Free Tales From New Otrin (The Nomad) by Max Masen Page B

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many of the farmers. Brandgurt’s face nears one of the farmer’s, a
girl appearing to Brandgurt to be not much younger than himself.
Her face appears grizzly and rough, battle paint streaked down her
pale skin. He raises his spear and strikes it into her stomach. She
falls back into the crowd of farmers and topples over a group of
them. Another soldier approaches Brandgurt and triumphantly slaps
him on the back as the soldiers’ battle line advances and the
farmers’ dissipates. The battle is nearly over; the farmers flee in
various directions, even their sharpshooters.
     
    The soldiers advance and unleash victorious battle
cries. A few of the soldiers push on and cut down their fleeing foe
but most stand back and admire the fact that they still stand alive
and have survived their first encounter.
     
     
III.
     
     
    “That was a close one, eh, Brandgurt?” a soldier
hisses. His skin is coarse like a lizard’s and he shares the eyes
of one also.
     
    Brandgurt takes his eyes away from the fire in front
of him and puts the gloves back on his hands to fend off the cold
of the wind. Overnight the temperature plummets and a few soldiers
have already suffered from cases of frostbite. Brandgurt looks to
the soldier and says behind confident eyes, “It was, Sheenja. It
was.”
     
    “I saw you strike down the woman,” Sheenja says
suddenly. “Not even a second to contemplate.”
     
    “Yes,” Brandgurt replies solemnly. “And what is it
you would have done?” He raises an eyebrow in anticipation.
     
    “The same thing.” Sheenja looks away from Brandgurt
and back at the fire. “I think anyway. I was too far in the back. I
guess I don’t know for sure. I didn’t get a chance to test it like
you did.”
     
    “What are you getting at, Sheenja?” Brandgurt asks,
annoyance coming through in his voice.
     
    “I just wanted to know… what it was like,” Sheenja
replies, diverting his gaze away from Brandgurt.
     
    “Don’t know,” Brandgurt says with little
contemplation. “It was in the moment. Hard to tell what it felt
like. All I felt was a rush of adrenaline because I cared more
about keeping myself alive.”
     
    “Makes sense.” Sheenja goes quiet. He stands in
place, eyes trained on the blaze.
     
    “And yet this answer doesn’t please you. So tell me
what you wanted to hear me say, Sheenja. That I liked it? That
maybe it gets easier? Because I just don’t know!” The attention of
the camp of soldiers is quickly diverted to Brandgurt and Sheenja.
Brandgurt lowers his voice and continues, “I’m sorry. I just really
don’t know what to tell you. I guess it took a piece of me to do
it. And maybe it will every time.”
     
    “ Every time?” Sheenja pries.
     
    “Surely that won’t be the last time. But even you
knew that. Maybe it will be you in the front next time and me in
the back.
     
     
     
IV.
     
     
    Brandgurt, Sheenja, and a third soldier, Racjack,
climb through a lush forest on the side of a mountain. A trail has
been previously cut for the three of them but they choose not to
follow it for long; it could be a game trail and may lead them to a
dangerous animal. They veer off and find berries emerging from a
small plant. Racjack bends down and plucks a few and tosses a few
into his mouth and then a few into his pack. The walk is mostly
silent, hard feelings still being felt between Sheenja and
Brandgurt. Captain Zene, the woman in charge of the regiment knew
it would be best to send Racjack as a mediator for their scouting
mission.
     
    “You guys see anything yet?” Sheenja asks. He sounds
irritated and swats at flies swarming his face.
     
    “Nothing,” Brandgurt replies. “Maybe we should get
back on the trail for a little while longer. It will be
faster.”
     
    “It seems too dangerous,” Sheenja says back.
     
    “I agree,” Racjack cuts in. “I don’t like the thought
of an tracer bear coming down that trail at us. We stay on here or
a little longer and see