As you read of this time in history, remember there is some evil in man by blood, or by inclination, which cannot be ignored nor pushed aside easily.
Evil takes its substance from the very soul of its victims. It feeds on the vitality of those souls to gain strength to destroy others.
No man is immune to the voracious appetites occurring when he succumbs to this great consuming force. No man who avoids the enticement is without danger from those who would practice the religion of evil. No man should submit to either.
These are reasons for a cause; reasons and justifications for destruction if the final victim is that of evil; fighting against these evils is how man becomes a hero to his people.
Yet evil seems to lurk, waiting patiently for weaknesses, delving and feeling the tremors of a willingness to accept. There are gods who would encourage this path, needing a complete destruction to satisfy their needs.
It is of man and of gods I speak . . .
Geth'n and Pet'r journey had only been unpleasant so far.
They hadn't traveled far from Larilla when thieves attacked them. They were each tied to a small tree and guarded while several of the brigands ripped through their belongings.
The robbers were bitterly angry. They only found food, clothing and nothing else of value. Now they were growling in their irritation, tossing the clothes in their frustration, and stamping about glaring at their captives.
Pet'r was busily working to break free, twisting his wrists and using his innate strength. He finally loosened the bindings and released himself. He concealed his freedom from their guard, but nudged Geth'n and revealed one of his hands.
"When they come closer, I will tackle their leader and force him to let us go," Pet'r whispered.
"No, you shouldn't. You might get hurt," Geth'n answered softly, but the guard heard them mumbling.
"Shut up, you two!" he grunted at them but quickly turned his attention back to the other men.
They were grumbling even more now, holding up the clothing, shaking them, and violently tossing them about on the ground. Some were shoving the cheese and bread Geth'n had so carefully packed into their mouths, swilling down the wine, and kicking the clothing and knapsacks in their anger.
"Pet'r, can you loosen my hands?" Geth'n asked.
"I can't without revealing I'm loose. I have to do this alone, but I have a plan," Pet'r whispered.
"I thought I told you to be quiet?" the guard looked around growling at them.
What happened next was as great a surprise to Geth'n as to their captors. The guard unfortunately was to suffer the consequences of being the first to know.
Pet'r broke the last of his bonds with a great surge and grabbing the guard by his shirt and the seat of his pants, threw him through the air toward the largest group.
The guard's flying body hit and bowled most of them over into a great mass of tangled bodies, clothing, food, drink and dust. The men howled their rage, cursing, and flinging each other aside while scrambling to their feet.
The leader of the group and two of his men were standing aside in a small huddle talking about how to dispose of the young men without anyone discovering their bodies.
Before they could turn to determine what was happening, Pet'r was upon them.
Those years of toiling at the nets with his father were to provide Pet'r with more power than was needed to dispatch these fools, but there was something else in his actions, a fluid motion which seemed to prepare his body for the next movement before the move was needed.
He tossed another man into the others causing them to stumble and fall into the great pile of confusion already on the ground; then he grabbed the leader's sword away with one hand and raised the man off the ground with the other, holding him aloft.
Pet'r stood there without effort. The leader's feet kicked loosely in the air, wriggling about trying to get free.
"You fools, kill him!" the leader shouted at his men. They were still trying to disentangle themselves from each other, but a few broke free and rushed to help.
"Wait!" Pet'r spoke with a certain chill in his voice. "I will not hesitate." He held the sword to the leader's throat. Already a small stream of blood oozed down from the edge of the blade pressed into the skin.
The men stopped suddenly. The others were still extracting themselves from the tangle and approaching, but they too waited.
"He is bluffing! Get him, you idiots," the leader shouted more violently at his men.
What happened next was so remarkable Geth'n couldn't remember many details later.
But Pet'r dropped the leader to the ground, deftly slicing the sword through the air and down the side of the man's face, stopping just short of his shoulder.
Then he turned the sword outward and sliced along the top through the man's outstretched hand, grabbed him by his neck and again lofted him above the ground. All this carried out smoothly, effortlessly.
"My God, he has killed me!" the leader screamed, his pain real enough for him to believe he was dying. He held his arm out and could see he was missing fingers from his hand.
"He is chopping me to pieces! Stop him!"
The men however realized this young man was not ordinary; they hesitated. The leader's ear lay on the ground with his fingers. Possibly he didn't know his ear was cut away because of the shock. But they could see it.
The blood was gushing down the side of the leader's head and saturating his clothing, but he only screamed about his lost fingers as he stared at his hand in disbelief.
"How will I be able to live without my hand?" he moaned. Then he noticed his men looking at the ground and he saw the ear. "I am dying. Help me," he moaned, crying now.
"Stop. I will let you all go if you leave now," Pet'r said, glowering at the other men and waving the sword at them, while still holding the man in the air.
The men had never seen anyone with such strength and, though there were more of them, no one was going to be the first to face this man.
They had yet another surprise in store for them. Geth'n had broken his bonds and circled around behind the men unnoticed.
As the men turned to run, he flattened several before they could start, dumping them to the ground unconscious. He too was bringing his own strength to the gathering.
The others ran away, scuffling along as fast as they could through the dust and out into the open country. The men Geth'n attacked lay as they had fallen.
"You should be more cautious about those you attack," Pet'r spoke to the leader, staring into the man's eyes intensely. "Someone might create a problem you can't handle."
The leader looked at Pet'r while holding his violated hand to the side of his head trying to stop the bleeding. He was only able to cry.
"Go. Don't look back," Pet'r said, as he dropped the man in the dust beside the men who still lay unconscious.
The leader wobbled to his feet, and still moaning in his pain, stumbled slowly away to follow his men, still running as fast as they could.
"Well, Pet'r. You seem to be a little upset," Geth'n said, walking over to his friend.
Pet'r was trying to clean the mess from his hands and waving the sword about as he did.
"Would you like to put the sword down now?" Geth'n added, holding his hand up to ward off injury.
Pet'r, realizing he still had the sword in his hand, raised his arm and threw the sword as far as he could into the prairie opposite the direction the thieves took.
"I'm not now, but I certainly was. I don't know what happened actually, can you tell me?" Pet'r asked, looking at his old friend with a puzzled look on his face.
"I think you wouldn't believe it if I told you, but you did get us out of this mess," Geth'n answered. "But we still have to gather our things." He waved his arm around, gesturing at their scattered clothing and food.
"We should probably get out of here quickly. I doubt if our friends will stay frightened for very long." He looked at Pet'r again, noticing the i
ciness in his eyes had faded. Geth'n scrutinized his friend.
Curious, Pet'r is not a violent man. How could what I just saw have happened?
They gathered their clothes quickly, jamming them haphazardly into their knapsacks, but most of the food was ruined and all the wine spilled.
Geth'n gave one of the men, who was trying to regain consciousness, a solid whack on the head with his knapsack. The man slumped back to the ground.
"It appears you could use a good walk to calm you down, my friend," Pet'r laughed, placing his hand on Geth'n's shoulder for a moment.
Geth'n laughed heartily, threw his knapsack over his shoulder, stood back and gestured with a wave of his hand in the direction they were traveling before being attacked.
"After you, my famed warrior," Geth'n said, still laughing about the whole affair.
"Someday I'll have to tell a tale about this young student who fought off the evil bandits, but let's not tarry too long. We should wait until we can savor the adventure of our little battle in more pleasant surroundings," he laughed again, shaking his head.
They turned and walked away, actually feeling somewhat high-spirited because of their brief experience with danger.
Playfully, like young boys on a lark, Geth'n jokingly poked at Pet'r's side, skipping away, as they walked northward along their route to Varspree.