Baer

Baer

1

It's a curious thing, the worst day of your life.

You can never be entirely sure that it is, in fact, the worst day of your life.

Unless you are about to die then a whole lifetime of possible worse days stretches before you.

Luckily, then, for Baer, that he was about to die.

The man holding the knife was tall, as all men were to Baer who was ten years old.

He stared down at Baer, one large hand busy crushing his throat, with a look of detachment and mild disgust. His right hand was holding a knife. The blade moved aimlessly towards Baer, as though it were merely being used to cut cheese, not open a person to the world. Flames reflected from the house's burning roof flickered across the slick metal.

Watching the knife approach his bare chest Baer was struck by the curious thought that this knife looked exactly like the one Father used to gut fish. In fact, as the tip of the blade entered his chest he noticed the Sign of his Family engraved on the hilt. This was Father's knife after all. Baer looked around for Father to tell him that this strange man had his good fish knife, and was not being careful with it. Remembering suddenly that Father was dead: he thought it was probably for the best not to mention it. After all, Father was a quiet man, who preferred not to argue.

It was a curious man that was killing Baer. He stood over six feet tall, a full head and a half higher that Father. Although Father was at something of a disadvantage as he was currently dead and couldn't be expected to stand as a result. The man wore only a black tunic of rough-spun wool and a heavy belt, from which hung a small bearded axe. The man seemed to Baer to have covered every exposed piece of his skin in charcoal. This struck him as a very curious thing to do. More curious still was the rather pale hand which seemed to have just appeared on the man's left shoulder. The hand shot across the man's chest until the elbow was under his chin, forcing his head back. Another hand, also pale but covered almost entirely in dark red and holding a long, thin blade drew itself across the man's gulping throat. The thin blade bit deep into the man's neck, so that Baer could see what must have been his spine through the cut. A fair amount of the blood gushing out of the man splashed on to Baer's face and ran down his chest, mingling with his own.

Mother let the very dead man drop to the packed earth floor of their home. She took Baer's face in her hands, looking into his eyes with and intensity he had never seen before. Her short-cropped hair was covered in dirt and blood; she was missing the top half of her left ear which was busy oozing blood down her chin to tap onto the floor. She suddenly dropped to her knees and pressed him tight to her chest, her steel cuirass was cold on Baer's face, a new dent had appeared by his eye. Mother would not be happy about that; she kept her armour obsessively clean and dent-free.

With the man's hand no longer around his throat Baer was able to breathe again and the world came rushing in to focus. He could hear the roar of flames engulfing the town, the crash and cry of the Mar as they met the raiders in the square. Baer saw through the door large shapes clustered around with their backs to the opening, fire shining off of swords and axes held tightly in nervous hands. Mother squeezed him tighter to her, as though she to push him inside her chest to keep him safe.

"Mother" said Baer

"I'm here Baby Baer" said Mother.

Baer hated that name, it was a child's name and he was a man now. He had finished almost all of the Rites and had his tattoo to prove it.

"Mother!" he said again with more urgency.

"What is it, love?" asked mother, her voice shaking.