Jonathan was in a surprisingly good mood as he left his little blacksmith's both and ran home to get himself some dinner. The thing that had brought up his mood so much from the other night was the fact that his father had come down to work at the festival booth. He might not be able to forge the wonderous items anymore, but he still knew them better than anyone else in this world. The man seemed to have a knack for dealing with people and getting his wares sold that Jonathan hadn't, as of yet, aquired.
The boy hadn't seen his father acting quite so alive and in such high spirits since his stroke. The man had even talked of taking Jonathan out to the forge for the next couple of weeks. He might not be able to do the work himself, but that didn't mean he couldn't teach the boy how to do it. It seemed to Jonathan that the two of them were closer now than they ever had been.
Jonathan couldn't resist smiling as this thought came to him. He needed a good friend, why shouldn't it be his father? Jonathan, despite the respect he now showed everyone, still didn't have a great deal of friends. It wasn't that he was unliked, it was just that there was a lack of children in this village.
Jonathan reached his home on the edge of the forest just as the sun was setting. His meal was eaten in silence and after a while he noticed that everything seemed quiet. There weren't the normal forest noises that you could constantly hear this close to the forest. He wasn't surprised that he couldn't hear anything from the festival, it was all the way on the other side of town after all. The sudden realization of the silence caused Jonathan to be filled with a sense of fear and awareness, as if something was about to happen.
And then he heard it. He could hear a great deal of men running down the forest path that came out right next to his own home. Through the window he could see the men running by, all in dark forest clothing and all armed. He could see them turn as they made it to the main road and head down towards the festival.
Once all the men had finished running by, Jonathan crept from his house. The men were already around the first bend the road made. Jonathan suddenly saw what would happen if those men charged into the festival. Not a man amont the festival-goers would be carrying weapons. No one there would stand a chance. Jonathan couldn't let that happen.
The boy quickly ran back into his house, drawing his own short sword from under his bed, the first sword made by his own hands. The boy didn't like his odds. There was a great number of them and only one of him. Jonathan decided that didn't matter. He had to do something. Clenching his teeth, the boy ran back out of the house and headed down toward the festival.
* * *
Coron noticed that for the most part, these people were doing exactly as they were supposed to. A few tried fighting against the mob, but they were quickly taken care of. The boss said no killing, but he wasn't here now, the man who led them all was still at the base camp. The man never came to such things; he always left the actual pillaging to his men, as if he was too good for such a thing.
The scene around Coron now was one of complete chaos. Coron was overseeing the whole thing and he had to admit he liked what he saw. Almost everyone, after seeing what happens to those who don't cooperate, were now doing just as they were told. Coron was standing there smiling, happy with his own work, when he was suddenly hit in the back of the head by something. The man growled as he turned and looked down at the thrown item, a gold bracelet.
Looking up, Coron saw his assailant, an old man at one of the booths. Looking at the sign, Coron decided that this must be the famous blacksmith of the small village. As he now moved towards the old man, he noticed that he walked with a cane. The man's arms, however, showed a great deal of strength. Coron figured that came from working at the forge. That muscle wasn't going to help him now.
Just as Coron neared the booth he saw the man swing the cane. Fast and hard, the sturdy cane hit Coron squarely in the jaw. The big man felt his jaw shatter and knew it was broken in several places. Instead of stopping the big man, this only made him angrier. Coron swept his sword at the blacksmith who tried to block the attack with his cane. The sharp sword cut through the wood without a problem, but missed its target.
Coron's opponent's eyes grew wide in fear as he saw his own mortality in Coron's gleaming sword. That was the look that Coron would be savoring as he killed this man. He watched the look of abject terror as Coron how stabbed with the point of his sword, the blade sliding easily into the man's stomach. Blood spouted from the man's lips as he curled over, the blade left imbedded in the man. Standing over his kill, Coron's head was now turned at the sound of a scream off to his left.
* * *
"No! No! No!" The word just kept echoing over and over as the yell came from Jonathan's lips, watching his father keel over with the sword in his stomach. Tears blinded the boy as he saw his father's killer turn his head toward his screaming. He quickly wiped away the tears as his grief was immediately changed to anger. There would be time for grieving later, if he survived this whole ordeal. There were matters to deal with now.
Even as he charged at this giant of a man, he knew it was his own death sentence. That didn't matter to Jonathan. This man had just taken the only thing the boy had left to lose. He had first lost his brother, then his mother. The boy wasn't about to lose his father without taking the man who had done it with him.
* * *
Coron wasn't ready for this new attack. The boy who charged him couldn't be more that fifteen or sixteen years old, but he fought now out of anger and grief, giving him a strength that Coron wasn't expecting. The fact that Coron's sword was still imbedded in the old blacksmith's body didn't help matters. Coron was forced to parry the sword swings made by the boy with nothing more than a knife the man had dropped from its concealment at his wrist.
Coron was rewarded quickly for his vast experience in such things with this novice attacker. The wild attacks were easily parried and after a moment, Coron was able to direct the boy's sword point into the ground then rip the sword away from the boy. The boy then dropped to his knees in exhaustion from the short fight. A smile came to the face of the big man as he raised the sword, ready to bring death down to this pathetic boy.
* * *
Jonathan knew, in those last few seconds of the fight, that he was fighting a losing battle. When he felt the sword ripped from him, the boy simply gave up, falling to his knees. His eyes drifted up just enough to see his own sword lifted and the smile of satisfaction on his father's killer's face. Jonathan closed his eyes now, not wanting to see his own doom fall. It would be better this way. He could now join his family. The peace in that thought almost brought a smile to his face.
Jonathan's eyes reopened when the sword didn't fall. He ventured to look up only when he heard a strange gurgling sound coming from the giant standing over him. When Jonathan looked up he saw the man's eyes opened wide in surprise and a small trickle of blood coming from the side of his mouth. Only when the man fell down dead did Jonathan see the thrown knife that protruded from the back of the man's neck.
Jonathan's eyes moved quickly, looking for his savior. And then he saw him. The boy climbed quickly to his feet, staring in disbelief until finally a smile rushed to his face, his father's death escaping his thoughts for a moment as the shock of what stood before him was realized. The boy ran quickly to the man that had saved him, hugging him as he had his father the night before. "Derek! We all thought you were dead! We were told . . . how?" Jonathan now pulled away from his brother, staring in disbelief, noting that his brother wore the same dark forest clothes of their attackers. Realization dawned on him as he realized his brother was part of this bunch of thieves.
"We're going to have a lot to talk about Jonathan. More than you know or would care to know." His brother's eyes moved to their dead father, lying on his side, the sword still sticking from his stomach. Jonathan didn't notice where his brother's gaze had gone; he didn't notice much of anything at the moment. Jonathan's eyes were locked now on the long scar that ran from his brother's eye down to his jawline.
this story was made in may 14 2012 they fernand jiro and lice mae .
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