Five months earlier..
Marcus stared into the fire. It was dying, small flames licking at the air above the black ashen remains of wood. The temperature was tumbling toward the cold of night. They would need more logs. He glanced at his mother, Jill was peering at him from over a book. She devoured books like a starving word-fox, he thought to himself, amused at the image. Marcus had been taught to read: but preferred not to.
"Ahem", Jill cleared her throat lightly, her big dark eyes flashing toward the fire and then back at him.
"Alright, I'm going" Marcus replied, feigning irritation. he drug himself off the floor with an absurdly heavy sigh and lumbered like a bent and twisted troll toward the door, he turned and made his "oaf face" at her, crossing his eyes and lolling out his tongue, whilst moaning at the effort of hauling open the door.
Jill laughed, a lilting giggle that filled the small room and made Marcus grin in return. "Now get, before it's dark" She said, her voice stern, but her eyes smiling.
Marcus closed the door behind him. It was cold. He watched his breath curl into frost drops in the air as he stared into the sky. the sun was going down in a fiery molten brilliance, The clouds rimmed with a bloody pink that faded into the deep violet of night. The intense skies heralded the changing of seasons, Marcus inhaled deeply. The cold prickled in his nose. He watched the horizon for a few moments more and turned as if to set off for the wood shed, and yet something stopped him. He had become aware of a feeling of unease. Marcus looked around, suddenly alert, he couldn't see anything amiss so he closed his eyes, held his breath, and listened.
Over the wind he could just vaguely make out a rumble, like soft rolling thunder in the distance. There was no storm tonight. Marcus' eyes flew open! He spun toward the tree line on the far side of the valley. A rider? He paused squinting into the dim light, and thought he saw a smudge of shadow overlapping the shadows of the wood, and he was almost certain he could make out the sound of hooves. Marcus waited, and as the shadow darkened against the fading light of the meadow he knew the rider at once.
"Father." Marcus whispered his heart leaping in his chest. He knew his father even from this distance. Marcus' face broke into a huge grin. "Mother!" He called loudly toward the house, his deep voice cracking with excitement "Father's back!"
Moments later, Jill flew out of the house with a squeal of glee. She stood beside her son on raised toes, bouncing like a girl as she watched her husband ride in. He was closing ground fast, already approaching the paddocks and they could see he was driving his mount at a breakneck pace. "Why does he hurry to us so?" Jill wondered aloud her question hanging in the air.
As Ty approached he began to wave from atop his galloping horse in wide urgent gestures. Fear suddenly gripped Marcus and he heard his mother's breath catch in her throat. Something was wrong. Ty was yelling but was not yet in earshot. Marcus ran towards his father straining to make out what he was saying.
"Run!" Ty bellowed and Marcus stopped in his tracks.
"RUN!". Marcus hesitated uncertain of what to do.
"RUN BOY!... HORSES!". Ty was frantic.
Marcus had never seen his father afraid and he felt the icy fingers of panic wrapping around his own heart, causing it to race even as his mind seemed to slow down, slow enough to notice his fathers eyes, comically wide, sweat streaming from his brow, little rivers in the grime on his skin, his mouth moving around the word as he yelled it again.
"RUUUN!". And, finally, Marcus moved.
Leaping into action Marcus ran; sprinting towards the stables. His own horse was out in far paddock, and the work horses in the barn were farm stock built for strength not speed, but the new bay was young and un-gelded. Marcus burst through the stable doors and grabbed a bridle, the horses immediately sensed his distress and the spirited bay fought against the leather, Marcus wrestled with the horse cursing in frustration then forced himself to be calm and with a few soothing words, finally managed to slip the bit into place. Next, he bridled the grey mare, but he wasted no time on saddles. He led the horses out of the barn as they pulled and danced around him unaccustomed to excitement and skiddish at the sight of Ty's horse approaching in a dead run.
When Ty reached Jill he pulled up to an abrupt stop, jumping from his horse. They were both looking toward the tree line from where his father had emerged. A row of riders had cleared the wood and were galloping toward their home. Ty unfastened his weapons and they fell to the ground even as Jill fell into Ty's arms. He gave her a quick embrace. As Marcus came within reach Ty grasped his shoulders. He looked fervently into Marcus' eyes.
"You need to Run" Ty said in a deliberate and breathless voice that Marcus barely recognized. "You need to see your mother to safety. Ride to her brother Marvin in town. You should be safe there. But you must go now and you must ride hard!".
Marcus' fingers were digging into his father's arms. Those arms had always been so strong and safe, but now they shook. No. They were shaking him, Ty, shaking him into motion.
"Do you understand Son?! RUN!"
Marcus felt Ty slip something into his pocket then Ty bent to retrieve the bow and quiver from the ground and shoved them into his hands. The riders were closing ground fast. Too fast thought Marcus, they had only a slim chance of outrunning the band. Panic finally hit him in full and Marcus turned to the horses, Jill was already atop the bay and Marcus vaulted onto the Mare. Jill dug her heels into her horse and it leapt forward. He could hear the "pomph!" of an arrow flying from his fathers bow behind him. The riders must already be in range, Marcus realized and he urged his mount forward following Jill.
They barely made it a few strides before he saw her fall. She fell in slow motion. He noted how beautiful her black hair looked cast in the sunset glow as it floated downward. she hit the ground in a crumpled heap, and as his horse dodged sideways to avoid running her over, Marcus half jumped/ half fell to the ground by her side. His hands trembled as he turned her over on to her back. An arrow. An arrow through her back. As her body settled to the ground it pushed the arrow further and the steel head pierced her chest and through her dress ripping a small tear of fabric open at the same time as Jill's eyes fluttered and opened, afraid. Uncomprehending.
Marcus couldn't breathe, the roar of denial overwhelmed his mind and a pain he'd never imagined burned through his body. Details stretched in agonizing clarity as if time it'self were coming to a stop: The thick crimson blood seeping from the wound was spreading, a deep purple stain against the pale blue islets of her dress. He looked back to her eyes, as he wrapped his hands around the arrow trying to stop the warm slick blood that pooled against his fingers. She was no longer afraid, her gaze had become gentle again and sparkled with a tenderness that made his heart seize. Jill reached her delicate fingers up to the hollow beneath his cheek, where they brushed lightly before sinking away.
"Son" She whispered, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and ran sideways down her temple, to rest in her hair. Marcus tried to speak but his throat was clutched with grief.
"Marcu.." Thick blood bubbled up from her lungs and choked her final words. It spewed out of her mouth as she coughed in reflex, splattering in hot drops onto his face. Marcus watched as the life flickered in her eyes and then dimmed. He stared into their emptiness. He couldn't look away. He was welded to the spot like it was the very axis of this swirling chaos. Ty's shouts, the enemy's horses, the cold, the whirr of arrows they existed in a distant plane. The moment was infinite.
Then Ty's hand appeared. Strong and leathered, tanned to a deep brown from the sun, laced with lines and scars. It covered Jill's eyes and softly closed them. While, like a traitor, time burst into motion again and the present came crashing down upon Marcus with a force. He gasped, inhaling a long sobbing breath. The spell was broken and Marcus looked up at his father. Ty's face was set, hard and determined. He thrust the bow into Marcus' hand for a second time.
"I'll not lose you as well." It was not a sentiment, but a command.
There was no time for grief. There was no longer time to run. Marcus nodded once, and scrambled to cover behind the woodshed. He noticed dimly that Ty had already killed two of the assailants and the others were baring down upon them. The world looked askew, like it had been bumped from it's axis. Everything swayed strangely before him. Marcus rubbed his eye, hard, with the back of one wrist... his fears now focused on his father. Ty was crouched behind one of the thick paddock posts. The fence was poor cover, they were grimly outnumbered and Marcus had no sword or even a knife for close combat. He took a deep breath and willed his nerves to steady then adeptly pulled an arrow from his quiver and loosed it, yelling as the arrow flew the air. His aim was steady and the arrow lodged square into the closest riders chest, Marcus was already drawing his next arrow, as the man slumped forward over his horses neck. Ty hit another. The riders were swarming around them now. Too close. Marcus loosed a shot upwards at a rider not 15 feet paces away he just saw it pierce through the fat of the mans neck as he shifted balance looking for the next target all rage and sorrow focused on his aim.
Marcus heard the deadly ring of Ty's sword, scraping through the scabbard and knew his father had drawn. He smiled smugly, a thirst for blood was baying in his chest, he and Ty would unleash all hell on these bastards, they were no match for his father's sword. Marcus moved to the other side of the small shed and his arrow found the first man he saw. Another rider was charging toward him and Marcus saw his father sprint into view, Ty's sword was already bloody - it sliced through the foreleg of the horse, the rider tumbled over the steeds screaming head as they both crashed into the ground. Arrows were streaming toward Ty and he ducked behind the stumbling horse using it for cover. They were still outnumbered but were down to four or maybe five assailants and had cut the numbers by half.
Marcus reached for another arrow. A hot flash suddenly tore into his consciousness, interrupting the motion. A moment of shock was followed quickly by the awareness of a searing pain in his arm. Marcus twisted toward the source of the sting and was surprised to see an axe- blade buried in his shoulder.
"There's a fucking axe in my shoulder!" he mused aloud. He didn't know who threw the axe but heard the rider pass. He tried to turn, intending to leap to his feet and defend himself but collapsed instead. The world shuddered around him. He lay helpless in the dirt, eyes open and glassed over, The heavy darkness of unconsciousness gathering around him, smothering his senses.
A violent scream from Ty tore through the air, his vision tunneling, Marcus writhed on the ground until he could see his Father through the haze. Ty had broken cover, running toward Marcus, his face etched with horror and disbelief. Marcus watched paralyzed, as a rider appeared behind Ty, a throwing knife somersaulted through the air. It stuck in the back of Ty's head, causing him to stop abruptly. His father didn't fall, he just stood there, and his expression turned from violent, to disbelieving then to something almost apologetic. Next an arrow pierced his spine, bending him backwards like a marionette. The final arrow struck from the side at a sickening angle shifting the bottom of Ty's handsome face into a grotesque distortion, the tip of the arrow protruding from the bottom of his jaw.
The world had lost it'scolour Marcus noted watching the thin grey stream of his father's blood drippingfrom the arrows point falling to a black puddle on the ground. It was thelast he saw before tumbling into a hot black coma.