by Kurtis Smith
“Don’t underestimate him.”
Gradis wasn’t listening anymore. “I want him taken to the king tonight. He will be most pleased by this discovery.”
“I won’t warn you again,” Deverell ordered, pushing the sword further into the governor’s neck. “Put that away before it’s too late.”
“Be still, First Captain. I am in control now,” Gradis shouted, recovering his confidence and attempting to push the sword away from his throat.
Egan raised his arm. The Driocht orb flew out of Gradis’ hands into his own. Both men stood stunned, not quite sure what had happened.
It’s too soon for this, but I have no choice. They know what I am.
In an instant Deverell grabbed Gradis by the head, lingered there for a moment as if in a trance, and pushed him off. Then he retreated away from the square, calling his men to follow suit.
Egan closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He let his mind open to the power within the orb.
A luminous fire erupted from his hand. For a moment the town square stood shocked, expecting him to scream out in pain. On the contrary, he smiled and looked directly into Gradis’ eyes.
He had to do something drastic.
Before anyone could make a move he thrust a ball of fire the size of his head towards the nearest building. The top of the building erupted into flames as the ball hit it. The blaze was a singular bright and effervescent presence on the moonless night, causing everything surrounding it to become distorted. The sudden light made the scene seem like a dream.
Every single person in town was frozen in awe. Next moment, the crowd was a frantic whirl of people. There were screams and shouts and doors slamming as the townsfolk scrambled back inside their homes or ran from the square. Egan nodded to himself, happy that the reaction had been what he had hoped for. He did nothing else while waiting for the stragglers to leave. This was not something that he wanted them involved in.
Gradis drew a sword strapped to the horse nearest him and swung it at Egan. Egan ducked and grabbed the sword on its return stroke, careful not to slice his hand. Gradis was not strong enough to pull it out of his grasp. Egan took Gradis’ weight on the sword and threw him to the ground, then sprinted towards the nearest soldier’s steed and grabbed the long sword from its side.
With a grunt he swung it over his head and met Gradis’ blade. He allowed the momentum to spin him around the governor’s opposite side. He dropped the sword purposefully and ran toward the edge of the town square. There would be no death tonight if he could help it.
“Get him!” Deverell shouted in the distance.
Egan risked a glance back and saw that the First Captain was hiding in the shadows with his men. Deverell had hailed the Governor to deal with him.
Coward, catch me yourself.
As Egan passed the last building in the square he heard a loud wind behind him. He clutched the Driocht orb tightly in his hand and looked behind him just as his body was involuntarily thrust into the air. He flew up twenty feet, flailing wildly, and landed hard on the steps in front of the butcher’s shop.
He grimaced as the pain from the fall came over him. He forced himself up off the ground spitting out the blood he tasted in his mouth.
“Bless the Ancients,” the butcher spoke, “you are a Descendent. I thought your kind had died out a thousand years ago,” he stated in awe.
“That remains to be seen,” Egan said, smiling darkly.
He felt the wind rush towards him again just as he finished his comment, but this time he was ready. He rolled out of the way and shot another fireball toward the governor, missing by only inches. He took the chance to glance quickly around him.
“Surely, you didn’t think you were the only one left of your kind,” Gradis said.
“If you really are one of my kin, why have you turned against me?” Egan yelled trying to be heard over the wind. “Whatever this power that has a hold on you, let it go.”
Egan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The only beings that had this kind of power were Descendants of the Ancients, but he was the only one left that he knew of. And how could the governor be one of them?
“You speak in riddles, Egan of nowhere. I’m afraid surrender isn’t an option, at least for me. I will take my orb back now,” Gradis said as he approached his opponent. Egan could see the light green orb in Gradis hand and fully understood now his power over the wind.
“Actually, I think I’ll keep it, “Egan said, smirking.
Before Gradis could utter another word Egan was on the move. He sprinted at Gradis at top speed and was halfway across the square when his entire body began to change hue.
Gradis sent a compact blast of wind toward Egan this time, sharp enough to cut like a knife. Egan anticipated it, knowing that another attack had been eminent. He stayed planted on the spot until wind nearly reached him, and then dropped flat onto the ground. The whip of air rolled over him harmlessly.
In a second he was back on his feet and charging forward again.
The power within him and the orb surged. His body started to smolder and glow the color of ember. Then tiny flames began to come forth from beneath his skin.
He sprinted onward at top speed, set to collide with Gradis.
Gradis clenched his teeth and braced for the impact from the man running towards him. Egan’s mind reeled quickly as the governor prepared to counter. Ten feet away from Gradis, he shot a bolt of his flame off to the left, narrowly missing another building. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to distract Gradis and make him look away. Egan rammed into him at full speed and felt the ribs of the governor’s chest crack beneath the strength of the blow. They both flew back several feet and lay still.
Egan rose and waited for movement. There was none.
The silence that followed was unnerving. The only sound was the light breeze whispering through town and the cackling fire of the remains of the court house.
Egan edged up to the governor’s side and kicked him. There was no reaction.
The governor of Daust was dead. His charred, broken body was lying in the middle of the square.
Immediately, questions filled Egan’s head. The Descendants would never attack one of their own. Had one of his own kin survived and turned corrupt, just as many of his ancestors had? And did the King know that one of his governors had powers like this? He had to find answers, as well as a place to hide so he could think more clearly.
Snapping out of his thoughts he became aware of First Captain Deverell and his men running towards him. There wasn’t much time. Egan reached down and pried the light green orb out of Gradis’ hand. Turning, he faced them.
Foolish, he thought, but they are just doing their job.
This Deverell would most likely have every soldier in this regimen executed if they didn’t at least try to recapture their prisoner.
Egan made a quick decision. He wouldn’t let them take him back, but he also wasn’t going to ruthlessly murder men that were just following orders. The governor may have been evil, but these men weren’t.
He raised his hand and called the power of the wind from the Driocht orb. The gust came strong and fast, creating a wall preventing the soldiers from getting to him. With his other hand he sent a rush of wind that put out the court house fire.
The blaze went out but there wasn’t much more than the skeleton of the building left. Egan took this chance to take one last look at the former governor. His burned remains were all that was left. It was time for him to make his exit.
At last, he lowered his hands. Everything became still. In an instant he was running in the opposite direction. He knew that his speed greatly exceeded the soldiers, but he didn’t want them seeing what way he left town. He turned left and right, dodging between the buildings until he reached the outskirts and the farmland beyond.
He was certain of one thing. He had to find out if there was any record of more Descendants still living and if they had turned corrupt. Also, if King O’H
ara was attempting to collect them, the fate of this land could possibly rest on it.
***
Back in the town square the First Captain stared down at the former governor’s body.
One of his men came to his side and faced down as well. “First Captain, if I may be so bold, why did you let him kill a governor if you knew he was dangerous?” he asked.
“The governor’s death was necessary. I allowed this Egan to take care of it for us. Gradis was becoming too outspoken about O’Hara’s plans.”
“Will the King understand the death of one of his loyalists, sir?” the soldier spoke again, feeling bold.
“I have no doubt that he will.”
The soldier standing next to Deverell gaped, still mesmerized by shock. “What exactly happened here tonight, sir? I’m not sure I understand where that power came from.”
“Read up on your history, soldier. That will be all.” The soldier nodded in acceptance of Deverell’s command and spoke no more.
Deverell looked up in the direction Egan had run and said, “We have found an unexpected prize. Contact one of my Dous Captains to send word to the capital and inform O’Hara of this news. We will not rest until he and any others are found and brought to justice before the King.”
Chapter 2 Dreams and Announcements
Davin of Lemirre awoke with a start. He rubbed his face and tried to clear his head. The sun beat down on him through the window of his small cabin, causing him to squint in the bright light. This made it hard to orient himself.
The dream had come to him again. This was the tenth night in a row, and it showed no signs of leaving him alone. What the dream meant, he couldn’t riddle out. Every night that he didn’t sleep well was accompanied by that same one. There was a woman calling to him, telling him it was time. Time for what, he didn’t know. The dream was so vague that he would have dismissed it, had it not plagued him so many nights already. He wanted it to simply leave him be.
The idea of going to the town Cureist occurred to him before. It had merit, but dreamless sleeping draughts brought on strange side effects. It was a long shot at best.
He pulled on some clothes and headed outdoors. Before this week, he had had no problem rising at dawn to catch the rare and valuable animals that called the Ancient Forest home. He would then have some for himself, or bring them into town and trade food and other necessities.
Most people steered clear of the Ancient Forest because of its reputation. The common folktale was that it was haunted by the spirits of the Ancients that once resided there. Davin knew better, however, and spent many a morning wandering its outskirts. The only real dangers were the animals themselves, but Davin had become quite the hunter throughout the last several years.
He headed around the back of his cabin to his shed, where he kept his hunting supplies and stored his meats. The interior was still cool even in the daylight and gave him a quick shiver.
Staring up at his supply, he realized he didn’t have much to trade this week except for aging Crocata meat. Crocata weren’t the favorite of most appetites, being an unappealing snake-lizard with tough meat, but they were easier to find and capture than other beasts. Groaning at the lack of substance in the shed, he grabbed the remaining Crocata off the rack. He turned and marched out of the shed, starting down the hill that led to town.
Lemirre was the only town located in the foothills of the kingdom. The Asnine Mountains ran the entire border of the kingdom to the south and the Ancient Forest took up many square miles in the east foothills. Davin’s home rested on the edge of the Ancient Forest, not far above the town.
On the way into town, Davin’s idle mind drifted to his parents. They had come up in his mind a lot lately. There was no reason for it that he knew. He had never known his father and his had mother never talked about him, which meant there probably wasn’t anything nice to say. But she had loved him more than any woman could love her son. This he knew, which made it even harder to accept that she had been had disappeared from his life one night many years ago. He still sometimes wondered if she were still alive. There was always a part of him who wanted to believe this, being that he hadn’t actually seen her die. She had simply vanished
For months he had researched any relevant information, pouring over endless rolls of parchment that told news about the going’s on in the kingdom. He hoped that her sketches or name would show up somewhere. It didn’t happen. Since then, he had let the anger of those who had destroyed the life of such a nice woman consume him. It had lost him many friends, but he didn’t care, being alone made him feel better. Any time he thought of her or his father, a deep pit in his stomach opened, one that had never seemed to properly fill back up.
He snapped out of his reverie when he saw the buildings of Lemirre rise up before him. As he came down the hill he could observe the structures that occupied its central street. The main portion of the town had streets that were paved in brick just like most cities in the kingdom. The symmetrical, rectangular buildings were tall and pleasant, if a bit boring. The steep shingled roofs gave way to tall but narrow windows. On some of the shops and homes a little more creative flavor was introduced with their cross-gables and thick, brick chimneys.
Lemirre was a lively enough place during the day. It was a small town and definitely had the feel of such. There weren’t generally too many visitors, so everyone knew everyone else. The foothills kept it fairly isolated from the rest of the kingdom, which was what Davin loved about it.
***
“Never fails,” Davin said as he strolled onto the streets and found his way to the morning market. Stands filled with a variety of wares from the each owner’s nearby shop ran down both sides of the street, enticing shoppers better than other times of the day with the convenience of being outside. The morning was growing late and soon the stands would close, but it didn’t slow business in the slightest.
A man Davin knew as Quan was arguing with Haskell, one of the fruit merchants.
“…you must be mad, they’re not rotten, these apples were picked fresh just yesterday,” said Haskell in disbelief, extending arms on both sides and rolling his eyes in exasperation.
“Have you actually tried one yourself yet, Haskell? They’re awful.”
“Come on, they can’t be bad-“he cut off as Davin walked into his line of sight.
“Hullo, Davin!” Haskell called loudly, smiling and waving. “Good to see you this morning, my boy.” Quan turned and greeted him as well. Davin nodded slightly, but said nothing in return. They turned back to their business, apparently unabashed.
Spotting the shop of Roland, Lemirre’s blacksmith and his godfather, he decided to head in for a quick visit. Roland had the fortunate pleasure of being one of only two people Davin still considered himself close to.
As he passed some of the other street vendors they waved at him with uncertainty as if expecting how he would respond. Davin ignored them. He rarely talked to anyone in town. Generally, they wanted to have lively conversations about business, travels they’d been on, politics, jokes, and whatever else came to mind. It was all irrelevance to Davin. Sometimes he would humor them, but most of the time he didn’t. His life was exactly how he liked it. He did his hunting to trade for what he needed to live on, and kept to himself. Roland and his wife Niahm were the only exceptions.
Davin rounded the door to Roland’s shop and entered. The blacksmith looked up from the sword on his bench.
“Davin,” the smithy greeted him, “what brings you down today?”
“Trading,” Davin answered, “Why do you always ask that when you know what the answer’s going be?”
Roland didn’t miss a beat. “I figure one of these times you’re going come down just to visit me.”
Davin saw that Roland was quite busy. There was a large stack of parchment on a desk away from the work station. He recognized them as a set of orders for new equipment. The size of the stack got his attention. It was bigger than he’d ever seen it.
&n
bsp; “Maybe,” Davin looked away and fiddled with some armor on the wall. “So business is good, huh?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Could be better,” Roland shrugged. “How are the catches in the forest this season?” He obviously didn’t want to talk about the orders; otherwise he wouldn’t have changed the subject.
“You lie,” Davin said casually, ignoring the other’s question. “You seem to be doing well enough to me.” He pointed at the stack behind Roland.
“It’s nothing.” He tried to act normal, but was hiding something. They exchanged looks and Roland must have known Davin could see right through him.
He gave in and continued. “When I was at Swift River a few weeks ago selling my newest equipment, I received a letter from the Blacksmith Guild. They informed me that the army needed an order of equipment and I was requested specifically. The fact that the guild is noticing could be good news for me.”
Smiling genuinely, he replied, “That’s really great Roland. You’ve always wanted to be a member of the guild.”
The Guilds were not impossible to get into, but it was still an honor to be admitted, especially with the smithies. And Roland had graduated a long time ago from his Focus at the Acadeem with high status, so he had spent most of his life trying gain membership. The benefits were obvious. Once someone was admitted, they were taken care of by the guild. They never ran short work and good pay.
However, Roland didn’t seem as excited as he should have been.
“You sure you’re alright?” Davin asked.
“Just have a lot of work to do.”
There were a few minutes silence while Davin watched Roland work. Did he want to tell Roland about his dreams? He decided to wait a little longer. Maybe they would leave him alone yet.
Wanting to think of anything else and remembering Roland’s question, he sputtered out, “You should come hunting with me some time, maybe get out of the shop for once.”
“Probably not going to happen any time soon,” Roland began. “Besides, you don’t want me slowing you down. I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s like I always say, you’re a natural, just like your mum was. She was great at anything, really, a strong woman.”
