precipice. He looked and saw what he feared the most. The ogers where not there, they had opted for
the woods, which while making their lives easier in one way, totally complicated it in another. Mountain ogers who sleep in the woods leave excedingly talented guards.
An hour after midnight, Donatar woke Swift Foot, but when he went to where Marwin had been, she was not there. Donatar was angry. Angry with the ogers, angry with himself. Why oh why could he not keep an eye on Marwin. Lighting a fire, and searched around Marwin's bed. What Swift Foot found was disturbing. He found her wistle, he also found all of her weapons. Donatar found that which he did not like. Many foot prints of ogers. Donatar flew into the woods beside the clift. Up a tree he went, and leaping from tree to tree, he was able to find the camp quickly. He could sense movement in the trees behind him, and he griped his daggars tighter. Swift Foot came through the trees in a blur. A blud that was snached up in a moment and placed under a bolder. Great, thought Donatar. How in the world will I get under that rock in a timely way? * * * * Marwin lay in complete darkness. She could see, hear, feel, and tast nothing. The only sense that worked, was smell. Smell worked well. She smelt many things. Decaying meat, sweaty bodies, stinking feet, and the pungent oder of ogers. Suddenly, light came streaming though a crack in the darkness. something small and hard hit her, and sqeaked. "Hello? Is anybody there?" she asked. "Marwin?" Questioned a small, squeeky voice. "I am so glad that I found you." She felt a fuzzy paw in her hand. "Swift Foot," she said. "Why are you here? This is not a place that you need to be in. I don't even know where here is. Am I in a dream? or am I dead, waiting for judgment on my deeds. Where am I?" "You, I am afraid, are in an oger prison. Not one of the best accomodations for a lady, but I hope you like it. When we found that you where not in your bed an hour after midnight, we got worried. I have your daggars, wistle, but I did not find your bow and arrows. I am sorry." "Wait, you say that you have my wistle? Where is it? Give it to me!" Swift Foot caught the excitement in her voice, and in his hurry, dropped it. "Opps, sorry," he said, at the same time picked it up, and gave it to her. "When I blow this, it will hurt your ears, but it might get us out of here. Do you mind?" "No, go ahead." Marwin blew, and the hole was filled with a sharp blast of sound. It made Swift Foot's ears hurt horribly. The sound went through the rock, through the night, through the sleeping villages, and into the Caves of the Dragons many miles away. Jachlin the Great Green Dragon heard it, and raised his head. He gave a long yawn, and streached. Slowly making his way to the cave's entrance, he yawned again and jumped into the air. Flying quickly, he made his way along shore lines, mountain clifts, and low valleys. Donatar heard a sound that he had never heard before, upon looking up, he saw a sight that made him shake with fear, and longing. A great shape hovered above the forest, in the direct path of the moon. It sung its head around, back and forth, as if it was looking for something. Then it dived, making straight for the huge rock. It lifted it off the ground, carrying it high, then let it slip down. It fell a mile or two, and landed, spraying dirt, gravel, and tree splinters everywhere. Two shapes arose from the hole, and Donatar was glad to see that it was Swift Foot and Marwin. The Great Green Dragon came overhead, and landed, blowing them over with the force of the wind. Marwin got up, walked over, and climbed onto his great back. A golden bow matiralized in her hand as she said, "Janthom malikna fa thamos." A quiver of arrows appeared on her back. The Dragon sprung into the air, leaving the two others to follow on foot. Donatar glimpsed bright lines moving quikly through the sky, and it took him a minute to realize that they where golden arrows, leaving the golden bow, flying, and killing Marwin's enimies. Four hours later, Marwin, Donatar, and Swift Foot, sat around a fire. They where eating a meal like they had never had before. A meal when you know all your foes are vanquished.