Araxis's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

Araxis buried the last of his village before dawn. He stood over the ash with his father's blade in his hand. The sword's edge caught the morning light and threw it back in cold flecks, like broken stars. The raiders had come three nights ago. They took everything and left only smoke. Now Araxis had no home, no family, and no plan beyond one word: south. The men who did this rode south. He meant to follow them and make them answer. He walked for a day and found a rough wooden shack at the edge of a dry field. Packs and coils of rope hung from its walls. Someone lived a life without roots here, same as he did now. The door stood open. Inside, a cold hearth and a cot told him the owner was gone. Araxis took shelter and slept with the sword across his chest. Voices woke him at dusk. Three small folk crouched in the field outside, pulling at a horse's lead. The halflings had sturdy arms and travel-worn boots, but the animal dragged them through the grass like dolls. It was a black horse with eyes that burned red. It screamed, and the sound was wrong, too deep for any beast. Araxis ran out with the blade drawn. "Let it go!" he shouted. "We can't!" the lead halfling cried. She had a braid whipping across her face. "It's rounding up loose horses in these fields. This one belongs to the men who burned the eastern villages. We saw their mark on its saddle." Araxis's grip tightened. The same men. The same road south. The horse turned its red eyes on him and reared. Its hooves came down where his skull had been a breath before. He rolled through the wild grass and came up swinging. The blade bit into the animal's shoulder. The horse shrieked and bolted into the dark, saddle and all, before he could strike again. The halflings dusted themselves off. The braided one offered her hand. "You saved our necks, stranger. That thing would have trampled us flat." "It got away," Araxis said. He watched the dark where the horse had vanished. "Not far. It'll run straight back to its masters." She studied his face, then the blade. "You know those men." "They killed everyone I had." She was quiet a moment. "Then our road is yours. We're tracking them too. They've been taking more than villages lately." Araxis sheathed the sword. He had come looking for revenge alone. Now three strangers stood in the grass, waiting on his answer, and the horse he had wounded was already carrying word of him to his enemies. His hunt was no longer a secret. And he was no longer walking it by himself. "Which way," he said, "and how fast."