Jareth’s head snapped up to look at his brother in shock. Attis was not skilled in any kind of fighting. He was supposed to bring in the money with his looks. Jareth was the one with working and weaponry skills. This could not happen! He glanced back once at his parents to see his mother sobbing into his fathers shoulder.
Attis was taken underneath the platform to be cleansed for the fight. His mother and father forgot about Jareth completely. Jareth knew this. He had to do something. He ran to the church in hope of finding the rules of the lottery.
Once at the Church he ran to the room that held his only interest and held the answer to his want for hope. Time he knew was short. He opened one of the dusty books that peeled as he brushed the dust off the pages. He thrust it back onto the shelf disgusted. The next one was in just as bad of shape. None of the books he found were fit to be read, or opened.
Cursing his bad luck he dashed back to the house, fighting his way through the crowded streets of the celebrating towns folk. Nothing mattered except his family. He made it to his front door as the town clock struck twice. His brother would be half way up the mountain by now.
Jareth used words he had forgotten that he knew. He shoved the door open angrily. The room was empty of all hope. He ran over to the closet and threw open the old wooden door, earning him slivers in the palm of his hands.
Inside the closet he saw his fathers weapons hanging on the wall next to the shined bronze breastplate and shield that had the family crest on the front. The weapons in the closet were an ax, a spear, and a short sword. They were polished daily.
Jareth took down the ax and short sword, and tied them to his belt. The spear he held firmly in his hand. The cold wood would help him change the fate of his family forever.
He gripped the wood firmly in his hand as he dashed out of the house and dashed across the fields that lay between him and that traitorous mountain.
In a matter of 15 minutes his legs had covered the distance, and he was now pushing himself up the steep incline of the mountain. His family’s faces torn in sorrow pushed him on. The incline tired him out, calling on his long reserved energy from working on the land for years he pushed forward.
Jareth’s thoughts wandered to his brother. He must have made the same climb earlier, but without the same motivation. Looking ahead he saw the path leveling out. The top was now within sight.
No comments:
Post a Comment