The Games Ch. 1 - 2

Ch. 1 The Raid



         The sun was rising up over the horizon, streaming in through the window.  The rays continued to spread across the room, brightening the room.  As the sunlight reached Lyle, he was just awakening.  He stretched his arms above his head and yawned.  He kicked his dirty, old blanket off of him.  He rose off the cold, hard ground of his one-room house.

         “Good morning, sleepyhead,” said his mother from the kitchen.  She was cooking breakfast in a pot over the fireplace.  Every once in a while, the flames licked the pot resting above them as if they were trying to taste the food inside.  His mother walked over to the pot and dished out some oatmeal into two clay bowls.  She then put a clay spoon in each.  She carried them over to the table and set them down.  She started to eat her oatmeal slowly.

         During this time, Lyle had gotten up and pulled on his shirt that lay next to his sleeping spot on the floor.  He then picked up his blanket and roughly folded it.  He laid the blanket in the corner where the other few blankets they had were.  Lyle yawned and stretched some more, getting all the kinks out of his back and neck.  As he walked over to the small wooden table, he combed his hand through his jet black hair.

         He pulled out a stool from under the table and sat on it.  Lyle looked down at his bowl full of gray, lumpy oatmeal and sighed.  He quickly ate his oatmeal and went to the well outside his house.  He pulled on the rope that brought up a bucket full of crystal clear water.  He washed his face and hands, feeling the cool water awaken him even more.  Then Lyle let the bucket drop back down to the bottom with a splash.

         Lyle ran back to the doorway and called to his mother.  “I’m going to the forest.”

         “Ok, be back for dinner,” his mother called back.

         “Ok,” said Lyle.  He went out to the forest near his house.  He stood at the forest’s edge, gazing at its grandeur.  The forest was very dark even during the daytime.  The sun’s rays rarely penetrated the leaves on the trees.  The trees consisted mainly of pine and fir trees with some spruce here and there.  Some of the trees stood over fifty feet tall.  They towered over Lyle as he entered the forest.

         He walked deep into the forest till he was sure no one was around or could see him.  He grabbed something out of his pocket.  He looked down at it.  It was a wood-carving of a raven.  It was carved from oak, and then charred giving it a black color.  Lyle held it close to his heart.

         Lyle’s clothes molded to his body.  His skin and clothes gradually darkened until they were black.  His nose and mouth protruded out to a narrow point.  Then they turned to a light, creamy orange.  Lyle shrunk to about the size of a large cat.  His arms and body grew feathers and wings, while his feet turned into scaly sticks with sharp claws.  Lyle’s eyes kept their red color.

         Lyle spread his wings and cawed as he propelled his new body off the ground.  Lyle flapped his wings and soared to the top of the trees.  He could feel the wind blowing through his feathers.  He flew around in the air above the trees for what seemed like hours, eventually losing track of time.

         As sun started to go down, Lyle landed smoothly and morphed back into his human self.  He was in a very cheerful mood, just as he always was after flying around above the trees all day.  He slipped the carving back into his pocket.  He whistled as he walked back to the village.  The sun was just hitting the horizon as he reached the edge of the forest.

         Lyle sensed something was wrong.  As he entered the clearing of trees, he saw that most of the village was on fire.  Thatched roofs were burning, sending embers into the smoke filled sky.  People were screaming and calling out to family members and loved ones.  Lyle ran towards his house as fast his legs would carry him.  He stopped and ducked out of sight behind the stone wall that surrounded his house.

         Lyle peeked over the stone wall.  The sight he saw was like a nightmare, but he couldn’t wake himself up.  His mother was being dragged into their house by her hair by two raiders.  She was screaming in pain and flailing her legs.  The two raiders had mismatched leather armor that didn’t look as though it offered much protection.  They were tanned from being outside most of the time.

         The two raiders appeared back outside the house after about five minutes, but Lyle’s mother wasn’t with them.  Lyle watched in horror as one of the raiders took a lit torch and proceeded to set his house aflame.  The thatched roof caught easily.  The flames spread across the roof and started to burn the rest of the house.  Lyle could hear his mother screaming inside, but could do nothing to help her.

         The two raiders were standing by the gate, admiring their handiwork.  A brave, but stupid, villager appeared from one of the unburned barns wielding a pitchfork.  He charged at one of the raiders holding a pitchfork as if it were a spear.  The raider quickly side-stepped him and swung his axe at the off-balanced villager.  The attack was terribly successful.  The villager’s head was separated from his body.  The head rolled off into a nearby ditch.  Blood was gushing from the neck as the body fell to its knees then over on to its side.  A puddle of blood gradually appeared by the body.

         The raider picked up the pitchfork and speared the head with its frozen expression.  He then slammed the blunt end of the pitchfork into the ground.  The pitchfork stood erect, a warning of these raider’s brutality and mercilessness.

         Lyle turned around from peeking over the stone wall and sat with his back resting on it.  Emotions flooded over his body.  He buried his face in his hands and wept quietly to himself.  He sat there and listened to the crackling of burning wood, unsure of what to do.

         Lyle felt fingers wrap around his skull and lift him off the ground and into the air.  His face contorted in pain.  Lyle started beating at the hand and towards its owner to no avail.

         “Thought we didn’t know you were hiding here, didn’t you? You little shit!” the owner of the hand said.  He squeezed harder around Lyle’s head.  He then threw Lyle onto the ground a couple feet away.  The impact drove the air from Lyle’s lungs.

         Lyle lay coughing, trying to see through the spots in his vision.  When he could finally see clearly, Lyle saw one of his mother’s killers kneeling in front of him.  He had red, curly hair that was very shortly cut.  He also had a scraggly beard and moustache with the same red color.  He had scars on his face and arms from previous injuries.

         As soon as Lyle recognized him as one of his mother’s killers, Lyle spat into the raider’s face.  The raider reared back and wiped the spit from his face.  He then slapped Lyle hard across the face, knocking Lyle over.  Lyle sat back up.  The blow had busted his lip, he could taste it.

         “I see you are going to be trouble, but I can fix that,” the raider said as he pulled his hand back to slap Lyle again.

         “Stop, Surge!  The Boss wants young, able boys and girls alive, so we can sell them to the Games.  And he would prefer if they were presentable.  They fetch a better price that way,” said the other raider as he walked into Lyle’s vision.  Lyle immediately recognized him as his mother’s other killer.

         This one had black hair that was cut short.  He also had a small beard and moustache.  Unlike the first one though, this one had a sense of authority about him.

         Surge looked back over his shoulder at the other raider, glaring a little.  Surge then gave up and sighed as he stood up.  “Alright, we’ll have it your way, Thomas.”

         “That’s better.  Ok, now tie him up and let’s get back to the others,” ordered Thomas as he tossed some rope to Surge.

         Surge caught the rope awkwardly as it was tossed to him.  He pulled a knife from his belt and cut the rope into smaller pieces.  He grumbled as he roughly tied Lyle’s feet and hands behind his back, not gently either.  He then slammed the butt of the knife into Lyle’s temple.  The last thing Lyle remembered from that night before he sank into unconsciousness was being hoisted onto Surge’s shoulder and being carried away from the village and life he had known.





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Ch. 2 The Raider Camp



         Lyle came to his senses with a throbbing headache.  It felt like someone was stomping on his head.  He clenched and grinded his teeth in an attempt to drive out the pain. Lyle laid there waiting for the pain to subside.

         As he lay there, Lyle tried to get his hands out of his bindings.  His hands were still tied behind his back, but they were surprisingly loose.  He could easily slide one hand out and move it around freely.  He kept his hands behind his back though, so he could figure out where he was and devise a plan to escape. 

         After the headache subsided enough for him to think clearly, Lyle started to observe his surroundings.  He was sitting with his back against a towering pine tree.  The tree was at the edge of a clearing in the forest.  In the center of the clearing was a campfire with a deer roasting over it.  Its aroma flooded the air.  He glanced up and observed the smoke rising into the night sky.

         Sitting around the fire were raiders.  They were talking, insulting, and challenging each other to tests of strength.  One raider was posted as a guard for the prisoners.  Other raiders were sentries protecting the encampment.

         One particular raider was sitting cross-legged on the opposite side of the fire.  He was staring at Lyle.  His gaze was unnerving and it took all of Lyle‘s control not to just get up and run to get away from those eyes.  This raider was wearing mismatched leather armor like all the other raiders in the encampment.  He had a jagged scar running down his left cheek and a mean, but neutral, facial expression.  His hair was black with grey flecks throughout and was very greasy.  He also had a gray beard and moustache.  Lyle figured this raider was the Boss character that the other raider, Thomas, mentioned earlier.

         Shifting his gaze to the other side of the tree, Lyle noticed two of the other children from the village.  They both looked about four years older then him.  One was a boy and the other was a girl. Lyle did not know either of them very well.

         Next Lyle noticed Surge and Thomas coming into the clearing.  They walked across the clearing towards Lyle.  Surge knelt down to eye level with Lyle.  He playfully slapped Lyle’s cheeks a couple of times.  “How is my favorite little slave?  You’re never going to see you mum or pops again.  How does that make you feel?”

         Lyle never really knew his father.  His mother said he had died in some battle a long time ago.  But he knew his mother, though.  Lyle could remember her jet black curly hair that was always a little disheveled.  He could remember her dress and dirty white apron she always wore. He remembered her cooking and caring for him.  Everything he remembered about her just brought pain back to him. That pain then turned to madness and rage. But he knew how to release that anger and rage.

         Lyle quickly slid his hands out of his bindings and launched at Surge.  The attack caught Surge off guard and he fell backwards with Lyle on top of him.  Lyle punched Surge’s face and chest. Surge futilely tried to block the blows.

         Lyle was pulled off of Surge by Thomas and another raider. Everyone in the clearing was silent now.  Surge got off the ground and charged at Lyle, aiming to kill.  He suddenly stopped though, when malicious laughter filled the clearing.  Birds in the trees above flew away in fright of the sudden sound.

         Everyone turned to and looked at the person whom was laughing.  The Boss rose up from where he was sitting, still laughing.  He walked over to where the fight was and looked around at everyone.  “It looks like you lost, Surge.” He looked Surge up and down.

         Surge looked horrible.  His lips were busted and bleeding.  Both of his eyes were turning blue and black.  His forearms were cut and bruised from trying to block the punches flying at him.  He spit some blood onto the ground next to him.

         “You two, let him go,” ordered the Boss.  Thomas and the other raider relinquished their grips on Lyle.  The Boss walked over to stand in front of him.  “Hahaha! I thought I would have a little fun tonight when Surge and Thomas told me you had been trouble. So I loosened your bindings and I suspected you would try to escape like all the other ones do, but you stayed. But I saw why when Surge and Thomas entered our camp after a patrol I sent them on.  And I believe you attacking Surge was more fun than hunting you down would have been.”

         “You beat the shit out of him,” he gestured to Surge.  “You have potential in you, boy. I expect you to go far in the Games. Maybe I’ll get to make some money off of you someday.”

         “So is there anything I should know about you before I let you out of the rest of your bindings?” he asked Lyle.  Lyle shook his head, not wanting to ruin his chance of escaping by flying away.  “No? OK, release him,” ordered the Boss. 

         Thomas quickly pulled a knife out and proceeded to cut away the rest of Lyle’s bindings. Lyle flexed his fingers and hands and rotated his ankles to get the blood circulating again. He then reached into his pocket to retrieve the raven carving.  He was shocked when he didn’t find it, and he let it show.

         “You missing something?” the Boss asked with a questioning look on his face. “You looking for this, boy?” He held up Lyle’s raven carving.  “You didn’t think I was going to let you just fly away and lose all the money I can make by selling you, did you?”

         Lyle was dumb-struck.  He figured they must have searched his pockets when they brought him here.  Now his plan for escape was ruined.

         “Now go and sit back down at your spot on the tree.  I’ll hang onto this for now and if you try anything funny, I’ll have you restrained again. Got it, boy?”  The Boss didn’t even wait for Lyle’s answer.  He just returned back to his spot by the fire.

         Lyle returned back to his previous spot by the tree and slumped down.  Surge walked over to a space in the camp and started to clean and bandage his wounds.  Thomas went his own way and waited for his shift for sentry duty.  The rest of the camp went back to what they had been doing, somewhat confused about what had just happened.

         Lyle soon drifted into a fitful sleep with dreams of his mother being burned alive.  He only woke up once during the night. He was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.  He got up and asked the sentry at that time if he could have a drink.  The raider thrust him a canteen.  Lyle took it and took a drink.  It felt like fire was running down his throat.  He hadn’t expected the dink to be alcohol, but rather water.  He handed the canteen back and went back to his spot and drifted back to sleep. He slept the rest of the night peacefully.