The Narrow Road

The Narrow Road

Zio woke earlier than usual that morning. Not as late as he had the day before.

The morning air still carried a chill, though it no longer bit at his skin. He straightened the house just enough before getting ready to leave. His hand had almost reached the dagger lying in the corner of the room when the scent of warm soup drifted in from outside.

“Zio.”

Martha's voice came from the front of the house, followed by footsteps he had known since childhood.

“I thought you were still asleep,” Martha said as she stepped inside. A bowl of steaming soup rested in her hands, thin wisps of vapor curling into the air.

Zio turned toward her. A faint smile touched the corner of his lips. His hand, which had been reaching for the dagger, lowered without hesitation.

“Sit,” Martha said, giving his shoulder a gentle pat. “Eat first.”

Zio sat down and accepted the bowl. Warm steam brushed against his face. His fingers slowly relaxed around the bowl before he lifted the first spoonful to his mouth.

“Going to the forest again?” Martha asked.

“Maybe.”

Martha didn't wait for another answer. She walked to the doorway and stopped there, one hand resting against the doorframe while one foot was already outside.

“Oh,” she said, glancing back. “I almost forgot.”

Zio looked up.

“How about coming east with us? To my relative's house in a village within the elves' territory.”

“A few other people are coming too. We're delivering some supplies along the way.”

Zio gave a small nod.

“We'll be traveling by wagon,” Martha added.

The spoon stopped halfway to Zio's mouth.

“I don't have to come, do I?”

A faint smile crossed Martha's face. She tapped the doorframe twice with her fingertips.

“What are you going to do if you stay home?”

“Go to the forest.”

“The forest isn't going anywhere. This trip won't take long either.”

Zio blew across the surface of the soup once before taking another spoonful. A few quiet moments passed before he finally nodded.

Martha returned the nod. Without another word, she stepped outside, leaving the door open behind her.

“I'll wait for you at the eastern gate.”

Her footsteps gradually faded into the morning until they disappeared completely. Cold air flowed through the open doorway, carrying the scent of damp earth and wet wood.

Zio finished the soup down to the last drop. He stood, slipped the dagger into his belt, then glanced at the bag resting in the corner of the room.

The bag remained where it was.

He only picked up his light jacket before stepping outside.

***

Greyhollow's eastern gate was already bustling by the time Zio arrived.

A horse-drawn wagon stood parked along the dirt road. Wooden crates and burlap sacks were neatly stacked in the back, secured with coarse ropes. Two brown horses waited quietly with their heads lowered.

Besides Martha, four other people were there. An adult elven woman was checking the ropes around the sacks while speaking in a quiet voice. Not far from her, a slender elven man stood beside his horse with a simple bow slung across his back.

Near the wagon, a man inspected the wheels. Meanwhile, a young human man lifted the last crate onto the load.

Martha was speaking with the elven woman when she noticed Zio approaching. Her words paused for a moment. She gave a single nod before turning back to the woman.

“He's here.”

The elven woman turned toward him. Her gaze settled on Zio's face before a faint smile appeared on her lips.

“Zio, right?”

Zio nodded.

“He's coming with us to Elen'shade,” Martha said. “So he won't spend all his time smelling like a workshop.”

The elven man pulled one of the ropes tight before glancing at Zio.

“Still young. But he looks solid.”

Zio gave a brief nod.

His eyes followed the last crate as it was pushed onto the wagon. The ropes were tightened once more. Wood knocked softly against wood as the cargo was secured. One of the horses shifted its front hoof before growing still again when the driver gently stroked its neck.

“If everyone’s ready, we move,” the carter said. “The fog hasn’t settled yet.”

Martha climbed aboard first and took a seat at the front. She patted the empty space beside her.

“Sit here.”

Zio climbed up without a word. His palm rested against the wooden seat, still cold from the morning air.

The wagon swayed gently as everyone settled into their places. Then the reins were drawn with a steady hand, and the two horses started forward.

The wooden wheels rolled away from Greyhollow's gate. The dirt road, hardened by the night's cold, creaked softly beneath them.

The rooftops slowly shrank behind them. Thin trails of smoke rising from a few chimneys gradually disappeared behind the trees.

Zio glanced back once before facing forward again. He sat at the rear of the wagon, leaning against a wooden crate.

The vibration of the wheels traveled through the wooden floor. He shifted his seat once, then became still again. The dagger at his waist remained hidden beneath his jacket.

At the front, the driver let out a short whistle.

"If the road stays like this, the heat will take a while.”

Martha sat facing the elven woman. Their voices remained low. They took turns mentioning names, followed by the number of deliveries each person was expecting. Every so often, the elven woman unrolled a sheet of notes before rolling it up again.

The elven man rode alongside the wagon. His horse's footsteps matched the rhythm of the turning wheels.

Before long, Greyhollow disappeared completely behind the trees.

Two old wagon tracks split the damp road ahead. The trees grew denser with every passing stretch. Branches intertwined overhead, allowing the morning light to fall only in scattered patches.

Martha looked back at Zio.

Zio gave a small nod.

Martha smiled before turning back to continue her conversation with the elven woman beside her.

The wagon continued onward. Birds called to one another from deep within the forest. The wind carried the scent of damp earth and old leaves.

Zio adjusted the position of his feet once. The wooden floor creaked softly beneath him. The steady vibration of the wheels continued to travel through the wagon and into his waist.

Up ahead, the elven man slowed his horse. He stopped briefly at a bend in the road, his eyes sweeping over the path as it began to narrow.

Then his gaze shifted toward the dense bushes on the left.

“What's wrong?” Martha asked.

“The road is narrowing,” he replied.

The wagon continued forward. Zio's gaze moved from one gap between the trees to the next. Every so often, it lingered on a patch of unusually dense undergrowth before drifting back to the roadside once more.

***

The road ahead narrowed until only two long wagon tracks stretched forward.

Bushes crowded in from both sides. Dry branches scraped against the sides of the wagon, producing a harsh rattling sound whenever the wheels lurched.

The horses slowed.

Not because the reins were pulled.

Their ears tilted forward. Warm breath drifted from their nostrils in slow bursts.

A tree trunk suddenly crashed from the side of the forest into the middle of the road.

The heavy impact startled the horses. They reared with frightened whinnies before coming to an abrupt halt.

The wagon lurched violently but stayed upright.

The elven man had already guided his horse alongside the wagon. The bow that had been slung across his back was now resting in his left hand.

“Bandits,” he murmured.

An arrow struck the ground in front of the wagon. Its shaft continued to quiver.

Four figures emerged from behind the bushes. They walked slowly.

They didn't shout. They didn't raise their weapons.

Yet they spread out naturally, forming a loose barrier across the road.

One of them raised a hand.

“Easy. We only want the cargo. No one has to die.”

No one answered.

The elven man dismounted.

At the front of the wagon, the driver lowered both hands to his sides. Beside him, the young human swallowed hard. The knife in his hand dipped for a moment before rising again.

The elven woman reached for the nearest sack. Her fingers settled against the binding rope.

A faint glow flowed between them.

Martha stepped down from the wagon. Her boots sank lightly into the damp earth. One hand remained resting against the wheel.

“We're only passing through. We don't want any trouble.”

The bandit smiled faintly.

“Then leave them behind.”

Another bandit began circling toward the right.

Slowly.

The others shifted with him, forming a loose semicircle.

The elven man raised his bow. The string had not yet been fully drawn.

Zio climbed down from the wagon. The damp ground gave slightly beneath his boots.

He stopped behind Martha, part of his body concealed by the wagon wheel. His eyes fixed on the road ahead.

A small red-orange flame slowly revolved above the palm of the bandit standing at the front.

Small.

Dense.

Like a glowing ember being forced to stay alive.

Zio's gaze remained locked on it.

Then...

An arrow shot through the air.

Its tip slammed into the bandit's left shoulder.

The flame vanished instantly. His body was thrown backward into the bushes.

Another bandit charged immediately. The young human met him head-on. The two grappled beside the wagon.

On the opposite side, the elven woman swept her arm forward.

A burst of wind struck one of the bandits, forcing him back several steps. He only grinned.

The bandit dressed differently from the other three sprinted straight toward Martha.

Zio pulled Martha backward. His hand caught the bandit's wrist. The man froze for the briefest instant. Zio's punch landed first.

The bandit was hurled several meters away before crashing across the ground.

Zio didn't pursue him. His fingers tightened into a fist. Then slowly relaxed.

Suddenly, the burning sensation inside his chest flared even stronger.

Not on his skin.

Deeper.

“Zio!”

Martha's voice rang out at the same moment a fireball streaked toward him.

Zio raised an arm. His body twisted slightly. The explosion struck him head-on. He was dragged backward before crashing onto the ground.

He forced himself back to his feet. His breathing became ragged. The world in front of him swayed.

“You little brat.”

The bandit raised his hand once more.

Fire gathered in his palm again.

Another fireball shot forward.

Zio ran straight toward it.

The fireball slammed into his chest. His steps faltered for an instant. But he kept coming. His fist crashed into the bandit's jaw.

The man's body lifted off the ground before slamming onto the earth.

The breath burst from his lungs.

“Bastard...”

A moment later, both of Zio's knees struck the ground.

His hand clutched his chest. His mouth opened. No air came in.

The world before his eyes darkened. His body collapsed.

“Zio!” Martha ran to him.

His body settled onto the wet ground with a dull thud.

She dropped to her knees beside him. Her hands moved from his shoulder to his chest. It was still rising and falling.

Slowly.

Far too slowly.

“Zio... wake up.”

Martha's voice broke.

“Look at me.”

There was no response.

The bandit staggered back to his feet, breathing heavily.

Fire blazed to life in his palm once more.

Larger.

More violent.

He took a step forward.

“That's enough.” His words were cut short.

An arrow buried itself in the ground directly in front of his feet.

Footsteps emerged from among the trees.

“Lower your weapons.”

The voice was calm.

Firm.

Seven elves stepped out from the forest. They advanced without haste. Their bows were already raised. Their swords already drawn.

“Damn it.”

The bandit raised his hand again.

A second arrow pierced his upper arm.

The fire in his palm vanished instantly. He collapsed to the ground, cursing.

The remaining bandits had already fled. Two disappeared into the undergrowth.

“Sylvaen patrol.”

The leading elf surveyed the scene.

“Who's injured?”

"Him." Martha immediately pointed at Zio. Her hand still gripped the young man's wrist.

“He was struck by magic.”

The patrol leader knelt beside him. His gaze lingered on Zio's body for a long moment.

“He's still alive.”

“Lift him. Quickly.”

The wounded bandit tried to stand again.

One of the elves stepped on his ankle, forcing him back to the ground.

“Come with us!”

“Or die here.”

The bandit stopped struggling.

Two patrol members lifted Zio's unconscious body onto the wagon. His head lolled to one side. His hair fell across part of his face.

Martha climbed aboard at once and sat beside him. Her hand gripped his wrist tightly.

The driver gathered the reins. The two horses let out quiet whinnies.

A moment later, the wheels began turning once again. Faster than before.

Before long, the sound of the wagon disappeared among the trees.

The forest fell silent once more.

***

A man passed in front of Trod’s workshop. His steps were calm. He stopped by a wooden house not far away.

The hammer in Trod’s hand froze midair. He turned, studying the man.

The house door stood open.

“Can I help you?”

Trod’s voice came from behind him. Firm. No threat in it.

The man turned. A thin smile crossed his face. Brief. Familiar.

“Thank you,” he said.