Edmon was in the house gathering supplies. He had his pack with extra clothes, cookware, salted and dried foods, and he gathered the money father had hidden around the farmhouse. Edmon's father had shown him where it was in an event of an emergency with the farm funds being safely secured in the bankers guilds vaults. He wasn’t sure why he was packing when he kept telling himself he would never be able to kill a man, let alone the future king of Rovelli. But his body almost seemed to be moving on its own accord and he was just along for the ride. He finished tying his pack and went to his room where he kept his musket. His father gave it to him on his 16th birthday, but he only used it a handful of times. He took his powder horn, placed the strap over his neck and oiled leather pouch holding the musket balls and tied them to his belt. He left the farm house and moved to the barn where their horse was stabled. The horse was young, only 3 years old, his father had bought it last year when their old horse caught an illness and died mid winter. The horse was mainly used to pull the wagon, but it was saddle broke as well and he saddled it and readied to depart. Just as he thought he needed to tell Aela he needed to do this task to avenge his family, he heard the voice again.

  “There is no time to see her, besides she will talk you out of avenging your family. You don't have the will to resist her and they will get away with murdering your family.”

  Just as he was about to rebuke the voice that he had too see her, she was his betrothed, he heard a concerned voice behind him.

  “Edmon, where is everyone, why do you have that pack, where are you going?” Aela asked, her voice cracking slightly. Edmon saw her standing there and tears began to well in his eyes.

  “They killed them,” He finally said and began to softly sob.

  “Who killed who?” she asked, taking a step through the open door.

  “The prince.” He said.

  “The prince? Edmon, what are you talking about?” she asked concern growing on her face as she took another step closer. Suddenly he was seeing out his eyes with fuzzy vision, like he was looking through warped glass.

  “My family!” Edmon screamed spittle and snot flying from his mouth and nose. “He butchered them, everyone!” He yelled as he began closing the last of the distance between them.

  “I, don’t,” Aela stammered trying to find words.

  Edmon grabbed Aela by the shoulders, startling her. As he squeezed he could see the pain in her face and wanted to let go but he could not make his hands release her.’

  “Ouch! Edmon you're hurting me let go,” she shouted trying to pull from his grasp.

  “You will not stop us, you stupid foolish girl!” Edmon screamed in rage just inches from her face. He threw her hard to the side and she hit the wall of the tack room and fell motionless to the floor. He wanted to rush to her to make sure she was okay. He could see red pooling under her head, but he could not make his legs move to her.

  It was just over an hour later when Edmon’s vision finally cleared and he felt like himself once again. He was on his horse, Rose, and was on the road headed north towards Sunderfel.

  “Aela no!” Edmon screamed, jerking his horse to a stop the realization of what he did sinking in. Only was it him? He knew the memories of it were his, yet, he still felt like someone or something else was guiding his body.

  “You were weak!” the voice growled in his head. “She would have stopped us from seeking our vengeance and so I had you do what you should have done. We killed her and now you have nothing left in this world but us.” Edmon knew what the voice said was true. He saw her head smack the wall, and the blood. He hung his head and tears filled guys eyes, dripping onto the saddle.

  “What are you?” Edmon asked, afraid of what the answer would be. Yet there was no reply. “Answer me what are you? Why have you done this?” Silence.

  Edmon didn’t know why he continued down the road towards Sunderfel, it was as if he told himself to keep going even though everything in him wanted to stop and turn around. He wanted desperately to turn back and find Aela well, and fall into her arms more than anything. However he also knew that that path was forever blocked to him and the only way to find his peace was to watch the life drain from Rul’s eyes.

  After the day of riding he had gone farther than he had ever been from home and was not familiar with where the inns and towns were down this road. There was just enough light left from the fading sun and he decided it would be best to pitch camp for the night. He moved off into the tall grass away from the road, so if anyone were to pass they would be unable to see him from the road. He ate from his dried meat, not wanting to start a fire as it would give his position away, and he tucked into his sleeping roll and gently sobbed himself to sleep. When he awoke the sun was just beginning to rise above the far off mountains. He stayed laying in his sleeping roll not being able to bring himself to get out and start the day. As he lay there he heard a faint whisper, “Get up”

  It startled him so much he lunged from bed and grabbed the rifle laying next to him. He thanked himself for having enough common sense to keep it close. He scanned the tall grass looking for the owner of the voice but he could not see anything. His horse ate lazily not at all alerted to the presence of someone nearby. After a few minutes he decided he must have imagined the voice and saddled his horse and packed up camp keeping his rifle close.

  He continued on like this for 5 days, riding as far as he could go with the light and camping off the road in the tall grass. Thus far he had only passed farmers and merchants on the road, but he passed the village of Oakwood, the tall grass had been replaced by massive oak and cotton trees. They quickly condensed into a forest that Edmon couldn't see any farther than he could throw a stone. The tree's massive overhanging branches blocked out the sun, and set him into strange darkness even though the sun was directly overhead. Only in a very few spots did the sun find a hole in the canopy and hit the ground. The road through the forest was well traveled and wide enough for wagons and carriages to pass each other without having to pull off to the side. The road Edmon was on took him through the southern part of the Mirewood Forest and would take the better part of three days to reach the other side. The Mire Road as it is called leads from the northern Bleaklands to the capital, Sunderfel cutting through Edmon's village. The road follows the only path through the Mire Swamps that stretch from the outskirts of Sunderfel, to the forest lake of Black Water, named for the color of the water. The Black Water is fed by underground streams that overflow and soak the ground for hundreds of miles. The swamp does provide Sunderfel with a great strategic advantage as it is all but impossible to launch an attack from the north.

  Three days later Edmon made it through the thick of the forest and started into the mire swamp. The road was on the path through the Mire swamp but there were numerous paths along the road that lead to dead ends. These dry oases were mostly ladened with more of the massive oak trees. Edmon was going to be on this road for the next three weeks riding on horse. Each evening he would look out for a dry oasis to camp the night off the road out of sight of travelers. The fourth night he found the oasis earlier than he would have liked to stop, but didn’t want to keep going and be looking in the dark like he did last night. He decided to ride a little deeper into the island than he normally did to set up camp for the night. He rode into the oasis for what he guessed was about a mile. The trees grew thicker here and as he was about to stop in a cluster of trees for the night he heard a voice.

  “I’m telling you, I smell horse!” Came a nasally, nasty voice on the other side of the cluster or trees. Edmon pulled the reins slowly bringing the horse to a stop and said a silent prayer it wouldn't make any noise.

  “Trust his nose boss, he can tell you what you ate by takin a sniff of your shit,” a deep slow voice said.

  “I told you to stop saying I smell shit, shithead. People are gonna start believing it,” the first man hissed.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Right, enough you two, if Ripper says he smells horse he smells it. He should know, he came outta one when he was born. How close RIpper?” answered a woman which Edmon could only assume was the “Boss”. Edmon’s heart began to pound in his ears. He wanted to turn and go back the other way but that would make too much noise and they would hear him. However, if he stayed they would surely find him anyway since Ripper was apparently half horse.

  Edmon’s face hurt. He felt the pain on his left side then he heard it. Boom! A gunshot had hit the tree inches from his head, and splinters splattered the left side of his face. He yanked the reins right, and kicked his horse as hard as he could. Another shot, this time it flew over his head. Edmon thought, two shots so that meant only one left before they would have to reload their guns. A boom and a puff of dirt to the right of him let him know the third had shot and missed.

  Flying through the air Edmon had just enough time to realize he only counted each shooter having one firearm.

  “Pistols!” He thought as he hit the ground, crumpled into a ball and rolled ten feet before sprawling out in the dirt. Luckily for him the oasis in the Mirewood was soft and he landed with relatively little damage.

  “Got 'em I did. DId you see that shot I made, and with my pistol no less.” The nasally man shouted.

  Edmon hated when he was right, especially after he was proven wrong.

  “Pistols” he mumbled to himself. He knew he didn’t make it far, maybe only a few hundred feet before… “”What had actually happened I don’t seem to have been shot,” he wondered, getting to his feet. Then he knew, or rather heard it. The sound an animal makes when it knows death is on the way, but they are not ready to die yet. The horse was screaming and kicking its legs trying to regain its feet. Edmon looked back and saw the two men running at him, the woman was still back by the cluster of trees reloading her rifle. They were closing the distance. 300 feet..250 feet. He looked past them and saw the woman stowing her ramrod back under the barrel and he knew he was out of time. He ran. He was only 15 feet from his horse and his belongings. He needed his pack, it had his money, his food, water and everything he had thought to bring. He tried to pull it free, but it was half under the horse and he could not get the leverage to pry it free. 200 feet.. 150 feet. Time was up he needed to leave. He turned, and ran.

  “Stop him,” the nasally man shouted. Crack! A round smacked into the fallen tree Edmon had just jumped over. Off to his left he saw the trees grew extra thick close to the marsh and spread back towards the road for at least 1000 feet. He veered towards them, and just as he was almost into the first group he felt a sharp pain in his right side. The woman had fired her rifle again and took out a quarter inch of flesh off his right ribs. The pain made him stumble and fell into the marsh.

  He came up from under the black water and gasped for air.

  “You got 'em,” the second man shouted and Edmon could tell they were close, less than 50 feet. He took a breath of air and let himself sink under the water. Edmon wasn't sure how deep the black water was but he stayed still hoping it wasn’t going to swallow him and never let go again. After a few seconds he stopped sinking. His feet were on mostly solid ground again. His lungs were starting to burn, he wouldn’t be able to stay under for much longer but he had no idea if they were still there. When he could not take it any longer he pushed off with his feet towards the surface. However, instead of shooting up his feet sunk into the mud and became stuck. Now true panic set in, he began to flail and kick harder, but his boots were suctioned into the mires mud now.

  “Calm down, you'll get us killed.” The voice said as Edmon's vision blurred and he was pushed to the back of his mind again. Edmon felt relieved the voice had taken over, he felt a sense of calm. He watched as he undid the buckles on his boots and slid his feet free shooting to the surface.

  “Why didn’t I think of that,” Edmon thought.

  “Because you are idiotic, incompetent and incomprehensibly stupid.” the voice said back not malicious but almost sad. His head poked above the water and Edmon wanted to gasp for as much air as he could, but he wasn’t in control anymore and the voice slowly allowed air into his lungs to make as little noise as possible.

  “He’s the swamps now, let's see what he had on his horse.” The woman said cheerfully as they were walking away from the edge of the black water. The voice waited in the water for a few minutes and then slowly drug himself onto the shore. Edmon wanted to run as fast as he could back to the road and ask for help from other travelers but his body refused to move.

  “Not so fast.” The voice said.

  “But we need to get away from here and find someone to help us to get to Sunderfel.” Edmon pleaded.

  “No. We are not running any more. You tried that and got our horse killed and nearly us. We are getting back our stuff and we are gonna make them pay for what they did.” The Voice said calm but very serious.

  “There are three of them and they have guns, please let's just go,” Edmon knew the answer but he needed to try anyway.

  “Ha guns, watch and learn what pure rage can accomplish Ed, they will need an army to stop me.”

  He started to roll in the leaves and grass. Edmon looked down and through his hazy vision saw that he looked like a bleedin bush.

  “Now Ed, now the fun begins.” He moved forward through the trees back towards where he was shot from his horse. Night had set on them, but the voice could see the light flickering from there torches. He stopped at the tree line and instead of going to the bandits he moved right following the tree line till he made a quarter circle around them. He picked up a stone the size of his hand and tossed it 20 feet back the way he had come. It made a loud crack as it hit a tree and fell to the ground in the silent night. The Marsh was home to few animals and those that did live there were not active at night.

  “Did you ear that?” asked the nasally man spinning to look at where the sound came from.

  “Do you spose that boy is still alive?” the second man said, standing and taking a step towards the sound.

  “”No, we looked and we did’n see him anywheres.” he replied through his nose.

  “Well, find out!” snapped the boss. The two men moved forward, the bigger man coming straight at the noise and the nasally man moving to the left to trap him in. Unfortunately he went the wrong way. The voice waited until the big man was near the tree where the stone hit, and laying flat on his back blending in with the ground he grabbed a stick from the ground and snapped it half, letting the crack ring in the night. The big man turned and ran towards the sound. He came stomping past Edmon a few feet and stopped peering into the darkness. The voice knew he only had half a minute before the nasally man showed up as well and he needed the big guy dead before he did. The voice Slowly got to his knees, and he was barely over an arms length away. Edmon wanted to scream, to run. But the voice was only in his head, and he had no control over his body, the voice did. The voices hand shot forward and snatched the knife tucked in the man's waist. In a fluid Motion he pulled the knife from the man's pants, waited a heartbeat till he turned, and slit his throat. Blood shot through the air covering Edmon face and chest. The big man dropped his pistol he had in his right hand and both his hands shot to his neck. The voice wondered why people always tried to stop the blood, it was no use, the tendons and muscle retracted opening the artery and there was no stopping the blood from draining. A few heartbeats later the big man collapsed to the ground gurgling and choking on his own blood. Edmon's body was already moving, he had picked up the pistol from the ground and moved back into a tree and waited. The voice heard the crunch of boots and the nasally man calling for his friend.

  “Eh Trog, where are you? Trog, did you find em?” the voice could see him slowly moving forward his feet barely making a sound on the soft ground, he was walking directly toward the tree the voice was pressed against.

  “We have the pistol shoot him before he sees us,” Edmon said to the voice.

  “No, we wait till he’s past us so he doesn't see us and get off a lucky shot. I swear it's like you are trying to get us killed before we kill that noble shit that murdered our family.”

  Our family, the voice said. Why would he say our family? Edmon’s thought was interrupted by his body lunging forward wrapping an arm around the man's neck and his other hand pressing the pistol to the side of his head.

  “Drop the pistol,” the voice said for the first time out loud. At least Edmon guessed it was out loud because the man did as he was told.

  “There are three of us and one of you boy, and I knows you have been shot already once,” he blurted out through his nose.

  “Oh you mean the big fellow? I wouldn’t worry about him, he is walking the Tribulation Plains about now, and if you don’t want to join him you're gonna walk back to your boss tell her i've gutted one and have two pistols aimed at your heads. And you are gonna leave and ill leave and we can all live to be miserable another day.” The voice whispered in the man's ear.

  “If you let me go, we’ll kill you for what you did to Trog.”

  “Well, I’m counting on your boss having more sense than you, you may get me but not before I put a hole in one of you. Now go!” the voice shoved the man away from him towards the woman and his dead horse and quickly bent to pick up the pistol the man dropped.

  The man walked out of the trees, and the woman stood up and shouted, “Did you bleedin find the boy and kill him?”

  “He killed trog, he’s got my,” the man stopped talking as the bullet the voice had fired went through his back, exploded his heart and went out through his chest.

  “Why would you do that? You said you were gonna let them leave!” Edmon shouted to the voice. But his body was already moving, he had fired, rolled and stopped on his knees a few feet from where he had taken the shot. The voice knew that the woman out there saw the flash from his pistol shot and hoped she would shoot where he had been giving away her position. She did not.

  “Now,” the voice said chuckling, “the hunt begins.”

  “We’ve only got one shot, she’s got three rifles and her pistol and who knows what else.” Edmon protested though he was starting to know it would make no difference. He tried to force his way back in control of his body but as hard as he tried it felt like he was trying to push a building.

  “It’s no use Ed. It doesn’t work that way. Now just sit back and enjoy the game.”