Gauntlet
Sweet maple smoke.

Golden rays of sun wafted into the hole in the wall as San attempted to sleep longer. Rolling to her side, she covered the massive gauntlet with her body, curling around it into a ball, she almost drifted back off to sleep if it wasn’t for the cawing crows, enjoying the flesh from the bodies of the night before.

Rolling back to watch the commotion of the squawking birds, she was disgusted by the terrors of the night before. She got up from the bed, reminded now of the enormous weight dangling from her shoulder as she struggled to get the momentum to stand. Attempting to cradle the gauntlet with both hands like the behemoth who wore it before her. She looked down at the bodies she knew only from clothing, their forms now disfigured beyond recognition.

Apologizing that she hadn’t been there sooner to do something, a tear rolled down her cheek as she left the destroyed building. Stopping at a shared kitchen, she filled a backpack with a jar of rice, a metal pot, and a cabbage.

That, with her mother’s dagger, the cleaned throwing knives from the night before, common clothing, a small sack of water, a hooded cloak to try to cover the gauntlet the best she could, and the reclaimed gold from the second bandit’s body. She was off, this village had little left in it and even less for San now, as the only thing that mattered now was getting this thing off as the hungry animals would see to the corpses as San had no time for funerals.

San thought her best hope was the Capital, an incredibly large city near the center of the kingdom. Centuries ago, it was just a normal village, but as time and money continued to pass through, it got wider and taller, eventually around the time of the Queen’s passing, the depressed King allowed some crazed architect to separate the city more literally than figuratively from the haves and have nots by installing a glass roof, or floor depending on which side of it you were on, with the main focal point of the city being an enormous winding staircase with guards stopping anyone who didn’t have any business joining the wealthy.

San had only been there once as a child, but her idea was—more people meant more of a chance one of them might know how to help her. But it was a few days walk from where she stood.

Following the small dirt trail to the main road, she could see small peaks the city’s cobbled towers looming in the distance as she started her journey.

♮

She spent the day walking a desolate trail, not a soul passed by her in over eight hours, but she barely noticed, too distracted by the burden she now carried. Her mind clung to the night before, the elderly people who had been so kind to her after her own parents passing now gone too early themselves. And she only had her now cursed right hand to remind her every day of that. But her growing concern, despite every other thought spinning through her mind, was how could she possibly fight in this condition, her body was still adjusting to the gravity of her situation as her buckling knees wanted to drop like the evening’s sun.

Dusk had already fallen on the trail, and it barely seemed like she had made progress as the Capital was still tinted blue on the horizon. But at least her village couldn’t be seen anymore, which would make it easier to try and compartmentalize killing those men. Her right hand clenched at the thought as their screaming faces and bleeding corpses loomed in her mind’s eye. Too tired to realize the action wasn’t her own, she continued going into the descending night.

They certainly deserved it, she thought, but Hekarow, a retired warrior who had trained her mother and eventually had trained her always preached her first kill would be the most memorable. The face the fat man had made—panicked, trying to hold his gashed throat before collapsing to extinguish the fire—left chills traveling down her spine. The training she had done with Hekarow hadn’t done last night’s fight justice. Not that sparing with a ninety-year-old man could be compared to much.

Thinking about resting for the night, San realized she didn’t have a tent, or a blanket of any kind, now that she thought about it, and with civilization still a few days off, a fire for the night was mandatory. Approaching one of the few old trees she saw on the trail surrounded by grassy plains, she took out her dagger. Feeling awkward holding it in her left hand, she knelt to relieve the burden of balancing her heavy half, her shoulder relieved the gauntlet had met the dirt.

Focusing now on scraping off a sap covered chunk of bark to start her kindling, she tried digging deeper but struggled, only having had success making kindling before with a branch. She looked around. On the other side of her was a somewhat sturdy branch within reach, but she didn’t have the energy to stand and carry the weight of the gauntlet while sawing at the branch with her dagger at the same time. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

In desperation, she lifted the gauntlet like an axe, her hand inside cramped from unknowingly clenching her fist. Why she would make such a tight fist without reason perplexed her, but she was too tired to think of it. Forcing her palm flat and striking the branch with the side of her hand, it severed the wood in a clean chop.

Impressed by how sharp her handicap was, she sat back down and braced the branch with her feet while still trying to get used to being a lefty. She made quick work of the branch, creating a well in the middle and at least four handfuls of shavings to nurture her spark into a fire.

The now obvious question was what would she do even if she could rub out an ember, with nothing to feed it shy of wood scraps and bark, it wouldn’t last more than a few minutes. She scanned the field, still not seeing a single thing but grass and the thick barked tree behind her.

Her desperation was clearly showing as she stood, sizing up the tree behind her as she also needed the fire to cook her first meal of the day. Looking over the gauntlet she wondered how much of an impact it would make through the maple. She flattened her hand again, placing her feet in a wide stance as she stood, holding her bare arm like the handle of a woodcutter’s axe.

Swinging with all her might at the base of the tree, San almost hoped that if the tree wouldn’t come down, it would at least separate her arm from the gauntlet with its sheer weight being enough to crush her hand and free her, ending the futile journey by removing it in a single step. But of course, it surprised her, easily swinging through three-quarters of the mighty tree with the most impressive feat being that the now stuck gauntlet could support the whole weight of the tree—leaving her hand inside though not feeling any pressure.

Laughing at herself in this ridiculous situation, she groaned, trying her best to rotate, maybe swivel the glove out and hopefully get a second chop in to topple the tree, but it was jammed.

It seemed her only hope now was to dig her heels in and brace against the cut of the tree, ramming it like a rhino with an itch, the branches shook as the leaves laughed. Determined, she butted against it with her frail shoulders again and again until she heard a snap. Ecstatic, she continued to bully the tree, harder and louder with faster succession.

With her luck turning around, the maple groaned as it smashed into the earth below, freeing her hand. She could only imagine the stars that littered the sky above were cheering at her accomplishment, she certainly wasn’t cold anymore, but she would definitely feel the pain aching through her shoulder tomorrow as its throbbing had already started.

Sizing up the wooden giant, she made short work of its grounded branches as now, more confident than ever, she quickly built a small stick hut for her flame, shaving one branch to a sharpened point. Burying it amongst the shavings into the well she’d carved out of the first branch while trying to brace her sharpened fire starter off her metal hand as she rubbed with the dexterity in her left.

Taking much less time then she anticipated, the smell of sweet maple smoke soon met her nostrils as she guarded the glowing ember within the wood shavings, gingerly blowing as it grew larger over the sappy bark to feed on the stick home she had built.

Incredibly proud of herself, she took the remaining drinking water from her sack and put enough in the pot that a third of her jarred rice would need. Measuring with her unarmored finger, she set it over the roaring fire. While she waited for the water to boil, she shredded some of her cabbage by running the gauntlet across it. Amazed by the versatility of the weapon, she gathered a handful of shavings and added it to the pot that was already beginning to boil.

Scooping out some coals to finish cooking the rice on a lower heat, she found she barely felt the temperature of the fire through her iron fingertips. Being forced again to be resourceful with her tree, she covered the pot with leaves from the branches to retain its steam, as bringing a pot lid had somehow slipped her mind, only really remembering to bring rice to eat.

Knowing her supper would be another few minutes, San kept herself busy by butchering the rest of the tree, chopping at the base on angles, making sure not to get her hand stuck again, satisfied in the destructive force she could still wield against an inanimate object. Knowing if the tree could fight back, her jabs would present a plethora of opportunity to counter.

She would have had enough firewood for a year if she kept at it, but not only did she not have the strength to do much else than chew and swallow her bland supper, but she would have no way of bringing the lumber with her.

Scooping steaming rice and cabbage out with a severed branch she had whittled into a makeshift spoon, she blew and then grimaced as she chewed her under-cooked, crunchy rice. But she didn’t care, being stingy with her water still meant she had some for tomorrow before she would run out and be forced to find more.

Now with her stomach filled, she curled up next to the fire, watching the dancing flames as her exhausted body made even the hardest of dirt into the softest mattress.

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