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Randolph:

By Markus Thyme

December 11, 2006:

As the Invaders carried the dead one back toward the buildings, Randolph watched from the brush at the edge of the forest. He was well concealed within the deep shadows. He reviewed with grim satisfaction the past days.

Randolph was tall and slim. When he left the tunnels, he slipped easily through the forest even with his crossbow over his shoulder. I was like part of him and no deterrent to his travel. All he carried was his long knife, crossbow, bolts, and a bit of dried meat. He could survive on what the forest provided, even in the times of cold and snow.

After several days traveling through the forest, he found his way to the stronghold of the invaders. Their compound was in the flatlands near the ruins of Raleigh. He had pushed through the forest with little time for pause or rest. He had thought to rest and observe the Invaders for a time, but opportunity challenged him immediately.

A lone Invader stood at the edge of the grass near the forest. It was too much for Randolph to let pass. Sweet vengeance beckoned him. He set the bow on the ground and, holding it with his foot, he pulled the string back to the hook. Carefully, he took a bolt from his pack and fitted it to the bow. He lifted the bow and aimed the bolt at the center of the Invaders chest. He squeezed the release and the bolt flew true. The invader gasped, grasped his chest, and fell to the ground. Immediately, Randolph darted out and jerked the bolt from his victim. He sneered down at the dying Invader with pure hatred.

“May you sleep well,” he hissed.

Then he darted back to the protection of the forest.

He watched and waited until the other Invader came out to discover his companion. The Invader looked shocked and confused. Randolph thought to loose another bolt, but paused for a bit. The Invader rushed away and was out of range before Randolph could set his bow again. He continued to watch until they carried the Invader’s body back.

“One for the first child,” he whispered.

After a time, Randolph went deeper into the forest and found a trickle of water running from beneath a rock on the side of a rise. He drank, and ate a bit of dried meat. Then he cleaned his bolt and put it away. Finally, he climbed into a large tree with a comfortable space between the trunk and a broad branch. There he curled up and slept several hours.

He awoke to a bright morning and a sound of voices. He was well concealed in the shadows of the tree and he waited. There were several Invaders walking cautiously among the trees. They looked frightened. The jumped and started at the slightest sound. Randolph kept silent and watched. After a time, they went back toward the Invader’s compound chattering amongst themselves. The chattering came more freely as they moved closer to their compound.

‘Well,’ though Randolph. ‘I think they be pretending to look for what brought the death of their companion, but they be fearful. They wish not to be in the forest. They wish not to find what their companion found. That be good! Mayhap I can strengthen their fear.’

He slid easily out of his tree. He quickly set his bow and fitted it with a bolt. Then he trailed behind the chattering Invaders as they moved back toward the compound. As he had hoped, one of them trailed behind the others. He had turned to look with awe at the forest. It was his last look. Randolph loosed the bolt and it flew true. The Invader fell without a sound and Randolph darted out to retrieve his bolt. Instinctively he knew, the wound without a cause was more frightening than the bolt would have been.

“One more for the second child,” he hissed.

The Invaders continued on They were unaware of the fate of their companion who lay dead on the forest floor. They would not discover their loss until the noon meal. In the while, Randolph circled the compound and approached from the south. By high sun, he was in the forest watching the Invaders and the folk who were with them.

It was a strange happening he observed. Naked folk, like him, but not like him seemed to scurry about doing the bidding of the Invaders.

“How can this be?” he whispered.

Then he saw an even more startling sight. He saw naked folk children come out of a building and walk slowly around on the grass. He knew they were folk children, though they looked more like huge white and brown blobs of flesh than the folk children he knew. They looked like walking fungi. He shuddered at the sight.

A sickness grew in him as the understanding came. These were being fattened for, for… He could not even think it. They would become food for the invaders. A horror grew in him as a rage grew with it. He looked with disgust at the folk who scurried about serving the invaders. He thought to put a bolt into one of them, but he knew to not do it.

“I will wait,” he whispered, “and I will finish what I came to do. There are two avenged and seven to be avenged.”

Randolph waited until the last light of eve. In the shadowy light of a quarter moon he slipped boldly into the compound. He had his bow set and a bolt nestled in the groove. The Invaders were in groups and there was no opportunity for a time as he lurked in the shadows. Then he saw a lone invader walk between two buildings near at hand and he followed. Randolph emerged from the passage and quickly darted into the covering forest. The Invader lay between the buildings with an oozing hole in his chest.

“One more for the third child,” he whispered.

He heard a scream from the compound and knew his enemy had found the dead one. Light blazed from windows in every building. He saw Invaders running about and shouting was everywhere. He saw many, many Invaders running about and knew he would satisfy his quest.

Again Randolph found a comfortable tree for his night’s rest. He would wait in comfort for another day of hunting. The sound of shouting was a comforting music to his ears. He understood the Invaders would fear to come out in the night to risk his bolts.

In the morn, he approached the compound with caution and watched from the protection of the forest. He saw that many Invaders were posted around the edge of the compound. Each of them had in hand a strange tool. Randolph knew it was a tool like that which had felled his brother Jack. Still the Invaders looked at the forest with a some fear.

“Wait a bit,” whispered Randolph. “I will give you more cause to fear.”

Slowly he circled the compound noticing each of the invaders. He saw they were all in fear. He smiled at the fright he had caused.

‘These Invaders be not as fearsome as we believed,’ he thought. ‘They be as fearful of me as the tunnel folk be of them. This be a thing Bruce the Elder must needs know, but first, I will see to my quest.’

It was at the place where the huge flyers landed that he found his next opportunity. The lading place was a huge circle of stuff like the main tunnel floor. Invaders with killing tools stood spaced about it. It was the spacing and positions of his enemies that Randolph would find useful.

Come last light, one of the Invaders stood in a shadow near the buildings. He may have though he was safer being out of clear sight. It was a false safety. He was also out of sight of the two guards which flanked him. One was guarding the buildings of the compound and the other was the first on the circle of the landing place.

He fell with only a small hiss of breath to mark his death and Randolph darted boldly into his place to retrieve his bolt. With that, he was inside the perimeter of guards instead of outside. In the near dark, he stalked his next victim on the circle of the landing place. He had to remind himself, these were Invaders who dined on the flesh of folk. Knowing that let him kill them from behind.

When he completed the circle the nine folk had been avenged and five more Invaders had been taken because they were there. Randolph knew luck had been his companion. It was time to leave, before his companion grew weary of him.

“Tis time to return to the folk,” he whispered. “Bruce the Elder must needs be told my news. I will trust to his wisdom.”

Then Randolph turned and strode into the forest.

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