Here is a short story that I wrote a few years ago for my sophomore creative writing class. It's pretty long and by no means perfect, it was the first real fictional piece that I ever wrote.It's in the fantasy genre and is about a boy and his older brother. I never picked a title for it.
I'll also probably tie this into an article later about the effect that siblings have on one another especially pertaining to their age.
Stian awoke on his back, his breath complimenting the fog that covered the grove where he had slept the past three nights. He propped himself up on his elbows and winced as the early sun shone through the trees. The necklace his mother had given him a week before she had died dangled on his back so he returned it to face his chest. A terrible sound came from his stomach as she looked at the heel of a loaf of bread resting on top of his one spare shirt. It wouldn’t last him the rest of the day. The wooden hand ax lay on his lap, left behind by his brother on the farm. Small enough to be thrown, but too heavy with its massive blade and serrated edge. He was never one for hunting anyway.
He walked to the top of a hill near his temporary sleeping place. To the East was the town, from the West three small columns of smoke billowed. He knew that was the camp where his brother was. No sense in going on a rescue mission with an empty stomach, Stian thought. So, he made his way East.
As he approached the town he could smell the mix of sewage and dirt being kicked up from the commonwealth. Toft was by no means a wealthy area, but if you were rich you stayed in an inn there. Stian hated the smell and the sight of the fortunate spending their money on useless things. Before he and Kain found the farm, they survived in the alleyways here. Relying on thievery and the charity of people passing by. Not like many people noticed two ragged boys crouched at the entrance to a shit hole.
The sun was now overhead and Stian slumped, back to the wall of an alley. A tin cup he had found rested between his feet. Three taxpayers were kind enough to notice him, one of which took the time out of their day to toss a piece of meat the size of a boy’s thumb in the tin cup. Stian gnawed at the cutlet but soon spat It out as a sour flavored filled his mouth.
Cursing came from the bakery he had his back to, soon followed by the smell of burnt bread. Stian came to a crouch and went to peek in the back door of the brick building. Smoke lightly covered the air and the baker fumbled with the bread as he set it on a table on the far side of the room. The bell at the front door chimed and the baker made his way past a curtain to the front of his shop. Stomach growling, Stian knew this was his one opportunity at food for who knows how long. A ruffled conversation came from beyond the curtain and Stian carefully stepped over the strips of tacks on the threshold door. A trap meant to keep people just like him out. But this wasn’t his first performance. When these streets were his home, Kain was the one savvy enough to sweet talk people into giving them leftovers and spare change. Stian was much smaller and quieter, leaving him to do the stealing.
The mention of a number slipped through the curtain, the baker was ringing up the customer. He had to hurry. On his bare feet, Stian crept to the table and grabbed the bread, it would have burned most people, but the callouses on his hands helped him ignore it. On his way out, the curtain swung open, he turned and froze. His heart raced as he was caught, then sunk when he recognized the face.
“Stian?” The boy not much older than him whispered. It was Peter, another orphan that lived on the farm with him before the fight broke out. Stian, too shocked to reply stood like a startled deer.
“Peter!”An older voice commanded from the front room. “Take those croissants out!”
Peter grabbed a nearby muffin and tossed it to Stian, a look of empathy on his face and shooed him out of the kitchen. Stian scampered out, cutting his heel on the tack strip. Stian limped, staying on the ball of his foot, eating the muffin and clutching his mother’s necklace to ignore the pain as he made his way out of the town. A boy in ragged clothes that came up to most men’s shoulders, he was invisible. No one would notice him, let alone question where he got a burnt loaf of bread from.
Stian returned to his bed of leaves with a few hours of daylight left. He tore part of his spare shirt to wrap his injured foot and wrapped the bread as well as the bottom half of the muffin in the rest of it. He grabbed his brother's ax and made way to the top of the hill again.
Looking West, only one tower of smoke showed, but much larger. He made his way to it.
The camp was in a valley, allowing for good vantage points. The sky now a blend of purple and orange, but blue still directly overhead. 1,2,3…11 tents, only one horse. Stian thought about how useful the horse that Stig gave him for taking his brother would be right now, but it ran off the first night after he left the farm. Large pillars were scattered around the camp, next to the largest tent he noticed him. His brother sitting perched against the pole, hands tied behind it. A figure came out of the large tent and approached Kain, an orange cape hung from his shoulders down to his knees. Recognizing it immediately, Stian knew it was Stig. Kain seemed to be sleeping, or maybe unconscious. The hill was too far away to tell. Stig walked over to Kain and patted him on the face until he saw him move.
Seeing that fiend talk to his older brother made Stian nauseous, he clutched his mother’s necklace and turned away. Directly North the remains of a burned down surrounded by a field of ash. Stian figured they must have burned the farm soon after he left, he wondered what they did with the old man, but then remembered that he probably deserved whatever he got. Looking back at the camp, Kain was alone again. A few soldiers huddled around the fire and Stian made his way back to his own.
He lay on his back with the sky now dark. Noises came from his stomach; he finished off the original loaf of bread but figured it’d be best to save the burnt loaf and muffin for tomorrow as he’d need it. Hunger wasn’t something that normally kept him awake, it was nothing new to him. Nervousness and thoughts of the past week filled his mind. He could have stopped his brother. Or would he have even cared? Ever since they found the farm they had been making weapons in the forge for Stig and his gang. Once a month, it was so routine. He wasn’t sure if Kain hated having his hard work taken away, or if he just hated Stig. He was a menace, riding to the farm and reaping our work as if we were his slaves. Kain always butted heads with him, but I guess it was becoming too much. Kain had been planning to fight back for the past two pickups. He was always more convincing that Stian, at least half of the 12 orphans were on his side. Perhaps if Stian talked to the others than just his brother things would have been different.
Everything Kain did was for Stian, and this was no exception. He protected him when his parents died and always looked out for him on the farm. Maybe he thought they could finally live a normal life with Stig gone. But it obviously didn’t work out that way and now it was Stian’s turn to save his big brother. After being so helpless when Kain fought for him.
Stian had done all that he could to prevent Kain from fighting. The night before it happened, Stian had brought it up in front of all of the boys, Kain had everyone leave to talk to him. It did no good, Stian woke that morning just hoping his brother would not follow through.
The farm covered a few acres and the boys took to their usual morning tasks. When the sun was directly overhead Stian noticed a man on a horse approaching with a posse following behind. As they approached, Stig’s orange cape became apparent and he could count four others. By the time Stig was just feet from the porch all of the orphans had gathered with Kain holding a bundle of weapons wrapped in a hide tarp. Stian remembered everything happening like it normally did; shit-talking between Stig and his older brother. When the exchange came around Kain threw the bundle of weapons on the ground as one of Stig’s men came to claim it.
Stian tried to think of other things as he lay in the grove but the events flooded his mind.
The bandit bent down to pick up the weapons and Kain briskly brought his ax from the loop on his pants and drove it into the man’s back. As he ripped it back into the air and repeated the action, again and again, blood splattered on Stian’s face and he froze. It was the first time he had seen someone die in front of him. He was too young to remember his father’s death and he had found his mother passed away from an illness when he returned from the town with supplies one day. He had never heard the sound of metal digging into bone, the agonizing whine of a man being murdered, or the tone of a man’s skin fade from its full color to pale.
Aksel, one of the older orphans noticed his reaction and dragged him to the far side of the cabin away from the fight. Stian didn’t remember anything at that point. It wasn’t until they were found by two other bandits that he was aware of what was going on. As he crouched behind the cabin, two men jumped him and Akslel, grabbing them by the throat and dragging them back to the porch, knives to each of their necks. When Kain came back into view he saw five bodies lying on the ground. Two were Stig’s men, three were orphans, two dead and the last struggling to his feet with blood streaming from his left leg. It was Maag, Kain’s best friend on the farm. Stian assumed the other six orphans ran away, considering that Peter was still alive.
Stian could practically feel that knife being pressed to his barely formed Adam’s apple as he remembered the final moments of being with his brother. Tears filled his eyes as that helpless feeling smothered him.
Stian and Aksel held hostage, and Kain Standing arm’s length away from Stig, panting. He had lost.
“Well! That was exciting!” Stig said out of breath but with a smile nonetheless.
“Let them go or I will gut you,” Kain said trying to catch his breath.
“Oh, baby Kain, you know I can’t do that, the way I see it, you so bravely killed two of my men. Not that they weren’t expendable or anything. And look! We have two new recruits,” Stig said chuckling. “now you, you are impressive baby Kain. Killing two men practically all by yourself. So, how about we make an arrangement?”
“Get fucked,” Kain said as he lunged towards the towering man, too tired to keep balance. Stig parried and threw Kain to the ground. Stig nodded at the bandit holding Aksel, who proceeded to slit his throat.
Stian remembered his legs going numb, the bandit having to practically hold him upright.
“Now, would you like to try anything else? I think you know what happens next.”
Kain slowly got back to his feet. Stian couldn’t remember if his brother was crying or just trying not to.
“So this is how this will work,” Stig sighed, “ I will let your precious baby brother go and even leave my horse with him if you calmly walk out of here and go to my camp.”
Stian screamed not to do it. He figured Kain was in too much shock to hear him. He then raised his ax high above his head as if he were to throw it at Stig. The ax dug sharply into the ground, inches from his own feet.
“FUCK,” Kain cursed and proceeded to stomped past Stig towards the grove, keeping his eyes at his feet.
Stian couldn’t remember anything after that, except for waking up at twilight with his brother’s ax still sticking out of the ground and no horse.
Before finally drifting to sleep, Stian remembered all that his big brother had done for him and all that he had failed to do. A warm feeling overcame him, the certainty that tomorrow all debts would be paid.
Morning came and Stian struggled to open his eyes. He intentionally slept facing East so that the first light would wake him. He sat in a cross-legged position staring down at his brother’s ax in his lap. Thoughts of everything that could go wrong crossed his mind, but they were canceled out by the thought of being reunited with his brother again. He rose to his feet and brought his mother’s necklace that had rotated to his backside back to its normal position. He picked up the bottom half of the muffin Peter had given him and began eating as he headed towards the town.
He didn’t know why he headed that way, he just knew he would have to wait until nightfall to accomplish anything. Maybe he hoped to run into Peter again, perhaps he wanted to go to where he and his brother lived before the farm. Regardless, he needed something to do before it began.
Stian strolled through the street and came across the bakery he stole from the day before. He couldn’t go in looking the way he did, dirty face, nappy hair, torn clothes, and no shoes. He would get thrown out immediately. He was trying to see if Peter was there. He saw the baker and a new female attendant through the window. He wondered if Peter’s charity got him fired. He didn’t let it stay in his mind for long.
As he took the alleyways to navigate through the city he stopped by the back entrance to the bar that he and Kain used to sleep behind. The smell of fried meat and beer reminded him exactly why they chose to sleep there. He noticed the old crate that he used as a bed and smiled. As he walked over to peer inside and see if it was as he left it years before, a rock struck him on the back of his neck.
“Ah, fuck,” he said a little too loud as he looked around, no one on the alley with him. He looked up at the rafters to find a boy 10 feet above him. As he made his way down, Stian was in awe at how swiftly he moved about. When they were on equal ground Stian had to look up at the taller figure than him with a shaved head wearing clothes not quite as ragged as his own, but at least they had shoes.
“And what are you doing lurking around my home?” It wasn’t until he heard the voice that he realized it was a woman. Through the dirt on her face, he could see that she was nearly as young as him. Her hair was not even an inch long but Stian admired its dirty blonde color that matched his brother's.
“I lived here,” Stian said rubbing the bump that had formed on the back of his neck. “That crate was my bed.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve been here for over a year, I do favors for the bar in exchange for food, so fuck off.” She barked approaching Stian, backing him into the wall.
“My brother and I, we stayed here a few years ago.” He mumbled, eyes at the ground. She began to laugh. Stian was confused, one at why she was laughing, two at how foreign hearing a girl’s laughter sounded.
“I remember you, you would always get chased out for stealing from shops. That definitely wasn’t your talent. But your brother, he was so handsome and charming, I’d never seen anyone talk so many people into giving charity. We were friends you know?” Stian stood with a dumb look on his face, not knowing what to say.
“What’s your name?” Stian finally responded.
“Stephanie, call me Steph.” Steph went on to talk about what she and Kain would do around the city, sneak into plays, go to the docks and pretend to be drunken sailors, chase the stray dogs around. Stian listened silently listening to her talk about his brother before they went to the farm, he sat with his back to the crate that used to be his bed and almost smiled. The anxiety of the evening to come temporarily washed away.
“By the way, where is Kain?” Stian tried his best to answer without getting emotional again and explained the past week's events. Steph crouched down to meet his eyes with nothing to sympathy.
“You know that everything he did was for you right? He hated having you live in that crate, that’s why you went to the farm. He went with Stig to save you. And if I knew Kain, I know that he wants you to go make a life for yourself. Stay here, go stow away on a ship. He talked about you all of the time and he wanted you to be your own person one day, go do it.”
Stain stayed sitting, staring between his feet before sliding up to his feet and mumbling an excuse to get going.
The Sun had passed the highest moments in the sky, Stian headed back to his camp. As he walked he pondered on what Steph had told him. He wondered if going to live his own life was even possible. He finally settled on the thought that if Kain really did care so much about him, he had to save him, it was the only thing to do.
It seemed some animals took an interest in the burnt loaf of bread, but he couldn’t afford to be picky. He ate the half that the animals took to and saved the other to give to Kain, he figured he needed it. The ax behind the tree had been knocked over, he picked it up and fastened it to a loop in his pants and headed towards Sig’s camp.
It wasn’t quite sunset by the time he got to the hill overlooking it, but an overcast had set in providing ample darkness. He counted six men walking about and the horse was missing. Stig must have gone out for some reason. Gazing at the post next to the largest tent, Kain wasn’t there. He was either in a tent or in the dirt, Stian moved quickly.
He circles around, keeping a half miles distance from the camp to ensure he wouldn’t be seen. He could now see the backside of the large tent; a light rain had begun spitting down. As he approached to find out if that was where Kain was being held he noticed a horse coming in from the south side of the camp. He froze. He felt the same terror as when he had a knife to his throat, unable to move his legs. The rain muffled the sound but he could hear the smoky voice of the man in the orange cloak. The sound made his heart race, instinctively reaching for his mother’s necklace.
He heard a cough come from inside the tent, he snapped out of his trance. Unable to tell if it was Kain he approached cautiously in a crouched position. Then the rain began to pick up as lye on his stomach to peek under the tent. He lifted it slightly and saw him lying in a fetal position with his hands tied. His back was turned to Stian but knew it was him; a scar traced along his left shoulder and long dirty blonde hair that matched the girl’s from the alley. Stian found a stone the size of his thumb and threw it under the tent, being careful not to hit him. If kain made too much noise the men outside would notice. Kain tried to rotate his head and flipped over to his opposite side. Stian began to tear up as he saw his brother’s face, swollen and blue. A shocked look came across Kain’s face upon seeing his little brother. He was gagged but shook his head no, telling his brother to leave. Stian ignored his warnings and slide himself under the tent’s flap. Kain kicked dirt at him to keep him away but refrained from hitting him as he got close. Stian undid his binds. Kain removed the gag himself and hugged his brother. Stian looked his brother in the eyes and saw vacancy, with bruises from his feet to his eyes.
“Can you walk?” Stian whispered. An affirmative moan was all he got for an answer.
“If he finds us, he’ll kill me and do worse to you,” Kain grumbled with a shaky voice.
“I don’t think it gets much worse than what you’ve gotten.” Stian softly replied.
In that moment, the drape at the front of the tent swung open. A man stood at the entrance with an orange cloak blowing in the wind, grinning ear to ear.
“Oh, this is touching, really, Baby Kain’s baby brother came to save him,” Stig said chuckling. Kain weakly came to his feet, his brother following. Stian was taken over with fear. He opened his mouth to say something but just stood there unable to utter a word.
Stig walked over and took Stian by the back of the neck. He brought him out to the fire pit where a few other bandits were trying to keep warm in the rain.
“Here we have the orphan hero!” Stig announced in a celebratory manner. “Him and his…”
Stian felt a strike on his back and hit the ground face first. A hand was forcing his face into the mud as he felt a tugging on his throat. He was being choked by the necklace. As he struggled to look behind him he saw his brother, tugging as hard as he could. Tears streaming down his face.
The necklace snapped.
“What are you doing, Kain?” he asked, mortified. There was no response. Stian was able to get underneath his hands into a tabletop position. Kain wrapped his arm around his brother’s throat and flipped him so that Stian lay on top of him, still choking him. Stian flailed his arms and legs trying to get free, he finally reached for the ax.
He struggled to get it free from the loop. His vision was starting to tunnel. He raised the ax with his left hand, using his right to try and pry the arm off his neck. He swung down hitting Kain’s leg, part of the ax ended up cutting his own. Kain let out a scream but tightened his grip. The younger brother tried to pry the ax out of their legs but failed. Both hands went to tugging at his throat. He dug his arms and felt warm blood seep onto his fingers.
In that moment of panic, a calm washed over him. He looked around still unable to breathe. Stig stood over the top of him. He expected him to be smiling, but it was more a look of fascination. A few other bandits watched with no expression. Over his right shoulder, he saw his mother’s necklace in the mud. He closed his eyes and knew what was happening. Kain knew they would get caught and didn’t want his brother to suffer the same fate. No home to go back to, no future to build, he knew why Kain tried to force him away. He knew why the person he tried to save tackled him to the ground. He knew why Kain was killing him. He knew why his brother was saving him.
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