Not much of a story teller, this was a project for school. I'm rather pleased with my outcome.



Bitter Retribution



The wind rippled the sapphire studded lake. To Arack it seemed to whisper her name, Marguarite. Tears welled up in his eyes for a brief moment. The simple cross blurred and he wiped the tears.
It seemed only yesterday, he held her in his arms and smelled her flowing ebony hair. Such a fragile life, so innocent. Why did she have to die? How could the bandits do such a thing?
All good questions, none would be answered here. He mounted a steel gray palomino, appropriately named Steele. They trotted away Arack's sword clanging against the saddlebag in time with their stride.
"I will avenge you," he vowed under his breath and spurred the horse.
* * *
The city loomed up before Arack like a mountain in a vast plain. The worn out sign read: Cascade. Not a larger city in all the land nor a more corrupt and filthy one. The nearest inn was shabby and small but Arack sauntered in despite its façade.
Laughter and the smell of cheap booze peaked Arack’s senses. His eyes adjusted to reveal several patrons and a barmaid. Arack pulled up a stool near a grungy man who looked to be nearing his hundredth spring dawning. The other patrons stared at Arack's shining mail armor and blood red cape. The old man took no notice of him at all.
"Pint of ale," Arack rasped and the barmaid poured one from the tap. She sloshed it down the bar and Arack caught it. Red headed and chubby she was the best-looking person in the place. Arack sipped his drink and was startled to find the old man regarding him with pleasure.
"New to these parts?" the scruffy old man wheezed.
"Just passing through." Arack looked him in the eyes and saw an empty gray abyss.
"Ah, just as well," he coughed "no on stays here long." The patron then took a swig of his water and began again. "Just the other day a troop of vagabonds stopped in, a raucous bunch to be sure. Seems they shot the mayor while in town their posters are all over town. Anyway, they came in laughed and made merry talking of a wench with ebony hair that they’d raped and murdered. Some bunch, never seen em’ again." He licked his lips and drank in deeply from his goblet.
"Really?" Arack’s interest peaked. Could this be the same pack of thieves? He must find out. " They mention then name of the wench?" he asked trying not to sound too curious.
"Nope, only said…" the old man erupted into a coughing fit. He gulped from his goblet, sighed and resumed. "…That they burned the place and left it in shambles. Arack pictured the wreck of a house he’d returned to. Walls caved in and scorched beyond recognition. This could only be the same ones. "There’s a poster over yonder," he pointed at a leather feeling peace of parchment."
Arack stood, downed his mug, and paid his bill. He knew they would pay. The poster read that they were wanted and the reward was a million gold pieces. It made no difference to Arack how much there heads would warrant. He smiled to himself as he grabbed Steele’s reigns and led him to the road. "Not long now," he whispered in the horse’s ear. Who only whinnied in reply.
* * *
The hideout was little more than a shack on the edge of a gaping cliff. A small smoke stack jutted from the roof looking oddly out of place. It smoked happily signifying inhabitants.
Arack silently drew his sword from its scabbard; it glinted in the now setting sun. A beautiful red color Arack observed before nearing a window. He crept near, peeking inside the dark interior. He counted five heads. The poster had identified the leader as Garrik the Fox. The name did little in the way of deterring Arack.
Arack breathed in, sighed, and bound through the thatch window. He impaled a bandit upon entry who barely had time to blink. They scramble for weapons at their sides. Arack cleaved another bandit in half before they got organized. Half surrounded, he smiled to himself.
"Who are you?" the leader demanded with a ferocity matched only by its answer. A knife from Arack’s belt flew into the eye of another bandit and he fell over backwards. Again Arack reached for his belt where he pulled a lock of the deepest black hair and tossed it at the Fox’s feet. "Ah," the ruffian breathed "the Wench."
A crooked smile crept over Garrik's face. The look was enough to turn any man insane. Arack breathed heavily, huffing in air. He chanted over and over, in his head, that this man would pay. Very much so.
"You must be the poor wretch’s husband." He stooped to pick it up and smelled it sensually. "Well, you can be sure we made her last moments pleasurable," His smile grew another inch. "Right up until we gave her a permanent smile. Then we burned the house with her in it. Bet you had fun sweeping up her remains." The two remaining bandits laughed maniacally.
Arack had had enough. His sword flew in a sweeping ark that swept one bandits feet out from under him. Garrik stopped laughing in time to see his follower crumple in a heap of red.
"Now, I will kill you," Arack snarled at the startled Fox.
"We will see," came the unsure reply. Garrik swallowed and began to circle. Arack followed his lead and circled as well.
Arack’s mail clicked merrily as he circled its prey. Blood dripped from the sword, and soon it would claim another victim. Garrik leapt at Arack who sidestepped the blow and swung a powerful return slash. The sword swiped the air to find the Fox had ran out the door. Arack gave chase to cut the bandits’ escape. He succeeded. Now Garrik was caught between Arack and the cliff.
Arack showed no mercy and darted in for the kill. He slashed at Garrik’s exposed flesh and ripped his belly open. The Fox leapt back and was surprised to find no ground to land on. The murderer wailed a deathly lament before he hit the ground below. Arack wiped his sword clean on a peace of cloth and tossed it over the cliff.
* * *
The lake hadn’t changed but something had. The wind no longer whispered her name. The surface no longer shimmered. The cross stood a silent reminder of his loved one.
"I’ve won," Arack whispered "but I feel so empty. So alone." He looked toward the cross for some kind of answer only to find none. "I wish you were here. I miss you so. Justice is preserved yet here you lay. I haven’t received my retribution your still gone, my wife." Arack cried openly for a moment then chocked back his tears. He mounted the steel palomino and stared straight ahead. He spurred his horse into a full sprint and rode toward the sun.