The sun crept over the horizon to the east of the village which Daha called home, and through the gaps in the shutters of his window. He blinked a couple of times to remove the sleep from his eyes, and sat up with a stretch. Though he was only just awaking, he could detect the sounds of movement in the rest of the village outside, voices, the creak of wooden wheels, the clang of metal. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and pulled on a slightly dirty once white cloth shirt that he had worn yesterday for work. He rolls his neck, feeling the satisfying crack as he did so, and pulled on his brown breeches, before going through into the main room of the three room house. Matia was already in the kitchen as she was every morning when he awoke, her bed in the room they shared was made and neat, and a cut loaf of bread already sat on the table, whilst his sister spooned a bowl of soup for him and placed it down.
"Thanks." Daha grunted, slumping into one of the two chairs. Their parents would already be gone, their father having left an hour or so before dawn, to make it to the river by time the sun started to creep over the edge of the world and their mother undoubtedly in the forest hunting for herbs and berries for her remedies. He took a clump of the cut loaf on the table before him, and dunked it into the bland soup, which had a few vegetables floating in it.
Sitting down opposite to him, Matia had her own bowl and took her own slice of the bread, dipping it into her soup with more graceful ceremony with her brother. "Did you sleep okay..?" She asks after a few moments of silence, disturbed only by the sounds of them eating.
"What do you mean? I think so..."
"You were whispering in your sleep again. You seemed upset and angry..." Tia frowns as she looks at him, furrowing her brows as she does so, "I got up to come wake you, and you stopped before I reached you, so I went back to bed."
Daha shrugs, and continues eating. "I don't really remember." He says after a few more mouthfuls, and Tia acepts his answer, returning to her own food. The large man finishes his breakfast first, and gets to his feet, taking his bowl over to the two buckets of water on the side that his sister had fetched from the well before making breakfast. He cleans the wooden bowl in the first pail, and then splashes water on his face from the second, the cold chill waking him up more than the food had.
He heard his sister push back her chair, and get to her feet behind him, and turned just in time to catch her by the back of her shirt as she tripped towards him. "Careful." He warned, pulling her back up. His sister looked at him in confusion for a couple of seconds, but then Daha walks towards the door, so she shrugged and got on with washing her bowl and cleaning up after dinner.
Daha made his way towards the forest, where the woodcutter lived in a small hut alone. The woodcutter was an old man, named Piot, who found it difficult to swing the axe these days due to his joints, but still had the strength in him to carry and shift the logs his apprentice chopped. The dark haired youth woke his employer with a bang on the door, and then began to chop the logs in the yard out the front of the hut, using the axe leaning against the walls. It was about fifteen minutes later that Piot emerged from his hut, nodding groggily at his apprentice, and together they went to work.
They worked in the shade of the forest for most of the day, moving back and forth between the hut, dragging logs they had downed, and Daha chopping them in the yard, whilst Piot stacked them all. At the end of the day, one of the village's few merchants would arrive with his horse and cart, and they would load it into the cart, so he could sell them to the rest of the village. The sun passed overhead through the day, until it touched the tips of the mountains to the distance in the west. It was then that they heard the familiar sound of hooves on the track, dragging along wooden wheels. Today though, unlike the days before, Daha felt a sense of dread wash over him, and felt a desire to hide. He shrugged it aside and carried on chopping with his back to the track, knowing that it was not his place to speak to the vendor, it was Piot's role. But Piot did not call out his regular greeting. Instead an unfamiliar voice called out.
"Daha Rorricksen?" The voice sounded authoritive, like it was not used to being denied. Daha turned slowly. Three horses stood towering over him a few metres away. Two were drawing a cage-cart driven by a man, the third was mounted by a second man. Both men were wearing armour, iron chainmail with leaver greaves, and an open helmet with a hand wielding a flaming torch held on the side, the symbol of the Royal Legion. The sense to run grew greater.
"Y-yes..?" Daha asked, standing tall, and tightening his grip on the woodaxe, and Piot came to stand by his side, his old eyes squinting at the guards.
"You've been selected as a volunteer, to come and meet the great and honourable King Cacus. You must come now, we have three days to return to the capital, and no time to waste." The guard on the horse spoke clearly, his hand hovering over the sword at his hip whilst he watched Daha's own hands on the woodaxe.
"No." Daha and Piot said in unison, which took Daha back a little. He looked at his mentor, as he carried on speaking. "You can't take him, I need him, he's an apprentice, do y'have any idea how long it'd take to train a new lad?"
"That's irrelevant to us, old man. He has been chosen, so he must come at once." The guard spoke slowly now, a note of a threat creeping into his voice, amplified as he drew his sword. The second guard climbed from the cart and drew his own sword.
Daha takes a step forward, twisting his grip on the axe, but then Piot grabs the handle and pulls it away with an iron grip. "Don't be an idiot, lad... You'd only get us both killed... Go... I'll tell yer family." He hissed the first words, but then his tone softened as he finished, before he adds "Good luck."
Daha released the axe to Piot and walked forward slowly, his head low. The cart guard moves around to open the cage, whilst the mounted guard watched carefully, his sword held tight. Daha climbs into the back of the cage and sits down, defeated. The guard locks the cage and climbs back onto the front of the cart. And together they set off, the mounted guard leading the way. Daha looks up, and a sense of deja vu washes over him as he sees Piot watching him get carted away...
"Thanks." Daha grunted, slumping into one of the two chairs. Their parents would already be gone, their father having left an hour or so before dawn, to make it to the river by time the sun started to creep over the edge of the world and their mother undoubtedly in the forest hunting for herbs and berries for her remedies. He took a clump of the cut loaf on the table before him, and dunked it into the bland soup, which had a few vegetables floating in it.
Sitting down opposite to him, Matia had her own bowl and took her own slice of the bread, dipping it into her soup with more graceful ceremony with her brother. "Did you sleep okay..?" She asks after a few moments of silence, disturbed only by the sounds of them eating.
"What do you mean? I think so..."
"You were whispering in your sleep again. You seemed upset and angry..." Tia frowns as she looks at him, furrowing her brows as she does so, "I got up to come wake you, and you stopped before I reached you, so I went back to bed."
Daha shrugs, and continues eating. "I don't really remember." He says after a few more mouthfuls, and Tia acepts his answer, returning to her own food. The large man finishes his breakfast first, and gets to his feet, taking his bowl over to the two buckets of water on the side that his sister had fetched from the well before making breakfast. He cleans the wooden bowl in the first pail, and then splashes water on his face from the second, the cold chill waking him up more than the food had.
He heard his sister push back her chair, and get to her feet behind him, and turned just in time to catch her by the back of her shirt as she tripped towards him. "Careful." He warned, pulling her back up. His sister looked at him in confusion for a couple of seconds, but then Daha walks towards the door, so she shrugged and got on with washing her bowl and cleaning up after dinner.
Daha made his way towards the forest, where the woodcutter lived in a small hut alone. The woodcutter was an old man, named Piot, who found it difficult to swing the axe these days due to his joints, but still had the strength in him to carry and shift the logs his apprentice chopped. The dark haired youth woke his employer with a bang on the door, and then began to chop the logs in the yard out the front of the hut, using the axe leaning against the walls. It was about fifteen minutes later that Piot emerged from his hut, nodding groggily at his apprentice, and together they went to work.
They worked in the shade of the forest for most of the day, moving back and forth between the hut, dragging logs they had downed, and Daha chopping them in the yard, whilst Piot stacked them all. At the end of the day, one of the village's few merchants would arrive with his horse and cart, and they would load it into the cart, so he could sell them to the rest of the village. The sun passed overhead through the day, until it touched the tips of the mountains to the distance in the west. It was then that they heard the familiar sound of hooves on the track, dragging along wooden wheels. Today though, unlike the days before, Daha felt a sense of dread wash over him, and felt a desire to hide. He shrugged it aside and carried on chopping with his back to the track, knowing that it was not his place to speak to the vendor, it was Piot's role. But Piot did not call out his regular greeting. Instead an unfamiliar voice called out.
"Daha Rorricksen?" The voice sounded authoritive, like it was not used to being denied. Daha turned slowly. Three horses stood towering over him a few metres away. Two were drawing a cage-cart driven by a man, the third was mounted by a second man. Both men were wearing armour, iron chainmail with leaver greaves, and an open helmet with a hand wielding a flaming torch held on the side, the symbol of the Royal Legion. The sense to run grew greater.
"Y-yes..?" Daha asked, standing tall, and tightening his grip on the woodaxe, and Piot came to stand by his side, his old eyes squinting at the guards.
"You've been selected as a volunteer, to come and meet the great and honourable King Cacus. You must come now, we have three days to return to the capital, and no time to waste." The guard on the horse spoke clearly, his hand hovering over the sword at his hip whilst he watched Daha's own hands on the woodaxe.
"No." Daha and Piot said in unison, which took Daha back a little. He looked at his mentor, as he carried on speaking. "You can't take him, I need him, he's an apprentice, do y'have any idea how long it'd take to train a new lad?"
"That's irrelevant to us, old man. He has been chosen, so he must come at once." The guard spoke slowly now, a note of a threat creeping into his voice, amplified as he drew his sword. The second guard climbed from the cart and drew his own sword.
Daha takes a step forward, twisting his grip on the axe, but then Piot grabs the handle and pulls it away with an iron grip. "Don't be an idiot, lad... You'd only get us both killed... Go... I'll tell yer family." He hissed the first words, but then his tone softened as he finished, before he adds "Good luck."
Daha released the axe to Piot and walked forward slowly, his head low. The cart guard moves around to open the cage, whilst the mounted guard watched carefully, his sword held tight. Daha climbs into the back of the cage and sits down, defeated. The guard locks the cage and climbs back onto the front of the cart. And together they set off, the mounted guard leading the way. Daha looks up, and a sense of deja vu washes over him as he sees Piot watching him get carted away...
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