Chapter Five

30 miles south of the

Borders of the Dark Zone

Three nights earlier

The man forced his head above the surface of the river and sucked in a massive gulp of air. The current of the stream had carried him for nearly a mile from the cliff from which he had jumped but now it was finally starting to weaken. The man’s feet were slipping on the rocky floor of the river as it continued to pull him along. He inhaled a deep breath and dove under the surface, scrambling around the creek bed for a handhold of some sort, but the rocks were just too slick.

In the middle of attempting to grab onto something to resist the current, it suddenly caused him to strike his head against a higher rock. The man gasped underwater and returned above surface to catch his breath. He brought his hand to his temple and felt a small amount of blood seeping out of a wound. His vision was blurred, but just up ahead he saw a low hanging tree branch jutting out from the wooded shoreline. He struggled to work his way over toward the riverbank and, using the current for momentum, he launched himself upward to reach for the branch. He outstretched his right hand to grab the branch but missed by a hair. Quickly, he braced himself to be plunged back into the flowing stream but in a split-second reaction he snatched the branch with his left hand. He tensed his muscles, trying to prevent himself from accidentally falling back into the water. The branch shook and creaked, but it proved to be stable enough to support him. The man let out a sigh of relief and used the tree limb to climb his way to the bank. Once he reached the end of the limb he released it and fell down onto the damp ground, taking in several deep breaths. He then rolled himself over onto his back and took a long look at his surroundings.

The man was somewhere in the woods of the Appalachian Mountains. Most likely farther north, where the mountain peaks rose high and stretched for many miles. They were heavily forested, that much was clear. There was an abundance of sounds of numerous species of wildlife so it was unlikely any settlements were nearby. 

The man was in his early forties. He was over six feet in height but quite thin and lanky due to wandering and hiding in the wilderness with limited sustenance. His hair was dark, dirty and hung low, and his face was covered with roughly shaven stubble. He looked up past the treeline and toward the sky. The stars were creeping out as the sky was faintly illuminated by the last dimming rays of the setting sun. It made him realize that he was shivering from the cold of the water, and that very soon it would get even colder. He had to move on and seek out shelter for the night, hoping that the people who chased off the cliff were far enough behind him by now.

But wait...where was it?

The man suddenly panicked and reached his hands around to his back. He had been wearing a small leather harness on his upper back supported by his shoulders. On the harness was a what appeared to be part of scabbard which seemed as though it could support a large blade of some sort. But there was nothing there. He must have lost it in the river!

Trying to hold himself together, the man scoped up and down the riverbank to find his lost possession, but it was too dark to see properly. He gathered his thoughts, and then knelt down, placing his hand on the ground as if trying to feel the presence of something.

The man breathed steadily. “Where are you?” he called under his breath. He was glancing around slowly, and seemed to wait for something to respond, but nothing happened. “Come on,” he continued to whisper. “I know you’re close. Guide me.” The man stood up and cautiously began to walk downstream. “I hear you calling. Show yourself.”

The sound of the flowing river to his right and the noises of birds and insects on his left made for a soothing yet agitating stride through the trees as the drenched man seemed to follow some intangible force. At last, he spotted up ahead a small rock ledge in the river. Sticking up from in between a couple of rocks was-

“There you are!” the man gasped. He ran down the bank to the end of the ragged ledge. The sun was completely down now, but he did not need the light to tell that there was a large sword of some kind lodged in between the rocks. It looked precariously positioned against the flow of the water, as if one wrong shift in force could set it off balance and send it traveling farther downriver. The man shook his head in disbelief, and then gently set his foot down upon the first rock. As expected, the hard surface was slippery and made it difficult for him to keep his balance. This was impossible, but he had to reach that sword. He outstretched his arms to maintain his stability and stepped onto the next rock in the natural dam. Each step out into the rushing stream was even more perilous than the last, but when he finally got close enough to the sword-like object, the man got down on his knees to get a better grip of the rock, and then reached out to grab the sword. Unfortunately, it was a little too far away to touch, but he was already as close as he could get. The rock that held the sword in place was too small for him to step on without disturbing its position.

“Come on,” the man hissed quietly. He reached out as far as he could. He was so close that he could almost touch it. As he attempted to adjust his own position, he began to lose his footing and nearly slipped from the damp, rocky surface. He dropped down and clutched the rock, catching his breath and regained his balance. He reached for the sword again, but it was still too far away. “Come on,” he growled again. The man was becoming heated with frustration. He clenched his teeth and tensed his arm muscles. “Did you not hear me?” He retracted his arm and then launched back out to reach again. “I said...COME!”

Just then, the sword instantly tilted in its clamped position toward the man’s hand, and he quickly grabbed hold of the handle. He slowly stood up and pulled the large weapon out of the rocky ledge. Letting out a sigh of relief, he turned and made his way back to shore.

This was certainly not the future he envisioned for himself, but it was not like his past had given him any sense of certainty. Twenty years ago he found himself engulfed in an incident that changed his life forever, as well as the lives of one of his best friends and eventually the only love of his life. During this event he came in possession of the sword-like weapon he was carrying. It was definitely no iron-forged blade, rather it was very large and broad, not made of any kind of common forgery metal. Instead of being straight, the blade consisted of several smaller blade-like beams that intertwined upward from the large hilt to form the vague shape of a blade. As for the material, it gleamed faintly with a shade of bronze. Despite traveling with the man for two decades, the gold-bronze metal of the blade had not dulled or begun to deteriorate at all. It was no material he had ever seen before, but he had more than enough reason to believe it was made of orichalcum.

The exhausted man plopped himself down against a tree and set the sword beside him. His wet predicament did not seem to bother him in the least, as drenched clothing had been the least of his worries for many years. His mind was constantly racing with thoughts and ideas of what he should do next or where he should go.

“Home,” he mumbled to himself. “Home to peace again. Oh, that would be the day.” The man just stared out into the dark sky above him, most likely fantasizing about returning to the life he had forsaken so long ago. He then shifted his attention down to the sword at his side as if it were trying to tell him something. “No,” he continued to mutter. “I can’t go back, not with all of that heat on my ass. I would be endangering them all if I did.”

He paused again, not taking his eyes off his weapon. “For the time being, we're still wanderers.”

… …

“No. I'm not vagabond. I’m not homeless, I’m just a traveler now, going by the name of Ranger,” he scoffed at himself

… …

“Exile was the only thing I could do to protect my family.”

… …

“Yes, I would do anything to protect my family, to keep them out of harm’s way.” The man, who referred to himself as Ranger, leaned his head back against the tree, closed his eyes and let out a sigh of exhaustion. “Even if it means never seeing them again. Never seeing my wife again, never being able to watch my children grow. But I would still sacrifice all of that, all of it…” He placed his hand down on the sword’s handle. “...to keep you safe.”

… …

“It's essential that I protect you from those on our tails. If your power or your secrets fell into the hands of my enemies, God only knows what kind of disasters would follow simply as a result of humanity’s selfish desire for more power. It’s a risk I cannot, and will not, take. I would spend the rest of my life alone in the desolate hills of the Dark Zone if I have to.”

… …

In his mind, Ranger would always be right about the actions he was taking. It was for a noble cause. Twenty years ago, when he claimed possession of the sword-like weapon, he found himself set by fate on an unforeseen journey. 

Ranger spent years trying to wipe the memory of these events from his mind. When he was only 21, he was helping his parents to clear their attic space of all of his personal belongings while he was preparing to move into a place of his own. It was in one of many large boxes he was moving that he found a copy of an old children’s book that his mother used to read to him. Being the young and adventurous young man that he was, he believed the author had left a puzzle of some sort in the book and became obsessed with solving it. Eventually, he had found the abandoned house of the book’s late author, and it was here that he discovered something that would change his life forever.

In a hidden chamber of the abandoned home, he found a small collection of strange objects that had the appearance of relics of some sort. It was the large sword in his hands that Ranger kept with him all this time, rarely letting it out of his sight. Unfortunately, the journey came to a sudden shift of events when he realized he had been playing into the hands of a hellish nightmare. It was truly a trying and traumatizing experience.

Soon after his quest had finally come to an end, and Ranger believed that all the other relics had been destroyed. Except for one. It was his fascination with the sword that prevented him from destroying it when he should have, knowing that it would be his only chance to do so. Ranger kept the sword and returned back home to New York, where he married his wife and finally settled down. He planned to make it his life’s ambition to thoroughly study the secrets within the relic. For several years his obsession fueled his fascination, and at times it threatened to drive his family apart. But through all of it, Ranger never allowed such petty obsessions to distract him from the life and family he had strived to build.

Unfortunately, his days of peace were not to last. It was not long before Ranger began to discover the kind of power that his relic had contained, and not only him, but his wife began to feel it as well. When a couple of men dressed in black suits and claiming to be federal agents came to his doorstep requesting repossession of the sword, Ranger knew that his worst fears had been realized; that other powers would eventually turn their eyes to his prize and try to claim it for their own manipulative purposes. When these men threatened to blackmail his family, Ranger took up the sword and struck them down in a fit of rage. It was then he knew he would be forced to disappear. There was no time for any long goodbyes, so he gave his beloved wife one short farewell, and then vanished from her life.

Ten years had passed since he made the difficult decision to leave his life behind. He had been chased into the river trying to escape from his enemies once again. He was tired and battered, constantly running and hiding. Forced to live off of the land, hunting for his food, whether legally or not. He lived and wandered anywhere his instincts took him, and he slept wherever he saw fit to rest. The laws of the world no longer mattered, for that same world as he knew it was gone.