Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Fantasy

Chapter 1 – Braxton & The Grúntak
 
Braxton, under the furious heat of the sun, scoured the forest for food of any shape or form.  Anything would do, at this point.  It was mid-morning and the air was dry as the sun beat down on the land before him.  He would even scavenge for dead animals, or alive one’s, if possible, whatever was free, available and easy to kill.  Berries, fruit, nuts, pine cones, leaves & dead rats were all on the menu.  Braxton had fashioned a sharp stick, in the shape of a spear, to use as a weapon.  Should he encounter anything wild & hostile, he had the means and the will to defend himself and possibly even kill it.  This had been part of Braxton’s mid-morning routine for a long time now.  As he paced forward, with his eyes trained on the ground and the planet-life around him, he thought of his family back home.  He was eager to provide for those he loved.  His family consisted of his wife, Bryanna and his young son, Colton.  His home was more like a hovel.  To most looking on, this wasn’t much of a home at all.  His sub-standard cottage lacked fortitude against weather extremes and attacks.  Having been made with the help of a small town, his castle was eventually erected.  He had no servants and no slaves, so all the work was done by himself and the local townsfolk, who, although poor, were eager to help and had hearts made of gold and a fire in their bellies. What these people lacked in riches of gold & silver, they made up for with a tremendous work ethic.  Their bodies and faces had been weathered by years of hard work and their complexion was one of diligence and courage.  Braxton was a fairly young man, with a solid frame as he bore the look of a dark and handsome king. Handsome he may be, a king he was anything but.  As he bent down to break fruit from branch and collect the sweet treats, he was always reminded about how poor of pocket he was. He needed to find some true treasures for himself and his family, or they would be even worse off.  He could not let this happen.  There had been talk of a great battle to come, between the West & the East.  He needed all the power and strength he could muster, if this was to come to be.
 
Holding his spear in one hand and a bag slung over his shoulder, he looked up to the trees above his head to see if anything could be had.  Sadly, thanks to the lack of rain in recent times, there was no new growth.  Up ahead, Braxton spotted a lone deer.  The deer was small, pointing to the fact it could have been female or a young juvenile deer.  Very carefully and precisely, Braxton lowered his bag full of fruits and clutched the spear tight in his left hand.  Braxton had efficient use of both of his hands, having strength, control and dexterity with his left, as well as his right.  He had to be very careful not to scare the juvenile deer away.  He did not know when an opportunity like this would present itself to him again.  It had been many months since Braxton caught something as large as a deer.  Having fed on foxes, rabbits, fruit and nuts for a long time, he could not let this opportunity slip away.  The deer lay roughly forty feet in front of Braxton.  He had no chance of trying to out-run the deer and stab it.  His only chance was to edge closer to the animal, pick a point and throw his spear with all his might, straight into the deer’s body.  He just needed to puncture something vital and kill it.  He made sure to make as little noise from breathing, as possible.  Anything could scare the deer away.  As he moved forward step by step, he looked for any bits of branch that could be shattered beneath his feet.  Making no noise is key here.  He now stood thirty feet away from the animal.  He was camouflaged behind a tree.  At any moment, he would raise his spear and send it flying towards the deer to kill it.  He could only pray that he hit it.  He looked at the grazing deer, picking fruit off the leaves.  The animal’s ears would twitch back and forth, listening to any sound and possible danger.  In a stroke of foul luck, the animal raised its head, as fast as lightning.  Something got its attention.  It wasn’t Braxton, as he didn’t move a muscle.  Without warning a small group of these ugly Grunted ran towards the deer, from out of a clearing.  Crude weapons in hand, the small beasts lunged towards the deer.  The deer looked around, confused, and went to bolt towards where Brax was hidden.  Braxton swore under his breath, as he realized he missed his chance.  One of the Grúntak latched onto the deer’s leg and kept it from moving.  These little beasts were small, yet agile, as well as highly aggressive.  The two others stabbed the deer furiously in the body.  The helpless animal cried out as it buckled under it’s weakened legs.  The little trolls made short work of it after that, stabbing and biting and ripping and slashing.  The deer stopped making any sound and slowly died, not putting up any struggle.  Braxton froze in place, not moving an inch.  He watched the little trolls grunt and salivate over their meal.  “It should have been mine”, thought Brax.  There were three of these little trolls and even though they were small, much smaller than the average man, they would surely kill him.  There was nothing for him to do but wait and watch.  He noticed a fight begin to break out among the disorganized rabble.  It seemed as if they were fighting over one of the legs of the deer.  These Grúntak were too stupid for democracy or reason, so they fought each other.  Screams of pain and sounds of torment, rang out in the forest.  These low screeches could probably be heard for miles.  Braxton noticed he wasn’t breathing and he let out a breath as softly as he could.  He was still camouflaged behind the trees.  In the next instance there was silence.  No struggling, no cries of pain and no sounds of eating.  The stupid bastards had all killed each other, in the hope of getting more than their fair share of meat.  Braxton had never known such luck.  He now saw four dead corpses in front of him.  This was his chance to spring into action and re-claim what should have been his, in the first place.  He picked up his bag and approached the pile of dead meat.
He cut the deer into sizeable chunks and put them into his bag.  His hands were dripping with the blood of the animal as he approached the trolls.  He had never seen one of these things up close before.  Their skin, if you could call it that, was grey and ashy with scars aplenty.  Markings of fights and wars were sunk deeply into the ashy flesh of the beasts.  On closer inspection, they smelled hideous.  They wore a shabby type of armour that was supposed to cover the vital areas of the beast.  This obviously wasn’t particularly reliable, as they all lay dead now, with various slash marks and stabbing wounds that penetrated the armour.  Braxton left his bag of fruits and meat down and fell to his knees.  He wanted to inspect the Vármin for anything valuable.  As he rummaged through their pockets and places where things could be hidden, he came across an object, in the pocket of one of the dead Grúnt he had never seen before.  It was in the shape of a ball.  It shined of blue, as the sunlight hit it.  The sparkle of the object brought a certain amount of excitement to the eyes of Braxton.  For a moment longer than a moment, he gazed at his shiny ball.  He picked it up, it was surprisingly heavy, for something relatively small.  The ball glowed of blue and something moved inside of it.  It was beautifully transparent and inside lay a white and cream creature.  “Very small…. very delicate”, murmured Brax who slid his hand across the smooth surface.  He wondered how such a thing of exquisite beauty, could be in the hands of something so foul.  This thing was alive, and it was beautiful.  It had been a very eventful morning.  One that he didn’t plan for but one that he would not forget.