The Gifted (unfinished) - Lucas Guerreiro (best fiction novels to read TXT) 📗

I

The Gifted

Peace. For the first time in a long time I felt peace in my slumber. Was it a sign? I wondered. However, just as in all things, peace must come to an end. I woke up beneath a large brown oak tree. It was hard and cold, but it did not other me. Not anymore. I took a moment to breath in the fresh air. The forest was dense, yet open enough so that one would not feel claustrophobic. It felt humid, but not to the point of discomfort. I was in paradise. Nevertheless, hunger and thirst eventually settled in.

“I have to keep moving,” I whispered, almost expecting an answer from the silent, yet lifeful forest.

I began to gather my things. I took a big gulp from my canteen, and ate a piece of bread from my rucksack. I grabbed my sword, and unsheathed it enough to see the inscription.

Lance

It reminded me of my father, of home, but that was too far away. This was no time to think of my origins, for what mattered was the future. I lifted myself with effort. I was not weak, but my body refused to leave this sanctuary. With one more look at the woods around me, I convinced myself to move I made my way southeast, looking for the road to follow. It was not wise to roam the woods, cursed ones attack wanderers in the forest, the road was better for traveling. However, it was dangerous to sleep next to road. The forest works as a veil, covering my tracks, hiding my presence, even from the creatures i try to avoid. A wise merchant taught me this. I hope he this is still alive.

The trees became more scarce as I walked into an open field. It was much brighter without the trees blocking the sun.The grass was green, just like in the forest. I felt a cool breeze hitting me, almost pushing me back. It brought a fresh scent with it. After a few more steps, I saw the road. It would lead me straight to Windstead, there I could resupply and continue heading south.

I took the road, to my left, opposite to the way I came, there was another forest. I thought of resting there if the need arose, but I was certain that Windstead was only a few more hours away at this pace. Suddenly, on the side of the road, there a was a large backpack thrown on the ground. Almost as if someone threw it in a hurry. I carefully approached it, and kicked it lightly to see if anything would happen. I opened to check the contents, there were a few scraps of leather, a metal sword handle, and a few alchemy ingredients. It was clearly a trader`s bag. Among the ingredients I saw cherry tree leaves, they are very useful when making healing components. I took them and a few leather scraps. I looked around and saw more materials lying on the floor. I followed the trail, some of them were destroyed, ripped apart. A certain uneasiness settled in me. I saw a large leather roll down the road. It was heavy, I fumbled it a bit until I saw a few red marks on it. There were some on the road too. It was blood.

I rapidly stood up and checked my surroundings. I grabbed the handle of my sword, and lifted my left hand. I felt my pulse rising. I moved cautiously down the road, watching for any movement in the forest. The innocent sound of leaves and grass now seemed threatening. I was careful to not disturb any beasts that may be ahead. I heard footsteps, or was it my imagination. I did not know, but I was ready for a fight. I followed the blood trail until I started hearing a sound. There was something next to a tree ahead. I would have drawn my sword had I not seen it was a person lying down next to the tree.

He was softly grunting, holding his right shoulder. Blood dripped down his arm, all the way to the ground. I approached him slowly still holding my stance. Something might jump out at any moment.

“Careful, it might still be here,” He noticed me, and spoke between breaths. I did not answer, nor did I make eye contact with him. I scanned the area around us, making sure it was safe. Then, I crouched to take a look at the man. He was in his late 30s, maybe 40s; he had a few grey hairs and a subtle beard. The bag must belong to him.

“What happened?” I asked

“That thing attacked me,” he answered.

“Let me see” I said,  making a gesture for him to move his hand from the wound. He hesitated.

“What is your name?” I questioned him, trying to earn his trust.

“Brimsworth.”

“Let me see your wound I might be able to help,”

“Are you…” He hesitated, “a cleanser?”

“You can call me that if you want, but no, I am not with the Legion” I answered. I made the gesture again, asking him to move his hand. This time Brimswoth did it. The wound was a claw mark, maybe a centimeter deep, definitely a cursed one did it. He put his hand back in an attempt to reduce the bleeding.

“What attacked you, Brimsworth?”

“It looked like a wolf, but small,” He answered.

“It was a numb wolf, cursed one,” I stated, “paralysis poison on his claws, you are lucky he did not hit you close to the heart,”

“Anything you can do?”

I grabbed his right arm, it had no reaction, the poison was doing its job. Maybe I had earned his trust or he was just desperate, because he let me help him. I lifted my left arm, the markings started to glow. It was not risky to use this here, even if they caught my trail I would have moved by the time they get here. I put my left hand over his wound and focused. The markings glowed even stronger, a bright yellow, almost golden. Brimsworth’s first thought was to remove my hand, but he did not. As I focused, I felt the tiredness in me growing.

“Hopefully I don’t exhaust myself,” I thought, even though I had bigger worries.

That is when I felt it, crushing my heart, giving me a headache. Had they caught my scent? It did not matter now, I had to finish the job and then move out quickly.

I held Brimsworth for a few more seconds, his wound was almost completely healed. Then I removed my hand, what was left was a small, undetectable scar. I could see it in his eyes, relief and shock. Before he dared to ask, I gave him the answer.

“It is a spell, learned it at the college,” It was a lie, but it served its purpose, calming him down and keeping him shut. Truth is, no magic is that strong, from the college or not.

“Go get your bag, it is up the road, gather your things, and get to the town you were heading to,” I told him. The thought of giving him back what I took crossed my mind, but I knew I would make a better use of those materials..

“That’d be Blackrock,” He informed me, “you came from there, right?”

“Yes, it should be safe, cursed ones shouldn’t be wandering this far west,” I replied

“Thank you, I am sorry if I don’t seem that grateful, today has been an agitated day for me, I thought I’d bleed out here, if it…”

“You better get moving,” I interrupted.

“Yes, thanks again, hope our paths cross again, maybe I can repay you somehow later,”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Didn’t catch your name though.”

“Lance”

“Godspeed, Lance.”

“Stay safe, Brimsworth.”

He started heading up-road, his body was stiff. He was still in shock. Maybe it was not safe for him to keep going alone, but it was much less safer to stay here now that they caught my trail. I looked around, the trees, the flowered bushes to the east, the green plains to the west, they would all be gone, in a few hours, maybe less. Darkness would consume them. They would tear this place to find any indication of my presence.

I started moving. THis time my pace was faster. I needed to get to Windstead before nightfall. I would guess it was only a few more hours of walking south. Suddenly, I stumbled. I reached my arm for a nearby tree to prevent myself from falling. I breathed in, trying to replenish my air. The power had taken a toll on me. I felt rested a while ago, but now I can barely walk.

“Have...to...keep moving…” I said between breaths, looking for the energy to continue.

I look for anything that I could use to balance myself. I picked up a fallen branch, a little longer than my height. I tried to slowly sit down, but I collapsed on the ground. I wished I could lay there forever, but I was running out of time. I grabbed my hunting knife to cut the branch a little shorter. I scraped the bark close to one of the edges to make a handle. It was the closest I got to a cane. I used all my strength, and my newly acquired walking stick, to get back up. I had some trouble walking, but managed to reach an acceptable pace. The air felt cold and dry, maybe it was my tiredness, however I feared they were closing in.

I kept moving. A few minutes later, the air felt better. I was closing in the town, soon enough I would be able to rest. When my adrenaline finally lowered and I was calmer, I started to observe my setting again. It was something I always did. It helps to maintain one’s “inner peace” after spending too much time on the road. The fields were not as green as before, nor were the trees. The hills had hues of brown and orange mixed in with the usual green. It was similar to the transition between summer and autumn.

I found myself questioning my decision to help the man on the road. Had I not wasted all my energy, I would have reached Windstead by now. But again, the man would not be alive. His wound was not so severe, but he clearly did not know how to handle it. However, if they catch him, the man would not hesitate in pointing to my direction and this walking would have been for nothing. I remembered my father telling me that my purpose was to help people, and decided to stop questioning my decision, for I had saved a life today.

✱✱✱

Finally, during dusk, I saw a light down the road. It was Windstead. I felt relieved, but refused to slow down. I approached the town, there were a few small, wooden houses around the entrance. There was a guard on the road, he did not stop me from entering the village. He did not have any reason to, nevertheless I was paranoid. That’s what happens when people start calling you special.

“Oy, Traveler,” He greeted me, he was not very excited to see someone wandering this late.

“Evening,” I answered.

People had already settled in for the night, that is except for the ones at the inn, which I had yet to find. It was not hard. Longest house, lit up, indistinguishable conversations, smell of food. I tied my makeshift cane to my bag. I cannot show weakness, I cannot limp into a filled tavern.

As I entered the inn, curiosity struck the hall. At first all men turned around to check the new visitor. But then gazes were fired at me. I could hear their thoughts, “damn cleansers”, “what is he doing here?”, “go