Skytt the Slayer

This is actually a prequel to a series of stories I'm writing titled "Skytt the Stalker" about a man who hunts all things evil set in a fantasy world I've created.

Skytt the Slayer

Skytt was only eleven years old when his father took ill during a harsh winter in Norhrim. This left 

a heavy burden on young Skytt’s shoulders. Just the hunting and gathering of firewood seemed to be a never 

ending chore but Skytt was a Northerner in the truest sense of the word. He would not complain about the 

immense burden thrust on him at such a tender age, he would be the man his father had taught him to be. He 

would do everything he could to take care of his mother, father, and his baby sister Mara. The people of 

Northrim had an ancient saying, “Winter is fiercest just before Spring’s Break”. Skytt had never given much 

thought to this saying but this winter he could not help but curse the gods under his breath for how true this 

saying was. The temperature was well below the point of freezing and the howl of the wind through the 

trees sent chills up his spine.  His father was in particularly rough shape and had been up for almost two 

days coughing and spitting up blood. No one in the small log cabin could sleep with such a ruckus going on. 

The wild boar Skytt killed just days earlier was nearly gone and all that was left was bone and fat, enough 

for a decent stew but far from enough to feed the family for more than a couple days. Skytt decided the boar 

and the nearly starved deer he could hunt in the area would not do for his sick father. He would head north 

to Summers lake, which  was fed by a hot spring and stayed warm enough to swim in all year 

round. Skytt had heard tales of this place his entire life, how the caribou and moose would gather along its 

banks to escape the frigid cold, to more magical tales about Sevy the Swimmer, a boy who spent an entire 

winter in the lake until he eventually grew fins and gills so he never had to leave this place he loved so much. 

Skytt scoffed at tales of magic and wonder, he had his whole life. His mother’s father had been a legendary 

bard of Northrim. He would often tell Mara many stories of his and others’ epic conquests, how he slew the 

final necromancer at the Great Volcano and encased a fire witch in never to be melted ice. Skytt loved his 

grandfather and loved many of his tales but felt only a fool would believe in such magical goings on.

Dawn broke with a fiery cold that morning. Skytt had barely slept, who could with the death pains 

his father had suffered throughout the night. Skytt prepared to leave for his several days journey. He packed a loaf of sweet bread and several pieces of jerked boar, not much for such a long journey, but Skytt 

planned on finding food along the way. They were not a wealthy family but his mother was a marvelous 

seamstress and could take any mangy pelt and turn it into a fur fit for a high lord and she had done some of 

her finest work in making sure Skytt would be warm for his long trip. As Skytt was saying his final 

goodbyes, first his mother, then his father, till finally he turned to Mara. Before he could say a word the 

small girl of only eight interrupted him: “Take me with you, Skytt,” Mara said with a tone in her voice as if 

she already knew what her brother’s response would be. 

‘But Mara your only 8 and the road is dangerous,’ Skytt tried not to be condescending 

“I can take care of myself brother you know that”

“I know that but I need you here to take care of mother and father” Skytt paused for a second and sighed 

“Father is ill and mother needs to tend to him. You must be here to cook and maintain the daily chores. I 

promise you one day we will make a trip to Summer’s Lake together. When the summer is full and we are 

prepared enough to enjoy it”

Mara said nothing but turned and ran to her bed and threw the covers over her. Skytt tried to 

pursue her but his mother grabbed him by the arm. 

“Go Skytt!  You are losing daylight with every second You waste. I will make sure your sister knows it was not best for her not to go.”

Skytt set out. It was about a noon’s day walk to the north road. He had heard the way to Summer’s 

Lake a thousand and one times, follow the north road until the Foot of Faron, then follow the setting sun for 

two nights and you would be at Summer’s lake. Despite his late start Skytt made the north road well before 

the noonday’s sun broke. He felt good about the time he was making, but once he got to the north road he 

had a strange sense of loneliness. His grandfather had told him about traveling merchants and bands of 

gypsy nomads who populated the north road but not a soul was in sight, Skytt thought to himself, grandpa 

must have never traveled the north road during winter. He did not let the desolation of the road get to him.  

He recalled the tales of epic knights and dragon slayers his grandpa told him. He thought of the fire witch 

encased in ice and wondered who was colder. His mind wandered all day. Suddenly he noticed the sun had almost set. Panic started to set in, he had no time to set up camp, search for firewood and prepare dinner. He 

decided he would walk through the night, it was his only chance not to freeze. As the sun crept over the 

mountains and the dark and cold began to consume the land Skytt thought about the tales of the north his 

grandpa told him about the monsters that lurked in the cold forests: wendigos, werewolves and men gone 

savage to survive in the frozen tundra. Skytt tried his best to think of other things. He thought of his friends 

back in Hammerfell, about his mother stoking a roaring fire, anything to keep his mind off  the horrors that 

lurked in the frozen woods just out of reach of the moonlight. Skytt was able to calm him self and refused to 

look anyway but forward too scared of what he might glimpse if he looked into the depths of the forest. The 

fear had all but left Skytt when suddenly, a crack of a branch came from behind and to the left. Skytt was 

frozen in terror. A million thoughts raced through his head all at the same time… If it’s a snow cat I can 

take it out with one blow… If it is a snow cat I would have never heard it coming… Maybe it’s a wolf… 

But wolves travel in packs I could never take them all… Maybe it’s a clan of savages… I’m good with my 

sword but better with my bow, but I’m still just a child. How could I fight a gang of grown men who know 

nothing but kill or be killed. Skytt mustered all the gumption he had in his body. He turned and drew his 

sword in one smooth fluid motion and let out the fiercest war cry a boy his age and size had ever bellowed. 

A wave of relief followed by anger washed over him. It was Mara.  She had followed him the whole way.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE GODS’ ARE YOU DOING!!!” Skytt shouted!  Mara was taken back.

She had never heard Skytt scream like that, especially at her. “I couldn’t stand listening to Dad dying” She

snapped back. “Father is not going to die.” His tone had quickly changed, this was the sweet older brother

Mara knew.” Once spring breaks Father will be fine”

Suddenly another noise, coming from the north it was not a snapping branch but the 

packing of heavy snow beneath the feet of something. Skytt was paralyzed by the fear once again. He saw 

the fear in Mara’s eyes as she could obviously see what approached. Before Skytt could find the courage to 

move Mara had drawn her bow and released an arrow from her quiver. The arrow grazed Skytt’s face and 

left a deep gash in his right cheek before striking its true target. The beast let out a horribly foul scream 

before Skytt finally turned around. When Skytt finally turned and laid eyes on the beast the fear gripped him 

stronger than ever. It was the biggest wolf he had ever seen, seeming to stand on two legs.   It was mere 

feet from Skytt and began to charge. Skytt thrust his sword in an upward pendulum motion and struck the 

monstrous wolf right in his shoulder haunch. The beast was not even slowed and plowed through Skytt and 

lunged at Mara with the blade still piercing his body from front to back. The great wolf took tiny Mara to 

the ground and bit right through the fine furs her mother made for her and tore into her shoulder. Skytt was 

still picking himself off the ground as he heard his sister’s blood curdling scream. He reached for his sword 

in a panic, not realizing that it was still stuck in the beast’s shoulder blade. Skytt drew his bow and fired  a 

shot. It struck the beast directly in its back. The wolf seemed unaffected. Skytt fired another and 

another and another, until there was a mass of arrows sticking out of the beast’s back. Skytt realized the

arrows had no effect.” What was this beast?” Skytt thought. He pulled his wood chopping ax from his bag  

struck the beast with a downward blow right to the back of its neck, slicing roughly halfway through. The 

mighty beast reared up on its back legs. For the first time Skytt could see the true size of the wolf, well over 

six feet tall with pec and ab muscles like a finely tuned athlete. Skytt thought of his grandfather’s tales again 

of werewolves and vampires and necromancers. Were they all true? Had his father’s father really fought 

along side the Battuttu, visited the Vedvedi dog-men of the far south? The wolf let out a terrible howl, 

with blood pouring down his nearly severed throat. Skytt couldn’t help but think of that old northerner 

Saying, ”Winter is fiercest just before Springs Break” and this beast was fiercest just before death. Skytt 

remembered his sister for the first time and knelt down to check on her. The wound was bad, but not fatal. 

Skytt grasped his sister’s sword and approached the great wolf. It had fallen back to all fours and its head 

seemed to dangle by only a thread.” How was this monster still alive?” Skytt wondered. Nevertheless, it was 

badly injured and with one clean slice Skytt severed the head completely. Skytt then watched in horror as the 

Wolf’s hair receded, his nails grew back into his paws that were turning into human hands, its long snout 

caved back into its face and its sharp fangs rounded and shrunk.

Mara had lost consciousness by this point, and Skytt scrambled to stop the bleeding from her 

shoulder. He then fashioned a very crude stretcher and began the long trek back home. He impressed 

himself by the pace he kept running through the night dragging his sister behind him. He made it home 

before nightfall the next evening to find his father in worse shape than ever and his mother sick with panic. 

There was little food and no firewood left. Mara had sprung a great fever from the infected wound. Her 

mother did all she could but the fever would not break, and Mara would not wake up. Skytt told his parents 

that it was a snowcat that attacked her refusing to believe what he had seen. For days Mara slept while her 

mother tended to her sick husband and daughter and Skytt hunted and foraged for what he could to help his 

family survive. On the sixth night, after their return Skytt was sleeping well for the first time since he left on 

his ill fated journey, when suddenly in the middle of the night Skytt was wakened by a loud crash and voice 

of his mother screaming. He grabbed his sword, which he always kept under his mattress , and charged out 

of his room. His mother had stopped screaming and was lying on the ground with a small wolf like creature 

on top of her tearing her to shreds. The wolf, unlike the last one he had encountered, wore clothes, the same 

clothes his sister wore. He charged the beast in a fury and with one precise blow severed the head 

completely. The feral beast slumped over on his mother while its head rolled across the floor. Skytt quickly 

rolled the beast off his mother, only to find a lifeless stare in her eyes. Skytt closed her eyes and for the first 

time thought about his father. He turned to his bed only to find him torn to pieces, likely too sick to even 

scream. Skytt fell to his knees, trembling and looking around the blood spattered log cabin before finally laying eyes on the head he had cut off but it was no longer a wolf.  It was his sister Mara. 

Reviews

[Orion]

Really nice twist in the end. Good work!

[Terrence Chang]

WOW!!! Its good. Noah you are one hell of a writer

[Mati]

This was wonderful. I always love a good twist. I look forward to reading further writings.

[Jerry Bustin]

A very intriguing story. Keep up the good work.

[Tomás Ó C..]

Ill be back to get a better read of this later. If Drake is your real surname, are you of the English or the Irish families? Im researching the name - my great Grandmother was a Drake from Ballinulty - and am threading the groups together.

[deepika]

simply wow... very intriguing.. one of the best fantasy stories i have read.