95 Sheltered Boy

Frey, Doevm, and Thomas walked down the path, tracking the many footsteps left by the careless thieves. Thomas picked up the petals, cursing as he threw them into his spatial ring. Every few minutes, he jumped at a noise, no matter how small. Doevm and Frey turned back and ask with a look if he saw anything. He lowered his head and continued following them. The walk took around a dozen hours until they heard voices. Thomas grinned as Doevm put a finger over his mouth. He and Frey crouched down, behind the trees, pulling Thomas to their level.

"What are you guys doing?" Thomas whispered. "Let's go in there and take them down."

Doevm and Frey exchanged looks. "Listen," Frey said. "This isn't going to be like a spar with one of the guards. People are going to die. Do you get what I'm saying?" Thomas shook his head. Frey facepalmed. "You'll understand when the battle starts. You sneak around the back while Doevm and I sneak up the front. We'll surprise them and take out as many as we can."

"Ok," Thomas nodded to show he understood. "Who should I target first, the leader? The ones who flee?"

Doevm signaled to lower his voice, which was getting progressively louder: "Kill the ones you have the best shot at. Just take down as many as you can as fast as you can. You're by yourself against an unknown amount of people. I know I said five a piece, but the enemies won't line up for us. I and Frey will have our hands full at the front. We'll engage first, and after a few seconds, you'll jump out and attack the retreating people."

"I think I understand," Thomas brought his spear out of his spatial ring. "How do I know when a few seconds have passed and when the right time to strike is?"

"You'll know," Frey said as he stood up. "Go." Thomas hurried off.

…

Frey sighed: "I knew he was sheltered, but this is a little too much. Do you think he has what it takes?"

"Probably not," Doevm said as he rubbed dirt on his spear. "He's too loud. He'll be seen in seconds. You'll have to cover him if he needs it." He glanced at the shape of Frey's shield, which was in a tower-shield shape. "Why aren't you using your new tactics?"

Frey stuffed his kopis into his spatial ring: "It's only been a few days since I got these. If I tried to use them now, I'd just be dragging you guys down. While my spear has changed, I can still use it like the old one, and my shield can change at will."

Doevm frowned. "Are you sure? This will be the last chance for practice before we leave for the capital."

Frey nodded: "I'm sure. I won't drag you guys down." He navigated around trees and through bushes. The voices grew louder. "When I asked if Thomas had what it took, I didn't mean his capabilities, I meant killing."

"The capacity to kill?" Doevm lay on his chest and wormed his way under bushes to a good vantage point on a slight incline. "Of course. He's got a spear, just stab them. What's so hard about that?" Frey couldn't respond as the thieves came into sight. The information was correct: fifteen people were camped out by the river that ran all the way south towards Petal Town.

…

The thieves filled up their water sacs, their bodies still slick with sweat from running so much. Pieces of roses fell out of their bags. The thick vegetation around the site made their camp hard to spot from a distance. Green sheets were held in place overhead with long branches. In the middle of the camp was a large deer, roasting over a fire. The animal's skin, along with several others, were drying far from the river, right next to a large, dense shrub. Doevm was on the right side of the camp, inches from the water hidden under some moss. Frey was farther back, as it was difficult for him to hide his massive frame. Thomas could see it all as he huddled inside the bush next to the tanning rack.

'So this is a camp,' he thought. 'They eat meat, live out in the woods, and steal for money.' Underneath the thieves' many scars and thin leather armor were their bones, outlined by their thin muscular frames. He felt his own body, at his slight layer of fat that had refused to disappear no matter how much time he spent training with Jameson.

While the deer looked big, they had to divide it between the fifteen of them, and it wasn't very large. He shook his head and tightened his grip on his spear. 'These people are enemies.' He recited the words several times to calm his racing heart. 'Wait for Doevm and Frey to act. All I need to do is wait.'

Waiting is exactly what he did, for over half an hour. His spear became slippery with his hand's sweat. He stared at the deer cooking over the fire and his stomach grumbled, which almost got him caught. Bugs crawled all over him and underneath his clothes. The dirt got more wet by the second, sticking to his armor. 'Why aren't they attacking?' he thought. 'Was I supposed to act first? No, that's not it. What are we waiting for? Let's just go attack them.' He tightened his grip on his spear. 'I just need to wait.'

As he sat under the bush, the sun burned on many parts of his body. He had to adjust, but slowly. Each breath was cautious. His arms moved like they were covered in dust. His body creaked and moaned, protesting getting more comfortable. 'I need a cushion,' he thought. 'I already ate all the food in my spatial ring.'

The thieves gathered in a circle around the deer as the leader cut portions for everyone. They didn't even use plates, relying on their dirty hands instead. There were no words of thanks to the goddess for their meal. They cursed, laughed, ate, and talked about unspeakable things. Thomas forgot about the bugs and the dirt.

'How can they live like this?' As his disgust raised, two figures jumped out from the bushes. One second the group was eating, and the next a head flew into the fire. The thieves stared at it, the meat they had waited so long for just a few feet from their stomach. Frey crushed someone with his tower shield. The thieves stood up, their swords drawn.

'This is a fight,' Thomas stood up, the mud clinging to him. The bugs jumped off as if abandoning ship. He stared at the battle through the leaves, the spear nearly slipping out of his hands. He swallowed his saliva. 'This is what I wanted, right?' He took a step, his boot dragging against the roots. Doevm and Frey ignited their blue life essence to fight against the fifteen, now twelve, green mists. Thomas activated his own as he cleared the bush. Someone noticed him. In his rush, he had forgotten to sneak up on them. Three people…enemies, surrounded him.

His feet went cold. His stance was lacking. Even as he tried to fix himself, the thieves didn't allow him the time to adjust. They charged in, their sharp swords inches from his throat. He jumped back, tripping inside the bush. Laughter ensued as the three blindly stabbed through the bush. He covered his face. Swords bounced off his armor like metal hail. Broken branches and leaves flew through the air. He surrounded himself in life essence, waiting for them to lose strength.

One second passed. One painfully long second. As Thomas held his hands in front of him, the curses bouncing off his ears like the swords and fists, the words "I want to join the war," his old words echoed in his head. 'Like I want to join this mess,' he thought. 'It hurts. I'm scared. I want to go home. Maybe Frey and Doevm will save me.'

Three seconds passed. A crack formed in his defenses. The dull thuds of combat became screeching of metal past metal. His scorching lungs reminded him to breathe. 'Where are they?' He opened his eyes, finding that Doevm and Frey were still fighting far away from him. The three above him smiled. 'They're so slow. Hurry up.'

Another second passed. 'I want to go home, where I don't have to deal with this. Why do books make this sound so much better?' His book was back at his mansion where he spent every day of his life. By now, Liz would have set his and his father's breakfast down for them to have a pleasant meal. The guards would be working their hardest to train under Jameson.

'That's why they're guards,' he thought. 'Only commoners can do this kind of thing.' Another crack in his life essence made it dim. The swords no longer skid past him, but smacked against his skin, rattling his bones.

'Father was right.' The blows lessened as the three thieves tired. He opened his eyes to meet their gazes. They looked unreasonably confident, like crazed animals. Under those gazes, however, he saw a hint of fear. Their blades shook. They occasionally looked back at Doevm, Frey, and their dead companions. When the turned back to Thomas, their hits sped up and their eyes widened.

Thomas pictured his father, welcoming him back with open arms, then Jameson's disappointment. "I didn't train you so that you could waste away," he would probably say. Thomas gripped his spear with all his strength, not allowing the sweat to make his grip slip off.

"It's ok," his father would hug and comfort him. He would use today as an excuse to keep him in the mansion. Thomas rose up through the shower of blows. "I won't let anything happen to you," his father would wear that look of concern again, only now Thomas wouldn't be able to refute it. He glanced at Doevm and Frey, who were covered in the same dirt he was. 'I don't want to go back home,' It was less of a thought and more of a feeling that, if he turned back, he would be a prisoner again.

Not that he could turn back anyway. His life essence faded away. Doevm and Frey were still too far away to help him. 'I'm going to die,' he thought as he freed his limbs from the bush. 'I'm going to die.' His foot hit solid ground. Thousands of hours of training hit him like it was both a distant memory and a memory he experienced in the span of a millisecond.

He took a stance, his blue life essence fading away. The three thieves raised their weapons. 'One,' Thomas reeled his spear back. 'Two.' Three holes opened in each of his attacker's chests. They staged back and collapsed. Thomas leaned on his spear. Doevm and Frey just finished up with the last of them. In less than a minute, the thieves were dead. Thomas's breathing destabilized. His eyes darted from body to body, then to his shaking hands, which were covered in blood. The half-digested morning bacon flew out of his throat as he lost his balance and blacked out.