Walker Artak and The Forgotten Mark

1. Auflage 2017
ISBN: 978-1-5069-0500-6
Verlag: First Edition Design Publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Wasserzeichen (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 100 Seiten

A story that will take you on a quest with Artak who, having travelled the world in pursuit of mastering his fighting skills, returns a fearless warrior. Little does he know that fate will soon give him the chance he’s long waited for; to meet face to face with the beast that left him an orphan.When he was merely 14, he watched his parents die along with his entire village. In fear, the boy barely escapes the fiery scene only at his father’s command. This engraved in his heart such a shock that he vowed to avenge them one day. Collapsing at the gates of Wimbra a few days later, he is taken in by Martuk, the village leader. Accepting him in as his own child, he teaches the young boy everything he knows in the art of sword combat, but given his natural abilities and determination, in a short time he surpasses the skills of his teacher. When he was given his first knife, he admired and respected it, spending hours contemplating it; feeling powerful with it. It was already during these young years, being the restless child that he was, and not adhering to rules, much less curfews, that he began to disappear for days without anybody knowing where he’d been.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Walker, Christian

Leseproben

Chapter Four
    The hall was already full and all the villagers worked together and swiftly to get things ready for their celebration. In spite of the time, they were all happy to have a celebration, especially one such as this one. At a moment’s notice, they had all forgotten about sleeping and were happy to cooperate in the preparation to celebrate Artak’s return. Indeed, such festivity could not wait for next morning.  “Are you hungry Artak?” Kimir asked out loud. “Well, I haven’t had a bite to eat all day, so… I’m famished.” Artak answered as they headed to the village’s main hall. They brought out a deer they had hunted earlier and gave Artak a big chunk with some potatoes which he started eating without hesitance. “Can’t a man get something decent to drink around here? “ He asked with food in his mouth. “I’ve got your drink right here” said Kimir as he approached the table with a couple of large beer mugs. Tsehva sat by his side in silence with respect and admiration as the lot of them celebrated his unexpected return. It was nice having him around once again. “Don’t drink too much of that, we still need a good watchman to watch the gate tonight.” Martuk addressed Kimir. “What for? “Don’t worry Martuk, it would take several of these to knock me down, besides, I’ve been keeping watch all night. I think I deserve a drink, or two. It’s celebrating time.” Kimir replied with a scorn. “I’m joking, drink as much as you want; tonight we all enjoy ourselves.” The old man added.   Kimir was the loudmouth of the village, and not in a bad sense, he was just loud every time he opened his mouth, and he always spoke his mind. Generally sarcastic, insistent and scornful but he was nonetheless a good man and happened to be Artak’s best friend since they were children; perhaps because of their opposing nature. Measuring 5 feet 11 inches, 32 years old, he was now almost completely bald, disheveled, and usually let his beard grow wild, although never too long. Liking wine and beer too much and enjoying eating practically at any time during the day, did not help much in maintaining neither a healthy body, nor a healthy lifestyle. Unlike Artak, he limited his training to a few pushups now and then, causing thus to develop a large mid-section that he called his strength. He was good with the sword but archery was his first choice, on which he held the record among them, with the most consecutive shots hitting the target; 32 shots to be exact, which nobody even came close to. Now after several mugs of beer and a full belly, Kimir insisted even more that Artak tell him about his exploits. Artak took a big gulp of his beer. “My good friend, I’m sure you’d like to hear how I fought dragons, and strange creatures the likes of which none of you have ever seen, how I joined in battle against the Mongols in China, and how I underwent difficult tasks to regain a valuable object for the king of Persia, but I’m tired, so I’ll tell you about it sometime.” Replied Artak as he chewed on a piece of meat. But Kimir, still not satisfied with this answer insisted even more excessively. “Do you all want to hear the story?” Kimir asked in a loud voice to all who were there. “Yes!” They all replied banging their cups on the table. “Alright, alright, I’ll tell you what happened.” Artak answered, but not wanting to boast, he only gave the short version of the story. “There I was, with ten thousand men behind me, the enemy must have had at least three more for each one of us. The battle was fierce and bloody, but they stood no chance against our wit nor against our skills, so we defeated them. The End! “Aah, nonsense!” they all shouted in disappointment, but after a short moment, they all went back to eating and drinking. Martuk sat there and observed his people; it had been a while since he saw so many smiles all at once. For the first time in a long while, they were all truly happy. Artak, who was already very tired, could hardly keep his eyes open any longer, especially after a hefty meal and a few of beers. “You should go get some sleep Artak, you look like you’re about to pass out.” Martuk suggested as he watched. “Tomorrow will be an even brighter day.” “You won’t need to say that twice old man.” Artak answered, and with this, he stood up as he finished drinking the last of his beer and bid good night to all. He then went straight to his shack and, throwing his vest on a chair, he fell asleep before he even hit the bed. Next morning, everybody was up and running, doing their usual chores but with relaxed attitudes and smiles on their faces; as though a weight had been lifted off their shoulders. The sun was shining and the scent of gardenias carried by the wind had never smelled so sweet, had never been so distinctly evident. Women were picking some fruit from their own garden while Borolev, the ironsmith, was working vibrantly on locking mechanisms for some windows and doors that needed to be repaired. He was happy that Artak, whom he considered a good influence, was back. His son, helped attentively with an eager spirit of learning his father’s skills and tricks. Roborok, who was now in charge of the gate, was leaning on the fence watching how the entire village had a cheerful spirit.   Having slept like a log, Artak finally opened his eyes around noon feeling happy to be back. Tsehva was sitting next to him when he woke up, she was quietly watching him; admiring the man she loved, looking at the scars from his latest battles. "Good morning my hero, how are you feeling?" "Better than ever.” He answered with a long yawn. “How long have you been sitting there?" "Oh... about an hour, or so. I was just watching you sleep, counting all your scars.” "You're joking!" He said with a frown. "Of course I am.” "I had the nicest dream!" Artak murmured as he stretched all over. "Really, what about?" "I was in this strange place, kind of lost and, all of a sudden, this beautiful woman appeared out of nowhere and...” "What???" Tsehva interrupted. "Ah, there she is!" Artak grabbed her pulling her into bed while wrestling with her. Artak, ending up on top, stared at Tsehva with fixed eyes; she stared back in silence as he drew closer until his nose touched hers and they kissed. She then purposely interrupted and said “time to get up, my father is waiting for us in the hall to have breakfast. Well, more like lunch now.” With a quick hop, Artak jumped out of bed and affirmed: "I'm up!" "Get dressed you silly; I'll be waiting with my father at our cottage.” Once ready, Artak went to their cottage and knocked a few times on the door gazing all around. “Come in.” Martuk said out loud. He then proceeded to sit at the table where Martuk and Tsehva were waiting for him. "Come sit, Artak, we've been waiting for you quite a while and I'm now very hungry! Let us not delay my appetite any longer, shall we?" "A thousand pardons Martuk, I practically fell dead in my bed and just came back to life. Actually it was Tsehva who brought me back to life.” Tsehva laughed quietly while Martuk looked at both of them as if trying to guess what their game was. As he was sitting down, Artak stared at everything on the table and, without any hesitance, served himself a large cup of goat's milk and then grabbed the large iron fork and served himself a piece of the lamb and potatoes that Tsehva had prepared earlier that morning. Being one to usually control his eating habits he wanted nothing else after having eaten too much the previous night. "So… Tsehva tells me that you had a good dream last night, something about a beautiful damsel in distress.” "Actually it was I that was in distress, and this gorgeous woman... well, I'm sure Tsehva already told you everything.” "Indeed she has.” Martuk answered raising an eyebrow as he continued to eat.   One fine morning, after a few quiet weeks without incident, Tsehva and Artak found themselves riding not too far from the village, enjoying some time together. They came up to a clear area where they got down from their horses and continued on foot as they held hands. They spoke of everything and nothing; they spoke of important things and unimportant things alike. But regardless of what they spoke of, what mattered was that they were together and alone; something they had not done for a while. As they walked down the meadows, Tsehva smelled the bouquet of different types of flowers she had been picking along the way. She admired nature and often took long walks by herself. This in particular, was one of her favorite spots because for some reason there was not a single tree in what appeared to be a large circle, just a flat field covered in flowers of all types and colors. “I come here very often when you’re gone; it’s one of my favorite places.” She expressed as she walked letting the...