Legon Awakening

chapter Nine

The Lesson



“What drives us to act? What is it that makes us capable of the great and the horrible? It is the events in our lives and how we choose to react to them. How we see the event, how we respond to it, these are the things that define us.”

- Excerpts from The Diary of the Adopted Sister



The men wore a look of triumph tempered with wariness on their faces. It was clear that they weren’t sure exactly who or what they were dealing with. They looked the four fugitives over, sizing them up, figuring out who would be the greatest threat. Sasha would instantly be ruled out. She would be easy to overpower. Keither was fat and young and looked terrified, so no problem there. Kovos and Legon were the problem. Both men were more confident and didn’t back down from the glances they got. Both had been in so many fights that they could be beaten to a pulp and not be bothered. In truth, if the soldiers were to hurt someone to make a point it wouldn’t be Legon or Kovos. Breaking the strongest of a group to intimidate the rest usually worked, but doing that didn’t make a lick of difference to the next strongest guy. However, hurt one of the weak ones and the strong would comply just to spare the others pain.

“Why don’t you join us in our camp?” one of the men said, pointing with his bow up the road just a bit.

They went without a word, Sasha and Keither intently staring at their hands. This was a good strategy for Sasha. If a woman appeared submissive and scared the men would be less likely to harass her. After all, that’s how people like this thought women should be. But Keither needed to at least look like he had a backbone or the men would teach him a thing or two.

They entered a small clearing off to the right of the road. There were three tents set up and a smoldering fire in a pit. They maneuvered the horses to the left side of the camp, leaving plenty of room for more tents when the other guards arrived. Legon figured it would take about a day for a messenger to reach the town, so if they played their cards right they could escape before the other five showed up. Two on four didn’t suit Legon, but it was better than two on ten.

“Get off your horses, throw down your weapons and stand in a line,” a guard said. They dismounted and placed their stuff on the ground before them, Sasha trembling and Keither shaking. Legon knew the look Kovos was wearing, the “I’m going to do some damage” look that he always got before a big fight. Kovos was a nice guy, but cross the line with him and, well, Legon just hoped his friend would keep it under control until the right time. He didn’t blame him. His own feeling of fear was slipping away and his body coursed with the energy that came with losing himself, letting go, and letting his fists or maybe that big cleaver do the talking. But not now.

One of the men pointed at Sasha and threw her some ropes. “You tie them up, starting with those two. Tie them to that tree.”

No surprise there; have the least threatening take care of the others so they only had to take care of her.

Sasha came up to Legon, who turned his back and allowed her to bind him. Her hands were damp with sweat and cold, her fingers barely able to form the knots. Legon knelt down next to the tree, never taking his eyes off the men. He wanted to aggravate them, wanted them to go for him. Soon Kovos was next to him and Keither’s hands were bound, but not to the tree.

“Good work, pretty. Now turn around and place your hands behind you. Do anything dumb and we’ll see if your insides are as nice as your outside, got it?” She nodded and turned. The man came up behind her and wrapped the rope tightly around her wrists. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear. She turned her head away and her breath caught when he grabbed her backside. She quickly walked to Legon and knelt down by him, almost like she was trying to hide behind him. He had expected them to grab Sasha. Soldiers were always grabbing women in town. It made him mad, but all in all it could have been worse.

“Our commander should be back before nightfall, so you four just sit tight,” he said and started to leave, but then turned back around. “Oh, I almost forgot… gag.”

At the command, one of the men came up to them and placed a large wad of stained and dirty rag in each of their mouths and tied it in. The rags had probably been used to wipe sweat from the soldiers’ faces and necks. There was a taste of salt, dirt, and several other things Legon didn’t want to think about. Keither gagged a bit. This was not good. If their commander was supposed to be back tonight then that meant they would have to try to escape from ten royal guards, not just four, and that this whole thing was a trap. A bead of sweat ran the length of his back, and he was feeling weak from the lack of sleep and food.

The sun was getting lower in the sky and the light coming thought the treetops was getting fainter. Soon they could hear the sound of hooves clopping in the distance and the soldiers arose, looking to see the new visitors. Five more soldiers rode into camp—the same five from town. The commander looked smug.

“Thought you could outsmart us, did you?” he jeered. They said nothing.

The men were off their horses and walking to them. The one that had killed Moleth looked down, surveying them. He stopped when he saw Keither. “Well looky here, if it isn’t the tough one that tried to best me in town.”

The commander looked at Keither, who was still hunched over and shaking. “I think they may need a lesson on how to treat authority.”

Kovos attempted to say something through his gag. One of the men kicked him hard in the ribs.

The men chuckled and the leader said, “There’s no teaching this one, at least not in the field. We can tutor him back in Bailaya.” They were headed to the capital, then. This was not good at all.

The man continued, pointing at Legon. “You won’t get this one either, but we may be able to teach the fat one,” he said, reaching down and pulling off Keither’s gag.

The one that killed Moleth laughed. “Permission to have some fun, sir,” he said in a dark tone. The commander waved his hand and stepped back.

The man pulled Keither into the center of the camp by his shirt, the whole time the boy mumbling incoherently. The man turned and hit Keither across the mouth to cheers from the other men and a groan from the boy. Keither hit the ground and was pulled back up to be hit again, this time cutting his lip. Legon felt Sasha bury her head in the back of his shoulder. She hated violence. Two of the men walked out and held Keither up, allowing their friend to have an unmoving target. With every blow Keither tried to yell, but with the blood in his mouth it was getting harder. The other two men were starting to join in now, hitting him in the kidneys and on his sides. The beating seemed to take a long time, and in the end Keither lost consciousness. The men dropped him to the ground and gave him a few kicks that Legon suspected broke his ribs.

The sun seemed like it was taking forever to set. The commander walked forward to address them. “Now we have a long journey ahead of us, and I hope this shows you what happens if you don’t do what you are told. We will leave bright and early in the morning, but don’t worry. If you need anything, two men will always be awake to help you,” he said with a gracious smile.

He started to turn and stopped at a look from one of his men. He turned back around, knelt down in front of Sasha, and said in low but carrying tone, “My men and I spend a lot of time on the road, and we don’t get the luxuries that most do. That means that they’re going to need something to do to keep them occupied. I hope you can sleep well in the saddle, because I can guarantee you won’t be sleeping at night.” Sasha’s eyes jerked up.

He laughed and his men joined in, starting to make cat calls at Sasha. He reached forward, pulled off the gag, and grabbed Sasha’s hair, pulling her up bodily from the ground. She tried to pull away. “Good. I like it when they have some fight. Don’t worry, honey, you get me first. I’ll be real gentle,” he said, pulling her screaming along.

Legon lurched forward, yelling though his gag. The man turned and smiled. “Oh, do you like to watch? Ok, you can watch.” He threw Sasha to the ground in front of him. The man placed his knee on her back and cut the cords holding her. More cheers came from the men. “Give it to her, sir!” He rolled her over and she tried to hit him. His hand came across her face hard, causing her lip to bleed. He was on top of her then, pulling up her skirt, trying to part her legs. He hit her again. Her eyes were full of tears. She looked up at Legon, pleading for him to stop this, but he couldn’t. He felt the rope cutting deeper into his wrists. This wasn’t happening. Where was the Elven side now when he needed it? He’d gotten her legs apart and pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, smiling wickedly as he felt up her shirt with the other. His hand went down to his pants that were now covered in Sasha’s skirt. He was fumbling around, grunting, trying to hold her down. He pulled down his pants. There was a look of triumph on his face.

“Are you ready honey?”

She tried to beg. “No please, no please, please NO!” The commander laughed.

Legon heard a slight hiss and felt a breeze, saw a slight blur by his eyes and then heard a gurgled scream from the commander. An arrow shaft rose from where his neck met his body. Blood sprayed from the wound, peppering Sasha’s face scarlet. Before the man could get his hands up to the arrow Legon felt a second breeze and saw a figure leaping from the trees, long hair flowing in the air, two long blades in his hands. The ropes binding him were swiftly cut.

The soldiers were running for their swords, but their ambusher was on them. The soldiers had left their captives’ possessions nearby, and Kovos and Legon lunged for their weapons. Kovos’ hands wrapped tight around the handle of his sword. The look on his face was that of an insane man. Legon’s hand found the handle of the cleaver, the new one for splitting animals, the one he hadn’t gotten a chance to use. There was no one to stop the rage this time, no one at all.

One of the men rushed at him with a sword in his left hand, arm outstretched. “That won’t do,” he thought. Legon moved forward and roared as he swung the huge cleaver up. It made contact with the man’s left armpit, passing through cloth and flesh with ease. He felt the blade jerk as it separated the joint, making a crunching, slurping sound. The rest of the tendons and ligaments cut with ease. The blade went in shiny and silver and came out red and with bits of bone and flesh stuck to it. The man screamed as his arm fell to the ground followed by its owner, bleeding everywhere, slicking the rocks and turning the dirt to mud. He only got flashes of the fight the others were in before two more men came at him. Maybe it was the surprise of the attack or perhaps the ferocity of it, but the royal guard seemed to be outclassed.

As the next guard approached him he lashed out, swinging at the man who dodged and parried with his sword. The man aimed a stroke at his head but was deflected by the cleaver. This thing was not a battle ax, and even if it was Legon had no idea how to use it. He needed to end this fight fast. His opponent was gaining ground and his companion was soon to join. As the soldier brought his sword back, Legon slammed into him with his shoulder, making him slip in the bloody mud. As he fell, his companion ran forward wildly. Legon side stepped and as the man passed him, swung the cleaver high above his head and brought it down on the passing man. During their fun the soldiers had removed their helmets, and the man’s skull didn’t do much to stop the blow. There was a thudding sound as the metal passed effortlessly thought the brain and neck, then along his spine, popping ribs from vertebra just like it would in every other animal. It stopped about a foot into the man’s upper body. He turned on his heel, pulled out the blade with a squelching noise and brought it down on the man that had fallen. He tried to raise his arm to protect himself, but there was just a slight jolt as the cleaver cut through his forearm and a crunch as it buried itself deep in the man’s chest.

* * * * *

“He’s going to rape me,” Sasha thought.

There was no way it could be stopped, and all of the others were going to do it too. She tried to fight, but it just seemed to make him stronger. Her vision jarred as he slapped her. He was trying to part her legs and move up her skirt. He was so much bigger than she, and he was toying with her, enjoying the sport. Again he hit her and again this gained him ground. He was between her legs now and had her skirt up. His rough hand ran up her body, under her shirt, grabbing and feeling her. His hand went down to his pants. She could feel the rough fabric against the insides of her thighs as he tried to get them off. His breath stunk. Yellow teeth glinted back at her from his wicked grin.

She was talking but she wasn’t sure what she was saying. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Fear was ripping through her, along with humiliation. She looked over at Legon and Kovos. He was going to make them watch—they were all going to watch. Both men were a blur though the tears, but she saw the murder in their eyes, both so close and yet neither could save her. If only she could have an episode. Then at least she wouldn’t have to be awake for this.

Something warm sprayed her face. She tasted metal. She looked up at the man. There was an arrow shaft growing out of his neck; blood came from it like a fountain. He was falling forward on her, but there was movement, something off to the side.

There was noise all around, but somehow she didn’t hear it. She rolled the man off her and looked to see Legon running forward with a meat cleaver. She jumped as the cleaver severed a man’s arm. She turned her head and saw Kovos with a sword. He was fighting two men. The look in his eyes scared her. Everything else was numb, but those eyes… there was savage hate in them, a look she’d never seen before. This wasn’t how fights were supposed to be. In her head, men had always gotten cut and just died. They didn’t bleed to death, thrashing on the ground.

There was also far more blood than she’d previously thought. Every time someone got hit with a blade it looked as though the assailant had a wet cloth that they were waving around, but instead of covering the tents, trees, and horses with water, it was with blood.

There was another man there as well, the one that had started the fight. His back was to her, but his long hair was familiar. He was holding two swords that were curved along the forward edge and thicker about two-thirds of the way down. Then they came to sharp points. “Who is he?” she thought. “I wish he would turn around.”

* * * * *

Surprisingly enough, the morons had managed to do something right, Arkin had to admit. Their ambush was good, not as good as one of his, but still good. He was up in a tree looking down on them. One of the big ones was beating Keither. This made him mad, but he needed to wait for the right moment before acting, and maybe this would be good for the boy.

Now the one in command was talking to Sasha. He knew where this was going, but he hoped he was wrong. He preferred that most of the men be asleep during his ambush, but there was a line he would not let the soldiers cross. Beating Keither was one thing. Rape was another.

Anger and annoyance built as the soldier threw Sasha down and start to get on top of her. That was it; it was time whether he liked it or not. Sasha was putting up a fight, which in a way made his job harder. He aimed, felt the weight of the bowstring pulling back. Now the idiot couldn’t find his fly. This was good; he made a perfect target. He let go of the string and as usual the arrow hit right where he intended.

He lunged from the tree, drawing his blades and landing next to Legon and Kovos. A quick flick of the wrists and the ropes were cut, and now it was time to do what he did best. He crossed the camp in a few steps, swinging the two blades as he went. They were great for close-quarter fights. The Elves and Iumenta could deflect arrows with them, but he couldn’t. Not that it mattered; none of the idiots went for a bow. In fact they were way under-armed. The undisciplined fools had put down weapons and armor after they had started in on Keither and Sasha.

Unlike the broadswords most of them were using, his weapons were nearly unbreakable and very sharp, so sharp that he barely felt one of them cut through the soldier’s armor. They passed in between the man’s ribs, slicing lungs and heart. They flashed around him as another man went down, missing his head. He saw Legon taking on two with that cleaver. It wasn’t meant to be a weapon, but it seemed to be getting the job done. There was already a man thrashing on the ground missing an arm.

Arkin turned to look at Kovos. As one of the pathetic soldiers passed by, Kovos hit the man hard in between the shoulders with the pommel of his sword, dropping him to the ground. He looked paralyzed. The pommel had probably broken the man’s back. He’d live for long enough to be interrogated.

Now Kovos was fighting the last man, the one that had beaten Keither, the one that had killed Moleth. Kovos brought the sword down, knocking the soldier’s sword out of his hand, but instead of killing him Kovos threw down his own sword and shoved the man against a tree, holding him by his throat. There was a wild, hateful look in his eyes. He reached down to the soldier’s belt, pulled out his dagger and raised it to his neck. He slashed down, cutting veins and arteries. Then he cut the other side of the neck. He continued to do this again and again until the man’s gurgled scream stopped and he slipped from Kovos’ blood-soaked hands. Kovos turned, letting the lifeless body hit the ground. He looked at Arkin dead in the eyes. The surprise was instantaneous, but was quickly replaced with a wide smile, like nothing had happened.

“What took you?” he said.

Arkin weighed his options. Kovos may have snapped and become unstable, but it appeared as though the killing rage had run its course, at least for now. He was as close to normal as possible,

“Laundry.”

Kovos nodded his head. Arkin spoke. “Are you ok?”

“Other than watching my brother get beaten to a pulp, Sasha almost getting raped, and killing three men, I’m doing great!” He smiled sarcastically at the end. Arkin could tell Kovos wasn’t actually smiling and the gallows humor was a good thing. Kovos was still with it.

“Ok. How did it feel?” he asked.



Kovos’ face darkened as he thought. “Not good. But not bad either. They deserved it. I don’t know how I should feel.”

“That’s a good sign, then. Go clean up Keither. He should be waking up soon.”



He turned and saw Legon with Sasha. Her eyes looked blank and out of focus. She was probably in shock. Legon was next to her with his arms around her, talking into her ear. She was rocking back and forth slightly. Her clothes were still covered in blood, but it looked like Legon had wiped it from her face. She had been through a lot, and Arkin hoped that she could keep it together for just a few more days, and then she would be fine. He knelt down and wiped his blades off on one of the dead men’s pants. He reached back and re-sheathed them as he walked back to the tree he’d been in to get his bow.

Legon looked up at him. “Thank you for coming when you did. I know it wasn’t the most opportune time.”



Arkin walked to Sasha and bent over, placing his hand on her cheek. “Are you ok?” he asked in a warm voice.

“I will be. I’m just shaken is all, I’ll be fine.”

“Good. You just sit here for awhile, ok?”

She looked up and wrapped her arms around her knees. There was a small groan and Arkin turned to look at the man Kovos had paralyzed. “Sasha dear, on second thought, Keither is getting up now. Will you take him to go get cleaned up? There’s a small stream on the other side of the road.”

She got up without question and walked to Keither, helping him out of the camp and out of ear shot. Arkin stood and beckoned Legon and Kovos over as he walked to the man on the ground. It appeared that he could still use his arms, which was good. He looked scared, which was also good. As Arkin walked up to him he pulled a small knife out of the sheath on his belt. He knelt down next to the man, Kovos and Legon on either side of him.

* * * * *

Sasha was helping Keither along, or was he helping her? He didn’t know what was going on. He was covered in blood and there had been bodies in camp. Also, why was Arkin here? His head was pounding and fuzzy. The last thing he remembered was getting beaten.

They were crossing the road. There was the sound of water running. Sasha’s lip was bleeding and she was shaking. He remembered what the man had done when he tied her and he knew what happened. All of a sudden the pain in his body didn’t seem to matter, and he was suddenly thankful he was unconscious when they… when they…. He wasn’t going to think it. He saw the stream, moving fast in the mountain pass, the light playing on it, illuminating the trees. He knelt down with her. She scooped up water, splashed it over her face and then started wiping his. He needed to say something to her, something supportive, but what? He had never been able to talk to people, never. But Sasha, she was different. She was nice to everyone, and everyone disliked her for something that he knew wasn’t her fault.

Anger, sadness and hate coursed through him, but also love. Love for someone that was kind to him, love for someone good. That someone could do that to her, could hurt her…But maybe they hadn’t. Maybe that’s what the fight was.

He placed his hand on her wrist. “They didn’t…?”

“No. Arkin came right before they were able to.” She looked down. Shame and humiliation filled her expression and voice.

He breathed a sigh of relief. She was standing now and he stood shaky on his feet. She steadied him. She was helping him, after what had just happened to her, after what she’d just seen, she was helping the guy who was out for the whole thing. Who would do that?

“Sasha.” She paused. “You’re a good person, the best person. I don’t care what people say, you’re not a demon, you’re an angel. You deserve better than how people treat you. I just thought you should know.” That came out bad and awkward. She probably thought he was crazy or something. Why had he talked?

He looked down at his feet. This was why he didn’t talk to people. She placed both her soft hands under his chin, raising it. Tears were forming in her eyes and her voice shook. “Thank you.” The tears started rolling down her cheeks and he knew she meant it. He wondered how many people had ever told her that.

* * * * *

Arkin knelt down next to the paralyzed soldier and spoke in a soft voice. “We require information from you, information that we will get, and after that, we will kill you.”

The man’s eyes bulged and he stuttered, “Why…why should I talk then, if you’re going to kill me either way?”

Arkin didn’t like doing this, but the bastard had it coming.

“I’m glad you asked that. Because it is going to be up to you how long it takes me to kill you. One way is fast and relatively painless. The other is… hmmm, well, messy.” The man looked at Arkin intently for a minute.

“What do you want to know?” the man asked.

He wasn’t surprised to hear this. Of course he would crack. This pathetic animal didn’t have any training, any backbone. He was a blunt instrument, nothing more.

“What was your mission? And what did you know about it?”

“That’s all you want to know?” the soldier groaned. He was clearly in pain.

“That’s it. Now talk,” Arkin said, and gave the man a slight shake. These royal guards were the easiest to interrogate. No discipline, no honor.

Breathing hard from the pain of having his spine broken, the man began. “Ok. We’re here looking for a man that’s a smuggler. We didn’t know where he lived, just that it was in the Salez territory and that he was around eighteen with a tattoo on his back. We were told that he would be armed and dangerous. After we caught him we were to take him back to the capital for interrogation.”

“You needed ten armored men for a smuggler?”

“No. We went in two groups of five. This was just the last town on the way.”

“So why did you set a trap?”

“We knew that whoever we were looking for must be here, and the commander said that it would be good training for us. Also, ten of us in a town would draw too much attention.”

“Very well. I believe you.” Arkin knew that these people just took orders. They didn’t think. He reached down, and before the man could say anything, he broke the soldier’s neck.

The sound of shuffling feet told him that Sasha and Keither were returning. It was a good thing the soldier had talked so quickly. He didn’t want either of them to have to see more violence today.

As he got up, Legon looked him in the eyes. “I appreciate what you have done, but we need answers, and…”

“You will get them, but first we need to move away from here. Go and cut all the men’s purses. Take anything of value.”

“You want us to rob them? We need to get out of here before more men come! We need to run! We need to get as far away as we can!” Sasha said, getting more and more frantic. Legon started to pace.

“We need to leave and go to Salez. I have to find out why I’m being hunted, how they found out about me. We can’t just make it look like these men were robbed and hope for the best. We need to get answers,” Legon said,

“Salez? Are you out of your mind? We just killed a bunch of royal guard looking for you. If we go anywhere near that city, we’re dead,” Kovos said.

“Yes. Salez is not a good idea. They’ll know about you,” Sasha started.

“No. I have to go there and try and get some answers.”

“You’re part Elf. Why not try and kill you? What more reason do they need?” interjected Kovos.

“How did they know what part of the empire I lived in?”



Arkin needed to get them moving. It was unlikely that anyone would come by, but that didn’t mean it was smart to take the chance, and he did need to go to Salez. Besides, it was on the way. “I agree with Legon. We need to go to Salez, and I will come with you. If anyone comes by here they need to think these men were robbed and killed. Trash the place, but make sure to take anything of value. Don’t argue now, just do it.”

Kovos looked as though he was going to protest more, but stopped at a look from Arkin. He punched the air and began to tend to the men. Keither looked woozy.

“Sasha, take care of Keither. Don’t worry about doing this, we can handle it.”

They also needed to get out of here for all of their sakes. Sasha was on the edge of losing it, and Kovos, well, he had been downright scary. Sure, he had fought well, amazingly for that matter. It wasn’t the total lack of caring that was the problem, but more the situation. Legon and Kovos had every reason in the world to fight and kill the way they did, which was good, because now they could do it again. But at the end Kovos hadn’t just killed that man like the others. He had butchered him, and it was only then that he had calmed down and that his fear and anger had subsided. He would have to watch Kovos to make sure he didn’t turn, to make sure he stayed grounded.

* * * * *

Legon didn’t really see these men as people anyway, and in truth they did need the money and supplies, so he didn’t fight Arkin on it. The thing that had him going was that the carpenter was here at all. And what were those swords that he was using? They sliced the men without effort, even with the armor, and the commander, how did he make that shot? As he thought about the commander, he approached his body. Something seemed off in some way. It was the arrow that was sticking out of him.

As Legon got closer he noticed something strange about the end where feathers should be. He reached out and felt a bristle-like fiber on the end of the arrow. The shaft was narrow and as it led down it was covered in blood—a lot of blood. Way more than should come from an arrow wound.

Sasha was over his shoulder staring at her dead assailant. “Legon, why did he bleed so much? Does that always happen?” she asked, curiosity apparently getting the best of her.

He pulled on the shaft. As it came out he noticed another oddity about the arrow. “Arkin, maybe we should get those answers now.” Arkin looked up from the man he was robbing and a frown crossed his face.

“Please, Arkin,” Sasha said.

Arkin reached over his shoulder and plucked an arrow out of his quiver and tossed it to Legon. It was odd-looking too. The arrow was amazingly light. It had a three-bladed head, but the blades weren’t metal. “Wood,” he said softly. There was more. He ran his fingers up the arrow that was covered in holes for about an inch and then more about seven inches up. Understanding took hold as Sasha spoke. “What are the holes for? Is that wood?”

“Why the holes, Legon?” Arkin asked as he stood over them. Kovos and Keither were now moving toward them.

“When something is shot with an arrow you start to bleed out, but the arrow plugs the wound. Once removed the wound bleeds a lot, so you have to wait until a healer is around to pull it. But not with this arrow. You see these holes at the front of it?” he said, placing it in Sasha’s hand and pointing out the holes.

“Yes.”

“And how light it is?”

“Yes.”

“Well, my guess is that the shaft is hollow and the holes in the head vent blood to the holes up farther, basically holding the wound open so you bleed out fast, and I mean real fast. Arkin, what is this? There is no way a wood arrow is that strong.”

“It is if it’s made by an Elf,” Arkin replied. Legon felt his stomach drop.

“I am an Elven agent, Legon. I have been the whole time I’ve been in Salmont. I knew your mother, and you have been my mission.”