"Get away from him."
Bastian wrested the two men apart, pulling on their arms until they let go.
"He tried to kill my nephew!" Tom, the butcher, yelled.
Bastian looked down to the ground, where the young boy, Lukas, lay holding his arm.
"The boy wanted to train. I was only helping him out. It was an accident." James, a farmer, screamed back.
"Both of you, back off," Adam ordered through gritted teeth. He tore off a strip of his shirt and placed it on the boy's arm, staunching the wound. Blood bubbled on the side, then slowed to a trickle. "Someone could have taken the time to stop his bleeding instead of fighting about it."
The two men looked sheepish, their eyes toward the ground.
"Look," Bastian said, placing his arms around the shoulders of the two men, "you must learn to control your anger. If you don't, innocents will die. Focus solely on the enemy."
"He shouldn't have been fighting with my nephew," Tom insisted.
"Why not? It’s possible he'll be in as much danger as the rest of us. It won't hurt him to learn some combat techniques," Bastian said.
Lukas puffed up his chest.
"But you should know better than to strike a child,” Bastian said. “Control. That's the one thing everyone needs to focus on. Not the strength behind the swing of your sword. Not the angle of the sword's entry. All of that comes together if you have control."
Bastian dropped his arms and stood in front of both men. "You're going to need it out there." He pointed toward the fog. "What's out there will test your mettle. It will push you to the breaking point. It will force you to choose between life and death, between love and pity. You will be tested. And you will be changed."
He turned his back on the two men, done with them. They wouldn't listen. He knew that. Until they saw it for themselves, their closed minds wouldn't accept anything Bastian said. The only credibility he had came from his return. He was the only one. Ever. It held some weight, but stories couldn't even outweigh experience.
"How is he?" Bastian dropped to one knee next to Lukas.
"He'll survive," Adam said. He helped the boy sit up and prop his back against the side of the meeting hall. "But he won't be able to lift a sword. Maybe not even a pack."
Tears streamed down the boy's cheeks. He wiped them away angrily with his sleeve, leaving a streak of blood on his face. "I only wanted to learn. I want to fight."
"Lukas, I am proud of you for wanting to fight. But the children aren’t going to come with us into the fog."
Lukas nodded. The tears slowed. “But if something comes here again, another dragon or a beast, like the one you’ve warned us about, I want to be able to fight!”
Lukas’ eyes were wide, full of hope. At the same time, they were fierce, willing to fight. Bastian recognized that. He’d seen it in his own eyes. "I need someone to protect my daughter. Not a grown man. As you can see, their petty disagreements get in the way of what's important," Bastian said.
The boy took a quick glance at his uncle.
"What I need is someone who will be with her all the time. Make sure she’s safe. Maybe even hold her hand. Can you do that?"
"Hold hands with a girl?" Lukas’ nose crinkled at the thought.
"I'd consider it a great favor if you'd help me. I can't fight if I'm worried about her. If I know she's with you, I'll feel much better."
Lukas’ back straightened. He sat up a little taller. "I'll do it, sir."
"Bastian. Not sir. I've done nothing to deserve that title." Bastian ruffled Lukas’ sandy hair. "Now head home with your uncle. Tell your aunt what happened and how you've been rewarded for your bravery."
Lukas stood up, a little shaky. Tom placed his hand on his nephew’s uninjured arm.
"I am sorry,” James said.
"It's okay," Bastian said. Everyone knew he didn't mean it, though. He'd said it for Lukas’ benefit. "Control yourself and we won't have to have another discussion."
The men, Lukas, and Kaima walked away in silence. After only a few steps, they split up, heading back to their respective homes.
Bastian let out a long sigh and ran his hands through his hair.
"No one ever said this would be easy," Adam said. He wiped his hands on his shirt, smearing blood all over the light fabric. "I'd better get home and wash up. Do a little laundry too."
Bastian laughed at his uncle covered in red hair, red freckles, and red blood. "I know, I know. I meant what I said, though. Until they actually see what it's like out there, they can't understand."
Adam nodded. "It's like having a cold bucket of water dropped on you after a long night of drinking. Very sobering."