“Some people think oddly of your uncle, what with how he keeps to himself and all. I say leave the man his privacy! The world could use a few more like him, that’s for sure. Especially in this day and age, what with all the strangeness about.”
“Why do you say that? What news have you?”
“Well, from what I hear, there are an awful lot of strange happenings about.” Glin grunted as he struggled with a particularly tough nail. “Brell Golter, from Lore, says that our drought here is nothing compared to the oddness they have there. He says that the whole land has turned from fertile farmland to a sweltering bog, almost overnight. And rumor has it that south of here, not more than fifty leagues, it hasn’t stopped snowing in nearly thirty days. The whole world’s gone crazy, if you ask me.” His voice quieting to a whisper, Glin nodded his head toward Kazen. “There’s also been a lot of strange talk about a darkness spreading throughout the land. They say there are strange creatures that dwell in the shadows. They lie awake, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting travelers.”
Kazen shuddered visibly. “You’re only saying that to scare me.”
Glin smiled wryly, and let out a booming laugh. “I guess there’s no fooling you, eh boy?”
Kazen sighed bitterly, but couldn’t hold in a boyish chuckle.
“Well, that ought to do it.” Glin’s back cracked loudly as he straightened up, his stout face already red with fatigue. “Those shoes should last you a season or two, at least. If the season ever decides to change, that is.”
Kazen gathered up the reins and walked the horses to the nearly empty water barrel at the side of the shop. As the horses drank, Kazen noticed something moving in the distance. It seemed to be a large, fast-moving dust cloud coming down the road from the north. Closer it came, until finally Kazen could see a drove of riders emerge from the veil of dust.
There were at least three dozen men on horseback. They were all dressed in tattered black leather, and rode upon huge black stallions. Kazen’s heart thumped hard against his chest, and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. They were definitely not simple travelers passing through.
Terrified voices began to cry out from every direction. “Raiders!”
Kazen felt a powerful jerk on his back as Glin seized him by his shirt.
“Get in the shop, Kazen! Hide!” Glin barked.
Kazen half turned toward the door when he heard an odd whistling sound and felt Glin’s grip tighten. He turned and stared in horror at a bloodied arrow protruding from Glin’s chest. Glin looked down at the arrow and then up at Kazen with a perplexed expression. His grip slowly loosened and he slid to the ground, clutching at his chest.
Kazen leapt back in terror as blood pooled at his feet. His breathing was so loud he could barely hear the growing number of screams around him. He reached for Glin but was sent back by a flaming arrow that singed his hair as it whizzed by.
All around him the town was suddenly swarming with black riders, shouting and screeching. Carts and buildings were set ablaze from fiery arrows that flew across the sky, sizzling and hissing. Kazen watched in utter shock as three of the raiders jumped off their horses and darted into Farimin’s tailor shop, from which hideous screams, and then dreadful silence emerged.
Armed with a shovel and hatchet, Mr. Mult and Nastif charged out from the general store at one of the raiders. With a wild cry they pulled the rider down from his horse and bludgeoned him until he stopped moving. Within moments, four riders with raised swords bore down on the two men, hacking them down where they stood.
Kazen remained frozen, his legs trembling beneath him. The tallest of the riders soon took notice of the petrified boy and started his horse at a full gallop toward him. Feeling a sudden rush of energy, Kazen instinctively turned and bolted down the road. Like in a terrible nightmare, his feet went instantly numb, and he felt as though his legs were weighted down by heavy stones.
Behind him, the hooves of the massive horse thundered closer and closer. Kazen risked a quick peek over his shoulder only to see the menacing beast practically on top of him. A sudden jab of pain struck his shoulder as he was swept beneath the stallion’s powerful hooves, somehow avoiding being trampled to death. The horse reared to a stop on its hind legs with a whinny, and the raider turned and dismounted.
Kazen lay sprawled on the dirt road, unable to catch his breath. His shoulder seared with pain as he struggled to stand. The raider approached him with a deep chuckle and a filthy smile as he pulled an immense double-sided axe from his belt. Watching the man raise the axe over his head, Kazen tried futilely to scurry away. The wind whistled as the dull blade sliced through air. A gasp escaped from Kazen’s lips as the axe stopped with a loud clank, just short of his nose.
A sword had been thrust between the axe and Kazen’s head. A hooded figure tossed the axe and the rider back with a heave of the heavy sword. Kazen clambered away as fast as he could on all fours and sank behind a water trough. He peered out as the cloaked stranger motioned to the raider to stand and fight.
The raider smiled and wiped the spit from his chin as he stood. He gave a mighty yell and charged, waving his axe wildly in the air. In one graceful motion, the stranger parried the axe and plunged his sword into the man’s belly. A gurgling sound dripped from the raider’s lips as the sword was yanked out from his gut. With a sickly thud, the man fell, face first, to the ground. He did not move again.
A horn sounded from the north, and the stranger spun to see four more raiders galloping at him with swords drawn. Standing firm, the man twirled his sword in his hand as the riders bore down on him. With a great clatter of metal on metal, his sword met theirs as they made a pass. With incredible speed, the stranger slashed at the raiders while dodging their hacking swords. Two more men fell.
A horn rang out again, and a dozen more raiders charged over the hill. The stranger unclasped his cloak and tossed it aside with a shrug of his arm. His silhouette glowed in the sunlight as he turned towards Kazen for the first time.
“Stay hidden, Kazen,” the man said in a raspy voice.
Kazen’s heart stopped. “Ilagon?”
He mouthed the word but no sound came out. His mind raced as he watched his mild-mannered uncle turn on his heels and dash, head on, to meet the band of murderous raiders.
Blades flashed in the sun as Ilagon flung himself into the pack of mounted riders. Men screeched and wailed as they were impaled or gashed by his keen blade. Some riders fell from their mounts, while others lay slumped on their horses as they rode off. The villains broke off their attack and scattered. They regrouped at the top of the hill, and were joined by two dozen more. Several of them pulled bows from their backs and let loose a volley of arrows.
Ilagon raised his left hand and whispered softly. Tiny pebbles and bits of rock rose up from the ground all around him, and then launched forward in a blinding hail, shattering the airborne arrows to splinters.
The raiders stood in their stirrups, hollering in frustration and rage. The front rider tossed his bow to the ground and raised a rusty katana over his head. With a crazed bellow, he led the pack forward in a furious dash.
Ilagon drove his sword into the ground and slapped his hands together. Chanting in a low growl, his melodic voice seemed to reverberate off the surrounding hills. The gravel on the road danced, and the ground began to quake. He heaved his hands toward the sky and the land exploded before him. Huge pillars of jagged rock burst from the ground, thrusting upward, dwarfing the withering fruit trees. The entire town trembled as rocks and boulders fell from the rising mountains of granite and clay.
The charging raiders were thrown from their panicked horses. Some were crushed between the mounting columns of rock, while others were bludgeoned by falling debris. A huge fissure ripped across the land, swallowing throngs of the murderous invaders along with their tainted stallions. Their screams were lost in the deafening rumble.
With a slow exhale Ilagon let his arms fall to his side. The massive stones gro
aned defiantly as they were sucked back down beneath the surface with a raucous whirlwind of flying rock and dirt. The land heaved again as the great rift sealed itself with a bone-shaking crash. And then there was silence, surreal and deafening in the wake of the thundering chaos. A russet veil of dust settled over the small town. The few raiders that still lived scurried to their feet and fled madly.
Ilagon, visibly exhausted, fell to one knee. His hands trembled as he grasped the hilt of his sword and plucked it from the ground. Laboring himself to his feet, he stumbled over to Kazen. “Are you all right?” he panted, offering Kazen his hand.
Kazen felt suddenly very small. Timidly, he reached for Ilagon’s hand, and was lifted to his feet with a surprisingly powerful jerk. He whimpered as the ache in his shoulder swelled. His head swam with a hundred questions, but he was cut short as a rabble of townsfolk crowded around them.
An old woman clutched at Ilagon’s shirt, and wept onto his shoulder. “Where have you been?” she sobbed.
Kazen was shoved aside by a man shouting angrily. “You’ve been hiding here all this time, like a coward! These raiders have probably been working their way here for months! You could have stopped them!”
The crowd’s voices rose and mingled until one voice could not be discerned from another. Ilagon raised his hand and the prattling stopped. He laid a gentle arm on the old woman’s shoulder and spoke with regal command. “I know you have many questions. I wish I had as many answers. However, I do know it is no longer safe for you here. These raiders come from the east, and bear Gregore’s mark.” Ilagon pointed with his sword to one of the fallen riders, who lay slumped in a heap in the middle of the road—branded behind his left ear was the image of a fully eclipsed sun.
The crowd gasped and murmured.
Ilagon spoke gravely as the gathering turned their gaze back to him. “Many, including myself, have mistaken Gregore’s long silence for his defeat. But I fear he has only been biding his time, growing stronger all the while. This drought is his doing; I am sure of it now. He has poisoned the land, and it will only get worse. Rain will not fall again in Napis Fare. You must take your families and head west. There, the land is still green and productive.”
After a long silence, Travis Mohal, who ran the town’s saloon, yelled out defiantly from the back of the crowd. “This is our home! You cannot expect us to up and leave on your word! The deeper wells still offer ample water. My family will not flee like cowering dogs. We will stay and defend our land!”
“Then you will be consumed by Gregore’s shadow of death!” Ilagon snapped. “Do not think that he will overlook this tiny village. His malevolent eye will not be set on domination, but on total devastation!” His voice quieted. “There are far fouler things than clumsy raiders wielding dull blades that may yet pass through this land.” The mob parted as Ilagon walked toward Travis. “The time to stand and fight may yet come, my friend, but not here, not for land or possessions.” Ilagon looked down at a young girl who was clinging to his leg, and with a smile, stroked her blond hair.
“Where are all the other Guardians, Ilagon?” Travis asked mournfully, now holding his daughter tightly. “Are there others in hiding, like you? Will they come to the west and protect us?” he begged with desperate eyes.
Ilagon’s brow tightened, and his gaze fell. “I hold little hope that any other Guardians survived the fall of Graffis.”
The crowd wailed in unanimous dejection.
Ilagon raised his hand once more and the mob quieted. “Hope is far from lost! There are many, other than Guardians, who have strength enough to stand against Gregore. Preparations are being made. A plan will be wrought to fight the evil that threatens us all. Kingdoms shall be united and their armies will march together. The good people of these lands will not fall silently into the dark shadows. On that, you have my word.”
Ilagon’s words did little to still their fears. Their faces pleaded for reassurance.
“Please, gather your belongings and head west. You will be safe there,” he finally said, exasperated.
Reluctantly, the host of townspeople slowly moved on. Some stopped to shake Ilagon’s hand or pat him on the shoulder with a thoughtful nod.
Kazen was completely baffled. What was everyone talking about? Dark shadows . . . great armies uniting? Had the whole town gone mad? And at the center of it all was Ilagon. The same man who had been hunched over a book every day for the last ten years was now a blade-wielding warrior with the power to bend the land to his will. And no one else seemed particularly surprised at any of this.
“Kazen!” Ilagon called. “Fetch the horses!”
For a moment, Kazen just stared at Ilagon, unable to speak. His head was light and clouded.
“Come on, then! There is much to be done!” Ilagon said, sounding strangely cheerful.
Kazen stood motionless, his mouth gaping open.
Ilagon leaned in close and whispered. “And much to talk about, at last.” He patted Kazen’s head and walked away.
Chapter 2
The ride home was long and quiet. Ilagon sang softly to himself while Kazen, who was tired and hungry, and was reminded of his injured shoulder with every jarring step his mount took, trailed behind him wondering why he had never seen his uncle for what he really was. He was not the meek man Kazen had always thought him to be. Riding tall in his saddle, Ilagon appeared noble and unbendable. The peaceful calm of his face was countered by the vastness of his piercing eyes. Across his back hung the sheathed broadsword that had slain so many of the dreadful raiders. The intricately designed gold hilt seemed to lie quite naturally between his shoulder blades.
It was after sunset by the time they reached home. Shrill cries of distant katydids filled the night air. A heavy flaxen moon hung low over the hills.
“Take the horses around back and I’ll get supper started,” Ilagon said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
Still numb, Kazen walked the horses back to the stable and shut them in for the night. He walked slowly back to the house. As he put his hand to the door he found himself reluctant to push it open. The thought of hearing Ilagon’s tale suddenly filled him with dread. He didn’t understand his hesitation; after all, he was finally going to have answers to all his questions. And yet, he knew that once he opened this door there was no going back. Ilagon would never be just his uncle again. And perhaps, he himself would never be just Kazen again. He shuddered as a cool wind crept under his cloak. With a deep breath he pushed the door open and walked in.
A plate of wheat bread and yellow cheese was set out on the table. Ilagon was adding wood to the struggling flames beneath the copper kettle that hung in the fireplace. Kazen took a seat at the table and grunted as his arm hit the back of the chair.
“Let’s have a look at that shoulder.”
“It’s all right,” Kazen said, though the pain was now almost unbearable.
“Then you won’t mind if I have a look.” Ilagon smiled as he pushed back Kazen’s cloak. “Your shoulder has been knocked out of joint. It will have to be set.”
Kazen didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Will it hurt?”
“I’m afraid so,” Ilagon said sympathetically.
Slumping down in his chair, Kazen swallowed hard. “All right then.”
“Good boy. Now, I want you to look right into my eyes. Listen to yourself breathing. Block everything else out.” Ilagon took hold of Kazen’s injured arm with one hand and braced his shoulder with the other.
Kazen flinched.
“Look at me, Kazen. Look right in my eyes. The pain does not control you, and it will pass.” Ilagon slowed his breathing until Kazen began to fall into the same rhythm.
“Now, on the count of three. One . . . two . . .”
Ilagon pulled hard and snapped the shoulder back into place with a loud pop.
“Ow!” Kazen cried as he fell to the floor clutching his shoulder. “You didn’t say three!” he sputtered out angrily.
Ilagon p
atted him tenderly on the head. “You did very well. Now, let us have some tea.”
Kazen slid back into his chair and massaged his shoulder. It was very sore, but at least he could move it now. After a few nibbles of cheese, his appetite quickly returned and he wolfed down half a loaf of bread before Ilagon even sat down.
“Here.” Ilagon handed a steaming mug to Kazen. “I want you to drink this.”
Kazen sniffed suspiciously at the strange-looking brew and touched it gingerly to his lips. “Oh, yuck!” he squawked. “This is awful! What is it?”
“It will help your headaches,” Ilagon assured him.
Kazen stared oddly at his uncle, knowing he had never spoken of the headaches to him.
“Drink it all down in one gulp,” Ilagon persisted. “It goes down smoother that way.”
Holding his breath, Kazen reluctantly put the mug to his lips and poured the thick liquid down his throat. Fighting the urge to wretch, he grabbed a fistful of bread and crammed it into his mouth to blot out the terrible taste.
“Come, now.” Ilagon grinned. “It’s not that bad.”
“How did you know about the headaches?”
A haze of ill ease settled over Ilagon as he sat down in his chair. “There is much I need to tell you.” He sighed. “I had hoped this day would never come.”
Swallowing his last bite of bread, Kazen sat up and listened anxiously.
“These years have been difficult for you, I know. Long have you lived under a cloud of doubt with many questions and few answers. It was my hope, that by keeping your past from you, I would be keeping you safe. And yet here we are, out of time, and still so many questions.”
Kazen felt a hard lump forming in his chest. He didn’t like the way this conversation was beginning.
“You have always known that you are different from the people around you.” Ilagon shifted under his folded arms. “Even before the fires started, you felt this. Perhaps if we’d lived farther to the north or west it would not have been necessary to stain your hair. But here, people still remember; they would have recognized a wizard if they saw one.”
The Flame Weaver Page 3
