The Legend of Alexandros: Belen Read Free Page B

to safety. The merchant rode for hours glancing back every now and then, making sure nothing or no one followed. He soon passed the centaur village but did not enter. As night fell, he passed the Souvaolo area and finally reached a green forest with tall trees and many bushes. With the road ending the merchant unhitched his horse and left the wagon in front of the forest, hiding it among the brushes. He then placed Alexandros on the horse, grabbed the reigns and walked through the wooded terrain. Once he reached the little area he called home, the merchant placed Alexandros in a small hut. The merchant then spoke to his horse, whispering in her ear. The horse ran free.
    Two days passed, and Alexandros just slept; the merchant had dressed his wounds and cleaned his clothes. The young warrior rested in an old wooden hut on a bed made of hay. The merchant was a bored soul. Other than the wanderers who purchased items from him, no one ever really spoke to him, even though he was quite intelligent…his actions, however, did not show this. He was always getting into some sort of trouble; in fact, he was banished from ever selling or entering into the centaur village for selling cheap, overpriced horse shoes.
    The merchant sat bored in front of the old wooden hut; with nothing to do, he decided to build a fire, but he had no firewood and had left his tools in his wagon in front of the forest. He decided that walking back to the wagon would take far too long, and he honestly did not feel like traveling back through the forest, so he simply entered the hut and took the sword that belonged to Alexandros.
    The sword was stained with what he soon realized was dried goblin remains, but without care he just carried on. He walked a bit into the forest and, with the sword, cut wood for the fire he wished to make. He took the wood back to his camp, placed it in a small pile near the old burned-out campfire, and walked to the small creek that flowed near the hut, where he washed off the bloody remains on the sword. He then tried to quietly place it back in the hut where Alexandros slept, but instead tripped over his own foot and crashed into the hut face-first. In doing so, the merchant yanked down on the ragged old sheet used for a door. He quickly jumped up to see if Alexandros had awakened. Seeing Alexandros was still in his deep sleep, he placed the sword down and crept out of the hut. Once he placed the sheet back in place, the merchant skipped over back to the old burned-out campfire and began to prepare a new one.
    Alexandros awoke in an old hut. He slowly sat up and noticed that all he was wearing were his black tights; his torn grey shirt had been cleaned and patched up and placed neatly next to his sword, which had also been cleaned. His forehead wound had been nursed, stitched, and wrapped with a proper bandage. He put on his shirt and boots then slowly stood up. He took his sword and stepped out of the old hut. He saw a most lovely flowing creek, which flowed by a forest with tall thin trees; the sunlight’s rays gleamed through the forest causing the shadow of the trees to look more enormous than they actually were. Directly in front of the hut was the old merchant crouched down preparing a small fire.
    “Where are we?” Alexandros asked.
    The merchant jumped up, fearfully. “Oh!…you’re awake!” he answered with a joyous surprise.
    “Where are we?”
    “Beyond Souvaolo, deep in the centaur forest. You have been asleep for three days.”
    “Old man…” said Alexandros, doubtfully. “How could that be?”
    The merchant shrugged and, with an awkward smile, answered, “I do not know…you just slept.”
    That evening the merchant and Alexandros sat around a small fire but did not speak; they just stared at one another uncomfortably. Every now and then the merchant would begin to say something, but then would stop and look down. This went on for some time until Alexandros grew tired of it. He took a deep breath and