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"Devon and Damien"Chapter 6: Act 1
It had been two days since Devon had left his home in Hessea. He had journeyed into the small neighboring province of Vato, which had long ago rebelled against a long-forgotten empire and gained its freedom. Hessea had never tried to claim this area for its own, although it could have easily done so at any time. Although he had very few clues on which to operate, he had examined the quiver before he had left, noting its quality. It seemed odd to him that any professional would be in such a hurry as to leave any evidence behind; in such a case, he was either dealing with an amateur or the quiver had been planted. In either case, it was all he had to work with. Devon fortunately was familiar with the man that fashioned this particular brand of equipment; he inscribed his initials into the fibers of every item he created. The quiver itself was relatively old, but still revealed the master craftsmanship that its creator had poured into it. It was dusk, and Devon was only now entering the outskirts of Vato: the wooded hills of the eastern border of Hessea. These woods stretched on for many miles, and so Devon made a decision to spend the night outside of them. Before he could completely dismount, Devon noticed a faint glow in the distance, followed by the presence of several billows of smoke soon afterward. His curiosity tantalized, Devon moved further into the woods to investigate. Tying his horse to a tree nearby, Devon lightly treaded half of the distance on foot, trying to avoid creating too much noise. Fortunately, autumn had yet to catch up with Devon, and so there were few leaves to crumple beneath his feet. “Idiot!” cried a voice nearby, followed by the sound of the back of a hand striking skin. “I cannot believe you started a fire.” “But I was cold…” whimpered a voice, strong yet incredibly passive. “Are you really that stupid? You know there are sure to be Hessean dogs sniffing about for us around now. It’s bad enough that you left them an invitation. Now come on, get the gear together and let’s move further into the woods before someone tries to investigate.” Devon boldly stepped forth from behind the woods, his revolver pointed towards the direction of the voices. One of the two men turned towards the sudden movement, giving Devon his first glimpse at the assassins. One was still facing towards the woods, cloaked by the darkness that had already overtaken the day. The other was a large, muscular man with a timid look in his eyes. Devon assumed this was the passive man that had started the fire. “That won’t be necessary, gentlemen.” Receiving no immediate reply, Devon continued. “I have several questions I would like for you two to answer for me, if you feel inclined.” “Fool,” said the unseen man, having not yet turned so that Devon could see his face. “You led them right to me, just as I thought you would do.” “I’m sorry… I-” “Shut up,” the man interrupted. “What do you want, Hessean?” “I’d like you to tell me where you were two nights ago. If you are aware of recent news, there has been an incident within Hessea.” “…I really don’t have time to chat with you, whoever you are. If you want to discuss the matter, take it up with Sebastion.” Sebastion, apparently the name of the passive man, stepped forward, further into the light of the retreating sun, which cast just enough light through an open area of the branches above to highlight numerous scars along the man’s unarmored body. He wore no shirt, which gave Devon a clue as to why he had been so cold. “Perhaps if you clothed your associates a little better you wouldn’t have a problem with campfires.” “Funny…” replied the man, picking up a bag that had before now gone unnoticed. “Sebastion, entertain him. Be sure to follow me to the Eagle’s Tavern once you’re through with him.” “Aren’t you being a little nonchalant right now?” Devon asked. “I am holding a gun after all, and you’re telling me exactly what your plans are?” “It doesn’t matter. You won’t make it out of here alive. Sebastion!” Immediately, the wild man Sebastion sprang like lightning towards Devon, barely giving him time to dodge out of the way of a large broadsword, much less pull the trigger on his weapon, which he had for a split second pointed at the wrong man. He could not see where the other man had gone, but he was sure that he was already well on his way to escaping from the woods. Rolling across the grassy floor of the forest, Devon made out the outline of Sebastion’s weapon, ripping through the air above him towards his skull. Once again flipping out of harm’s way, Devon attempted to point and fire his weapon, only to have it shoved into the air as it fired. A punch landed into Devon’s stomach, sending him reeling backwards into a tree. Devon dodged once again, this time the blade of Sebastion’s sword lodging itself into the trunk of the tree Sebastion had thrown Devon against. “You’re not so prone when you’re fighting, are you?” Devon received his answer in the form of a loud war cry, followed by a boot to the chest. Devon this time had time to fire, and sent a bullet screaming through the air towards his opponent as he fell back to the earth. Surprisingly, the monstrous wild man managed to dodge Devon’s aim before he could alter his firing angle, making Devon’s final shot a waste. Landing on Devon’s chest as both men hit the ground, Sebastion lifted his sword into the air for the final blow. Clenching his teeth and closing his eyes, Devon prepared for the end, instinctively swinging his head to the side. No final blow came, however. After several seconds had passed, he opened his eyes to find Sebastion seemingly staring up at the sky, his arms stretched out wide, and his sword lying beside him. Suddenly noticing what he felt should have been obvious, Devon realized that Sebastion’s head was missing. Immediately pushing the body off of him, Devon hurriedly backpedaled away from the bleeding corpse. The sound of a sheathing sword brought Devon’s panicked gaze to a man nearby, clothed in black and gray. The man appeared unconcerned for Devon’s well being, but merely finished sheathing his thin, slightly curved sword and began to examine Sebastion’s body. Sighing, Devon dusted himself off and stood up, noting a painful stabbing sensation in his stomach, obviously where Sebastion had struck him earlier. Further noting the new man’s clothing, Devon could see that it was a tunic, yet it seemed to be a sort of armor: patches of leather and metal plates obviously hid beneath the fabric. His hair was auburn, unkempt yet short, and his face was concealed by a tightly fitted piece of cloth. “Thank you, sir, whoever you are. From your clothing I’d say you weren’t from around here, but I’d still assume to call you an ally.” The man did not respond, but continued to search Sebastion’s body, which still twitched slightly from time to time. Apparently recovering nothing of worth, the man rolled the body onto the ground, its back to the sky, and began to search through some nearby bags, which had obviously been too much to carry for Devon’s other captive to escape with. “Excuse me,” Devon said, trying to interject once again. “But what are you looking for exactly?” Still receiving no reply, Devon simply waited until the man had finished searching everything in the area. “Faleaon hired me to track his son’s killer. You’re in the way.” “The King? Please address him respectfully, sir.” The man made a noise indicating some form of amusement and looked Devon up and down. “Go home.” “Excuse me, sir, but I… Excuse me!” The man had turned and was on his way out of the area, with Devon chasing slightly behind him. “If you won’t address me properly, at least give me your name.” The man stopped for a moment and then turned to face the man he had rescued a moment ago. “That man you were fighting a moment ago is one of the most notorious killers in the East. He’s known for being a berserker that defies most natural human laws. It was sheer luck that I caught him unguarded and killed him so easily. If you were unaware of that much information you need not continue your journey any further. I am quite certain that you will, however, as I can tell from the look in your eyes that you have something to prove. Do not interfere with my work, sir.” Devon collected this information for a moment as the man waited for a response. “Well, thank you first of all. I certainly found myself caught off guard. Secondly, what news do you bring from Hessea?” “I’m not a messenger boy sent to bring you joy and merriment. And what are you doing in the field without a sword? Revolvers are rare and expensive, and usually worthless in these areas. I suggest that you claim one before we come to Eagle’s Tavern in Vato.” “I gave up my sword long ago… I purchased this revolver as a sort of keepsake I suppose. …You are welcoming me along?” “No, but I’m sure that you wouldn’t leave me alone anyway. Hurry up and retrieve your horse.” “Wait, how did you know he was heading to Eagle’s Tavern?” “I’ve been watching them since before you even got here.” Devon was shocked with irritation at this, since the man obviously could have helped him earlier than he had. “Fine, but what is your name? Or would you have me call you ‘sir’ from now on?” “Most people call me Reklaw. I’m a mercenary.” “Reklaw…” Devon muttered to himself, trying to place the name, which he was sure he had heard before. Putting his questions to the side, Devon quickly retrieved his horse and tried to keep up with Reklaw’s pace, as the mercenary seemed unconcerned with whether Devon could keep up or not. Knowing not what to expect from his new companion, Devon tried to sort things out as he rode on through the dark woods, which would stretch on well towards morning. Apparently Reklaw had little intentions of sleeping, which meant that Devon would share his restlessness as well. |
