《Screaming Whisper, Ballad of Rebirth.》


 Prologue: Ending with a whimper

    On the slopes of the Fanghan mountain range, a wall of granite and slate which towered over the surrounding grasslands, Kazhit was digging. A long and arduous search was finally reaching conclusion. He paused to listen to the wind howling as a gust of icy sleet pounded through the entrance of the dimly lit ''mineshaft''. "So close. So close. So close," He repeated over and over.


    He attacked the soil with a renewed vigor. He was sinking his hands into the rough gravel and throwing handfuls of earth behind him. Kazhit laughed as he recalled a small rodent creature he had seen once performing the same actions. He was walking in the palace gardens and saw a beady-eyed face peer at him from the soil. He froze and suddenly screamed, "Get out of my head!"


    Kazhit took a break from furiously tearing apart the earth with his bare hands to stumble back and lean against the rocky earth behind him. He chuckled to himself, "Delihlah would be horrified if she saw me right now..." He paused, "Who is Delihlah?" He hated memories. He prefered to have awfulmemories because they were the least painful. Good ones left him feeling like an enraged sewer rat was trying to claw its way out of his head through his eye. Staying focused on the present is the only thing which left him with some semblance of ''sanity''.


    Kazhit peered out of the relatively short hole, around ten meters, he had dug by himself, brushing back his mane of stark white hair out of his one working eye. To call it a mineshaft would be generous, in truth, it was more akin to a burrow created by a wild beast to escape the tempest ravaging the mountain peaks. His hole was dug near the precipice of the peak named "Guldur''s Folly", which was home to a number of crumbling ruins. Kazhit was forced to dig directly into the sheer cliffside of "Guldur''s Folly" facing east, while the ruins he sought after restedon the west face. The Fanghan mountains were known for their towering peaks and for the deadly winds which made them impossible to sustain life other than scattered shrubs.


    The winds blew down from the north gathering speed as they moved across hundreds of kilometers of grasslands. If there were not a storm, Kazhit should have been able to see all the way to the Eryth Sea. "How long have I been searching?" he asked himself, but he already knew the answer. "Too long...Too long indeed," he muttered and then suddenly cried out, "Too long!" into the the icy, black sleet pelting his face. As if to answer him, fingers of lightning stretched down from the heavens, striking an adjacent peak. He knew he was getting distracted as he giggled like a nervousvirgin. As Kazhit began to return to the monotonous task of scooping dirt, he felt himself getting closer.


    After the sun had risen and set again, Kazhit felt drained and his mind began to lull.


    He saw himself on a battlefield, a sea of corpses and rot. Clouds of vultures were soaring overhead and besides the cries of the wounded which were carried for kilometers on the wind, it was eerily quiet. He was the only one standing, the only person that was not greivously wounded as far as he could see. A lone horse was dragging a corpse of a man who was torn in half from the waist up. He bent down to what looked like the corpse of young boy and turned it over to see its face. He heard somewhere that death was supposed to be peaceful, but this corpse had a grisly expression of horror and glassy eyes which seemed to beg for mercy. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Kazhit returned with a start from his dream. "Or was it a flashback?" He thought to himself. "I must have fallen asleep from exhaustion," he wondered as he picked his face off of the cold hard dirt floor of his mineshaft. After a moment''s hesitation, Kazhit began to dig.


    After he could only assume was several months of tunneling through utter darkness, Kazhit felt his long since broken fingertips push through the wall of soil which had become his universe. Being alone in complete isolation had done wonders for his sanity, but he quickly pushed his thoughts to the back of his head as he began to reorganize his jumbled thoughts. He had done it. He pushed at the wall of soil and felt it crumble away as incredibly bright light blinded him momentarily.


    After a few minutes of adjustment, he peered from his tunnel into what appeared to be a chamber made of solid rock. He rolled himself onto the cold slate tile and studied the interior of this chamber more thoroughly. It was lit by a luminescent crystal attached to the ceiling.There was a large stone pedestal in the center of the room, and there was only one doorto the room in which he sat in. Kazhit looked back from where he entered and saw that it was supposed to be a window. How old must these ruins be for them to be almost completely swallowed by the earth. "Almost as old as me," Kazhit thought grimly. He then realized how incredibly lucky he had been to crawl through the exact place where there was a window. For the first time in millennia, Kazhit felt like the God was smiling down upon him.


    The man called Kazhithyas Ethule stood upright for the first time in six months. He was walking shakily for the first few steps, but soon fell into his natural gait as he approached the pedestal in the center of the chamber. On the stone pedestal rested a series of five concentric rings each with numerous symbols. "How novel," he chuckled as he looked at what appeared to be some sort of ancient, cryptic puzzle.


    Without a second thought, Kazhit slammed his fist into the granite pedestal as it shattered like glass with the sound of an avalanche. He fell upon the pile of rubble he had created, searching for the treasure he sought. After a minute of frantic searching, the man held a dull, bluemetal ball with intricate patterns etched into it. "Finally," Kazhit said slowly, "I have it, I have the Tear of God!" Kazhit began raving to himself, "But what if it does not work...What if I truly cannot die...Itwillworkitwillworkitwillwork...." He knew how this artifact functioned, but he did not know of its origin because it was perhaps the only thing still in existence which was older than himself.


    Unbeknownst to Kazhit, the Tear of God was the last relic of an ancient race of elves, The Eleneot. It was forged by those with a black hatred in their hearts, and it seemed to hum with power. It had been used to wipe The Eleneot out of existence. The landwas salted with the blood of an entire species. It had been sealed away in the crypt of its creators, but a certain man had just unearthed the single, most powerful weapon ever witnessed. Kazhit had come across the knowledge of how to activate it during one of his many lifetimes, and it was the only thing he still cared to recall. It could be activated with a phrase in the language of The Eleneot.


    He hastily kneeled on the floor and pressed the Tear of God to his dirt encrusted forehead and whispered the incantation, "B¨¢rsule ther a''thyle" in the Old Tongue meaning "Let the Heavens weep". The man called Kazhithyas Ethule truly wept as he finally felt the embrace of the heavens as he felt the chamber around him crumble into nothingness. There was no sound as the entire Fanghan Mountain range was basked in a pillar of cleansing, white light.


    Passing caravans would wonder for years how the mountain peak named "Guldur''s Folly" seemingly disappeared in a fortnight.

 Chapter One: Forsaken

    Nameless


    My first memory was the sensation of wind whipping against my face.


    I remember opening my eye and seeing green and blue; the light was excruciating and I quickly shut my eyelid. For days after I awoke, I still had not moved. The sensation of life was overwhelming. I counted the individual blades of grass which were in contact with my back. I listened to the sounds of creatures I could not recognize. I was too busypondering to care to open my eye, "How did I get here? Where am I? What is my name? Why..?" I had no answers. After what seemed like a lifetime of unanswered questions, my body began to ache. For what, I had no idea, but soon it forced me to open my eye and acknowledge my existence. I needed to act. I shakily stood up from where I had lain and surveyed my surroundings for the first time.


    I was standing between what appeared to be two small, grassy hills. I peered behind me and saw a small tree, beneath it ran a small flowing creek. There was movement is the sky above, and I saw a large bird of prey scouring the surrounding hills for food. I felt another sharp pain rack my body as I looked down at my chest. Lookingdown, I also noticed that all of my limbs were etched with various scars. My skin on my upper arms looked like it was layered with scars, crossing over each other, giving my skin a splotchy and uneven pigment. My ribs were poking out of my thin, yet sinewy fram. On both of my palms, there was a wheel with eight spokes tatooed on them. I also realized that my hair was all the way down to my waist, and it was stark white as well. After my assessment of my physical condition, I decided that it was time to start searching for sustenance. Why wasn''t I wearing any clothes? Thinking about why I was here gave me a headache.


    My first few steps were rather difficult as I struggled to maintain my balance. As I began my search, I noticed it was difficult for me to walk because I could not gauge the distance between my feet and the ground. Realizing that this was because I lacked a right eye, I felt the right side of my face with my hand. There was a long gouge out of the right side of my face running from the top right of my forehead to the right corner of my mouth. The scar tissue covering my face felt rough to the touch, as if it never healed properly. After nearly scaling the grassy hill, I nearly mastered the skill of walking. As I crested the hill, I realized the first flaw in my plan to find food. I had no clue where to start. How was I going to catch an animal and where would I even find one?


    After exploring the landscape for several hours, the sun had long past its zenith; it had sunk low into the western horizon. My hunger had only increased along with the elongated shadows of dusk. Racked by hunger cramps, I stumbled forward and spied a particularly familiar outcropping of trees. I had been past this twice already. In my frustration, I collapsed beneath a sturdy looking spruce, "Bloody Hell," I muttered. I was going to die and I knew it. That was my last thought as I closed my eyes and was sucked into a death-like slumber.


    "My blood runs through the veins of this world," a voice boomed. I looked around me, but everything looked gray, blurry, and distorted. "I was forced to slaughter my children...Like sheep," I could not tell which direction this voice was coming from. "I failed to protect my line...My creation, it destroyed everything," I suddenly saw an image become clear out of the murk. It was a golden wheel with eight spokes. For some reason, this image struck a chord within me and I was filled with terror and rage at the same time. This image quickly dissipated into the obscure shadows. I heard a silky soft voice say, "I know you''re awake so stop teasing me!" followed by a girlish giggle. As if to go along with the melodious voice, a face materialized. It was a woman who could not have been more than twenty years old. She had long, gleaming silverhair intertwined in complex braids along with full lips and a seemingly natural blush. Her eyes were a deep indigo in contrast to her pale hair. It was the most beautiful face that I had ever seen. She said, "You really should stop sleeping so much. You miss out on so much of the world. Things change at night you know..."


    I jolted awake and gasped for breath. I was covered in a sheen of sweat. That dream left a curious ache in my groin as well as more questions to add to my growing list. Even though it was the middle of the night, I could still view my surroundings reasonably well with the light of the full moon. I saw movement at the crest of the next hill over. Half a dozen black shapes were hurtling down the hill towards where I was resting at an alarming speed. I struggled to stand to my feet, but by the time I gained my footing, the creatures were almost two hundred meters away. I then recognized the snarling group of creatures as a pack of wolves.


    I quickly forgot my hunger and exhaustion as I set my feet ready to confront the impending danger. As they rapidly approached, I could see the moonlight glinting in the leader''s eyes. I realized that I was unable to tell exactly how close the wolves were getting because I lacked a right eye. I considered attempting to flee, however, it was much too late to even try.


    The leader seemed to lunge at me in slow motion, his jaws opening to clamp on to my right arm. Instead of wasting precious seconds pulling my arm back to avoid the incoming maw, I moved my right hand just below his lower jaw. This motion allowed me to use its momentum against it as I grasped the still lunging wolf''s throat. The razor sharp claws of the leader raked across my chest, leaving deep gouges in my papery skin. In a shout of animal fury, I swung the wolf in my hand into another wolf about to leap upon me. This snapped the neck of the leader wolf and gave me one second to analyze my worsening situation.


    There were still three wolves almost within arm''s reach of me. I thought there was supposed to be a fourth, but I was rather preoccupied at the moment. My foot collided with the snout of another wolf with a sickening crunch. I closed the distance between the last two wolves as they both lunged towards my left and right flanks respectively. My elbow painted the landscape with the gray matter of the wolf lunging towards my left. I was less lucky with the other wolf, it latched onto my right arm and began violently shaking its head in order to sever the tendons in my arm. I jammed my left thumb into its eyeball, popping it like an over-ripe grape. This loosened its grip, allowing me to wrench my arm out of its grasp. I needed to get used to fighting with only one eye.


    Another sharp pain jolted through my body as the sixth wolf clamped onto my left ankle. I abruptly stomped on its neck with my right foot, killing it instantly. That left only two wolves standing; one eye and the wolf I clobbered with the leader. They looked at me hesitantly before fleeing, likely to lick their wounds. My right arm was hanging limp, it would probably never heal from having all of its tendons shredded. The only sound I could hear was the dripping of blood and the chirping of crickets. As Isat to inspect my wounds, I realized that besides my arm, my injuries were minor. My stomach groaned loudly into the black night. I looked at the four corpses which lay at my feet. They were already starting to smell. "I don''t think I will forgive myself for this," I said as I began to engorge myself on raw wolf meat.


    I realized I must have fallen asleep shortly after my meal because I awoke covered in blood that was not my own. My waist length hair was soaked in blood. My right hand glided through my hair until I realized that I was able to move my right hand. I was shocked to find that my entire arm was almost fully healed. Healthy, pink scar tissue had replaced the mangled, torn flesh on my right arm. I felt my chest and noticed the same for my other injuries. Somehow, I knew this was not natural.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Weeks passed, and I still meandered through seemingly endless hills in search of something...Anything.  During this time, I had not had anymore dreams, they had gone silent. I barely ate and I barely slept, I just continued south. Every day was the same monotonous chore, until I came across something I found quite peculiar. It was a long strip of dirt bisecting the area between two hills. It seemed to extend on forever, both north and south, from my vantage point at the top of an adjacent hill. It could not have been natural, so it had to be created by some type of creature. But what..? More questions never any answers. As I was pondering this anomaly, I saw movement on the north side ofthe dirt line. It was a horse pulling a large structure of wood with wheels, followed by several humans and another horse pulling a similar wooden box. How do I know that that creature is a horse? I decided to observe this group from a distance in order to learn more about them.


    A little girl broke off from the group in order to get closer to what looked like a small meadow. One of the menshouted in a foreign tongue at the girl, and she reluctantly returned to the group. The man must have shouted at the girl to say "Get back here" or something of that manner. From what I could tell, there were seven people in the traveling groupin total and there were two horses. As they got closer, I realized that there were two women, one girl, three men, and one boy just past his pubescent years. As they passed my hill, I decided that I would follow them because they were the only form of intelligent life I had found in my short existence.


    I had been studying the group for around three days and I had made a series of interesting discoveries. Of the three men, two of them had their heads shaved and they looked so similar that they were probably kin. They each wore wicked looking clubs with metal bands at their waist. I believed that their duty was to protect the rolling wooden boxes. The third man was likely the leader of this group. He had flamingorangehair which was greying at his temples. I knew somehow that he had seen large-scale combat before. He had a well cared for sword at his waist which he looked to know how to use. I had seen him oil it every single night I had been following these travellers. They did not even suspect that I was stalking them. One of the women I knew to be the mate of the leader. She had gentle features and Chestnut colored hair with streaks of grey. In her youth she would have been a beauty, and even now she was still quite alluring, despite the toll of age. The second woman was much younger, however, she looked as if she was kin of the two bald men. She was almost as muscular as them and if she did not have short, spiky black hair and muscular breasts, I am sure that she would have been identical to the bald ones. She looked capable of bearing many strong children. Most importantly, everyone in the caravan had woolen clothes and cloaks. I wondered if I should approach the group, but I realized I lacked clothing of any kind.


    The young girl and boy must have been the children of the red haired leader and his mate. They both had fiery orange hair just like their father. The young boy, looking around sixteen, carried a small yew flatbow, and from watching him practice with it frequently, I knew him to be quite proficient with it. The young girl, around ten years old, had a bad habit of detaching from the group in order to explore the landscape. I knew that it was just a matter of time until this curiosity killed her. For some reason, the thought of the little girl being killedmade me profoundly sad.


    This was a beautiful, yet unforgiving land. Many predators scour this land. I had seen a bird of prey with a wingspan of around three meters carry off an adult goat. I had to stay aware at all times because I was sure that one of those birds could easily tear me apart or lift me off of the ground a few hundred meters and drop me to my death. The adults in the group seemed to be aware of the threatening landscape because they kept their eyes on the sky as they were traveling and they only stopped beneath outcroppings of trees.


    On the fourth day of following the group, the little girl broke off from the group once again to explore a dense outcropping of several hundred trees near a small creek. This time, no one noticed the girl break off from the group. I moved swiftlyfrom my perch at the top of a hill several hundred meters away to investigate. As I slipped silently into the grove of trees I heard humming. I studied the little girl who was picking up colorful rocks from the stream. She began to turn around, so I quickly scaled the thick branches of an ancient oak in order to escape her view. With several shiny rocks in hand she began to leave the grove of trees only to stop dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened as she dropped her prizes. I quickly scanned the area to find what she was looking at. It was a bloody skeleton of a man. She began to tremble and took a step backwards. The skeleton must have been fairly newbecause it had shredded bloodstained clothes lying around it. It looked to have been picked clean by a predator of some sort. The girl began to wail, but was soon cut short by a low growl. Two familiar black beasts emerged from the shadows of the densely forestedarea. One looked at the little girl with ravenous hunger in its eye while the other crept around to the girl''s right flank. I recognized this wolf as the one that bit my arm. I had wondered where the two wolves had wandered off to, but it seems highly unlikely that they were here by chance. More likely is that they were tracking my scent. To know that these wolves were intelligent enoughto want revenge was truly frightening. I prepared to jump down from my perch as a stream of urine began running down the young girl''s leg.


    Aswolf with one eye pounced for the small morsel, I leapt down from my perch feet first onto its back, snapping it like a twig. The girl stood paralyzed with fear as I finished off the wolf beneath me with a strike aimed at the base of its neck. I looked at the other wolf as it showed a glint of terror in its inhuman eyes. It turned to flee and I gave chase for a little ways until I was sure it had left the grove of trees. As I was making my way back to where the little girl was standing, I heard frantic voices calling in their odd language. I silently moved between the trees to get a closer look. The red hairedgirl was now sobbing extremely loudly. Her father was the first to find her and he comforted her with soothing tones as he hugged her, ignoring the puddle of urine at the girl''s feet. After weeks of travel, everyone smelled like pisseventually. Soon he noticed the corpse of the wolf and the blood-soaked skeleton and he looked around in fear. "Smart man," I mused to myself. The man obviously knew that if there was one wolf, there was likely to be others. He quickly picked the little girl up in his arms as he carried her to the rest of the group. Now that I had to let the girl see me, I had to be more careful not to be noticed by the group.


    Later that night I crept up to their camp making sure not to be noticed. After everyone had gone to sleep beneath the ''wagons'' as they were called except for the boy who had first watch. I slunk over to the embers of the fire and quickly gathered up the leftover scraps of pheasant which they had dined upon. I took my meal over to the adjacent creek. It was easy to see with the moonlight. It was a full moon, just like my first night on this world. I looked at my face in the moonlight as I ate. When I first saw my face several weeks ago, I was surprised by my very young looking face. I had thought I was old because of my white hair, but I was obviously just a few yearsolder than the boy with the bow. The scar on the right side of my face pulled the right side of my mouth into a permanent smirk. My eye was a light grey, which I thought made me look like a total loon.


    I had picked up some of the language which the people spoke, just by listening to constant conversation while they were sitting around the fire each night. Sometimes watching them eat together made me ache for companionship. I just wanted to talk to someone. After practicing a few words in the weird language, I got up and walked up the nearest hill. I chose a perch with a full view of the encampment half a kilometer away.


    I sat down cross-legged and promptly fell asleep under the full moon.

 Chapter Two: Wraith

    Dag


    We had been on the road for weeks.


    It was the life chosen for us by the God, to be blessed with a grant of land. However, it would have been bloody nice if it was, say, within a hundred kilometers of a town other than Mayfield. The Swiftand family, my family, hailed from Gehenea. Gehenea is a small state,but it is part of the larger Xerian Empire. My father was a renowned war hero and a respected member of the council, so of course the corrupt Gehenean Council ''gifted'' him a fief out past the badlands. They only did that just to get him out of the city because he was the only politician who could not be bought. To refuse to even visit would have been a slight too great for the council to ignore. I was glad to be out that snakes'' nest they call The Capital.


    I loved exploring the countryside, even if danger lurked around every bend. I had my bow to protect me and mine. Father gifted it to me for my fifteenth birthyear;he knew that I aspired to become a ranger. The Two Fusili brothers(three if you count Helga, their brutish sister) travelling with my family told me that their cousin was a ranger who patrolled the northern border of The Empire. They told me that their cousin had seen an Ice Wraith with his own eyes. The wraith had gleaming silver eyes, and a cloak made out of white fox pelts to go along with its white skin.  It looked like a man, but it seemed to glide across the snow, not even leaving footprints. The twins said that wraiths eat the hearts of living creatures. Of course I didn''t believe their foolstory. Wraiths, faeries, and other ''magic'' creatures simply did not exist. Even if they did, how could their cousin escape with his life after seeing a creature which could glide across the earth.


    When I asked the siblings this, Helgasimply told me, "Tha''s what ''ey learn when ''ey become rangers."


    I normally would not mind thesiblingsspinning tall-tales, but my younger sister, Sylvia, believed everything that came out of their fool mouths. Every night our little caravan ate around the campfire, the trio always came up with some fae story to entertain my sister.


    Most of their stories had something to do with the Forbidden North.


    Past the northern border of The Empire lay the Forbidden North. No one was allowed to enter except rangers. The shroud of secrecy surrounding the north led most bumpkins, such as the Fusili siblings, to believe that the Forbidden North was home to monsters or ferocious barbarians. I knew these legends were simple fallacies. Several summers past, I had pestered my father about the northlands for weeks. He had eventually given in to my constant pressure and told me what he knew of the north. He told me that there was a clan of nomadic people who thrived in the harsh, freezing climate. Father told me that the few encounters The Empire had with these people, one of their warriors was able to decimate a squadron of ten Gehenean Knights before he died. It was no small wonder The Empire sought to keep tabs on these people. When I had asked my father how he knew this, his eyes grew cloudy and distant and he refused to speak of it more.


    Today had been a good morning. I awoke and atea hearty breakfast of salted meat and eggs while hitching both horses to both carriages. Father said we were around a week''s worth of travel away from our new home, a town called Mayfield. My Auntalready lived there with her family, so we would arrive to a warm hearth.


    Soon, we were on the road and as I walked along the carriage my mother and sister rested in, I began to look for something to shoot. I heard my father call back from the front of the caravan that we would be stopping in order to collect water and give the horses a break.


    We stopped next to a large, dense collection of trees and a flowing creek. It looked out of place in the windy, grassy landscape. As we stopped, I saw a pheasant perched on a nearby branch. I quickly strung my bow with practiced efficiency. I selected one of my arrows from my quiver and notched it on the bowstring. I drew backthe arrow to my cheek, and exhaled as I let my arrow fly. The pheasant plummeted from its perch in a shower of feathers. I knew Sylvia loved to watch me shootsoI quickly gathered my prize and went to go showmy younger sister. The only problem was that she was nowhere to be found. I headed over to where the adults were resting and asked them where my sister was. As I was doing so, we heard a familiar, girlish wail pierce the adjacent grove of trees. Father and I immediately plungedinto the thick grove.


    The rushof stinging branches soon opened up into a clearing and I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw Sylvia standing unharmed in the center. Father practically ran over to my sister as I was left catching my breath. That was when I noticed the huge mass of fur lying next to my sister. As I went to get a closer inspection, father told me in a shaky voice, "Dag, we need to leave...Now!" The way he spokeseemed to imply that we were in danger. With my sister in his arms, we returned to our caravan.


    "Keep your eyes on the trees Dag. Wolves travel in packs," My father told me as he hurriedly saddled the horses.


    Wolves? I realized then that the mass of fur must have been the body of a wolf lying next to my sister. What happened? Sylvia was still crying, and soon we were on the road again. As we travelled Sylvia finally stopped crying enough to explain what had gone down in the secluded clearing.


    "I wa'' *hic* esploring in the forest*hic*, and then I saw twohuge, scary do-*hic*-gs. It tried to eat me, but then a ghost*hic* killed one of them and chased the other one away," Sylvia managed to spit out between sobs.


    She refused to talk for the remainder of the trip whenever my father pressed her for more answers. Sometimes my sister could be insufferable.


    After we had travelled around six kilometers, we finally stopped to set up camp for the night. The trade route we were on followed the same creek from earlier that day. Soon, my sister was changed out of her smelly clothes and we sat around a fire cooking my pheasant. It was not much, however, almost anything was better than salted meat and dry rations. Helga and her Brothers, Eric and Dav, were spinning a story about a drunken giant which seemed to pick up Sylvia''s spirits. I even found myself laughing when Helga did what I thought was a perfect drunk giant impression.


    My mother and father had been talking quietly the entire time. Finally, after the siblings finished with their tale, father had an unusual announcement. We were going to be taking shifts keeping a lookout. Now that we knew there were hill-wolves nearby, father said that we could not take any more chances. Luckily, I was to have the first shift.


    As everyone went to bed to rest until their shift, I settled myself on top of one of the carriages and looked up at the moon. There was not much to keep me busy, so I decided to try and make pictures with the stars. This was one of my sister''s favorite pastimes and pass the time it did. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    As we began our trek the next morning, I felt as if we were being watched. It was not something I could easily explain, but I felt like the pheasant sitting on a low branch, oblivious to the incoming arrow. It was likely just that I was spooked from the events of the previous day, but the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. Perhaps it was the fact that our caravan was constantly being circled by dread-hawks. Whenever we saw the massive birds, we usually travelledwith caution. I do not think my small bow would do much good against a hundred pounds of beak and talons which could fly at speeds upwards of one hundred kilometers per hour.


    It soon became dusk, and while the light of day was quickly fading, my unease was not. I was walking at the front of the caravan with father, keeping a careful eye on the surrounding wilderness. We were walking through a sparse forest. Today the landscape seemed less hilly.


    I asked my father, "Why don''t we have a caravan? We may be a relatively poor family, but you are a noble father."


    While I was awake last night, I had been thinking. We had several retainers living at our old estate. We ought to have at least a small pavilion to sleep in rather than beneath wagons.


    My father smiled like he knew some hidden truth and replied, "This was actually your mother''s idea. The members of council obviously want me gone for good. What better attempt at my life than deep in the wilderness with no witnesses. They would not expect nobles to travel in such a fashion, and in any case, we Swiftands can handle a few nights under the stars." I paled at his explanation.


    A shrill whistle sounded up ahead as several startled crows took flight. It did not sound like any bird I knew of. I tried to peer down the winding road we were following, but the sparse trees were stillenough to block my view.


    That is when father called for everyone to halt. He was looking intently down the path and his knuckles were white around the pommel of his gladius. As I turned back to look down the path, I saw around sevenheavily armed men standing abreast. They were completely blocking the road and they looked impatient. Father urgently told us to wait as he moved to approach the intimidating men. I looked back and the triplets all had their cudgels in their beefy hands and were moving protectively around the wagons. Tension was thick in the air as father went to speak with the grim-looking men.


    They had been negotiating for several minutes now. Sylvia was clutching the hem of my mother''s dress as her watery eyes were locked on the scene unfolding in front of us.


    I could only hear snippets of tense conversation, "This here toll-road...", "Bloody pay up...", "My wife and children...". From my father''s demeanor, I could tell that things were not going our way. One of the men cast a leering glance over at my mother. Two of the men began to laugh at some comment made by the leader. My father who was growing increasingly frustrated by the way things were going, placed a hand on the pommel of his sword.


    After this seemingly insignificant action, all hell broke loose.


    All of the men seemed to draw their swords at once. The hiss of steel vacating its scabbard rang throughout the woods. As the men levelled their weapons towards my father, a relatively large stone hurtled through the air towards the men. It made contact with the shoulder of one of the men with a wet ''Thwack''. As the man dropped his weapon and cried out, everyone looked to where the rock originated.


    A most uncouth sight greeted the wideeyes ofeveryone, including myself.


    <hr>


    Nameless


    I stepped out from behind my treeto confront the gaze of the people on the road several meters away. Everyone''s face was a mix of shock and incredulity as they registered my presence.


    Although I would have wished to make contact with the people I was following under different circumstances, it was obvious that things were spiralling out of control. The seven men who were confronting my group reminded me of the pack of wolves I had faced one month prior. They seemed fierce and the fact that they were unfazed by one of their own recieving a critical injury spoke volumes of their combat experience. One of the armed men shouted something at me in their language as they quickly forgot the old man and turned to face the bigger threat.


    The six men left their companion on the ground cradling his shattered elbow as they advanced towards me with a predatory hatred and what seemed to be amusement in their eyes. It must have been because I lacked garments of any kind. I waited in the trees for them to approach because obstacles would made it harder for them to effectively use their hand-and-a-half swords. The six men slowly circled around me. One man growled more unintelligable words at me. I raised my hands and set my feet.


    The only way I wouldsurvive this encounter would be to appear much weaker than I was. I imagined a rabbit surrounded by wolves as I made my knees shake and contorted my face into a mask of terror. One man to my left began to laugh as he strode forward and aimed his steel-tipped boot towards my stomach. I could tell exactly what the man was going to do by seeing where his eyes flicked to. This would have been so much easier if I had two eyes.


    I pivoted around his kick and caught his leg in my right armpit. My left elbow struck the sideof his kneecap, shredding cartilage and twisting his leg in a curious angle. Surprised shouts came from all around me as I flipped the speechless man onto his back. In their panic, one of the men to my right swung his sword at my face. I easily ducked as his weapon became embedded itself the trunk of an adjacent tree. My fist delivered a powerful blow tothe soft flesh of his groin, producing an unmanly squeak from my opponent. I hastily shoved him to the dirt and wrenched his weapon out of the tree.


    A man behind me was winding up for a powerful overhand swing. As I moved to block the attack, I saw another foe from my side prepare for a forward thrust with his sword. I threw my weapon at the man preparing to impale me, knowing it would likely just distract him. I then addressed the man who was now bringing down his sword to try and smash my skull into a paste. I side-stepped his swing and gave the man a quick punch to the throat, collapsing his trachea. The man dropped his sword in order toclutch his throat and gag. I snatched the weapon before it hit the ground and deftly parried a thrust aimed to my torso by another man. The three remaining men backed off and circled around me, the first hint of fear in their eyes. The only sounds heard were the chirping of birds and groans of pain.


    With a sword in hand, I moved to finish what I had started.


    <hr>


    Dag


    Who was that boy?


    A pale, naked, and wild-haired youth had appeared to intervene in the swiftly degrading situation. While the toll-men were just as suprised as everyone else, they probably saw it as an opportunity to test the edge of their swords. As soon as the men moved to confront the boy, father had drawn his sword. Of course, that was how my father was.


    Father shouted back to the Fusili twins, "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help save the poor lad!"


    I heard a choked scream come from where the men had gone into the wilderness. Whoever that person was, they needed my help. I already wanted to shoot these men after they leered at mother. My bow was already strung and I grabbed my quiver from the wagon as I raced to get a vantage point of where the cry originated. I heard my father shouting at me as I raced towards the sound of clashing steel, but I knew I could shoot well enough to kill. I got closer to the carnage and I was astounded. There were three men on the ground, two of them were curled up in pain and the other was not moving. The boywith the white hair was holding a sword and was dancing around the attacks of all three men with ease. The white-haired boy was smiling the entire time, giving him a crazy look. The lunatic''sblade sliced through the hand of one of his attackers, causing the man to drop his sword and several fingers along with it.


    The boy looked as if he was gliding around every attack, just like a wraith from the twins'' Fae Stories. Perhaps some of their stories were not completely untrue...

 Chapter Three: Lost in Translation

    Nameless


    There were only two opponents left facing me.


    All of the others had either fled or they were lying onthe forest floor. The two men still facing me had lost the predatory gleam in their eyes, just as the wolves had. It is amazing how similar this encounter was to the one I had a month ago. They again said something incomprehensible in their language to me. I, however, got the message they were attempting to convey: "What are you?" I only smiled and changed into a more defensive stance.


    The man to my left made an obvious feint towards my lower body as I saw his partner on my right ready himself for a two-handed swing. I decided to play along with the feint, and blocked the weak stab aimed at my thigh. I could not see the man swing his blade because of my impairment, but I could hear the tip whistle through the air as it sought my flesh. Now was time for a risk. Right when I knew the blade was about to bite into my neck, I swiftly ducked down avoiding the attack. I also pushed my sword against the blade as it flew above my head, sending the man''s sword into the skull of his ally.


    As the man''s sword was lodged inhis friend''s skull, I plunged my blade deep into his abdomen and let them both fall. That was when I noticed thatI was being watched. The old man, and the two bald men were staring at me through a mask of fear and awe. The ground around me was littered with dead or soon-to-die bodies. I felt nothing when I killed the men, just as if they were animals. This gave me the uneasy feeling that I have killed before.


    I waved at the old man and smiled. This seemed to get a positive reaction because one of the bald men started laughing uncontrollably. The old man then said something to me in their language. I recognized the first word as a greeting, but I did not understand anything after.  I cocked my head to the side in confusion. This made the laughing bald man hysterical until he was cuffed by his brother.


    I heard a voice from behind me which I immediately recognized as the young boy''s. I turned to see the ladstanding on a ridge overlooking the gruesome scene. He had an arrow pulled back to his cheekand was pointing it in my direction. From seeing the boy shoot, I did not want to be on the business end of his flatbow. The old man yelled something at the boy and the boy lost focus.


    The boy''s grip slipped and I could see the arrow hurtling towards me. It was almost as if it was moving in slow-motion. The boy let out a shout of surprise, as if just realizing what he had done. As the arrow was flying towards my face, I easily reached out and plucked it out of the air. It was a well made arrow, with a diamond shaped tip. This would be capable of punching through tough leather armor.


    The three adults were staring at me agape. Perhaps I had done something wrong. I turned back to the boy and offered him his arrow back. He hesitantly walked down to where I stood and accepted his arrow. He looked to be ashamed of his mistake, so I was satisfied. The adults were talking among themselves, so I loudly cleared my throat. I gestured to my pale, naked body and then pointed towards the boy''s clothes. They seemed to understand what I was asking.


    After listening for several minutes to the people talk amongst themselves, they motioned for me to follow them.


    I followed the group as they led me out of the woods and back onto the ''road''. The boy was up next to his father, and was being scolded rather fiercely. I was following the group from several meters behind. We made it to the road and I saw the mother hop off the ''wagon'' and rush to her son toembrace him. That was when her eyes drank in my presence. Instead of recoiling in shock, the handsome womanlooked at me with a mix of sympathy and remorse.


    I was herded over to the nearest wagon and the woman gave me a set of garmentswhich looked to belong to the boy. How was someone supposed to wear these? After an uncomfortable silence, consisting of the five people watching me study the clothing in my hands, a loud squeak came from behind the wagon. The little girl came out from behind the wagon and was staring at my manhood with fascination and reddening cheeks. Following the girl, was the muscular woman with short hair, who was also staring at my body with amused interest. They must have been wondering how I had so many scars.


    I did not know either.


    <hr>


    Dag


    "For God''s sake, give the boy some privacy!", My father shouted at all of us.


    Everyone shuffled away to let him change. The stranger was just so fascinating to look at, though I suspect that Helga and Sylvia were interested in looking at different parts than me. The person''s body was layered with scar tissue. For all we know, he might have originally had darker skin. When I first saw his face, I realized that he was not smiling, but had a huge gouge taken out of the right side of his face. His remaining eye also made me uneasy when it looked at me, as if it pierced into my soul. His hair, which was originally stark white, now had streaks of blood staining it. There was a small tuft of white hair at his chin too. His body was thin, yet he was quite muscular. However, for someone who looked like they lived in the wilderness, he was surprisingly clean.


    Sylvia whispered to me wide-eyed, "Tha''s the ghost that saved me in the forest...He kilt that dog by jumpin'' on it"


    That explained how Sylvia survived a wolf attack. After seeing the boy fight, I knew that he was formidable in combat. While thinking about why he would rescue Sylvia, I realized this boy has been following us at least since Sylvia went wandering off. Why would this person follow us? Perhaps he was an escaped slave. Slavery was frowned upon, but was not illegal in The Empire, and the stranger certainly had enough scars. However, slaves were marked with nose-rings, and this boy had no ring.


    I heard the three siblings talking while we were waiting for him to finish changing.


    "Helga, you should''ve seen him fight. He wasruthless, it was like he was half-demon," Dav said seriously. To this Helga replied, "Ha! By the way he''s hung, I would say he''s ha''f-horse!" All three burst out laughing at the remark. I shook my head at the childish remark. Well, his was substantially bigger than mine, but I would grow.


    After the stranger was done changing into my clothes, father said that we need to get a move on. It would be a bad idea to camp next to dead bodies. The stranger was idly picking dried blood out of his hair as he studied the woolen tunic and trousers he was wearing. Before I could stop her, Sylvia ran over to him and offered him one the loops she uses to tie her hair back.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    She said loudly, "Here Sir Ghost!" and held out the loop of string. The strangersmiled warmly, yet hauntingly because of his half-face, as he took the loop from my sister''s hands. Unfortunately, he had no clue what to do with it. Sylvia pointed towards the one she was wearing on her flaming red hair while giggling. He seemed to understand what she wanted, and then gathered his hair at the back of his head. With the help of my sister, he was able to get his hair into a somewhat neat ponytail. I am sure that most girls her age would be terrified by his scarred wreck of a face, but Sylvia seemed very intrigued bythe stranger.


    Suddenly, the stranger cleared his throat and spoke with a raspy, yet friendly voice, "Me...Go...You" as he pointed at my father. He seemed proud of his sentence. Father replied with a simple "Yes." That settled the matter. We were going to take him to the next town anyways. Leaving someone alone and in the wilderness would essentially be killing them, but by the looks of it, this boy had been living in the wilderness for a while.


    The caravan began moving again and we walked for several more kilometers until the sun had turned into a deep crimson. Father picked out a low hill for us to camp on. From where we were camping, we could see several farms in the distance and beyond that, the dancing lights of Mayfield. We must have only been a day''s travel away. Soon everyone was sitting around the cooking fire, eating a stew of salted pork and herbs and telling stories. We all watched the stranger stare into the fire with his one good eye as he ate our food in silence.


    The eye and hair of our new companion reflected the all-consuming flames in a haunting orange hue.


    <hr>


    Nameless


    I was still staring at the crackling embers when I felt a hand on my shoulder.


    I looked up and saw concern reflected in the eyes of the old man as he checked on me. I gave him a smile and presented him with my empty bowl with a satisfied grunt. I was still trying to piece together the language they spoke. Throughout the meal we shared, I could sense a certain unease to the air. A laugh which seemed too forced, a glance from the corner of the eye. These people must have been afraid of me or they could not figure me out. Either way, I would never be able to learn of this land until I learn their language. Then I can begin to try and answer my questions.


    The old man handed me a spare bedroll and a soft cloak and nodded before he returned to his family.


    I took the gifts and replied, "Thank you" feeling the sensation of the alien words roll off my tongue.


    The man was startled at my response before he said, "Ah, so @%$#&speak! Well @%#$ let me thank you for #^@$^$#% the forest... However, before we @%#$^@friendly...Who are you, @#%, and why are you %@$# ?"


    I was surprised that I somewhatunderstood the man, and I replied, "I don''t..Know...Me...Name...I don''t know...why..."


    The man, who was astonished at my response, was about to say something.


    However, I quickly interjected, "I sleep" while preparing my bedroll.


    I did not want to have a conversation in the dark where it was hard to read someones face. This made it very difficult to try and converse in some language I just discoveredseveral weeks ago. I flopped my clothed body on top of the thick, woolen bedroll. The dreams immediately hit me in a torrent of images and sounds. It was impossible to make sense of them, and always...always they quickly faded after I awoke, slipping through my grasp like quicksilver.


    The young boy was nudging me awake as I came back to reality, blinking <AN: More like winking...> groggily. I stood and stretched as I surveyed my surroundings, which I made a habit of. The sun was in the process of peaking over the hilly horizon, sending streaks of crimson and


    The boy said to me inquiringly, "Hey, we are %$#%to ^$#%@$to the @%$#town, it''s $%#% Mayfield...Is it true you don''t even know &^%#@name?"


    I was beginning to enjoy these challenges of comprehending this new language.


    I stood up straight and replied, "Yes... I want... To know...Name..."


    The boy looked shocked by my response. As he was struggling to think up a reply, I heard a conversation coming from where the boy''s parents were standing.


    Voice 1(Feminine):"You can''t just let this boy @%$#@we @%$#@Mayfield. He can barely speak our @^%$@#@and has no money. You will @#$@him.


    Voice 2(Masculine):"Carla, the boy is dangerous. He @$%#@with six men like they were children. He attracts the kind of @%$#@@#we don''t need, @%$#@when moving to a new %$@##. These %$@#@are tight-knit communities."


    Voice 1(Feminine):"I won''t stand for it. We have to @%$#@%#safe for him. How could you even @^%#of #^%$@#a boy that is your son''s %$#?"


    I decided to ignore the debate between the two adults. As if I would let them decide my fate...


    We began our trek after a short meal of oats mixed with cold water. I was excited about a day of talking with these strange people. More likely, however, was that their customs and mannerisms were commonplace in this land. They likely thought that my existence was very strange. Thinking about my situation only brought more questions. Best to not think about the thousands of questions which were already festering at the back of my mind.


    From the conversation I overheard, I could tell that the old man was a very protective person and that he was suspicious of me. As thoughts were tumbling through my head, we passed the first dwelling I had seen. It was a cabin made out of stout oak timbers and appeared very sturdy. Around two kilometersup the road lay a large group of dwellings, hundreds from what I could tell, surrounded by a wall. I assumed there must have been a vast community of people who lived there. It became apparent to me that the community up ahead was the destination of my companions.


    Soon, we arrived at a tall fence constructed out of both stone conglomerate and timber, around 5 meters high. An armed man stepped out from behind the gates and walkedtowards the group. I checked the faces of my companions, however, they seemed at ease so I relaxed as well. I was able to hear the roar of human voices from beyond the gate. We entered the walled community saw a street filled with people, wagons, and horses. Past all the people there lay a small circle of green, followed by a large stone mansion at the center of the community. There were around one hundred humans in the same place at once. The old man was talking with the armed guard at the gate. The guard pointed towards the large mansion, and his eyes widened when the old manflipped a shiny hunk of metal into his fumbling hands.


    Everything around me, the buzzing of hundreds of voices seemed familiar and comfortable to me, quite contrary to what someone would think of someone who had never seen a large community of people like this.


    Sudden images assailed me from all directions. A black haired child with only thin rags as clothing, curled on the ground in pain. Dozens of children running and leaping across rooftops at night. Slick cobblestones coveredwith teeth and blood.


    Just as quickly as they began, the images stopped. I looked around for my companions, but they were nowhere to be found. As Ilooked around me, I found that I was in the middle of a busy street. Someone jostled me from behind as they brushed past. People were giving me strange looks as I stood immobile in the center of the street. I knew better than to attract unwanted attention so I moved to the side of the road and pulled the hood of my cloakover my hair. I had an inkling of where my companions had, gone because I remembered the guard gesture towards the stone mansion.


    The only problem was that I had no clue where I was in the town or where the mansion was. I moved down into a shadowed alley, away from the strange looks. I peered up at the sky through the narrow slitbetween the rooftops. The sky was turning dark.


    How long had it been?


    Once it got dark, it would be much more difficult to find where my companions had gone. They were the only people who I had any connection to in this strange land. That thought made me feel suddenly very alone as I watched the sky turn a deep indigo.


    As I was wallowing in my own self-pity, I heard a sound whichsnapped me out of my despair. A chorus of voices was laughing and singing along to someone playing a string instrument of some kind. The one language which I knew I could understand was music.


    I quickly moved to find the source of the pleasing melody.

 Chapter Four: Firelight

    Amelia


    The Twin Mares'' Inn was like a second home to me.


    Being the daughter of the Countess of Mayfield, I had been sheltered most of my life. My father used to never allow me to leave our manorand go into town, however once he died several years ago, mother allowed me to have freedom for the first time in my life. Mayfield was not a particularly dangerous city at all, however, like all border towns, it was home to a variety of people from all corners of the Empire. The diverse people of Mayfield


    My best mate Christie''s father owned the Twin Mares'' Inn. I had known that black-haired, pixie-like girl since I was a small girl. It was renowned as the best inn in the whole town, and I tried tovisit it whenever I had free time. All of the gossip of our small, five-thousand person town was passed around at the Twin Mares'' Inn. Travelling musicians and merrymen would also frequent the inn, so there was always some kind of entertainment to be had. It consisted of a fairly large common room with around five tables and a bar. There was a raised ledge in the corner used for performances.


    Just yesterday was my twenty-second birth year, and I would be twice-damned if I was going to be found anywhere but at the inn.


    That was my thought as Iemptied my third cup of wine. My mission was to get myself hammered before my extended family moved in. It would inevitably end with a restriction of my freedom. I was sitting with someof my mates around a table at the center of the inn listening to a bard strum his lute. Across from me, Christie was leaning in a drunken stupor on Jessie, a sandy-haired young man she had been shining on recently. I didn''t like Jessie very much, and several times throughout the night I caught him staring at my chest. Men! Hopefully it was just the drink affecting his judgement.


    I felt rather tipsy myself, even as I poured myself another drink. Christie''s father, Eugene, was a huge, bear-like man who was working at the bar, so Jessie did not dare try anything with Christie. It would not be the first time Eugene had thrown out a boy for being too touchy.


    Sitting to my left was Marc, a boastful son of a blacksmith who was determined to prevent anyone from making it into my bed. I had known him for almost as long as I knew Christie, around ten years. So far, his mission had been successful seeing as I still had my chastity and had only kissed one person. His imposing, two meter frame managed to scare off every male who made a pass at me. Sometimes, he really pissed me off.


    As if I was his to protect...Though, he had gotten me out of a few bad situations...


    I poured myself a fourth drink, noticing that the bottle was nearly empty. The red wine almost matched the colour of my dark red hair. The bard on the platform had begun to strumand sing a song called, "Decius". Everyone started to cheer and sing along to the well known tune, about the spirit of wine, Bacchus. I joined in the motley chorus:


    Bacchus, who is a spirit draws,


    all sorts of men to own his laws;


    Devoted sots he frees from cares,


    He gives to them what joys are theirs.


    Bacchus, most illustrious,


    we thy devotees;


    Revel in thy gifts to us,


    gifts that always please.


    Loudly now we sing thy praise,


    see our lungs are bursting;


    Bacchus bless us all our days,


    until there''s no more thirstin''.


    Yes, my intention is to die,


    in the tavern drinking;


    Wine must be at hand for I,


    want it when im sinking.


    The angels when they come shall cry,


    at my frailties winking:


    "Spare this drunkard, God, he''s high.


    His breath is bloody stinking!"


    A roar of applause and laughter erupted from all those listening. I was left breathless and laughingafter the bawdy tune. If a Gligian Priest were to hear that, it would be immediately declared blasphemy, and rightfully so. Any worship of deities except for their God was considered evil to all members of the Gligian faith. My uncle and his family were all Gligian, which meant that they were also a bunch of mopey pushovers.


    I looked back at my friends only to find my eyes drawn to someone walking by the table. An old manwith brilliant, white hair was walking towards where that bard was sitting. He turned left my way and I realized that he was not old at all, in fact, he looked younger than me. I noticed that he was also horribly scarred, nearly half of his beautiful face was missing. His grey eye made contact with mine and his gaze seemed to pierce through me. Just as quickly as the moment happened, it passed. The person turned away and walked towards the bard.


    I must be completely, bloody wasted...This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    <hr>


    Nameless


    I had found the source of the music.


    I had entered a well-lit common room which reeked of alcohol. There was someone playing an instrument in the corner, and I moved to approach him. I tried to survey everyone in the room, but there were around one hundred people all talking and drinking loudly. An attractive face stood out in the crowd and I saw a familiar flash of red. I turned back to the musician and made my way over to him. The musician set down his instrument and took a long sip of his drink. I walked up to him and he seemed startled to see my face. He was an old, grey man in a multicoloured coat.


    I motioned with my hands and said to him, "May I...Try?"


    He looked at me hesitantly, but then stood up from his stool and chuckled, "You''re a @%$#@@one aren''t you. Don''t break it."


    I sat down and picked up the instrument and held it in a way that felt natural. Most of the people had gone quiet. I reached down and plucked one of the strings and it rang out with an ugly sound. Several people in the common room started to laugh. I strummed the instrument testing all of the many strings. It had a deep wooden bowl and the noise of the strings resounded across it. Why was I attracted to this instrument?


    My head exploded with images again.


    An amphitheatre with an audience of thousands. An unknown woman was playing the same instrument as the one in the common room. She was wearing a long, silken dress which flowed across her curves like quicksilver. She herself was a world-class beauty. She had a round, pretty face with golden locks cascading down her back. The song she was playing was beyond complex. Her delicate fingers were dancing across the strings in a blur. It was a sad, despondent melody with elegant lifts and dramatic pauses. The crowd was dead silent as the woman spun magic through her instrument.


    Suddenly, a voice boomed, "Before I was anything...I was an artist...A saint of song...They say I invented music..."


    I finally remembered something.


    My consciousness returnedto the present. It seemed as if only moments had passed. I set my fingers on the lute in afamiliar position and looked back at the grey old man with a smile. I now had the attention of the entire room. The whole room seemed to collectively suck in a breath, waiting in suspense for me to begin.


    I began to play, the same song of the woman from my memory.


    <hr>


    Amelia


    Things had taken an interesting turn.


    The white haired boy was now on stage cradlingthe old bard''s lute while staring off in a daze.


    Marc leaned over to me and said, "Look at that freak sitting thereon the stage. Ha! He only has half of his face."


    Quite the observation...Idiot.


    Marc continued to ramble drunkenly as I rolled my eyes. He always became crass when we went drinking, however most of the time, I thought it was funny how loud and obnoxious he was. For the past few years, Christie, Marc, and I went drinking on Endays. We usually started right when the sun went down and today was no exception.


    The boy on the stage started moving again. The boy looked calmly centered as he set his hands on the lute as if to play. His fingers slowlybegan to move across the strings, first striking a minor chord, and then breaking the initial melody byplaying a series of individual notes. The soothing, sad melody quickly got the attention of everyone in the common room. A hush fell over everyone listening as they strained to hear the quiet melody. The boy''s fingers began to move faster on the strings as the melody gained momentum and tempo. Suddenly, the boy separated the tuneinto two intertwining melodies. The harmony of the two melodies blending into one rang out beautifully across the Twin Mares'' Inn. It was music no one had ever heard before, unique in its elegance.


    The people in the common room were all in a stunned silence, straining to hear every inflection of the melody. The boy''s face was a mask of concentration, however, he seemed at ease. The tempo steadily increased as his fingers flew across the strings. Suddenly the boy stopped playing the soothing piece and someone coughed loudly. The boy opened his mouth and began to sing in a deeptenor as his fingers attacked the strings with a renewed vigor. He was singing in a language I did not understand, however, it flowed together with the lute to create a harmony the likes of which no one in the entire world had ever heard.


    Soon, the melody went from sad and soothing to heartbreaking and beautiful, every intonation of his voiceblended seamlessly with his music. Pressure was slowly building in the common room which now seemed too small for the music being conducted in it. The melody rang out with a loud crescendo and then quickly drew to a close.


    After a very long silence, the boy looked up at the crowd and I noticed that there was a tear glistening on his cheek. I heard a muffled sob and looked behind me. All around the room, people were quietly crying, Christie and her man both had tears streaming down their face. I felt my face and felt wetness on my cheeks.


    There was no applause to the performance, only tears...


    The boy stood up quickly and gave the lute back to the old man before heading for the exit. Most people did not even notice the movement. The boy swiftly exited the building in a flash of white.


    Someone said out loud in the silence, "Who the fuck was that?!"


    I stood up and grabbed my cloak before stumbling after the boy. Marc called after me, but I payed it no mind as I exitedthe Twin Mares'' Inn onto one of the main streets of Mayfield. Even at this time at night, there were people conducting business out and about. I saw the white haired youth enter an alleyway across the street and I moved to follow.


    When I entered the alley way, the person was waiting for me, his one eye boring into me. We just stood there uncomfortably for one second, looking at each other in the torchlight.


    "W-Who are you?" I asked the boy. The term boy was not really accurate seeing now that he was closer to my age than I previously thought.


    The stranger paused for a few seconds before responding, "I..Have no...Name..."


    Does this person think I''m an idiot?


    <hr>


    Nameless


    The girl from the inn was standing in the alleyway.


    I simply did not have the answer to her question. I had no clue what my name was, and the girl in front of me obviously did not believe me. Her cheeks were all red from drinking and she was glaring at me annoyed. Her eyebrows drew together and she put her hands on her hips. She was really cute when she was angry.


    I couldn''t help but smile.


    "What? You think this is %$#@%? Why is every*hic* boy I meet such a %$@#@%$#@?" The girl questioned with a slight slur in her words.


    I responded, "I am sorry...I have no...Memory..I can..Hardly...Speak...Language"


    The pretty girl looked shocked. She probably thought I was mentally unstable, and she would probably be correct. I decided to steer the conversation away from my shortcomings.


    "What is your...Name?", I asked almost smoothly. My language was improving as I analyzed each conversation I had with people.


    "Amelia. My name is Amelia Conrad..." She replied.


    She seemed like she was waiting for a reaction of some kind. I had no guesses as to why. Perhaps she was someone well-known.


    "Where...Do you...Live?" Iinquired.


    She started laughing.


    "Are you some type of %$@#@$# or something?" She asked through her laughter.


    I apparently made an error in asking her where she lived. She then looked concerned.


    "You have a place to stay...Right?" She said slowly.


    I had no place to stay and no idea where to go. I was lost. There was nowhere for me...


    "Yes," I replied with a smile.


    She was scrutinizing me, as if she could see through my facade.


    "Alright, well are you going to play at the inn often. I would love to hear you play again..." She told me.


    I shook my headand then said, "I don''t know...I must go now..."


    "Oh...Okay well we''ll catch upsome other time then," She said while looking down.


    She stumbled as she turned to go back to the inn. I watched her as she walked back.


    She was quite charming.


    I turned back and walked behind a crate in the alleyway. I felt bad for lying, but I know it would only bring trouble if I told the truth.  I sat down and soon drifted to sleep.


    I dreamt of music.


    <hr>


    Several kilometers away in a Gligian church, a priest recieved word from one of his messengers...

 Chapter Five: Conscription

    Nameless


    I awoke refreshed and energetic.


    I sat up and surveyed my surroundings, a dirty alleyway and a large crate hiding my location from the adjacent street. From the amount of light filtering in from between the rooftops, I could tell that it was just past dawn. My stomach rumbled. The last time I ate was yesterday morning. I felt like I could devour an entire horse. I headed out into the bustling street, prepared for the looks I would inevitably receive. There were many people who were out walking the streets at this early hour.


    I took this chance to study some of the people who constituted this town''s population. There was a dark skinned man walking down the street in a sleeveless tunic flanked by two bulky men with brass rings in their noses. They eyed me suspiciously as they passed by. Most other people walking down the streets looked like common tradesfolk. I focused on the task at hand and searched for a bite to eat. As I headed in no direction in particular, a number of nice smells assaulted me. I came across an outdoor marketplace. There were several stalls on the side of the street selling meat and other wares.


    Perhaps my hunger affected my judgement, but no matter the case, I decided to obtain my meal through deceit. There was a woman with a basket of tomatoes calling out loudly their price. I approached seemingly clueless and then pretended to trip, pushing over the basket and scattering tomatoes across the cobblestones. As they scattered, I shoved two of them in my cloak as I fell to the ground. I got up and made apologies, even helping to pick up the remaining tomatoes. The woman instead of scolding me, tossed me a third tomato and smiled. I quickly shuffled away, feeling a pang of guilt as I bit into my breakfast.


    With food in my stomach, my mood improved. I began to run over options in my head. The only thing I could do was play music. I also had no instrument or anything to my name. There must have been some kind of musician''s guild in the city. As I was walking and finishing my breakfast, I recognized the old man from the common room. He was standing on a street corner apparently looking for something. I walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and a grin appeared on his face.


    "Ah! I''ve been looking for you since your %$@#@%$#@at the Twin Mares'' Inn. We need to talk. Could I interest you in a drink? My treat..." The old man spoke very quickly.


    He appeared very excited about talking to me. He appeared especially spirited for a man his age, reminding me of the little girl, Sylvia. I touched my hairtie unconsciously. He ushered me into a nearby building and soon I was sitting in a barstool. First, the man introduced himself simply as Pluck Songsmith, which was likely just a stage name. The man ordered me some type of drink and then got down to business.


    "I am going to be honest with you kid...I have never heard anyone play half as well as you did last night. There is a definite place for you at The Academy of the Arts. Would you be interested in coming to our small school? I am sure we could compensate you @%$#@$@#. We only %@$#@$ the best of the best. With your level of skill, you could probably become an %$@#@$%@." Plucksaid earnestly.


    A position at a musical academy...It is my only option I have so far.


    "What...Academy?" I replied.


    "You don''t know Ethrul Academy?! It is a branch of the Ethruhiel. It''s on the countess'' land in the center of the blasted town! As a man of music, you surely have heard of them...Right?" Pluck asked with a hint of unbelief.


    This Academy must''ve been a large deal in this town. The gruff man behind the bar slammed two large flagons of smelly, amber coloured liquid down in front of both of us. As I looked down at my drink, I saw my scarred reflection silently watching me. Pluckexclaimed loudly and began to down the large drink with haste. This was a man fond of drink. I took a long drink of my flagon and felt a familiar fire ignite in my stomach. I tipped my mug back and imitated the enthusiastic chugging of drink in which the old man was partaking. The old man looked shocked by the time he finished his drink that my flagon was already empty.


    "Now you''re someone I can drink with, son! Rick! Send us another round!" The old man said excitedly.


    The man behind the bar grumbled something unintelligible about a tab while uncorking another barrel of drink. The old man proceeded to tell me more of this academy. It was built next to the large stone structure I saw when entering the city. The minister of this town, The Countess, had a fond appreciation for music of all sorts, and The Academy was very well financed. Apparently, it was also a part of an esteemed musicians'' guild, which gave it significant political clout. According to the old man, this academy, The Countess, and the merchants'' guild ran this town.


    The politics of this town seemed very simplistic, with a single noble family which ruled through the small force of guards which report directly to The Countess. There were likely also militias which would rally during wartime. Pluck also told me that the population of this town, Mayfield, was actually quite small. Most people who were here were seeking to trade their wares, or they were part of caravans who stopped here on their journey.


    By the time the old man was done explaining, I looked down at the numerous empty mugs surrounding the two of us on the bar. My head was starting to feel fuzzy, and I felt especially warm and relaxed. Pluck seemed unaffected by the drink at all as he nimbly hopped down from the barstool. Patrons were starting to flood into the tavern, meaning that it was mid''day...Meaning that I had been sitting on the barstool for a significant amount of time.


    "If you would like, I could have a %@$#@$ escort you to The Academy so you can see it for yourself...HaHA! In my excitement, I forgot to ask''ya your name, son! In my defense, I had several drinks before we talked...So, how are you called?" Pluck said, his words seeming to pour out of his mouth with terrifying speed.


    "My name..."


    It would be very bad for him to find out that I still had no name. I guess I just have to make one up... Perhaps I could use the name of the boy with the bow...


    "My name is Da-...Darrius," I said to the old man.


    "You must be beyond drunk for you to forget your own name like that! Ha! You can still hold your liquor pretty well for a $@#%$#like yourself," Pluck admitted.


    As we moved to leave, the man behind the bar called out to Pluck in anger over the substantial tab which had built. Pluck called over his shoulderto send it to The Academy. As we walked into the blinding light of day, my head began to throb painfully. There was a gilded black coach stopped right outside of the tavern.


    "I wish to see your...Academy, Pluck." I told the old man.


    "Then let us travel! Gian! We ride!" Pluck shouted at the coach-man as we walked around to the doors of the coach.


    Pluck flashed me a lopsided grin as shoved me lightlyinto the carriage. Inside, the seats were leather, indicating a level of luxury which I had yet to witness.


    "I will have you know, I''m now a teacher at this here academy and I''ll be able to vouch for your attendance. Normally for a person to attend the academy, it would cost a considerable amount of silver, but for you, I sure that bitch of a headmistress will make an exception. Ha!" Pluck explained.


    I just listened silently while absorbing the information. The teachers at this school must be payed very well, if a carriage of this quality was transporting him around from tavern to tavern. He was probably high on the hierarchy in The Academy, whatever it was. The crack of a whip and the carriage lurched forward at a sickening pace... To The Academy.


    ''To a new beginning'' I thought as I leaned out of the carriage to empty the contents of my stomach.


    <hr>


    Amelia


    I woke up in my feather bed with a splitting hangover.


    Always after a night of carousing with friends, I awoke with a headache, but this was abnormally painful. I tried to remember all of what took place last night. I remembered someone playing a song of peerless beauty. I tried to recall the melody, but it slipped away like water through split fingers. However, I clearly remembered the conversation I had with the one-eyed musician after the performance. I thought he had a charming demeanor about him, even with his strange white hair and facial scar. It ran from his forehead down to the corner of his mouth and exposed some of his teeth. I thought that it made him look mischievous, but perhaps I was just very intoxicated.


    I think he rejected me...With my awkward, drunken flirting, there''s no surprise there.


    I looked out of one of my bedroom windows only to see the sun already high in the sky. It was probably around mid''day.


    Bloody Hell! Mother will kill me!


    Today was Sundas, and I had class at noon. I flung the covers off my bed and leapt off. I wondered why my the house servant, Agatha, didn''t wake me up earlier. Soon I was briskly walking out of my room, fiddle in hand, dressed in a practical, yet fashionable lavender skirt and blouse. Not even bothering to eat or speak to mother, I went down the hall and down the grand staircase. I exited the estate into the grounds, using the gardens as a shortcut to The Academy.


    Mother had signed me up for the academy when I was twelve. It really was this town''s only feature, a music academy to rival the ones in The Capital City. Some of the poorer noble gentry even sent their sons and daughters all the way here just to study at this school. I know I should''ve been grateful that I had the privilege to attend such a school, but it really was a pain! Mother tended to force her wishes on the people around her as easily as breathing. A truly fearsome woman.


    The actual structure of The Academy was unlike that of other schools, it had outdoor pavilions and small sound shells for musical performance. The only real building was called ''The Barn'' by the students and it was a relatively small structure and was only used for beginner instruction and bad weather. There were four classes of students: beginners, intermediates, advanced, and master. That being said, we now only had three teachers, one of them, Cyrus Copper who taught my class - the advanced division, had gone missing a few weeks prior. Currently, the headmistress had appointed a famous local troubadourto the task. If I wasn''t mistaken, he was a graduate of this very academy.


    I followed the paved path through my families'' gardens onto the main academy green. The Academy actually functioned on my mothers land, and so my tuition was essentially non-existent as well as having a very short walk to its grounds. As I arrived at the advanced students'' pavilion, all of the students had already circled around and were in the process of tuning their instruments. Most of the students in my class were the sons and daughters of merchants, so I was treated with exaggerated flattery and respect in order to try and curry favor with my mother. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The only person who actually treated me as an equal in my class was Elaine Morvel, who was the daughter of a low-born noble family far off to the east of Mayfield, on the border of the Ilyian Desert. Her skin was a light bronze and she had shiny black locks of hair which seemed to cascade off of her head. Her eyelashes were long and her eyes were a rich chocolate hue. If she weren''t my friend, I would probably be jealous. A true beauty. She was also incredibly talented with the harp. The only bad thing about her was that she was Gligian. God-folk like her sometimes put me off.


    "Amelia! By the God, I thought you were never going to show up! Quickly! Take a seat before Master Songsmith arrives!" Elaine exclaimedas I took the chair next to her.


    As I sat down I realized how hungry I was at the moment. There was nothing I could do about it now that I was sitting around the advanced pavilion. I began to tune my fiddle, which was a gift from my mother as well.


    "S''all right Elaine, I''m here now and this ''Master Songsmith'' isn''t and that''s what matters," I replied.


    "...Umm Amelia...Your hair..." Elaine looked sheepish.


    I reached up and felt my hair, which was from what I could feel, was horribly messy. I looked around, embarrassed to be seen with the sorry state my hair was in. Most other students were pretending not to notice out of respect to me, or more specifically, my mother. Elaine handed me a bone comb which she kept with her at all times. I began to rake through my flaming, waist-length hair with the feeling of a dozen pairs of eyes on me. My cheeks reddened even further. Mother would murder me when she found out that I left the estate with my lady-like appearance, and she would find out thanks to her extensive network of informants around Ethrul Academy.


    Tamwell, a son of a wealthy merchant with an uncanny knack for the lute spoke up, "When will that blithering idiot get here? We have been waiting for a quarter of an hour and he still isn''t here!"


    Murmurs of agreement rippled through the circled students. Apparently ''Master Songsmith'' was not very popular among his pupils. Most other students had a chance to learn under him already, but I rarely attended class. The students'' seemingly unanimous disapproval of the new teacher made me curious to meet him.


    An Academy carriage pulled by two black mares was rolling up the cobble path to ''The Barn'', the main building which was circled by the the numerous student pavilions and sound shells already ringing outin a muffledcacophony of music. It was probably the new instructor. The carriage pulled to a halt right next to the pavilion and a motley figure emerged. An old man with a ratty cloak sauntered into the center of the students. I could already smell the alcohol on him as he stood there actinglike a king among peasants. I looked at Elaine in surprise and she mouthed, ''I know'' back at me. I was looking at ''Master Songsmith''.


    "*Ahem* I apologize for my less than timely arrival. I was sidetracked by a personal matter...I hope all of you practiced your monthly number...What was it again?...Ah yes, ''The Follyof Sir Tahallad''. I would also like you all to welcomean observer...Darrius! Come on now boy!" The old man said with a rough voice as he called out towards his carriage.


    I heard Elaine make a quick gasp and turned to see where she was looking. My eyes fell upon a vaguely familiar pair of hunched shoulders and stark white hair shutting the coach door. It was the strange musician from last night. He looked somewhat green, but he still cut an intimidating figure. As his eye quickly scanned every student in attendance, his eye slightly widened when it fell on me. His study was interrupted by the old man clapping arms on his shoulder and telling him something. Other students were whispering among themselves, eyes flicking towards the new face.


    "Well, change of plans...I am going to have my friend here play a quick piece to show you all how far you still have to go before you can call yourselves''bards''...No objections? Have at it then boy," Master Songsmith said while handing''Darrius'' a 15 string lute and motioning towards a nearby chair.


    Most students in the advanced class were around thirty, so I was considered very skilled for my age...As was Elaine, Tamwell, and a few others. Most musicians at this level had been playing almost their entire life. I could feel the indignation of the people around at having been directly insulted. I just shrugged off the insult, instead focusing on the events unfolding around me. Some of thestudentswere openly glaring at the instructor and the strange looking young man.


    ''Darrius'' set his fingers and started to play a fast, simple melodywith an oscillating rhythm. He quickly sped up his music until I scarce could see his fingers blur across the strings. He then altered the melody into a complicated duet, each individual melody battling each other while keeping up the speed of his music. I was immediately enthralled with his playing, and so was everyone in the vicinity. I wouldn''t have thought it possible if it wasn''t happening in front of my eyes, but he sped up the tempo of his music even more. My eyes couldn''t even trace the movement of his fingers until suddenly an ugly snapping sound reverberated across the academy green.  The young man had stopped playing.


    I was wondering what happened when I realized that the strings on the lute snapped. All of them. His fingers must have been lashed by the strings when they snapped because they were now dripping with blood. Suddenly, all of the students were clapping andtalking at once. ''Darrius'' laughed and set down the now broken instrument. Yet again, his playing had left me stunned. No one noticed how he was cradling his left hand.


    "...Darrius will be helping...Supervise your lessons for now...Please give him a warm welcome." The old man said, answered by a more controlled applause and a smattering of discussion.


    The following lesson was not as exciting, mainly just dull articulation exercises. ''Darrius'' just sat back and watched with incredible patience as students struggled to play even a fraction as well as he just did moments ago. Finally, after around two hours of dull practice, the lesson was over. As everyone got up to leave, many students went up to talk to ''Darrius''. He said something to the eager fans and was met with laughter. I would have gone to talk to him, but I was ravenous. I also remembered that today was the day my uncle was supposed to arrive. Walking back towards my home, I set a brisk pace.


    Soon I was back in the gardens, where I talked with the family groundskeeper, Harris. He was a blond man in his middle ages, particularly taller than most, but he was one of the most gentle people I knew.


    "Mistress Amelia! The Countess ordered me to tell you that your family has arrived. They are exchanging greetings in the hearth room as we speak," The gardener said.


    "Thank you Harris." I said as he opened the door for me.


    I made my way through the house over to the hearth room, but before I made it, a giggling mass of flaming orange hair tackled me.


    "Amee! I miffed oo!" Little Sylva said with her head buried in my bodice.


    She had grown around two feet since I last saw my younger cousin, when mother and I were visiting Gehenea. Back then she was just a baby with wispy orange hair. Finally she released me and took my hand, tugging me in the direction of the rest of the Swiftand Family.


    While we were walking, Sylvia declared, "Your boobies are really big!" while studying my chest.


    I laughed out loud. Sylvia''s presence was a nice change from the pompous dullards which I usually spent my time talking to. When I entered the hearth room, Uncle Janci, Dag, and Aunt Carla were sitting on cushioned seats and talking with mother. They looked rather threadbare, probably because they had been travelling for weeks.


    Sylvia loudly announced, "Amee is here!"


    I moved over to greet my uncle like a lady, aware of my mother''s watchful gaze. As I curtsied, my uncle started to laugh.


    "God Amelia, it''s not like we''re in a ballroom! No need for formality among family, eh?" He said.


    Mother seemed perturbed by this and started to protest.


    I knew I would soon have my hands full.


    <hr>


    A cold wind blew over The Imperial City.


    Home to a multitude of castles and keeps, each housing foreign dignitaries and nobles of high rank, none were as magnificent as the Imperial Palace. Located on the northern edge of the city, it was constructed on a rocky outcropping which jutted out over the rest of the city. This made the palace look like it was teetering on the edge of collapse. The only way to access the palace was through a steel and granite walkway which ran for about a kilometer from the streets of the city below up to the great iron drawbridge, which required an entire team of oxen to raise and to lower.


    The walkway was lined with steel tiles, making the entire path gleam in the sunlight. This was only the least of the splendors of the Imperial Palace. It stood as a testament to the strength and wealth of the Xerian Empire. The palace was originally constructed by Oderic I Xeria, the first emperor. He and his army of one thousand Wytches had made the palace in a single day. A feat such as that did not come without a cost, however. After the palace was erected, his army exhausted theirstrength and they died soon after. All one thousand. Of course, this was just a legend. Magichad not existed...Ever.


    On this particular walkway, a messenger was running. He had an urgent message for the soon-to-be emperor, and there was not a second to waste. After a quarter of an hour of running throughout the various halls and vast chambers of the palace, the messenger had found the prince in the practice yard.


    The pudgy boy was swinging around a wooden, two-handed practice sword like a brute. His opponents looked like random civilians taken off the street. They were too afraid to attack the prince, and instead were just trying to stay out of harm''s way. Before the messenger called out to the prince, the large boy sent one of his opponents down with a loud THWACK to the face. The man did not get up or move after that.


    "My lord! Urgent message from the Ilyan Desert border." The messenger managed to choke out through ragged breaths.


    The prince halted his one sided assault and walked over to where the messenger was kneeling


    Wiping off his pasty, toadish face, the prince snapped, "What? Did that Conrad sow refuse to providefodderfor the army again?"


    "I...I''m afraid so m''lord...She s-says that she wont send any of her citizens to die for some, and p-pardon my language, ''foolish boy''s petty attempt at revenge''." The messenger stuttered.


    The prince took a moment to register the news. His face then transformed into a mask of rage as his heavy breaths quickened their pace. With a scream of seething fury, the boy brought down his wooden practice sword onto the messenger''s shoulder with tremendous force, shattering the messenger''s collarbone. The messenger could only cry out and curl into a ball as the prince rained down blow after blow upon him. Soon the messenger stopped screamingand the only sounds which could be heard were the prince''s labored breaths and the sound of wood colliding with lifeless meat. It reminded the servants what would happen to them if they displeased the soon-to-be Emperor Bilthas II Xeria.


    While most thought Bilthas to be a dumb brute, he was actually incredibly intelligent. He sought revenge for the death of the only man, perhaps the only human, that he felt compassion for. The Late Emperor Alkestis Xeria had died several years back while on an expedition to the north. In a matter of days, theemperor''s only male heir will be crowned emperor, and when that happens, he will wreak havoc on all those who had made light ofhim in the past.


    __


    That night,in the war-room of the Imperial Palace, the prince was speaking with one of the five Imperial Generals. General Folcard was one of the prince''s most staunch supporters, his only flaw being that he possessed a conscience and lacked ambition.


    "You''re serious...You want to launch an offensive on citizens of The Empire?" General Folcard said to the prince with more than a hint ofincredulity.


    The prince explained as if to a small child,"No, you see...They are no longer citizens of my empire. They are committing treason, and for that we will set an example for all to see...You will burn this city, and you will take the young boys. If your troops will not do it, then hire mercenaries to do it and let your army keep their false honor. The young have such pliable minds...We will take them for front-line meat."


    General Lews Folcard shuddered inside as he listened to the orders he was honor-bound to follow. Most frightening was how the prince sentenced boys who were around his own age to forced conscription. As soon as the general was dismissed, he relayed the orders with difficulty to his commanders and retired to his chambers to drink himself to oblivion.


    The prince had darker activities which he partook in the night. Often, the maids had to dispose of his sheets because they were soaked in too much blood among other things.


    __


    A dark mass of several hundred bodies,reekingof bloodand flames,descended on the badlands. They owed allegiance to none but gold. The Dread-Hawks seemed drawn to the horde, like vultures to a dead carcass. Small it may have been when compared to sizable armies, the town of Mayfield never stood a chance against such a force. The lawless men destroyed farms in their path, slaughteringthe men, taking the sons, raping the women, and burning the crop.


    They were given Imperial Pardon for their actions, straight from the authority of the prince himself. They left no witnesses...Mayfield never knew what was coming until the sentries spied smoke on the horizon. However, it was shrugged off as merely bandits, for caravans had been robbed frequently in the past few months. How wrong they were.


    No longer would Bilthas II Xeria be taken lightly.