Of Mekanics and the Way in Which They Came
Pain. Suffering. Grief. Regret. Revenge. Out of these, only one motivates a soul to take action. Many have mastered the art of hiding their angst, but few can control the urge to take justice upon themselves. It is these same few who shall inherit the earth.
- Javril Mendant
Prologue - Bravery in the Face of Death
Asher stumbled through the brush, his foot snagging onto a root as his body hit the ground with the impact only slightly softened by the snow. The youth’s eyes lolled about in their sockets as he felt about for something to grasp. Tall trees of pine towered above him, their green hue sharply contrasting the white blanket all around. He heard the man yelling in the distance, his voice growing louder as he menacingly approached Asher.
“I will enjoy watching you die, Denaux,” he spat through gritted teeth. Grabbing a willowy tree with shaky hands, the boy slowly performed an about face and looked his assailant straight in the eyes. The hooded figure stooped down to the boy’s level.
“I will enjoy your face draining of color as your life force spills from your eyes,” he snarled, grabbing the boy’s shoulder where he sustained the arrow injury and squeezing.
“You will be dead, your friends will mourn you, and then I will kill them too.” Asher’s face contorted in agony, blackness beginning to creep around the edge of his vision.
“If you cannot even defeat but a small boy, how do you figure you can defeat an army?” he spat. The tall man shrugged,
“I’ll figure it out somehow, such a shame you won’t be here to see it.” Asher’s vision grew blurry, then all went black.
Part 1 - Pain
Chapter 1
A Short Time Ago, But Not Too Short
“Put your back into it, you whelp! I’ll beat the livin’ daylights out o’ ye if’n you don’t show me why I e’en took you in me own home in the first place.” Bernard, the blacksmith, tried his hardest not to crack a smile even while glaring at the boy with his soft brown eyes. Asher brushed his sweat-tinged black hair out of his eyes, and returned the grin that had already forced its way onto the large man’s cheerful face. “Aye, and then your wife will have your hide!” Bernard chuckled,
“That she will my boy, that she will.” The lean youth returned to the anvil and struck the glowing ore with a resounding clang.
After being taken in by the kindly middle-aged giant, Asher’s life took a turn for the better, with his dream of being taken off the streets and into a loving family fulfilled. Now, thirteen years later, the sixteen year-old had earned a place as not only a member of the family but as an apprentice blacksmith, a trade he enjoyed and took advantage of to the fullest extent. While he might not be allowed to make weapons or armor, but Asher had confidence that Bernard would allow him once he had mastered the art of plow forging and other such basic items.
“Boys, dinners ready!” came the call from inside the house.
“We shall be there shortly, with the appetite of a bear, and manners to match!” bellowed the great smith.
“Just so long as you you don’t track mud in the house.”
“Of course dear.”
Later that night, as the boy and his foster parents sat around the crackling fire, Asher tilted his head to the left and faced Bernard.
