CHAPTER 2: Measure of a Friend - Part 1

  Varne and Eiran ran, dodging the fir and pine trees that towered like a cluster of pillars. Branch tips scratched at their faces, and their shoes were damp with blood after tripping over twisted roots many times. The fragmented moonlight through the forest canopy was their only source of light.

  Eiran glanced back. The glint of the brigand’s short blades was still there and getting closer.

  “Turning at time like this!” Varne exclaimed. “Look ahead or your head will bust!”

  “Varn, it seems like we're moving away from the village.”

  “Shut up and run!” Varne panted through clenched teeth to compensate for his dwindling endurance. Eiran was no less desperate for air, wheezing with each breath.

  Eiran's toes hit a root, and he stumbled. Varne stopped to reach out his hand.

  “I can't outrun them.” Eiran looked back once more. “Go on without me.”

  “Do you think I'd leave you?”

  “Look at those bushes. I'm small, I can hide there.”

  “They'll find you. Come on, hurry!” Varne pulled his hand, but Eiran coughed as if he were about to cough up his lungs.

  “Varn, you know my illness. Go. Consider yourself a bait, heh heh.”

  The leading brigand was so close Varne could almost see his crooked nose. Arguing would only benefit those bastards. “Damn! Eir, hide!”

  Eiran did not see which way Varne was running because his eyes were fixed on a cluster of bushes. His steps faltered carrying his body there, his breath growing shallower. Yet he endured and dived into the bushes just a breath before the leading brigand passed.

  Clasping his mouth with both hands, he peered. One by one, the brigands passed by. His body convulsed each time he suppressed a cough, biting his finger in the process.

  Only after the footsteps and curses of the sixth brigand had vanished could he exhale. The energy that had surged due to the dire situation now left his body all at once, and he slumped.

  He hoped Varne managed to escape. But Varne was fast, the fastest in their village. He must have succeeded. He knew this forest, and–

  THUD! A blunt object struck his head from behind, throwing him forward. The impact rocked his head; he did not feel like falling to the ground; he sank into it.

  He groaned, hand holding the back of his head, which was damp with blood. In his sixteen years of life he had never received a blow as hard as the one just now. Then, strong hands seized his arms and threw him to the ground.

  Pairs of brigand eyes stared back at him as he opened his eyes, glistening as white as their weapon blades, with grins beneath them. A bandit stepped on his stomach, tensing his entire body.

  A one-eared brigand said, “That brown-haired brat got away, but this fool thought he could hide from us.”

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  “What now, Chief?”

  “That bastard must have run back to the village, yelling his head off. Finish this fool then we go!”

  Kicks and punches rained down on Eiran's head, ribs, and stomach without any sense of restraint. They did not use weapons so they could savor this. He just curled up. Enduring. As he always did.

  After a while, the blows subsided. Someone kicked his body, flipping him onto his back.

  “Hey, is he croaked?”

  Almost. The moon appeared dazzling through his bruised eyes. But before he could begin to appreciate its beauty, a bald-headed brigand eclipsed it with his ugly head. “The fucker’s not dead yet!”

  Eiran winced at the thought of the pain when the brigand raised his enormous fist.

  THUNK!

  A thick branch swung through the air, striking the bandit's head with a heavy thud.

  “Eir, get up!”

  Varne fended off the brigands using the branch. Eiran tried to get up but failed. He tried again but only managed to bend his knees. Then, a brigand's blow knocked Varne down.

  Varne shriveled on the ground, just like he had earlier, taking punches and kicks like a sack. Eiran crawled toward Varne, though he did not know what he could do. A brigand noticed his actions and rewarded him with a kick to the face, knocking him unconscious.

  When both of them regained consciousness, they were tied to a tree while the brigands sat around a campfire. One of the brigands noticed they were awake and tapped the arm of the person next to him. The heads of the brigands turned one by one in their direction.

  One-Ear loomed in front of them, thumbs tucked into his belt. A bare, short knife dangled from the belt.

  “I admire your spirit,” he said. “So, here's the deal. If you can escape from my beloved there, I'll let you go.”

  Their eyes followed the brigand’s tilted head. Beside the campfire, a huge dog lay curled up. Its fur bristled and wrinkled with every breath. Its yellow eyes pierced through their spines.

  One-Ear allowed the dog to sniff their bodies. Its breath was dry and hot. Meanwhile, the other brigands wagered on whose guts would be longer after the dog ripped their bellies.

  One-Ear used his knife to cut the ropes, then squatted in front of Varne. “I like you. You remind me of the guy who took my ear. He had that same 'hit me' look in his eyes. Take that rock and smash the boy next to you, and I'll cut you loose.”

  Varne's lips mumbled something that Eiran could not hear. One-Ear could not hear it either. He repeated it, but it remained inaudible, prompting One-Ear to bring his good ear closer to listen.

  Varne's hand flashed, grabbing the knife from One-Ear's belt and stabbing it beneath his chin. Alas, the brigand was quicker in stopping his hand. He pulled the knife from his hand and tapped Varne's head with it.

  “Well, if this is what you want.”

  One-Ear let them run ahead. Dawn was beginning to break by then. Eiran's wounds prevented him from walking upright, so Varne had to support him.

  “We can't outrun that dog,” Eiran's words muffled due to his swollen face, and his breath was wheezing as ever.

  Varne stopped. “This time we escape together or not at all. I’m tired of saving you.”

  “I know. I’m also tired of being saved.” Eiran managed a smile that looked more like a crack on his battered face. His black eyes sparkled from beneath the swollen flesh. “We hide together.”

  “Where?”

  “Remember that old cave? The entrance is too narrow for all the dogs behind us.”

  “Well, I’ve no better idea. Let's go.”

  They ran as if their legs were tied together. The crashing sound of the dog's footsteps trampling the dry leaves on the forest floor and its barking tightened their hearts. Their ears roared with the rush of blood.

  The cave's entrance was a narrow gap at the base of a rocky cliff. Eiran crawled into it and found a spacious chamber with a high ceiling. Varne followed but got stuck halfway. He had a body the size of his age, but the cave's mouth was just too narrow.

  Eiran tugged at Varne's hand. They almost made it when Varne suddenly jerked backward.

  “Damn! The dog bit my leg!”

  Eiran pulled as hard as he could while Varne kicked his legs. Then, like a turnip pulled from hard winter soil, Varne broke free.

  “Varn, help me!” He tried to move a large rock to block the cave's entrance. Varne's assistance came too late. The dog slipped in and pounced on Eiran's left shoulder.

  The large dog's weight pinned Eiran to the ground. Varne tried to help by kicking it, but only managed to make the dog furious, shaking Eiran from side to side.

  Eiran grabbed a piece of twig from the ground and jabbed it into the dog's eye. The dog yelped, releasing its bite, and fled through the entrance. They surged to seal the cave's mouth.

  Both of them slumped. Sunlight streamed in through a crack in the ceiling, providing dim illumination. There was no other way out of this place. They were safe but also trapped.