Ashken was so focused on the fight between Moses and the giant that he had not seen his father leave his side. It was only after the giant had spoken that he looked over and saw his father approaching Moses and the giant.

His father walked slowly but purposefully, his steps steady, his head held high. From the carriage, Ashken only saw his back. Tenos was dressed in his long black coat. He wore it for all of his meetings and speeches with the people of Washen’s Enclave. The coat had passed down through the Liebowitz family. The elder of each generation in the family wore the jacket, and passed it to his son before dying. The coat never seemed dirty or wrinkled, and it continued to fit Tenos perfectly even as he lost weight to his illness. Ashken believed that it was the work of the Moderns. His father would never verify this. He called it his lucky coat, and wore it whenever he went to give speeches about the future of the enclave. The clothing that Ashken and most of the people of the enclave wore looked inferior in both material and cut. There were a few other Moderns’ clothing that had passed down through families and trade in the enclave. But their appearance in public had become rarer of late. When the leaders of the enclave used to get together, the colors of their Moderns’ clothing was blinding. At the last meeting, Ashken was embarrassed because Tenos was the only person wearing what was clearly the Moderns’ clothing. Besides Tenos’s coat, Ashken knew only of Moses’ robe that was of similar material and make. The robes were of similar material to his father’s coat, although the robes were not as well made or well fitting.

“You know who I am,” Tenos yelled over to the man. “And you are the same. Your giant friend gives away your affiliation. We are on the same side, we want the same thing.” Tenos stopped halfway between the carriage and the two men. He had walked in an angle away from the carriage so that the man was closer to Tenos than the giant and Moses.

With his right hand, Ashken pulled on his left earlobe furiously. It was a protection ritual he had seen the townspeople do when confronted with danger. He was not even aware he pulled it. He had heard that the harder one pulled, the more difficult situation one could escape from. Ashken could not imagine a more difficult situation.

The man had not been idle while the giant and Moses had fought. Like Tenos, he had move away from the fighting at an angle to the carriage. He spoke as he approached Tenos, his voice clear and strong. “What do you know of my history, old man? I am not like you. I am not like my family. They believed in the past and I only believe in my future. There is no returning to the old ways, regardless of what our parents believed. They are long dead, all of them. Their machines stop working and we have nothing to show for our ancestry. I gave up my family’s stories long ago. They left me nothing but broken machines. I make a different living now for a better world. It is too bad you will not live to see it.”

Ashken saw that because of the angle Tenos had walked, Ashken was closer to his father and the man than Moses was. Ashken ran to his father, yanking on his earlobe the entire way, holding his free hand out to his side for balance. He did not think before he ran or as he ran; he could not have thought if he had tried. He only knew he had to get to his father before the man reached him. The only image in his mind was that of him pulling his father’s earlobe, warding off the evil spirits even if his father did not believe in the mumbo jumbo of the common people.

The man did not wait for Tenos’s response. He increased his pace and ran toward Tenos, drawing his sword as he approached.

Moses realized what was going on as well. He tried to move toward Tenos, but the giant had lowered his pole across his path. “Tenos,” Moses screamed as he swung his sword against the pole, trying to gain an opening to free him from the fight.

Ashken arrived at his father first. He did not know what to do when he arrived at his side. He did not pull his father’s ear, realizing in that moment how silly his plan had been. He looked back longingly at his father’s cane, which he had left at the foot of the abandoned carriage. With the cane, he could have provided some defense for his father against the approaching man and his drawn sword.

Ashken did the only thing he could think of and stepped in front of his father. He held out his hand in a fist, and pushed his father back with his other arm. The man approached now with his sword almost scraping the ground in front of him. As the man grew closer, Ashken was able to get a closer look at him. He did not look like anyone from the enclave. He wore a long black beard, which he had oiled to a point leading away from his chin. His eyes were dark and the whites of his eyes looked almost pink. His head was shaved and he had what looked like a tattoo running across and over his bald scalp. His leather clothing was tight fitting, and he clearly put much effort into its fit. It was not Moderns’ clothing, however. He wore a thin golden necklace with a large red gem at the base of his neck. The gem did not move as he ran toward Ashken and his father.

Moses struck the end of the giant’s pole where the pole attached to the blade. The giant seemed to expect the move and used the momentum of Moses’ strike to swing the pole arm around, sending the pole end toward Moses. Moses did not defend against the pole. He instead dived over the pole and towards the giant, which was away from where the man was approaching Tenos. The giant did not seem to expect this and his twirling pole missed Moses. Moses landed hard on his arms and managed to twist his body and launch himself in a perpendicular direction to his landing. He was up and running toward Tenos and the man before the giant had finished his swing and recovered the pole. For such a large man, the giant moved exceptionally quickly. He sprinted after Moses, almost closing the distance in his first two steps.

Ashken held his fists in front of him as the man approached. He took a practice swing to try to warn off the man.

“Get out of here, Ashken,” Tenos screamed. Ashken had never heard him talk like this. He had always seemed in control of every situation. Even his sickness did not seem to worry him. “Don’t get in the middle of this. You must get out of here. We both can’t die—there is too much to do!” It had been a long time since Tenos had managed to scream. He used to have a commanding voice, deep and always full of emotion. A voice he could project to the far end of any sized room. He had not had that full voice in some time, and this was the first Ashken had heard the full strength of that voice in many years.

Ashken ignored his father and held out his arm to deflect the man’s approach. The man did not slow down as he approached Ashken. He brought his sword up and sliced it against his Ashken’s arm. Ashken tried to grab the man as he passed, but hot pain exploded in his arm. He watched as the man brushed by him and brought his sword’s point up and toward Tenos. Tenos turned his body away from the man as the man stabbed his sword into Tenos’s shoulder. The blade of the sword disappeared as it went into Tenos’s shoulder. The man lost his balance and fell forward, dragging Tenos to the ground with him.

Ashken watched as the two men rolled on the ground. The man lifted his sword and Ashken saw with amazement that the sword was much shorter than before. The part that he had thought went into Tenos’s shoulder had not. Instead, the part of the swords’ blade that had stabbed into Tenos’s coat had vanished, leaving a ragged edge.

Ashken saw Moses approaching rapidly. The giant was only a step behind him and the giant poked his pole arm into Moses’ legs. Without looking back, Moses side stepped the attack and gained an extra half step on the giant.

The man was on top of Tenos. The broken sword was what had thrown him off balance during his strike. He seemed to realize it as he fell to the ground. After wrestling Tenos to the ground, he raised his broken sword over Tenos’s unprotected head. Ashken yelled and threw himself at the man with all his strength. His chest hit the man in his back, and Ashken reached around his body to grab for the sword. Ashken found the hilt and grasped the sword with both hands over the man’s hands. With Ashken’s hands on the sword, the man lowered the sword toward Tenos’s neck. Ashken pulled on the hilt and tried to stop the descent, but the man was much stronger. He watched with horror as the sword pierced his father’s neck. He heard the man laugh and Ashken felt the blade slide into Tenos’s skin. Blood immediately flowed around the sword, gathering in large globs at the two ends of the jagged sword’s blade.

Ashken felt a hard shove on his shoulder and he fell forward and off the man’s back and onto the ground next to his father. He saw Moses raise his sword and swing downward toward the man. He saw the path of the sword and Ashken screamed as Moses’ blade pierced the man’s back and headed toward his father. As Moses’ blade went into the man, Ashken watched with horror as the giant pulled back the pole, and used the blade of his pole to pierce Moses in his back. There was a metallic clang and Moses fell forward over the man, his blade continuing to rip open the man’s back and up through his neck, the cuts shallow enough to avoid going through him and into Tenos. All three men crumpled, and the giant stood over them and Ashken with his pole arm held in front of him. He had a confused look on his face as he studied the mass of bodies.

Moses was the first to rise. He pulled his sword from the man’s back and turned to face the giant. The man’s body shuddered and he fell on top of Tenos, the end of his broken sword still poking into Tenos’s neck.

Ashken looked at his arm for the first time. The sword had separated the skin and the insides of his arm had pushed through the opening, reminding him of a split-open baked potato. He crawled toward the man and his father. Moses remained standing over the two men, his sword still held high. The giant returned Moses’ stare, his pole held level in a threatening but not overly aggressive manner.

“Was he the last of his family?” Moses asked the giant.

“Yes,” the giant said and lowered his pole. “He is dead.”

“Who are you?” Moses asked.

“I am Joseph,” the giant said. “And he was the last of the Winters family. They had guardianship over the Adiron Mountains. His father was a great man. His father’s father was the leader of his people. I thought he would bring back the age.”

Moses nodded his head as if satisfied. He did not give the giant another look. He sheathed his sword and pulled the man off Tenos. The man was clearly dead, but Ashken did not have eyes for the dead man.

Ashken arrived at his father’s head, awkwardly crawling on his knees and elbow. His fingers felt sticky from the blood flowing from his wounded arm. His father’s eyes were still open and his face had a relaxed look to it.

“Ashken,” his father whispered through the pain. “You’re okay.”

“Yes, father,” Ashken answered. He could barely see his father through the tears that flooded his eyes. “You’ll be okay as well. Moses will take care of your wound.”

Moses was examining Tenos’s shoulder. He had not removed the blade from his shoulder. “He will die when I remove the blade,” Moses said quietly.

“Is he the last of your family,” the giant asked. He had a resigned tone to his voice, the sound of a long-accepted failure.

“No, Ashken is the last.”

“I am not the last,” Ashken yelled, looking up from his father. “He is still alive and he will still be fine when we leave from here.”

“My boy, come closer,” Tenos said.

“You’ll be fine,” Ashken repeated. “Everything will be fine.”

“I said come closer,” Tenos said with more strength, his voice deep and powerful again. Ashken leaned closer to him. He heard Tenos take quick shallow breaths, as if he was gathering his energy before he spoke.

“Was he a great man from a great family?” the giant asked Moses.

“There was a time when all the families were great,” Moses said. He looked down fondly at Tenos. “He was a great man. I’m afraid the last of his kind.”

The giant made a sound of agreement.

Word count: 2,314

Words remaining: 36,930 (13,070 words written so far)

Thoughts: It was difficult starting today. I lost some momentum after yesterday. An inner part kept telling me that I’m wasting my time, that my story is valueless and hopeless, and if true (and it’s hard to argue that it’s not true), why would I bother continuing with it. And to that inner part I responded by typing, as I do each day, the “Word count:” and “Words remaining:” headings, knowing that at some point today, I would fill them in and post this. My inner part does have some interesting points. This is not the time, however, to analyze those arguments. That’s for December. It was a struggle getting any of these words down. I did have a direction, thanks to a discussion with Doolies about my story. It felt good telling her the story (she is a bit behind on the reading). She made a few suggestions, and I took them. I realized with her help that it was time I moved the story forward. I knew what had to happen, but I was too lazy to make it happen. It’s not that I had any feelings one way or the other (with this bad writing, how can anyone have feelings?), I was just tired of this whole scene and I wanted it done with. Today’s mantra: write to the goal, write to the goal.