At a simply astounding height of 6 feet 8 inches tall, Bastard was immediately recognisable, a massive negative, as far as he was concerned, but right now, he was concerned with a lot more. He had made too much noise with the spider, and his running was attracting creatures that hungered in the now angry night. They were silent, but he was not, and he could tell they followed him now, closer and closer. He was bogged down, carrying the boy and a bag full of metal on his back, which was impossible to release without slowing down, which would have spelt death for the two. Occasionally, he would concentrate with more effort than he frankly thought necessary, twist one finger on his right hand behind him and mutter a word that was more than a word, relishing in the knowledge that the creatures felt their hairs melt, clinging to their skin like hot jam.
He could see the lights of Ardorf, approaching slowly; too slowly. They would never make it before the creatures did, and then he and the boy would be very dead. Finally remembering he was actually carrying him, Bastard looked down to see the boy staring at him; there was no fear in his eyes, he looked as if he knew everything there was to know about Bastard already, this was not a normal child. His eyes pivoted down to his chest and flashed gold. He whispered something that was lost to the wind. "What?" shouted Bastard. The boy stretched upwards and cupped his hands to Marits ear.
"In 10 steps, move left."
The feck was this kid on about. Nonetheless, Bastard had seen the looks in the boys eyes, so golden and far too old for a ten year old. He scared him, and Bastard did not like being scared. So he counted. 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, BANG. He shifted left, and felt a spider slice through the air right where he had been. What the hell was happening. Suddenly, this kid was a golden eyed soothsayer, and Bastard was very sure he didn't like soothsayers either, the Willumers had taught him that if nothing else. However, Bastard was not someone to take a blessing for granted. "In 12 steps, duck." He followed the instructions yet again, and yet again, felt a creature cut through where he had just been standing.
The routine continued until they neared at the Ardorf gates, when the boy stopped talking. "GIVE ME SOMETHING TO GO OFF HERE." Bastard shouted, the monsters
were something he had never seen in all his time in the greygrass, they werent supposed to be here, invaders like he and the boy. The boy mumbled something again, then repeated it into his ear.
"They've gone." More blessed words had never been spoken to Bastards ears, who almost rolled through Ardorfs heavy gates he was so exhausted.
"What in Illum were those things?" Bastard asked the boy, panting like an old dog. He stood opposite, staring at him with cold eyes that did not show the gold of before. They were brown now and hard like rocks. And most importantly, they didn't belong to a boy. She was a very unkempt girl, with short brown hair that was clogged with dirt and grey pine needles, wearing an ill-fitting tunic and a pair of trousers that underneath all the mud, actually looked to be quite expensive. Her feet were bare, and in her hand, she bore a pocket watch, gold. What a waste, Bastard thought. Gold in a watch, fecking stupid. Still, she stared at him.
"I said," demanded Bastard, "what were those things." He was getting really sick of this girls shit, and was already thinking of ways to dump her back out for the spiders. Unfortunately, this was not to be, as Bastard felt a muzzle press into his back. "This is Sargeant Wulf, remain still or risk me blowing up all the gold you have buried in that back of yours, Mage cunt."
'Well shit', thought Bastard. This was why he had wanted to enter the town under cover, and now he was under arrest at gunpoint because his morals had gotten in the way of thinking clearly, and he had barreled through the front gates making as much noise as humanly possible.
"Left hand," demanded the Sargeant. Bastard begrudgingly raised his left hand to reveal five tattoos, one on the little finger of a small goat, one on the middle finger of a black circle, one large knife with a curved line next to it. On his ring finger was a small arrow, crudely drawn unlike the others, with a jagged cut through it, scarred flesh separating the tip from the fletching. He knew there was no point fighting this. Sargeant Wulf was notoriously trigger-happy, even Bastard had heard about him. Wulf grabbed his hand, inspecting the tattoos. Bastard could feel his animosity growing as his hand was gripped tighter and tighter still. Silence permeated the courtyard before the Sargeant finally barked, "To the station!", prodding Bastard with the muzzle of his gun to walk forwards. "You too, boy." He growled, picking her up by her collar like an unruly kitten. They were marched through the dark streets and occasionally peeked at by curious eyes through holes in blinds and walls. Ardorf was a poor place to live for most. This far north, it was already difficult to grow crops, and when the greygrass prevented anything from growing, it had isolated Ardorf into a vicious circle of starvation and thievery. The only reason the artisans came to Ardorf was for the iron in the Angebak mountains, and even that was running dry nowadays. The dwarves were beginning to migrate, and there were rumours of the wyrms returning. Ardorf would crumble soon; everyone knew it.
Finally, they reached the station, a bleak old building near the Old Quarter, with just a few officers staffing it. The wood was rotting in the sign that was illuminated by a sickly lantern light. 'Ardorf City Watch', it read. Bastard internally scoffed, Ardorf hadn't been a city since the War began 53 years ago, and the name was just a pompous sham. The door creaked as it opened, and Bastard hit his head on the frame as he entered. A man sat at a desk a few metres away, trying to sleep through the eternal background noise of shouts and infants crying. "Who is it this time, Wulf?" he groaned, "Lord knows you're the only bastard who takes anyone in anymore." He hadn't taken his head off the table the whole time.
"We have a mage here, Hans." proclaimed Wulf, smugly, "An Outcast too."
Immediately, Hans looked up. He gaped at Bastard, then shooting a glance to his left hand to see the black circle on his middle finger. "Illums name, why would you bring him in here? You don't even know what Name he has Wulf!" Hans was shaking and glared at Wulf.
"No need to worry, sir," Wulf said quickly, his excitement stymied by Hans's outburst. "He has a blunderbuss to his back. If he tries anything, I'll move him on his way good and proper." This seemed to calm Hans down slightly, as his voice had less of a tremor when next he spoke. "What's the man's name then, I'll look him up in the records, see if there's anything on him there. Oh, and check if he has a School-Seal." Hans finally stood up from his desk, moving to the other side of the room.
Wulf jabbed him with the gun after checking his hand, to see no School-Seal, "Well? Let's hear it then!" If anything, he had gotten angrier since he got to the station, perhaps annoyed that his arrest of the mage was going unappreciated.
"Bastard." Hans stopped and stared at him, before his face scrunched into a scowl and Wulf smacked the butt of his blunderbuss into his neck, and Bastard fell to the floor in pain, gasping. Hans walked over, kicking him quickly but powerfully in the ribs, causing a choking cough to erupt from his mouth.
"Name, no fecking jokes this time boy." Hans spoke softly, anger veiled well underneath.
"Bastard," he spluttered, "That is my name, I was Outcast before the Naming ceremony so I never got an Adults name." He tried standing up again, but only managed a half hearted hunch.
"How the hell can a boy be exiled before he even turns twel-" Hans's face turned grey and he looked down at Bastard, realisation finally beginning to set in his eyes. "Oh."
"You know me." Bastard whispered hoarsely.
"Yes." Hans whispered back, "I do."
Wulf looked up at him, then at Hans. He had fear written on his face. "Who is this guy, Hans." Hans was still staring at the giant crouched in the room before his eyes snapped upwards to Wulf. "Right. You wouldn't have known, you only got here a few years ago." He muttered. His eyes snapped back to Bastard. "My little brother knew him before he got exiled, but it was huge in the town when it happened. I was just getting started as a trainee under Wigum back then, and he was the first Watchman to the scene. Told me it was the worst thing he'd ever seen." He pointed at Bastard.
"When he was eight, he locked the doors of a building with 15 people inside, including his mother, and set it ablaze. He stood outside," Hans was staring at him, dull-eyed, "watching them roast".