My decision finalised, I heaved on the reins, leading my horses head towards the heavenly, vast and mystical sunset. Briskly, unnoticed we slipped across the valley, skirting around the edge of the river before freezing in the shadows cast by the towering hills. As the hills loomed in the distance, towering, Barren and steep.
As we edged slowly around the shadows. We find ourselves near these towering cliffs and an isolated field, surrounded by the other rivel reivers.
Now, our goal is to stay under the radar, to be as inconspicuous as possible. Every move we make is slow, risky and deliberate. We hug the shadows, keeping our body low to the ground, careful not to make a single sound. I recalled the last time I was here scared and ambushed.
Now rapidly, swiftly and unharmed we road across the valley finally home way from the brutal battle. I feel safe and calm as we are no longer near the enemies and I can maintain the responsibility I gave my family when I left get back into a normal life.
Home safe at last.
Staring out towards the hills etched with scars of centuries old conflicts I sharpen my blade. This place is in my bones it is as much a part of me as I am of it. I want to build my kingdom, my family, my home here in this very place where the sky is stained red yet so heavenly. My memories nostalgic yet painful as I look into the waters of ancient streams that murmur the secrets of generations. I turn to face my wife, the reason I am still alive, my saviour since when I ran away from the arranged marriage until this very moment when I will be fighting with my old life, against the people I thought I could trust.
Placing my sword on the boulder next to me gaze at my love wondering how I got so lucky. After the sun set, I collect my things and mount my horse galloping in the shadows of the hills that remind me of the happy memories, strong yet they crumble at the slightest touch. The stars point me to my destiny, and I follow.
Pain.
It was all I could feel when I awoke on the battlefield, A searing pain tearing through my chest and when I looked around, I saw the sea of bodies flowing with me closer to the light. That’s when I saw her, face to face with my parents in the final battle, her sword and dagger glinting in the sunset.
It may sound cliche, but my life flashed before my eyes. The day my mother told me I was to be married to a man I hadn’t met, that night when I climbed from my window and fled to the nearest village. I met her there, we bonded over our shared experiences, both young girls to be married off, both runaways. Soon it became more than friendship and we travelled the world together finally returning to our ‘home’ after the wedding planning to rid ourselves of our old lives then start anew seeking a place to be our real home in a place free of judgement.
I wish I could go back to when we drank the night away or had heartfelt talks on the hill, each and every day I am thankful to be by her side. Even when we had to run from the village after they found out about our relationship. Every time we have relocated. Her love is like a beacon of hope guiding me through the dark. Together through thick and thin-I just wish it could be like that forever.
She won. I couldn’t be prouder. She can live happily without either of our parents’ judgement or interruption. If only I could be there with her. If only I wasn’t looking at her for the final time. Pulling her close to my chest I pray that we may meet in the next life. The light is blinding, yet in this moment beautiful. And in that moment, I could see our dreams of a new beginning shattered by the cruel hand of fate.
“I love you.”
The landscape; bleak, barren, desolate. The sun lowered its warm rays as night descended on me. The night seemed to prolong as I rode my unbroken Galloway horse through the debris made by those reivers that took this path before us.
My heart was pulsing through the barrier of my skin and as the clouds seemed to swallow the night sky all I could think of was this was the way of a border reiver.
Immoral, degenerate, sinful, lost. Thats what border reivers are thought to be; but that is not true. We are more than that, we are something most people will never be. Border reivers are free, liberated.
As I walked through my mind feeling surreal and liberated, I was shifted back to reality and saw the sight I was dreading the night. I cautiously peregrinated towards him; my weathered black boots crushing the dust beneath them until I came to a halt, my eyes met with a pair of guilt ridden eyes.
This was the traitor, the betrayer, the apostate. My best friend. The clouds were motionless, and the hills studied our movements as I was rendered voiceless. I looked down at him. His eyes once filled with admiration and loyalty; now filled with decietment, guilt and shame.
I wanted to go back to how it was before. Before all the lies, all the backstabbing and all the blood shed
When it was just us in the lush, overgrown green grass, playing games, laughter echoing through the fields. The warm golden sun glinting in our eyes as the cool wind slowly comes around as night sets in.
But it can’t.
The moon let an ominous glow loom over us with the only light being that from the dull beam from surrounding cigars. I elevated my arm with my trenchant sword; tears welled in my eyes as our souls entangled from that last glance.
The soil beneath him drank the blood of his lifeless body, condemning him to hell and will be welcomed by Satan himself.
When dawn approached, I found myself alone with only his body left to comfort me. I stared at his lifeless corpse knowing it was not his but the shell he had lived in this life.
The betrayer, the traitor, the apostate. Those words seemed to spin around in my head. He was none of those, he was my best friend, my ally, my lover. I stood up looking at the warm sun shining in my eyes. I looked at his body and with a swift cut of my sword I slouched to the ground; debris slowly falling across my body as I thought to myself; This is the life of a border reiver.
The land was barren yet serene; I could do no more but reflect on my past and let the agitation of it all consume me, wearing me down into a mere shadow drifting through a landscape shaped by giants. My thoughts rocked back and forth like a clock ticking in my mind as if I only had a few moments left to live. Clouds appearing consuming, scrutinising my every move – but fleeing at the sight of freedom.
If only I had stopped you from leaving me that fateful day, our paths would have been carved out in a vastly different way.
It was at the dead of night when the bells rang in anger. The townspeople gathered in the meeting square to hear about the awful news.
You were to be hung for your dreaded crimes on the morrow.
I had no idea of the misdeeds they accused you of and didn’t believe a word that was said. I have wished ever since to have taken flight with you from everyone and everything, yet I was – and still am – compelled to live on the lands that our dear ancestors thrived on. And regrettably – up till now – you were my ultimate sacrifice.
When the golden sun rose, it illuminated my broken heart, whilst the silhouette of the gallows caused me to crumble to the thirsty earth. Tears falling from my dreary eyes, I finally stood again and faced the mountains. My imagination took a hold of me like it never had before; I dreamt that it was all a lie, and you weren’t consumed by complete evil. Yet to my dismay, I realised that you were the epitome of the duality of man, that seized you from existence confusing my perceptions of you. Ever since that day, I cannot remove the image of the hooded man that took my sweet girl away. It haunts and terrorises my entire existence, ripping away my coat of armour that no longer shields my demons from the outside.
When the executioner read his scroll condemning you of witchcraft along with two other young women – their names Lorna Elliot and Alice Musgrave – the heart I once had dropped and shrank within me. One after the other he read your names aloud and exclaimed what you had supposedly done. Your innocence masked the poisons that the world had laid out for you, and I couldn’t protect you from the devils of our planet; forever wishing and praying that we could trade places, I would do anything to have you in my arms again and tell you everything will be all right.
The pain and torture I felt was unexplainable; it was as though my whole body was pulled apart and shattered into a million fragments of glass. You hung like a grotesque marionette with its head angled at an unnatural position. Tears escaping from your eyes, rolling down your white gown. Screams of discomposure broke out from my soul as your lifeless body dangled in front of me. Your bloodshot eyes glared into my longing spirit, and it was then when I knew you were no longer one with your body. The final death throes of such an innocent child could not be confused with the movements of the living.
And no matter how hard I try I cannot let you go.
This land holds memories of the times we spent together, and even though it was the place you took your last breath I hold it heavy in my heart. The sparse clouds remind me of the times we would laugh under the moonlit sky and rode our majestic horses through valleys and lakes, the hours we spent together watching the days pass by. It’s as though no time has passed at all; it seems like just yesterday I was getting you dressed for the day and putting your tiny shoes on your feet. It’s agonizing that your life ended before mine.
Witch, human, powerful, powerless my love will remain endless for you. You live on through the eyes and hearts of those in our family.
My darling daughter, I have fought for you and all those girls who were wrongfully slaughtered by immoral beings. The grass will remain green as long as I am around to keep it that way. If I could turn back the clocks to the beginning and change the fate of the reivers I would.
Until we meet again, your dearest mother.
This place is a part of me, the serene water running through my veins, the blinding yet mesmerising sun twinkles in my eyes, the old, severed land lives in my heart. This was the land of my people for centuries and centuries to go. My memories distant yet fresh, new and old still stung in my brain for decades. I knew my family wouldn’t sacrifice our land so easily, famous for their cruelty, dishonesty, treachery and ruthlessness they slaughtered anyone and dominated the land, and I was going to do the same.
The moon was lurking behind the clouds as deep crimson, blood-like hues saturated the sky. The golden foothills glinted in the far distance, the sun’s rays pierced and burned the dehydrated yet overgrown ground. As I trudged further my feet scraped across the ashen and frigid earth, where sharp, sacred rocks etched with scars, penetrating the dry land. I was getting closer and closer to my family’s sanctuary… I could feel it. Yet something felt different.
Suddenly, a dark pall of malnourished clouds dominated the sky, as pounding bullets of rain ricochetted on my broad skeleton. My feet slowly sank into the newly dampened terrain, engraving my family’s name into the muddy earth. I stared into the restless sky as the moon had rightfully taken its place. Among the stars.
Almost everything went still for a moment, until the veracious breath of the erratic winds slammed into my body; my chest tightened, my feet buckled. Then I heard it- the familiar clashing of steel swords overthrowing the screams of MY people. My slow walk switched to a faster pace; my heart quickened with every stride across the rugged, wet landscape that unfurled before me.
War had begun.
Heart racing, synchronised with the heavy tread of my horse’s gallop, anger engulfing me unbearably the closer we got to the target. The boundless space opening up under the rapid pace of my cavalry stretched before me – the vast land, etched with the scars and suffering of many centuries. My mind clouded with memories of past conflicts: mostly triumphant and victorious, yet the recurring memory circulating my gloomy mind was one of drastic failure, one full of devastating bloodshed, one I craved to forget. But one thing was clear in my hazy, sorrow-filled mind: I yearned for revenge.
The sky, forebodingly endless yet enticing, perched above the looming mountains, inching towards me. As the menacing clouds advanced in the overhead abyss, the wind relentlessly whipped past my face like a bullet shot to destroy. But I, a mere shadow, am the one here for destruction. To eradicate past weaknesses. To tear down their legacy. To destroy.
In every step, in every breath, in every thought. My mind filled with eternal hatred. I drove towards my goal with unrelenting determination. Over the stones that echoed with the tales of past exploits. Past the small rivers weaving their way through the mountain’s shadows, concealing their murky depths full of murmured secrets. Beyond the souls of silent footsteps, of my people who came before me. The people I needed to avenge.
Weathered yet timelessly beautiful, castle walls steeped with violent tales unfurled across the unlit horizon. A panorama of untamed beauty yet so much hidden evil. So much ethereal nature a blur around me, only the glimpse of demolition driving me forward.
I will take back our land, reinstate our power and build back our legacy. Our family will soon dominate the region, the border reinforced and future generations to come will be protected. The war will be over. We will win.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins with every fleeting stride as I rode closer. Hastily reaching my destination, I quickly slowed my pace. Swift yet silent. Dangerous yet anonymous. Unknown yet able to cause everlasting damage. I wanted to be concealed, to strike my enemies with a foreboding feeling deep within their souls, to hit them with an unforeseen attack, unable to be stopped in their futile haste to protect themselves.
Standing resolute and silent, my steely determination and resolve was masked by an air of anticipation. The calm before the storm.
I began my assault, a sudden onslaught, unleashed with ferocious intent – like a tsunami monstrously crashing through everything in its path, leaving only chaos and destruction in its wake. I advanced – an intensifying, relentless force surging forward. My mind a whirlpool of unyielding boldness and certainty until my pledge for vengeance and retribution was accomplished.
The old man had never enjoyed the night. He hated the way the darkness closed uncontrollably around him. He hated the way the foxes shrieked like ghouls on the marshes. He hated the way that every room seemed to grow smaller, enveloped in a thick layer of black. And so, it was a strange occurrence that on this particular night, the old man found himself still awake. His private chambers remained empty, and he had instead taken residence in front of the fire in one of the quieter rooms of his house. Beside him on a small table, was the map of the realm, drawn upon a yellowing parchment, barely visible in the dying embers of the fire.
He surveyed what little he could see of the map, a land that many moons ago felt set within the palm of his hand. But in recent times, fate had woven him a different story. In the streets they used to bow before his might: his excellency, his supremacy. Now the men and women of this land chanted a different name, bowed to a different leader. The King. With his ascension to the throne, the great Reiver families faced their untimely demise, as word flitted from door to door. Peace on the border. The old man cared very little in reality. Peace or no peace, it would not affect him long.
Yet something deep down had begun to stir, a spark of something he had been able to quash for decades.
Remorse had never crossed the old man’s mind in previous times, but as he walked the streets and rode through the valleys and towns, he saw them awash with the blood of his family, friends, ancestors. Innocent men sent to fight, never to reunite with their wives. His own son, not even a man, butchered on the field of battle. These actions, that he had taken so little responsibility for at the time, now seemed so futile, so needless, so cruel. He lifted a silver goblet to his lips, taking a brief enjoyment in the sweetness of the wine. He placed the goblet back upon the table with a heavy hand. His fingers had begun to seize up, setting into place like stone. As the wine began to settle in the glass, he could see his face faintly reflected in the deep red. He saw the lines, the greying hair, the scars that ran down his pallid skin. He saw his deep set eyes, that had borne witness to hundreds of battles in their time, the crooked nose that he had broken when he was barely a young man. He turned away, looking back into the fire – just a few fragments of timber left to burn away. The stone floor in front was glowing orange in the light. The rest of the room was washed in the same inky blackness he had detested for so long. The old Noah Crampton The Forgotten Lands man forced himself to stand, feeling a stabbing pain run from his ankles up to the bottom of his neck. The faintest wince escaped his lips.
He pulled the heavy birch door open, stepping out into the hall. From here, he could see the courtyard sprawled out beneath him. In the centre, a pond was glaring in the light of the stars. The night was almost clear, but for the brief interruption of a passing owl. For the first time in a long time, the night was almost serene.
The uneven flagstones were slick with the dampness of fresh rain, and from his vantage point he could see where murky puddles had began to pool in between them. In amongst the flagstones, many weeds had began to creep through, with long strands of grass protruding from the cracks in the rock. On the wall opposite, ivy had began to climb, in a web of misshapen strands and branches. The deep green of the leaves was surprisingly apparent, even in the darkness, and he could almost see where the vines had began to pull and crumble the wall.
He continued along the hall, with tentative steps, deciding finally to retire to his chambers. The halls and passages of the house, whilst almost labyrinthine to a stranger, were familiar to him even in the dim light. He battled flights of stairs, prowled through empty corridors, and pushed through and endless array of heavy doors before finding himself in his own rooms. In the corner, his longsword sat, a once grand weapon reduced to mere ornamental purposes. He passed it without a second glance. The blood of his foes remained thick, even if not visible upon its shining blade. His fire had extinguished long ago, the servants clearly not anticipating his late night prowl.
Finally, he rested himself on the linen sheets of his bed, taking comfort in their warmth. As he drifted into unconsciousness he saw the life he had lived. The blood, the anguish, the victories and defeats. He saw his wife, his son, even the nephew he had raised in these halls. He saw the borderlands, from the beaches to the peaks of the mountains. He saw his fellow Reivers, even those who had been dead since he was no more than a boy. He heard hundreds of men call his name in a toast of goodwill and gratitude. He heard men scream his name in there last merciful plea for life. He heard their pain. They walked with him everywhere he walked, each adding another weight to his decrepit back, each one’s eyes staring into his, frozen in their final moment of anguish. He remembered each and every one. They haunted him, but strengthened him. They toiled within him and yet he could not let them go.
He would not let them go. His chambers were silent. Peaceful. The sun would dawn on these lands differently tomorrow. They were the lands of the King now, and he had nothing within his power to stop it. And yet finally he did not care. He would walk these same beaches and valleys and beaches until his final days. If the king wanted to call it his land then so be it. It was still his home.
It was all but a distant memory until I laid my eyes upon this desolate land once again. Upon my return home it all came rushing back to me as if no time had passed at all. I wish I could forget all of the war, all of the ruin, all of the hardship. It’s not right what they did to us all those years ago: we did not deserve it; we did nothing wrong. This place was full of life, full of optimism, full of ambition. The mountains protected us from the cruel realities of the world, nothing could get in or out. We had successfully hidden from the Reivers for centuries-no one new that we even existed. That was until they had gotten tired of terrorising the same civilians until there was nothing left. They began searching for others to exploit and that’s when they found us. A small society, a small fragment of the earth’s inhabitants. We are just farmers who have kept ourselves to ourselves with no contact with the outside world.
The day that I lost you: my love; my life; my reason. This was the day the Reivers conquered our lands. They came so quickly-like a flash of lightning striking before the thunder, vanquishing the shadows that lay beneath the towering mountains and fighting their way through the barren moors that surrounded us. They were like an army of lost souls pretending not to be callous about the terrors they had caused innocent people.
It wasn’t long before they gathered up the cattle and ruthlessly slaughtered any man who had gotten in their way. War broke out shortly after when my fellow kinsmen began to question their orders. The women and children fled to the distant lands while the rest of us fought like wild animals, slowly losing sight of our true selves.
I lost so much that day, but I lost even more the next.
As the night grew colder an ominous haze engulfed what little was left of our home. The lifeless bodies piled up in competition with the mountains. We were to leave at dawn, but it was already too late; their cavalry barricaded us in, each with a witch pricker in hand. We were naive to think that we ever stood a chance against these callous inhumane beasts. They seized higher ground scrutinising every step of every man. We were surrounded the only way we could save our land was if we fought for it. We were largely outnumbered, and any chance of survival was slim. Before any of us could realise, they had begun to set our houses and crops alight, stripping away any sign of life.
After about an hour of tireless conflict the Reivers unexpectedly retreated. We believed that we had won. Thats when the women and children had been drawn out of hiding by the Reivers. They were gathered up like defenceless sheep: it was all part of their malevolent plan to capture my people and take them as prisoners. There was no way of knowing where they were being taken but I had to find out, so I gathered some men, and we set off right away. None of us had ever stepped outside our lands, but we had no choice if we wanted to get our people back safely. We said our goodbyes to what remained of our beloved dwellings and proceeded on our quest. We travelled relentlessly through the barren moors past the archaic mountains, until we reached a vast concentration of fortified tower houses. There was no sign of our people, but I knew they couldn’t have gotten far. It all went quiet- almost too quiet. But then the church bells began to ring and that’s when I saw her. She was being escorted with shackles around her hands and feet as if she were a criminal and following her were the other comrades. They came to a halt and that’s when I realized:
They were going to be hung.
One by one they each trudged up the staircase leading to their inevitable deaths. The Reivers gathered in front of the gallows as if it were a theatre performance, but to the rest of us it was unjust murder. The urge to shout for her, to stop them from killing her tightened up every muscle in my body, but I knew I couldn’t as it would only unleash more bloodshed. I clenched my fist as a single tear rolled down my cheek and the executioner pulled the lever. Her lifeless body swung from side to side as she took one last breath reflecting on her life coming to peace at all she had achieved. I had never in all my years of living seen a sight as harrowing as that one. The gruesome image of her contorted body has been engraved in my memories and haunts me in the dead of night. Her untimely death courses through my veins like a cancer. We had to leave immediately as I couldn’t bear to see another brother of mine die.
As we reached the borders of our land there was no sign of the survivors that had promised to greet us, only the cascading shadows of the nearby mountains looked down at us sorrowfully. It wasn’t long before we had met the dissolution of our people, they were all gone the men, the women, the children-all of them had been appropriated by the earth. Only five of us remained; we were the only survivors of this brutal attack.
I wish I could change the past, but I can’t. Each one of them pulses through my veins and clouds my mind like a plague of nightmares. Without them I wouldn’t be here today telling you the story of my life and how I escaped my impending death. I only wish that there were more to tell the tale. This district holds great memories of the past, hiding untold secrets of life before civilization.
All I ask is that you don’t take what you have for granted as life can be taken as quickly as it is given. Be grateful to those around you and don’t hide behind walls like I did. Be brave, be bold, be you. Only you can shape your future and learn from mistakes to not let history repeat itself.
Blood oozed from his body. The dagger firmly gripped his skin as though it was ivy, attempting to entwine itself within his frame for the rest of his days. And those days were short now. For he was alone, alone with the moorlands, alone with the sky and fields. Elliot looked towards the heavens. The sky, comforting yet looming, was about to claim him. He looked over the barren fields which gave him life and his identity. He had been so attached to this land and had sworn to his father that he would never leave.
But he had sworn a lot of things over the years, and now Elliot Hume was about to meet his fate that had been destined ever since he agreed to this way of life.
Elliot had always believed that you always had the chance to live the life you were made for. And luckily for him, that life fell right into his hands. His father, Scott, was a reiver on the outskirts of Alnwick and he remained in those lands, exploiting the freedom the north was given by making alliances from Wallington to Kielder. He was manipulative, cunning and ferocious and Elliot idolised him. He first learned of the extraordinary skills he had inherited from his father when he got into an altercation while walking mindlessly around the Cheviot hills. He felt a rock cannon off of his left ankle, which left him hobbling and clasping at his foot. He saw two older men smirking so he shook his foot and leapt at them viciously. He took them down with ease before stealing their pocket knives and fleeing the scene. He had a scar from that day but that day also reminded him of the pride his father had shown towards him, beaming as he showed his battle wounds and his stolen loot. It was that day that he had agreed to join the family tradition of answering to no one but himself. He, at age thirteen, was officially a reiver.
He looked over these fields in which he now bled out over. It was his life after all, to control these areas. His father was the leader of a powerful alliance in the area, striking fear into anyone who dared encroach on his territory. He did have siblings, but he only ever really saw his three sisters. His three older brothers were out in other families, often either married off or working in an alliance which the Hume family dominated. But his father kept him close. He worked constantly to adapt and perfect his skills and he believed, in the unspoken truth, that his father favoured him. Elliot was every bit as cunning and cold as his father, sharp as flint and felt no greater joy than being in a position of power. And he got his chance with some controversy.
When the English and the Scots went to war again, Scott Hume persuaded the English to pay them to fight. But this was to be Scott’s last battle. As he approached the area of conflict , Elliot noticed another reiver family encircling his fathers men. He rapidly mounted a horse, heaving on the reins and charging towards the battle. Being a Hume to the core, he mercilessly murdered any one that crossed his path searching for his father. Eventually he found him, but bleeding with a dagger in his chest. On that day, with his remaining breath, Scott told him about the dreaded Huntleys who rivalled them in the area. And just before he died, he granted Elliot the leadership of his alliances and house. In the moment where his father passed on, Elliot was focused. His thoughts were clouded with emotion but his aim was clear. To kill any member of the Huntley family until there wasn’t a single man, woman or child who wore the surname.
Elliot quickly ascended to the head of the Hume house. He was every bit like his father so no one dared deny him his inheritance. He had the body of a boy, but the mind of a lion ready to hunt and kill its next victim. He quickly stopped any revolt against his alliance in its tracks and showed no mercy. He crushed the Fenwicks in Wallington, The Chamberlains on the Scottish border and even travelled as far as Kielder to crush a revolt. These were the days he remembered most fondly as he reminisced over them now. However, he felt an agonising pain in his abdomen. He didn’t have much longer. He knew all about stab wounds and it was a certain stabbing that had resulted in this.
It was a cold bitter day in these parts when Elliot’s brother Charlie came back with news that he had an encounter with the evil Huntleys. Charlie exclaimed that the group he was travelling with had killed 4 and wounded double and after had chased for miles. Elliot, being the cunning and calculating man he was, knew that the Huntleys would come back. And this time, they would come back with the fire of a thousand suns.
He set out with most of the men in his alliances and his brother at midday. He knew they would come back and he knew where they hid before an ambush, thanks to undercover spies he had paid. He set up on the high ground overlooking the quiet, calm Cheviot hills. If he was to fight a battle, Elliot Hume would fight it on his terms. He had the patience of eternity as he had the anger of Satan boiling inside of him. And then being the eagle eyed person he was, he saw the Huntley cavalry riding over the hills. He had all of the time in the world, for he was the level headed one of his siblings. Yet his brother had not inherited that skill, charging down the valley to greet them with blood red eyes and a sharpened sword. Elliot had no choice but to help his brother.
The battle was the greatest reiver clash in history. Both sides fought valiantly, with Elliot saving his brother from letting the red mist drop on more than one occasion. Yet as the battle dragged on, Elliot began to realise his fatal error. Dusk was falling in the valley and he could see the infamous huntley guerillas on all sides. His men had seen and attempted to flee, yet it was in vain as they were viciously hacked to pieces. In the moment where it seemed like all was lost, he noticed a group of guerillas tending to their own wounded. He and Charlie skirted round the edge of the blood red battlefield praying on their invisibility in the fading light.
However that was not the case. The guerilla clan nearest to them sprung to their senses, grabbing their weapons and racing toward them. Elliot recognised the danger but Charlie did not. Elliot dived out of the way of the clan but Charlie was too hesitant. Elliot refused to look back as he recognised his chance.They were too consumed with killing his brother that he could make his getaway. He was a man of emotion however, his survival would be vital. He clambered his way to the top looking triumphantly down on his escape. Yet something did not seem right. He felt an emotion he rarely ever felt, dread. He began to shiver, feeling the darkness engulfing him he became frightened. Suddenly, he heard a flock of crows skim over his hair. He whipped his head away from the valley and that was all the invitation the guerillas needed.
And that is how he had ended up here. Alone, waiting for his death, going back to his father and wondering if he would be filled with pride. After all, everyone he had met had claimed that he was every bit of the man his father was. As he looked upon the dawning Sun, he bid adieu to his beloved lands. For as the sun came up, Elliot Hume closed his eyes for the last time. He could breathe easily now, he was off to his father.
My heart quickened with every step taken, with every sound made. Trapped and isolated with no way of escape, me and my family sat petrified of what was about to happen. Charging through the desolate, uneven, and dehydrated landscapes, the Reivers were making their way towards our land and our territory ready for dispute.
This place was in my bones – its hills and fields were so much a part of me I felt I could never leave. And these people who carry danger with them have the power to strike fear into the minds of simple farmers who are simply trying to ignore the haunting mists of history and provide for their family. But they are now living in fear.
My thoughts rocked back and forth like a clock ticking in my mind, as if i only had a few minutes left to live. Gradually attempting to make our way into the distant land. The clouds, motionless yet free, dominated my every move. I felt as if there was no escape, no freedom, just entrapment.
If only I could have stopped these unforsaken events occurring. If only I held the power to allow all to feel the tranquillity of freedom.
My breath becomes thinner than once before, my hands shake with the adrenaline that rushes throughout me. At last I am here standing on top of this landscape, looking over at the terror and carnage that is unfolding right in front of my eyes. Oh how i have longed to hear the slashing and crashing of people and their horses. How I have longed to hear the air whistling in anger. How I have longed to feel the vibrations of the battle that is occurring underneath me. The floor that was once a sandy orange is now red; red with the blood of the warriors that are deceased.
But there I was just looking down. I wanted to make my heroic entrance but I could not when I have enemies lurking down there who would thrive off of the thrill of hurting me in every way possible. I needed to strategise carefully; I could not let my family feel the grief of loosing their father, husband, and son. My wife at home tending to the farm, my parents sitting waiting for my arrival and my daughter waiting patiently for her father to come home.
The wind still whistling and screeching, all of a sudden a roaring sound of thunder crashed down. The rain threw itself to the floor, turning it from a dry and red field to now a slushy and sodden mess. The sky that was once dotted with clouds and the sun shining through was now dark and eerie with heavy clouds of grey looming down on everyone.
The battle has only just started what horror is still to come?
The thumping of hooves and the crashing of swords only getting louder. The shouts of anger strengthening louder than ever before. This place is not the tranquil, comforting place it once was where the picnics of summer would take place and all of the families would gather to enjoy each other’s company on the hot summer day. No – that is all gone. All this place will be remembered as is the site of war and wreckage. Maybe I was wrong, maybe this was not what I have wanted all a long. I no longer feel the adrenaline: I just feel the fear eating away at me. Will I make it home? Will I ever wrap my precious family into a warm embrace again? Will I ever feel the comfort of my home again?
At last the time has come for me to enter into the war.
Discretely, I stride down the valley trying not to be seen, struggling to get past the ledge I hold on and pull myself a long, step by step. My breath becoming quicker, my heart racing. I carefully pull my horse by her reigns, moving her a long slowly, a loud crash of the thunder startles her. She lets out a roaring neigh and hurls herself down the valley ledge. Gripping tightly onto the reigns I throw myself onto her back and my time has finally come to endure the sickening battle. Is this how I die? Are these going to be my final moments on the earth? I tug the horse’s reigns one last time and off i go into the war ground.
As I gazed across the desolate landscape, I felt the calming breeze dance with my tangled hair. The string of clouds hung motionless as the blazing sun slowly passed them by, soon to disappear behind the powerful yet vulnerable hills. I wandered among the lifeless grass, a mere shadow alongside the heather-clad hills, as I kept watch of the only home I ever loved.
The very home that held the most valuable things of all: my memories.
For these sacred moments that forever remained closest to my heart were the reason I would give everything to protect them. Meaning I would sacrifice all to protect the small village hidden by the towering hills.
However, this was not all about me and my life, it was about my husband, the man who entrusted everything he has worked for with me while he risks his life out on the open plains for us to have a better life. The least I could do is protect this sacred place with my life, protect the land he fought so hard to win. The land he had spent hours nurturing and growing, protecting the dead grass that sways with the cold yet comforting air- the same that kisses my rose-coloured cheeks.
As I continued to wander around the barren hills, I felt the final warm embrace of the sun’s comforting rays before they were lost behind the looming hills. I would now have to wait hours until I could catch another glimpse of the fiery star’s glow. Like followers, the last few remaining streaks of cloud left, vanishing behind the now darkened hills until finally all that was left was the small, shimmering dots high above me and darkness. I felt alone, vulnerable but somehow also safe, protected by the shining stars that perched above me.
Slowly, enjoying every second of being under the blanket of the night sky, I turned towards the village and wandered back, keeping my focus on the beauty above me. I felt safe, I felt comforted, I felt at ease; a warm feeling of tranquillity buzzed inside of me.
However, deeper down I sensed a feeling of longing- longing for my brave fighter to return home to me safely. I could never truly rest without knowing he was safe; just the thought of him in any pain made me feel sick so I returned my focus to the deep blue heavens, which reminded me of the calming sea, and continued on to the land I was trusted with.
All I could do now was guard it as best as I could and simply wait for him to return safely home, return victorious.
