The Chosen by Kris Kramer (read the beginning after the end novel TXT) 📕

The Warshield, carrying forty pounds of armor and weapons, had fallen behind a bit, so Aiden had enough of a lead to do what he needed to do. He ran for the village, shouting like a mad man. At first, only one curious goblin poked his head out the front door of his half-sized hut, watching in confusion as Aiden came charging down the riverbank towards him. But as soon as the goblin squealed out a warning, eight more appeared from their own huts, brandishing weapons and shields. Garzhak goblins were small creatures, the tallest coming up to a man's waist, with thin, sinewy arms and legs under leathery, faded green skin. They had long, thin faces and long protruding noses, with small bug-eyes peering out from a prominent forehead. They weren't strong, but they were quick and fierce, and dangerous when attacking as a group. They used swords and spears for hunting and fighting, and while a goblin sword would be little more than a dagger for Aiden, their sturdy hunting spears would be strong enough to pierce a Warshield's chain armor.

Aiden ran to the closest spear-wielding goblin. The creature tried to stick it in his gut as he approached, but Aiden easily sidestepped the thrust, grabbed the spear and yanked it out of the goblin's hand. The goblin shrieked at him, but Aiden ignored it and kicked him in the chest, sending him tumbling away. Several more came running toward him, yelling at him in their gibbering nonsense that passed for a language, and he immediately targeted the one carrying a big shield. He glanced back to see the Warshield stop in the clearing between the village and the tree line, raising his hands to the sky. Aiden had only seconds to get that shield before things became much more complicated. He charged through the four goblins trying to flank him, parried a sword strike with his spear, then grabbed the edge of the goblin's shield tightly just as the sky above them roared.

Blue energy crackled in the air around them as lightning struck the space just behind Aiden and the goblins. Aiden stumbled forward onto his knees, while the four goblins around him were thrown in four different directions, including the one with the shield. Aiden kept his grip on the edge of that shield, though, so when the goblin landed, he threw himself forward and prodded the creature away with the butt of his spear. The goblin, terrified of the lightning, abandoned the shield and ran back to the village, where dozens more of his people watched with a terrible fascination. Aiden slid his left arm through the loops on the shield and hefted the spear in his right. He stood in the middle of the goblin village, feeling like a true warrior once more, and with a renewed sense of vigor, he charged forward.

The Warshield called forth his lightning again, but Aiden was ready for it this time. He hit the ground, rolling forward as the bolt pounded the earth behind him, sending the awestruck goblins back into their homes. Aiden found his feet and lunged forward with his spear, forcing the Northman to duck to the side. He responded with a wide swing of his hammer, and Aiden leaned back to avoid the blow, but the heavy iron head caught the edge of the wooden shield, breaking off a small chunk with a loud snap. An arrow whizzed by the Warshield's head, and they both turned to see Finias standing at the tree line. The Northman ignored him and swung at Aiden again. Aiden leapt back, then used the Warshield's long backswing to his advantage. He jumped in close, trying to hook the Northman with his shield arm and hold him in place while he jabbed him with the spear. The Northman pushed him off, and then shouted his bellow again, trying to knock Aiden off his feet. The cagey armsman was prepared for that, though. He widened his stance, which helped him hold his ground against the buffeting wind.

Another arrow flew by, this time clipping the Warshield on the side of his hand. It didn't pierce the armor, but he definitely took notice this time, and visibly contemplated breaking off to attack Finias instead.

“Don't scare him!” Aiden shouted, not taking his eyes off the Warshield. “Kill him!”

Aiden lunged with the spear, trying to keep the Warshield focused on him. The Warshield parried away the attack, but he didn't follow up with one of his own. He'd obviously decided to stay on the defensive now, which would make things difficult if Finias couldn't hold up his end. Aiden stepped forward with a feint to the Northman's head. He leaned away, so Aiden thrust the spear again and again, each time seeing it smacked away by the hammer or simply sidestepped. Aiden, frustrated by the change in tactics, decided to gamble. He feinted low, going for the legs, and deliberately lowered his shield to leave an opening for a counterattack. The Warshield hesitated, but took the bait. After dodging the feint, he raised his hammer and swung down. Aiden quickly raised his shield and prayed it would hold.

The wood cracked in two as the hammer hit the shield, and Aiden's left arm flared in pain, but he had the opening he needed. He leaned in and thrust the spear down, digging it deeply into the Warshield's thigh. The Bergsbor cried out, and yanked his leg away, freeing it from the spear, but Aiden just spun around and thrust the butt end of the spear into his gut, sending him staggering back, clutching his stomach with one hand and his leg with the other. Aiden sensed the advantage now. He strode forward, determined to end this with another feint and thrust, only this one would be fatal. He hefted his spear up and decided that this time he'd be aiming for the heart.

Suddenly, an arrow stuck into the Warshield's neck. His head jerked back and his eyes went wide. He dropped his hammer and clutched at his throat helplessly as blood poured out of the wound. Aiden turned to see Finias readying another arrow. He raised his bow, pulled the arrow back slowly, and after a moment's hesitation, let it fly. The arrow sailed across the clearing and pierced into the skull of the Northman. The momentum of the impact carried him over, toppling him onto his side, dead before he hit the ground.

Aiden stood next to the body and stared at his vanquished enemy. Blood poured from his throat, but there was no movement, no breathing, no nothing. Aiden let himself take a deep breath, reveling in the knowledge that it was done. The Warshield was dead, the old Brin couple – and who knows who else – were avenged, and they could take the body to Corendar and claim their due reward. He smiled, exhausted, and turned to look at Finias, expecting to see the same. But there was no smile, no sly expression, no flippant remarks. Instead, Aiden saw a young boy, still in his teens, with a look on his face that he'd seen a hundred times before on the battlefield.

He had the look of a man who had just taken his first life, and who realized that there was no going back.

Chapter 4

Aiden and Finias spent almost an hour carrying the Warshield's body back to Corendar. As the looming city gates came into view over the horizon, Aiden tried hard to suppress his anxiety. He feared this place, Corendar, the capitol of the Kingdom of Caldera, because he couldn't hide himself there. The gates would be manned, the streets patrolled, and the pubs filled with soldiers, all of whom would recognize the mark on his face. No matter where he went, he'd find men and women eager to make him suffer for it. Going to a place like Alvarton, a quiet little hamlet only a few miles down the road, was vastly different. Small towns like that would be populated by farmers and craftsmen. They would scorn him, and make fun of him, but they wouldn't take the brand as an affront to their own honor.

But today was different. Today he would be returning a hero. He'd killed the Warshield that had murdered two Brin merchants on the east road from Alvarton, and he'd brought the body with him to claim his due. Technically, Finias provided the killing shot, but they'd fought him together, and Aiden had been the one to push them both into the battle. Their reward would be gold, which would please Finias, and honor, which would please Aiden. Tonight would be the beginning of his road back to respectability, and maybe even to his former place in the army, fighting for his lands in the great Uprising. He hated those who'd branded him, and who had spurned him since, but he loved his kingdom, and he desperately missed fighting for it. After tonight, he'd be one step closer.

After killing the Warshield, Aiden made peace with the goblins by trading his food for some rope. Normally, it would have been a terrible deal - rope wasn't that hard to find - but Aiden wanted the goblins to leave them alone while they tied up the body and carried him away. And it allowed him to keep the spear. They'd used the rope to create two crude harnesses, one for the Northman's shoulders and one for his feet. Aiden carried one end by looping the shoulder harness rope over his shoulder, while Finias did the same with the Northman's feet, and the two of them slowly lugged the body, still wearing the heavy chain armor, out of the forest and back to the road.

Finias barely spoke the entire trip back, which seemed out of character. Quiet and introspective weren’t qualities Aiden would have used to describe the boy based on their short time together. Aiden made one attempt at conversation shortly after reaching the path to Alvarton, asking Finias what he'd spend his money on, but the boy had responded with a terse, distant, “I don't know.” Aiden suspected that he knew what troubled him, though, so he let him be. They'd both just survived a battle that they were lucky to win, not to mention one they shouldn't have been in to start with. Now was as good a time as any for introspection.

The sun had finally set when they reached the outskirts of Alvarton. The market was empty by now and everyone had returned to their homes. One old man sat on a chair outside his small, stone house, and he watched the two of them curiously as they trudged slowly along the road just east of town. Aiden wondered if word had gotten back to them about the Warshield yet. If the merchant family had run back to Alvarton, then they would know, but he expected a few guards to be wandering around if that were the case. Except for this old man, the streets were empty, and the old man never left his chair, nor did he say a word as they passed by.

Alvarton sat in the shadows of the giant city of Corendar. After leaving the village all that remained of their journey was a straight stretch of smooth, paved road bounded on either side by a row of inscribed Thandaran columns that led right up to the south gates of Corendar. The tall, grey stone walls and thick oaken doors were formidable, though they’d never been tested. The city had never been attacked. Even with the war inching into Brinwall in the north and the Red Hills to the west, the gates still stayed open. No one in the county of Artora, which Corendar loomed over from its spot at the top of Croll Hill, had any fear of battle coming to them. Artorans were naïve by necessity, caught up in the politics of nobility ever since the death of King Damhran. That was no matter, though. All Aiden cared about was finding at least one who thought a dead Northman was worth a bounty, and would take him off their hands, which his sore and aching legs would appreciate.

Four guards stood at the gates ahead, dressed in the regal red and blue livery of Caldera, though like most soldiers in the kingdom, their cloaks and shields were in the style of their home county, Artoran crimson in this case, specifically the Army of the Dragon. Despite their majestic attire, however, none of them actually looked to be interested in doing their jobs and keeping an eye on things. Three stood in a bunch, talking and laughing, while the fourth leaned against the wall, staring at the ground, trying to keep his eyes open. But when they saw