Lost in Mistar, Part 4 - "The Ambush"

After resting in Northwood overnight, we hit the road, heading towards Amberwater. The spell had worn off, so I couldn’t understand of lick of what anyone was saying. Maerith began teaching me their language on the road. If I didn’t know how to say something, I would first say the word in English. I would then use some sort of gesture, or act something out. They would eventually figure out what I meant, and they would tell me the word or phrase for it. I felt like one of the indians being taught English by the pioneers, way back when. I actually caught on enough to somewhat communicate with my travelling companions over the first week of travelling. It might sound crazy to become conversationally fluent in a language that fast, but I wasn’t going to school and wasn’t taking in a bunch of other useless crap, so that may have helped steep up the process. Plus, I could kind of infer what they were saying by understanding certain words they used and just filling in the blanks as best I could.
I loved travelling with them, though. I felt like I was on a real adventure. I remember when I was younger, my dad took me to Upstate New York to go camping and hiking over fall break. The ground was red, yellow and orange with leaves from the different trees. The streams that ran through the forest were clear. I marched through the forest with a stick I found, swinging it around as if it were a broadsword.
Nrӧg actually taught me some basic defensive and offensive sword techniques during our travel rests. A got to carry his extra short sword around in a scabbard hanging from my belt. It wasn’t much. It was just enough to protect myself incase a situation ever came that I needed to defend myself. And it actually did. It was our tenth day of travelling, I believe. We had gotten out of the forest and had entered the plains of northern Anúrendor. Laying on the side of the road, by a small wooded patch of land, was a man bleeding out from a stab wound. We saw him from a ways away, and hurried over to help him. “Stop! Wait,” the man yelled. An arrow zips past Maerith’s head, and he stops. Another one flies past mine, missing by a hair. From the tree branches on either side, men drop down, holding bows and curved swords. Some emerge from the brush or from behind trees. They circle around us. I feel a large, rough hand grope my shoulder from behind, pulling me back into someone. A cold, sharp blade raises to my throat. The others turn to see me.
“Alright, your coin, or is life,” the thug says. His breath reeked of grog and rancidness. I struggled not to choke. Nrӧg and Tircínwen looked at each other and give a nod. Tircínwen reached behind her, appearing as if looking for a coin purse to give in ransom. I could sense the thug giving off a big grin. Tircínwen pulled her arm out, throwing something in my direction. Next thing I saw was a splatter of dark red. He lets out a gag, and his grip loosened on me.
“AARON, ATTACK,” Nrӧg yells. I push the thug’s arms away and grab the handle of my sword, spinning as I draw it. The blade slashed across his stomach, cutting deep into the skin. He fell over, and in that second, I glance at my blade, edged with crimson. The other bandits begin advancing in on us, waving their swords in the air. One swung from above me. I blocked it, pushing it off to the side, countering it with a parallel strike. I brought my sword back and steped forward, thrusting it into him. I pulled it out, spinning to slash the one coming up behind me. It clashed against his sword, and he came in for a strike. I jumped back, and felt a sharp edge run across my cheek. I stepped forward and sliced underneath his wrist. He yelled in pain, and dropped the sword. I cut almost halfway through his arm. As he covered the wound with his other hand, I slashed down into the side of his neck, killing him. The others were finishing up the last few bandits left. Some of them retreated back into the woods. After the fight was over, the others went to help the man who was injured. I just stood and looked at my shirt and my sword, smeared with blood. I looked at the bandits around me, lying still in their own blood. I was shaking bad. I fell to my knees and threw up. All I could think about was the fact that I killed people. Three of them. I couldn’t stand the sight of their blood. It was one thing when I saw the goblin blood a few days back. They were monsters. But these were people.
“You alright, lad,” I heard Nrӧg say behind me.
“I killed them,” I said. “I don’t want to kill people. It’s wrong.”
“What they did was wrong,” he told me. “You just stopped those scum from harming anyone else.”
“I can’t stand the sight of blood.” He paused for a long second.
“Neither do I,” he said. He patted me on the back. “Come on. This fellow says he’s from Greyshire. That’s down the road. He needs to be treated by a doctor.” I got up onto my feet. They picked helped the other guy up, and helped him walk. We started heading down the road to the next village.