This is the original short story that started me off. I'm currently at 50k words in the novel. I've made this short story Chapter 1 since I started my first draft. It's like a short story that decided it didn't want end. I'm open to any feedback at all. It is just over 3k words, that may be a bit long for a first chapter so any recommendations on how to break it into two without messing up the flow, or if you think it's okay, let me know that too. Thanks for anyone willing to take the time.
Chapter 1 : The Waterfall
The last six months have been hell, no, worse. Those suffering in the underworld deserve to be there. They earned that fate. These six months have been endless death, hunger, suffering, and torture for those fighting in the name of their lords. Nothing is deadlier to the men who work this soil than a feud between those who claim to own it.
Yet, here today, we have peace. Three days of peace. The lords may spew bravado, greed pumping through their veins with every beat of their heart, but even they do not dare disrespect the Gods. Especially in a time of war, when the Gods’ favor could be the difference between victory and defeat. For three days there will be no killing, no spying, no harm done by either side. Instead, we pay tribute to the Gods and thank them for the returning Sun. If we please the Gods, the darkness will recede by the day. The sun will once again shine its light on our fields and our homes for another fruitful season of growth.
I may not have to kill any men today, but a kill will come. The larger the beast the better. More meat. More fur. Several of us archers have gone our own ways to hunt. The men, almost desperately, wished me luck on the way out of camp. As much as their words offer support, their hungry heavy eyes apply pressure. Not that I blame them.
I head southwest, where this time of year the moose and bears are drawn to the streams carrying life down from the mountains. Hunting will be easy there, and the view beyond words.
The trip isn’t too taxing. The forest isn’t as thick in the cold. Bare branches and the barren forest floor offer easy traveling. In a few weeks it will take twice as long to make it to the base of the waterfall. This gives me more time to track and find a good vantage point.
I’ll never grow tired of the sound of waterfalls. Their sound fills the soul with spirit. The drone of water against water is a welcome break from the sounds of battle. Metal and wood thudding together. Men yelling in rage and screaming in agony. War is the sound of force against force. The sound of water is peaceful, flowing. It travels the path of least resistance, with the earth instead of against it.
It doesn’t take long to spot the impressions of bear paws in the damp mud near the stream. Prints of different sizes, some days old and some as fresh as this morning. They must consider this a safe watering hole and fishing spot now that us men are distracted killing each other. This hunt will be easier than expected.
It isn’t the largest waterfall I’ve come across. The nearby rowan trees are nearly as high as the fall. It does offer something most other waterfalls don’t. Seclusion. This river is the border between our lands and the lands of those we face in battle. Most steer clear of this area to keep the peace.
I begin to look around for a good spot on the ridge that will offer a clear shot. The cliff to the side of the waterfall has a small shelf where I can camp. It will also offer a great view of my prey to come.
As I begin to ascend the rocky path there’s a loud crash just above me. A stone hammers into the ledge.
Dust from the impact irritates my eyes for just a moment. I wipe them free of the stinging sensation and notice a man standing across the stream. His fur is worn and tattered and his slingshot is once again loaded and aimed directly at me. The ledge above me would offer shelter from his slingshot. I could take a hit or two and get to safety but I’m here to hunt a beast, not a man.
“I’m not here to harm you.” I say while showing him my empty hands.
“The next one won’t miss.” he calls back. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a time of peace.” I say confidently. “I’m here to hunt, just as you are.”
“You carry an archer’s bow and knives. I’m sure my lord would be curious to know what an assassin like yourself is doing so close to his land.”
“It is a time of peace.” I repeat. I could tell him his puny slingshot would only hurt me but not stop me. I could easily make it to this ledge and have an arrow through his heart before he could even speak the name of his lord. Lucky for him my hunger for bear is greater than my thirst for blood. “I’ve spotted bear prints. I will be camping right here until they return. Once I get my beast I’ll be gone. I have no intentions of crossing this water now or ever.”
“Bear?” he sounds surprised. “You expect to kill a bear with that bow of yours, impossible.”
“Maybe for you.” I jest. “Watch me if you must. I will be staying here until the pack returns. Once I get what I’m here for I will be gone. What are you hunting with that little stone thrower anyways? Squirrel, rabbits?”
“Of course, only a fool would attempt to come out here alone and walk out with a bear.”
“Ah, then let me be a fool. Either way I’m not here to harm you or assassinate any lord, for that matter.”
He’s silent, clearly debating with himself on whether to believe me. Gods, please don’t make me have to kill this man to feed my own. He’s silent.
“The waterfall.” I begin. “I come here because the waterfall clears my mind, allows me to focus on the hunt. I’ll stay on my side, you on yours. Let’s not bring the ugliness of war to this peaceful place.”
“The waterfall.” he echoes my words. “So be it. But if you even think about crossing this stream or sneaking by, my next stone will find its place between your eyes.”
“Understood.” Finally. “They likely won’t return until morning, are you going to babysit me all night?”
“If I must.” He says while dropping his slingshot back to his side.
I make my pallet and collect as much dry wood as I can. As I prepare my area, I notice he is doing the same. He makes a small fire in a stone cave on his side of the waterfall. It’s more crevasse than cave but offers him shelter with a view of the trees, and of me. Once settled I look out over the stream. Between the warmth of the fire and the vibration of the waterfall I begin to dose off. In the middle of war, I consider myself blessed to have a full night of sleep and an easy hunt ahead of me.
As I slowly drift to sleep, I hear a dull thump up in a tree, followed by another on the ground. My friend across the water managed to drop a squirrel off a branch.
“Nice shot.” I call out over the sound of the waterfall.
“I could fill my belt a hundred times before you drop a bear with that bow.” he answers.
“Perhaps. We’ll find out in the morning.”
I lay my head back down. The stars are on display tonight. Beautiful shining lights intertwined with swirls of purple, blue and pink. The Gods are the greatest of artists. I get lost in their beauty until the smell of meat enters my nostrils. Apparently, he’s using his fire for more than warmth tonight.
“What makes you so confident?” his voice breaks the silence. I turn my head towards the sound. “Your arrows won’t even reach an organ; they’ll barely break the hide if you’re lucky.”
I have an answer but don’t bother to offer it. My bow is stronger than most, most men can’t pull it to a draw. Those who can are straining to the point where accuracy becomes impossible. I’ve been using this strong bow for years, my father designed it and made sure I would grow up strong enough to use it.
My first successful bear hunt was years ago, my father was still alive to see it. I believe it was the greatest day of his life. He bragged throughout the villages and castles of how his bow in the hands of his son could drop any beast. Nobody believed him, as predicted. Every hunter in our valley came to see for themselves, every one of them as surprised as the last. I could tell him this story but what would be the point. No matter what I say he won’t believe me until he is a witness himself come morning.
“Ah, I have a magic bow.” I tease. “Handed directly to me from the Gods themselves. I can drop any creature that walks the earth. This isn’t any bow. It is Bogi, the bow of the gods.”
“You really are a fool.” he chuckles. “I have some meat left over, I don’t want it to draw any unwanted visitors tonight. Would you like some, archer?”
“Hmm.” I ponder the offer. “I have some fresh apples I could trade you. Very sweet, very juicy.” We agree to meet at the stream and make the trade.
I savor the flavor of charred meat while he crunches into the crisp apple. The squirrel is delicious. I must be hungrier than I thought. I chew each bite a little faster than the last.
“So, what do you do,” I speak between bites. “When we’re not at war?”
“I own an inn.” he says. “We have hot meals, strong drinks and a few beds. We mostly cater to travelers. The occasional high lord or lady who wants a rendezvous outside of their normal circles. I hunt the meat and cook the food while my wife does, well, everything else.”
“Any young one’s?” I ask noticing he looks a bit older than myself.
“Yes.” he pauses. “Two. A boy and a girl. They’re young but they already make me proud every day.”
“Ah, they take after their mother then.” We share a laugh. “Why are you fighting, if you host lords and ladies, I imagine you could leverage that to stay out of this war. Secrets can have perks.” I hardly endorse shadowy games, but we all do what we must for our families.
“The lords would rather remove me and my family, take over the inn themselves, likely have one of their bastards run the place. No. Fighting is the only way I still have something to give to my children someday. I’d die on the battlefield to give them a future.” His pause allows time for us both to reflect. “What about you, what lowly story leads you to be a bottom feeder such as me?”
“The same thing that makes me so sure I’ll have a bear on my cart tomorrow. This bow and the skill I have with it. I was practically born with this thing in my hand, and my father made sure everybody knew it. I have a reputation back home. If I were to walk away, I would be carrying their fighting spirit out with me.”
“Do you think this will ever end? Perhaps, one day the peasants will refuse to fight. If the lords had to risk their own lives’, I’m sure they’d find it easier to resolve their issues without bloodshed.” His hope would be inspiring if it weren’t completely sad.
“A dream,” I laugh. “No, I don’t think that day will come. People will always choose the evil they know. But I do understand why you fight.”
My father also served the nobles willfully. It allowed him to pass his knowledge and skills onto me. I could’ve been another poor smiths son, instead I’m bound to be a lord myself soon. He sacrificed to provide a better life for me, just as this man across the river is doing for his children. “I will make this vow. If you’re to fall in battle once it resumes, I will personally make sure your wife and children don’t lose the inn. That is the least I could do if I have to put an arrow through you in battle.”
“Now you are the one dreaming.” He smiles heartily.
After sharing some stories and laughs over our meal, I make my way back to my fire, and him to his. A full belly, a happy spirit. The vibration of the waterfall makes me sleep heavier than a baby in his mother’s bosom.
I wake to the sound of stone hitting stone. Startled, I quickly jump to my knees with Bogi in hand. I spot the man across the river waving a hand at me. He jousts his finger towards the stream below me. Four bears, all full grown and look to be well fed for this time of year. I look back at the man as he pulls back the string on an imaginary bow and fires. He then points to the pack once again. I raise my palm and nod.
I bring my left foot to the ground and keep my right knee rested on the stone. Blinking and taking a few deep breathes help me shake away the deep sleep that consumed me a moment ago. Steady, grounded, slowly I bring the arrow to my bowstring and draw. A slight creak escapes the wood as it curves under the weight of my pull. The bears freeze at the sound. I release. The arrow pierces behind it’s front leg, directly into the heart and lungs of the massive predator. The beast bucks and wails before it drops to the ground as the others scatter. Grunting as they run to the trail they came in on.
“The bow of the gods.” he yells from across the stream. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”
I smile and shrug a shoulder to the man. Seeing pure joy and shock on someone’s face never gets old. I raise my bow to him.
“Bogi. The bow of the gods.” he shouts again.
After venturing back to the trail head to retrieve my cart I begin to dress and quarter the bear. Even with two men loading the bear on my cart in one piece would be impossible. It easily weighs as much as five men. While dressing the bear, I remove the heart and wrap it in a spice cloth.
“For you, a special dinner for your family tonight.” I say tossing the wrapped heart to the man across the stream. “Enjoy it.”
“Thank you.” he says. “I’ll tell my family of your great feat, and your kindness.”
“Good luck in the days to come.”
“And to you.”
Upon returning to the camp, I was welcomed with cheers. The archers all returned with game but none greater than the bear.
“Congratulations,” one man yells. “Your father would be proud.”
“Ah, you know kissing my ass won’t get you extra.” I laugh. “We’ll all get a fair share.”
The feasts were full of life. Drinks, fires, dancing, men seeing the women they haven’t seen in months.
The days pass, and the pause will soon be lifted. Men are once again ready for battle. Ales have been replaced by axes, stews replaced by swords. Here we are again. The men who work the soil ready to kill and die for the men who own it.
We prepare an ambush. Our scout saw a large troop traveling through the trees, likely hoping to surprise us on our own land. Knowing where the terrain would take them, we decided to set up in the trees on both sides of the ridge line. As they plan to make their final push, they’ll be surrounded. By the time we show ourselves, it will be too late. I wish we could take hostages, make a peace agreement, do anything but kill these men who are no different than us. But they are not us. The gods have chosen a side. Fate will find them first.
We watch as the army quietly marches. I look over them but can’t spot the face of my friend from the waterfall. Hopefully that remains true for the remainder of the day.
Once they are in position we charge. Just as planned, the ambush is flawless. We are dropping their men four to one. It won’t take long until they are forced to surrender. I choose my shots carefully. It would be easy to hit my own men if shooting hastily.
I see a man from West Ardall battling with one of our berserker. Sword versus axe. I know the large axe wielding man. He is a champion in our training grounds. The battle has been fierce and he must be growing tired. He’s acting strictly in defense, not offering a single attack. I collect an arrow and pull my bow tight. The arrow travels straight through the West Ardall man’s skull, dropping him immediately.
I scan for any more of my men in trouble. No. I spot the man from across the stream, Solveig. He fights beautifully. Never too much force, simply flowing where the momentum takes him. Like water traversing the Earth. He slices through three men before I remember he is not my ally.
I draw my bow on the man. He’ll cut down a dozen, at least, if I don’t stop him now. Still drawn, I can’t bring myself to do it. I shift my feet and aim towards the hilltop where the West Ardall leaders are cowardly watching their men die. They would be at a safe distance from the battle if it weren’t for me, for my “bow of the gods.”
I fire a single arrow at a man on horseback. The sharp arrowhead easily digs into his chest and directly into his heart. Somehow, the shot is more satisfying than the arrow I planted in the bear a few mornings ago. The shock on the faces of the men next to him more satisfying than that of Solveig when he watched me drop the bear.
The men around him shout and a loud horn sounds. They are surrendering. It’s amazing how quickly they give up when it’s their own blood on the ground. The battle below me quickly concludes. They don’t have many men left, but those who do remain standing drop their weapons.
I make my way to the battlefield and find the man from across the stream.
“Solveig.” I shout his way. “You were right, they won’t fight when their necks are on the line.”
“Bow of the God’s.” He smiles, clearly exhausted. A mixture of blood and sweat drip from his face as he leans on his knees.
The commanders from both sides enter the battlefield, now that the fighting is done, to meet face to face.
“Why didn’t you kill me.” he asks.
“Ah, once these empty-headed fools work out their peace agreement, I’d like to visit that inn of yours. See how good your food is when you have an actual kitch…”
“Kill them all!” Shouts one of my leaders from his horse.
“Wait” I scream, but it’s too late.
The unarmed men are chopped down like weeds. Solveig’s head is separated from his body with a single swing of an axe from behind, the axe of the man I just saved moments ago.
I scream again, more of a roar with no words attached to it. I take my knife and jam it into the throat of the man with the axe, then pull back an arrow and release into the chest of the man who gave the command to kill the unarmed men. I pull another and aim at the man on the horse next him. I release, but before I can watch the arrow enter his chest, my world goes dark.