Shackled Destiny: Chapter 4

Battle at the Barn

Sydney and Riven flanked Aelfric, who picked up a torch at the campfire and backed up to the near wall. One of the guards went right at Riven, seeing the fleshy middle-aged man as a weak link. Riven deftly maneuvered his quarterstaff, knocking the man’s halberd away and poking him right through the facial opening in his helmet with aplomb.

Seeing this and feeling encouraged, Sydney pounced on a man who was tentatively approaching him, catching him off guard. Before the man could comprehend what was happening, he had been cut in two different places and was falling into a trough.

Sydney turned around just in time to dodge an overhead strike. His opponent easily pivoted and pressed his advantage. Though Sydney parried, each time it pushed him further from his position. As he dodged a mighty swing by the battle-axe-wielding guard, the man’s weapon became lodged in the barn wall. The guard struggled to free his axe, giving Sydney’s sword just enough time to caress his heart.

Meanwhile, numbers were beginning to overwhelm Riven. He had kept the men at bay, tripping them and knocking them back with his staff. But now they were coordinating their efforts. As one guard lunged from the front, another struck from the side, knocking Riven to the ground with the haft of his halberd.

Sydney made to rush to his aid - no one was dying on his watch tonight. But his path was suddenly blocked by a figure that emerged from the shadows themselves. Murdoch stood before him. In the flickering firelight, it was as if the darkness itself had taken form.

Murdoch’s sword, devouring what little light reached it, swept towards him in a devastating arc. Sydney ducked, feeling the displacement of air. The sword’s impact obliterated a nearby table, raining splinters down upon them.

Seizing the momentary distraction, Sydney attempted to dart around his opponent, but Murdoch was not so easily outmaneuvered. Another blow cleaved through the air. This time, it was the barn wall that suffered its wrath. Moonlight streamed through the newly created gash, casting eerie shadows across the scene within. Sydney needed to get around him, but one moment of imperfect alertness and Murdoch would cut him in two.

Across the barn, Riven struggled to his feet with all the grace of a newborn fawn, using his staff as a crutch. As his wobbly vision coalesced, he saw four guards closing in on Aelfric. He was backed against a wall, brandishing a torch at them, which one of them thrust at in a mock parry. The campfire near them seemed to reflect the emotions of the melee, flickering excitedly and reaching out to lick any heedless combatant who failed to pay the proper respect.

Riven gathered his wits and, staff raised, dashed toward them. The guards paid him no mind. One of them knocked the torch from Aelfric’s grasp with his sword, the flames spinning through the air like a falling star. Another slammed him against the hard wooden wall. Aelfric cried out sharply.

The fire grew in an instant flourish.

Riven barely stopped in time to avoid barreling into it. The fire swelled, its flames several times their size, and engulfed the men around Aelfric. They howled in burning agony as they tripped and crashed into each-other. The boy, meanwhile, slumped back against the wall, his mouth agape, the flames reflecting brightly in his eyes.

One smoldering guard ran towards the group gathered around the barn door, hesitant to enter the tinder box. He collapsed before reaching them, his skin blistered and peeling.

The wall caught fire.

Flames ripped upwards. In seconds, the hayloft was ablaze, sending plumes of thick, acrid smoke billowing towards the rafters. Aelfric picked up the torch and hurried toward the other end of the stables. Seeing this, Sydney retreated towards the opposite corner. Murdoch followed, unwittingly giving the boy safe passage.

Aelfric peered into the well, searching for water, but the murkiness obscured his view. A large, heavy bucket was chained to a wooden dowel above. A handle attached to it could be turned to raise and lower the vessel, which now sat on the stony edge of the well. Aelfric rested the torch next to it, and, with both hands, struggled to push the bucket towards the dark opening.

Riven, heading in that direction, heard the panicked cries of animals trapped in their pens. With the fire closing in, he continued to hustle over. But then, he stopped.

He turned back. Approaching the eager flames, he reached for a latch, but it was terribly hot. He spotted an axe nearby. Picking it up, he began furiously chopping away at the stall doors.

As Murdoch raised his sword, unleashing a mighty two-handed strike, Sydney tumbled around him and placed himself between him and Aelfric. The boy’s efforts had sent the pail plummeting into the well, which was followed by the torch that had rolled off the edge. The bucket’s hollow clatter announced that the well had run dry.

Alerted by the cacophony, Murdoch turned to see Aelfric by the well. Sydney ducked as Murdoch swung at his head, slicing a post supporting the barn clean in two. Ominous creaking noises reverberated from the suffering structure.

Aelfric, despairing the loss of his torch, watched it glinting from the depths below. Squinting his eyes, he could make out the gaping hole of a tunnel where water once flowed into the well. Turning, he saw Sydney fighting Murdoch as burning debris from the roof fell around them.

Riven had broken open the stalls. Frightened horses galloped out of the pen and through the barn entrance, almost trampling the remaining guards. They had surrounded the door, weapons out, ready to prevent any attempt of escape from the blistering inferno.

He hastened over to Aelfric, who was staring into the abyss.

“This could be our way out,” the boy cried.

“You want me to go in there?”

“It’s down there or out to them,” Aelfric said, nodding towards the guards outside.

“You first,” Riven said.

Aelfric grabbed a hold of the swinging chain and lowered himself into the gloomy orifice. As he sank deeper, he could smell the remnants of mold that had long since dried. Touching down, he checked the torch. It was still intact. He waved it at Riven to show that he had completed the descent.

Sydney recognized that Murdoch was growing tired from the fight. His eyes intent on every movement of his foe, he waited for a moment to counterattack. Unlike Murdoch, he did not fight angry. He had learned early that hating his opponent did no good. He had to be keenly aware of his enemy’s movements, patterns, and anything that he could use to anticipate what they were going to do next. Despite the burning barn crashing around them, showering them with sparks that seared exposed skin, Sydney intended to finish this fight. With Murdoch wearing down, any swing parried or dodged could give Sydney the opening he’d been waiting for.

Meanwhile, Riven scrambled over to his wagon. Pulse pounding in his ears, he hurriedly stuffed supplies into a worn backpack. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he sprinted back to the gaping mouth of the well. As he sat on the edge, the stonework loomed before him, holding untold secrets in its depths. Looking at the structure, it was entirely possible that the whole thing would come crashing down and leave him stuck in that hole with potentially no way out. He looked over at Sydney, still engaged with Murdoch.

“Let’s get out of here!” Riven said.

Murdoch gathered up all his strength for a decapitating blow.

As Sydney ducked, he thrust under Murdoch’s armpit, a weak spot in the armor. The blood on his sword burned in the fiery light. Seething with murderous rage, Murdoch hammered Sydney with relentless strikes, each thunderous blow driving him closer to the well.

Down below, Aelfric switched the torch over to his other hand and drew his dagger, staring into the darkness before him. Glancing up, he saw that Riven had completely eclipsed the well opening as he descended. Aelfric wasn’t sure if Riven could fit into the tunnel, but he knew that both of them could not be at the bottom of this well. He tentatively leaned towards the opening, reaching his torch inwards.

Above ground, a very different kind of darkness unfolded. Sydney turned briefly to check on Aelfric. He glimpsed Riven disappearing into the well. Turning around, he staggered backwards as Murdoch’s sword came right at his face.

Before the pain hit, half of Sydney’s vision went black, blood warm against his face and neck. Alarmed and disoriented, he stepped back defensively. Murdoch, going for the kill, swung at him from his blind side. Instinctively, Sydney turned toward the blow, gripping his sword tightly as his vision swam. He parried, but his hands shook, the grip barely holding.

“Are you coming? Let’s go!” Aelfric’s voice sounded faint and distant.

For a moment, he hesitated. Murdoch was tiring and wounded - but so was he. He feared giving him the sense of satisfaction by retreating again. But between Murdoch, the fire, and him not being able to see straight, this was not a battle he could win.

A massive wooden post crashed between him and his opponent as Sydney rushed over to the well. He sheathed his sword and grabbed the chain. Murdoch did not pursue; instead, he stood and pointed at Sydney with his sword.

“You can’t run from your destiny!” Murdoch called, his voice sharp with laughter. “You have been marked!”

Looking up, Sydney saw that the roof was completely disintegrating. Entire chunks of it were crashing down, spraying waves of embers as they ricocheted off of the ground, walls, and other parts of the structure. He gingerly grabbed a hold of the chain and began rappelling down the well.

As he looked up a final time, he glimpsed Murdoch standing at the well, holding his sword high above his head.

Then he fell. Into uncertainty and darkness.

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