Shadows of the Past

After saying his farewells to Rowan and the farm, his second home, for what could be the last time, Danny sets out to fulfil his promise to Piers and meets a man who once knew his dead friend.

Shadows of the Past

 

After our, “little conversation”, Rowan and I collected the lads and headed back to the farm in silence. The sky was as black as death, and so was the rain. The stars looked further away than usual, and a shadow hung over the moon which seemed to cast the world into even further darkness.

I said goodnight to Rowan and the other lads, telling them that I would say my farewells and leave tomorrow. From the look on Rowan’s face though, he obviously knew that I was going to leave that night. I packed my things onto Pandora and set off down the road, this was to be the last time I left the farm. And I can still remember looking back and seeing the silhouette of a figure watching me go. I started to wave but then stopped and continued to ride, even faster now, I hated farewells after all.

I crossed back through the narrow pathway that I had entered Silvermouth through, this time the rain grew heavier rather than lighter as I exited the pass. And the road ahead of me looked longer than ever, it would take some time to get to Piers’ home. That being said I would have to find someone who knew the name and how to get there, for the young knight never told me.

My first day of travelling finally came to a halt when I happened upon a large town situated near the forest I assumed Piers had lived in. It was, from the sounds of it about the right location and so I decided I would ask around. After all, blindly searching through a forest was a fools errand, and my experiences hunting with Piers showed that I was no forest goer.

I was wet from the rain when I arrived at the local inn and a few strangers shot me odd glances.

“Where can I keep my horse?” I asked a fat man behind the desk who I assumed to be the innkeeper.

“Nowhere, unless of course…” I offered him a few coins from my pouch “we have a stable out the back, I’ll tell the boys to wait for you, and you can have the key to your room when you return, a pleasure doing business with you good sir”

The man’s smile looked genuine enough, although in a job like his he would have had years of practice at faking smiles.

It was raining heavily outside, and the ground had started to turn to mud. My boots were drenched and dirtied by the time I made it around to the stables and tied up Pandora. Then I waited for a moment until the rain let up a little and returned to the innkeeper.

“The second room on your right” he said. “And maybe give those boots of yours a clean, I just can’t have you dirtying the place up”

I nodded and took the key from his outstretched hand, following his directions after climbing the stairs. The door was practically just a large, old, oaken plank with a lock on it. The lock itself was old too, and had rusted over the many years of its use, scraping back the rusty brown surface revealed a shiny metal underneath.

Placing the key within the lock, I tried to turn it and found that it wouldn’t budge. It was only after a moment of fiddling and a reasonable amount of force that a clicking sound resonated from the door and it swung open.

The room was small and extremely sparse. The floor was made of many long thin wooden planks and, just like the walls, looked to be infested with termites. It was likely that this was the worst room of the inn, I thought. There were only three real objects around the room, a small bed that was cramped into a corner, a small cupboard in the other corner, and a large mirror which was attached to the wall.

I quickly tossed my gear in front of the wardrobe and sat down on the bed to remove my boots. My feet were tender and swollen from riding all day, I rubbed them to ease the pain. I’d have to put them back on later though, so that I could go and ask around about Piers’ family. Hopefully it would be quick.

I glanced at the mirror, honestly I had no real idea of what I looked like, I had either never seen myself properly before or had forgotten what I looked like. Standing, I walked over to take in the large mirror at my own reflection.

My hair, quite depressingly, was nearly the same shade as Symonds jet black hair, however mine was a little bit lighter. My chin and cheeks were covered in stubble that was patched due a few scars, I needed to shave. I was almost tall, and fairly muscular, although this I already knew about myself, what I hadn’t known though, was how lifeless my eyes looked.

They had been bright once, just like Katherine’s. And yet, now they looked as if the colour had slowly been drained out of them. For a second I thought that they looked grey, but that was probably only due to the lighting. In reality they were still a very light brown, a supernatural kind if colour that of course would plague me just as everything else had in life.

I turned away from the mirror slowly, trying to push away from my mind the fact that I looked just as broken as I felt. There was still one thing I wanted to look at though. Removing my shirt I returned to the mirror and examined the scars that covered the majority of my torso.

Most of them were cuts from knives and scrapes and bruises that hadn’t been able to heal properly. Alongside some of these though were the worse scars, such as a massive patch of burnt skin down my right side. I had acquired this when my father, in a drunken rage, had flung me into our old fireplace. I had been about twelve, I think, when that had happened.

After scaring myself thoroughly I left my room, making sure to lock the door and went down to find some medicine to ease my pain with. With any luck I would also be able to find out from one of the drunks the location of Piers’ family, or even convince one of them to take me there. However, it would be preferable if I could go there alone.

I was lucky in more ways than one that night.

I was sitting alone in a corner of the room, drinking and listening to people’s drunken conversations, when a man approached me. He was tall and muscular, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, and carried a sword in his waist for everyone to see.

“You look like you could use some company” he said, taking a seat opposite me.

“Yes, it would appear that way wouldn’t it” I replied, it was obvious he had some other intent though “what do you really want?”

“You’re a sharp one sir” I felt like hitting him when he called me sir, Piers called me sir… “I’m actually out here hunting a criminal, a murderer to be precise, I tracked him over the mountains and to Silvermouth, when I was there I was told by my sources that he had come this way”

I lowered my feet to the ground and grasped at the edge of the table, ready to launch myself at him if he attempted to draw his blade. This was one of the Manhunters who Rowan had warned were after me, I guess I had done something wrong. I wasn’t ready to accept the consequences yet though, first, Symonds would face his.

“Not that I intend any offence by this but, you’re a fairly shady looking fellow, I was wondering if you knew anything in the way of this murderer I’m after?” he finished.

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, it was a godsend though, that he hadn’t recognised me as who he was looking for. I had to contain my laughter at the fact that the man was asking me if I’d heard anything about myself.

“Sorry, despite how shady I may appear” I said with a laugh. “I haven’t really heard anything about this man you’re after… what’s he look like?” hopefully the man was dense, and wouldn’t realise that the description he was about to give would be a description of me.

“According to one of the men in Silvermouth, Rowan I think his name was, said he saw him in The Three Kings Brewery and that he had blonde hair, bright blue eyes and was fairly short” the Manhunter said.

Again I had to contain my laughter, it was still raining in two ways, yes, but my luck was looking up.

“Well, from that description it’s quite obviously me” I said with a wink. “Just look at me beautiful golden locks” I continued, flicking my hair around.

He laughed and offered me his hand. “I never properly introduced myself, I’m Martyn”

I took the Manhunter’s hand in my own and grasped it firmly. “I’m Danny” I no longer cared who knew my name, it was time I stopped being such a coward.

“Well then Danny, what reason do you have for coming to this s**t-hole of a town in the east that I call my home?” Martyn asked.

A thought occurred to me, if this was Martyn’s home than he may very well know where to find Piers’ family. “You very well may be able to help me with that my friend” I replied, and received a nod. “You see, a long time a go, I made a promise to a dying friend of mine” honestly I didn’t know why I was telling him this much about Piers, maybe just like my name, I no longer cared. “That promise was that I would return his fathers’ sword to him, the man’s name was James Nathaniel Piers, do you know where I could find his father?”

Martyn looked at me, as if saddened by my words and I could see the tears starting to form in his eyes. I had forgotten to consider whether the Manhunter may have known Piers, it was now quite apparent that he did.

“So he’s really dead?” he asked, wiping the tears from his eyes. “How’d it happen?”

I tried to make myself smile before telling him, and then swallowed the lump in my throat. “We were ambushed by bandits in the mountains a few years back, we managed to defeat them though, I was pinned by one of them and Piers saved me, after that… the last of the b******s ran him through before he even had the chance to turn around… you knew him I take it?”

Martyn smiled and nodded. “since we were little kids, we were never really that close, and sort of grew even further apart as we got older, but no one ever wants to hear that someone has died” We each took and I pushed my thoughts of Piers back down into the crevice they had come from.

“I can take you to his parents” the Manhunter finally said. “I can still remember like it was yesterday, when we used to run through that forest as kids”

“I’d appreciate that Martyn” I wouldn’t really, I’d rather he just told me how to get there and then left. Like I’ve said many times before, I hate people.

The Manhunter called over one of the women serving drinks and had her bring us each a large mugful of beer. I eyed it for a moment where it sat on the table, I didn’t feel like drinking with him, but nevertheless I still wanted to drink.

“To Piers” I said, raising the flagon towards Martyn.

“To Piers” he echoed as we banged our cups together and started to drink.

We downed our first few rounds of ale without talking too much, in spite of my hatred of people the Manhunter’s supply of free alcohol went a long way to soften me up that night.

“What ‘bout her” Martyn slurred, twisting his head in the direction of a girl who stood alone. “What do ya, think of her? She looks very… pretty” yes, pretty, and by pretty he meant large breasted.

I had lost count of how many women had caught Martyn’s eye since we had started drinking. The number was at least a dozen, so about eight or so.

“If she’s so pretty… then go, and talk, to’er” I said, my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. And like it was coated in slippery oil and like a snake trying to get away from me.

“Next one Danny, next one” he replied.

“That’s what you said last time…”

“No it’s not!”

“Yes it is”

“Okay so maybe it is Danny” the Manhunter said, falling into a fit of laughter which I joined in with. It wasn’t even funny?

“Maybe we should get you to bed before you hurt yourself big guy” I didn’t think I was as drunk as him, I would be able to get him up the stairs if he collapsed on me… maybe.

 “No, no Danny, just one more drink”

“I think you’ve had more than enough to drink” I said sternly. “We both have” I added as I noticed the room starting to whizz and blur all around me.

I stumbled to my feet and grabbed the Manhunter by the collar of his shirt yanking him up too. We would be far too hung over the next day to delve into the forest, I was clumsy enough as it was without a blinding headache. No, we would rest up in town tomorrow, Piers could wait one more day.

“Let’s go Manhunter” I yanked hard on his collar, forcing the man to follow me. “You can sleep on the floor of my room”

We slowly but surely made it up and the stairs and Martyn leant against the wall as I fumbled at the door with my key.

“I’m fine Danny, I could’ve made it home easy” he said, just barely maintaining his balance. And then, all of a sudden he dropped to the floor like a bag of bricks, and I started to grin wildly.

“Oh I bet you could have made it home Manhunter”

He was a considerably large and heavy man, even just dragging him the few meters into my room was strenuous. I took the Manhunter’s boots off and then left him huddled up by the cabinet, he didn’t look too comfortable, but I was too tired to care.

I fell into the bed face first and rolled onto my back. It wasn’t very comfortable, it was kind of like lying on a slab of solid stone. A slab of stone that had little spikes on it that would poke into your back every time you moved. And yet, it was still a dreadful lot better than the ground.

The roof was much the same. Not that it was uncomfortable to lie in, it was just old and looked about ready to break, it was very discomforting. Thick cobwebs hung from the support beams which themselves, looked about ready to snap in two. At least there were no spiders I  thought to myself quietly, if there were spiders, than I really would have been unable to sleep.

Author's Note

I rushed this chapter a little bit, I'll probably expand upon it later.

Reviews

[Alleyway Rover]

Overview:
The biggest question I have in this chapter is why does he want to go to Piers’ old house? He has the information he needs, why not actively go after the man he wants to kill in the first place? How does this accomplish his goal? Especially since, as we are reminded later, he’s got bounty hunters after him. His time might be short, why not go straight to Symonds?

Additional Notes:
“I was almost tall, and fairly muscular, although this I already knew about myself…”
Then why is he telling us? It feels unnatural for him to describe himself like this. Also, using a mirror to have the main character describe him or herself is kind of a cliche.