Peter Rambier's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Peter reached the treeline and stopped. Morgatha's smoke trail led deep into the woods. He could follow it now. But the survivors stood behind him at the well, wounded and few. If he left, no one would guard them. A witch who grew monsters might grow another. He turned back to the ash-choked village. His new order was a banner and one man. It was not enough. He gathered the villagers by the ivory hall. Its magic stone still glowed warm despite the ruin around it. "I have to chase the witch," Peter said. "She'll destroy the one thing that could save your dead. But I can't leave you undefended." He looked from face to face. "I need someone to hold this place while I'm gone." No one moved. An old woman lowered her eyes. A wounded man gripped his own arm and stared at the ground. Then a young farmer pushed through the crowd. Dirt caked his boots. He carried an iron sword, its blade worn bright from years of careful use. He planted the point in the dirt like Peter had planted his banner. "I'm Aldric," he said. "I can't grow a monster back. But I can swing this." Peter studied him. The boy was barely younger than himself. His grip on the hilt was clumsy, but his jaw held firm. "Have you ever fought?" Peter asked. Aldric shook his head. "I've cut wood and killed wolves that came for the sheep. That's all." He lifted the sword. "Show me the rest. I'll learn fast." Peter had no days to train him. He had minutes. He drew his own blade and stood beside the farmer. "Feet apart. Weight low." He tapped Aldric's boots wider. "You don't chase. You hold the door of the hall. Anything comes, you make it come to you, one at a time." Aldric copied the stance. He held it steady. Peter set a hand on the boy's shoulder. "These people are yours now. The wounded go inside the stone hall. You stand at the steps." He met the villagers' eyes. "When I bring the rose back, this order will have two knights. You're the second, Aldric." The word straightened the farmer's back. The old woman touched Aldric's arm, no longer alone in her fear. The wounded man rose and limped toward the hall's glowing doors. One farmer with an iron sword had changed the whole square. The village had a guard. Peter sheathed his blade and faced the trees again. Now he could hunt Morgatha and leave the survivors defended. But he had left his only shield behind him. If Morgatha sent another beast to the village while he ran, one untrained farmer stood between it and the wounded. Peter fixed the thought in his mind and stepped into the deep woods, alone, chasing smoke.