Slayer

 

The moon was red when the Dark Lord came to my village.  People took a red moon as a bad omen, but way I sees it, ain’t nothing but a beginning; least, that was my beginning when I was a girl of thirteen. Remembered him well as he rode in on a black horse and as tall as legends spoke. All us villagers gathered, ‘course, as strangers weren’t really common in  Dragon’s Spit. 

 

Well, there we were, watching this giant of a man in black armour ride in from South across the Wilds. Pa was the first one to approach, asking him all sorts of questions that the Dark Lord seemed to take exception to, ‘coz he jumped down from that big old horse and grabbed Pa round the throat. Ma screamed as Pa landed lifeless right by my feet. I knelt down and shook him, telling him to get ‘imself up and tell the bad man to go away. Ma burst into tears and I ain’t never seen that before. Made me real scared, unable to move with fright. Then the Dark Lord began swinging his sword around, cutting people down as he walked calmly through the village. Right on the Dark Lord’s back came more riders with flaming torches. They threw those torches about and set fire to homes. The smell was sickening and the heat burned my face. I pulled Ma’s hand to try and get her moving, but she just stayed right there by Pa’s side, her head buried in his chest as she cried. 

 

“We’ve got to go, Ma!” I cried, desperately pulling on her hand. Finally she looked up and wiped her tears, her face going cold. She stood and we hurried through the smoke and screams. I didn’t know where we were going, but I kept my eyes fixed on the red moon whenever there was a break in the smoke. That was until the black figure of the Dark Lord came into view, looming above me. He didn’t even glance at me as his sword slashed out. Suddenly Ma’s hand went limp in mine and I watched her fall towards me. When she landed on top of me, I felt her blood all over me and struggled to get away. She was too heavy. The Dark Lord was already stepping over Ma’s lifeless body and I watched his booted feet kick up dust as he hunted down the last of the villagers. 

 

Closing my eyes, I lay very still, pretending I was dead like Ma who lay bleeding above me. I cried silently, screwing my eyes shut and trying to ignore the screaming. Eventually things went real quiet, apart from the crackling of fires as they burned long into the night. When I dared to open my eyes, the red moon had gone, along with the Dark Lord. With a little effort, I pulled myself from under Ma and stood silently in the early dawn light, surveying the carnage. 

 

There were piles of bodies everywhere and smoke filled the air with the smell of death. Stunned, I stumbled through my dead village. There was nothing more for me there and I stumbled down the hill towards the forest where I had played the day before, blissfully unaware of the death that was to come on the night of a red moon. What the Dark Lord had wanted with my village, I had no idea. Ma and Pa had never had a cross word with anyone, so as far as I was concerned, this was senseless. I wandered the forest, bare foot and cold for most of the day. Was really numb by the time I came across the little wooden hut. Must’ve walked for miles and miles ‘coz I remember the shadows were falling around me and the sun was sinking real low. A man was chopping wood by the hut, bare chested and sweat glistening off his muscled torso. He swung the axe high, then sent it straight through blocks of wood as though it were air. Dunno how long I watched him, too scared to speak, too scared to leave. Finally he noticed me and his old eyes locked onto me.

 

“Late to be wandering the woods,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Where you from, girl?”

 

I pointed back from where I had wandered. My throat was too dry to speak, so I hoped he knew where I meant. The old man’s eyes narrowed as he looked over me and his head nodded wisely. Looking back, I saw black smoke rising above the trees and I knew the old man had seen death in that. He took me into his hut and wrapped me in a warm blanket as he made a fire. He gave me water and fed me hot soup, but it was tasteless to me. 

“You got a name, girl?”

 

I stared at my empty bowl and felt pretty much the same. Red moon had been the end of my life and any name I once had. “Ain’t go no name, sir,” I muttered, averting my eyes from his curious gaze. 

 

“I’m no sir,” he said gruffly. “People know me as Cleaver. Least they used to know me as that.” His eyes looked into the distance, as though he had lost something. 

 

“Pa used to speak about Cleaver the Legendary,” I said brightly, but I was suddenly filled with grief that Pa wouldn’t be telling me no more of his stories. Pa was gone with Ma. Cleaver let me cry, looking uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure when I stopped crying, because next thing I remember is waking up with bright sunshine streaming through the window and the smell of roasting meat. 

 

“You’re just in time for breakfast,” Cleaver said, pushing a plate into my hands. I thanked him, ‘coz I was told to be polite. But I wasn’t much hungry. My mind travelled back to the night of the red moon and I found myself unable to work out how long it had been. I forced myself to eat, but I struggled to keep it down. Cleaver busied himself around his little hut, avoiding talk with me. It was obvious Cleaver was only used to his own company and I had invaded his world. 

 

“Are you really the Cleaver my Pa told stories about?”

 

Cleaver was silent for a moment. “Aye.”

 

“Then what are you doing here?”

 

Cleaver grunted. “Retiring. Legends eventually fade into old men who yearn for past glories, girl. My name will live longer than me, told by drunk men in taverns who envy the man I was. Of course, the stories will be bigger than the truth, but at least they will remember the name.” He sounded sad, yet content. It reminded me of how Ma would talk about meeting Pa for the first time and I saw that distant look as she would go inside herself. Before grief took me again, I thought about my name. It was fading from memory, a thing that was meaningless now the ones who had given it to me were gone. “What name would you give me?”

Cleaver stared at me intently, studying me. “Depends what you want to do in life.”

 

Without thinking, I said, “I want to face the Dark Lord who killed my parents.”

 

Cleaver sighed. “That’s a dangerous path to take, girl. And a difficult one. You’ll need a mighty name to travel the land before you.”

 

“So name me.”

 

Cleaver sighed, tugging at his grey mustache. “Slayer.”

 

I played with the name in my head, then said it out loud. It sounded good and it sounded right. There was just one more thing. “Will you teach me to live up to the name?”

 

Cleaver got to his feet and turned his back to me. For a long time he was silent, staring out the window into the woods. After a while, he turned to me and knelt before me. “You are choosing the path of the warrior, little Slayer. It is filled with death and destruction.”

 

“My past is filled with death and destruction, then so must my future. Train me or send me on my way: I will not waste my time on legends.”

 

Cleaver nodded. “Then first we must break your body and your mind before building you stronger.” He opened the door and went out, beckoning me to follow. “Run around this clearing as fast as you can until your legs collapse. When you recover, run some more.”

 

I looked at him as though he were mad. “How will that make me a warrior?”

 

Cleaver grunted. “It won’t, but it is a necessary first step to train your body. Tomorrow you will be running with a log on your back.” 

 

That was how I found myself running around his clearing until my lungs were burning and my legs gave way. But I found a rage within that gave me the strength to get to my feet. By the time dusk came, I was limping into the hut, my entire body on fire. So it begins, I thought. The next day was the same, but this time I carried a heavy log upon my shoulders. By the time it was noon, my legs had given way and I limped back to the hut where I lay, unable to move. Cleaver was not sympathetic. He made me food, brought me water, but told me that I was to get back outside and continue training. 

 

The weeks went by and became months. By the third month, I was running around the clearing with a log on my shoulders for the entire day. My legs had grown in size and a new power was there. Without the log, my running speed was immense and my endurance like nothing I had ever experienced. But Cleaver wouldn’t let me hold a weapon or train me in its use. Now he told me that I had to work on my entire body. There was a tree with a low hanging branch that he made me use to pull myself up. I struggled with one, but by the end of the month I was pulling myself up thirty times in a row, my arms bulging with new found muscles. 

 

“When the body is strong, the mind follows. If you are to master your weapon, you must push yourself beyond any limit you have ever set yourself.”

 

I slumped down against the tree, exhausted. “I want to learn how to kill,” I said. “I’m ready.”

 

Cleaver shook his head, his face hard as a rock. “No, little Slayer: you have just started.”