Author's Note: This is essentially the prologue, but I am foregoing that and letting everyone get straight into the story. It has some necessary info-dumps, but weaved directly into the story to suit the conversation as a first and third person narrative. It is perfectly fine to NOT understand what is going on in this chapter, it serves to introduce the land, the main character and the setting. Rated PG for some content.

This is my NaNo being done in April.

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Chapter One – Belvil and the Sage

It had been a torrential downpour on the night the Sevek's eldest child came to seek the council of Sage Sevil. Born in Fian, fated to die in Fian. He would do as his father had done and as his father's father had done since the time of the great flood. Risking his life to traverse through the rocky and muddy paths of the Poleks, the mountain chain enveloping and splitting Fian from the outside world, he traveled and scaled them alone. Fierce gusts of wind threatened to rip his frozen hands and feet from the stone ledges, but even as the wind stripped the heat from his bones, the boy continued on far above the deadliest obstacles that he had overcome by day. The unstable soil had turned to mud that would flow like a raging river down through the fertile valley in a display of nature's fury most akin to an avalanche turned to a tsunami.

All too commonly, people are swept away never to be seen again amongst the seething twisting currents of the earth. Many would say that those who climb a mountain in the dead of night are mad, but what of those that climb while the rain pounds against you as the whipping winds cut and chill you to the bone? Suicide? To travel through a mountain pass as the earth shifts in attempt to swallow you, that is suicide. Desperation alone had brought him this far, and even while hanging three inches from death's grasp, it was unthinkable and unforgivable to slip after coming this far.

A strong mind can push even the weakest of forms to do impossible tasks, out of fear, sorrow, anger or joy. Though even my eyes were filled with surprise as I heard a soft voice cry out above the rain and wind battering my home. The sound million rain drops panged as they fell upon the tin roof. The screaming winds howled like banshees through the mountains and into my home. His cry pierced this cacophony and rang out with intensity, “Sage Sevil!”

From upon my chair, consumed thought, the cry alone was heard and as it fell silent, the raging wind and rain surged back into my head. Unabated and back with a vengeance, nature's fury filled my room as the boy threw open the door and rushed inside. The merciless wind tore through the shack, sending papers into the air, blowing over the oil lamp and spreading flame across the floor in brilliant light. My meager existence took flight and from order came only chaos in mere seconds.

“Sage Sevil!” cried the boy as he struggled desperately to close the door against the wind. For a brief moment the unceasing gusts of wind lessened and allowed the door to be closed with a sudden loud slam.

The spilled lamp burned brightly, engulfing several loose pieces of vellum into its passionate fury. Even as disarray and chaos filled the shack, the presence of the boy became the sole source of my attention.

He was fifteen now, none of his childhood remained with him. The spark and glint in his eyes were gone, replaced by terrible fear and exhaustion. From head to toe, he was soaked through at least five layers of clothes. Rapid breathing and pale, withered features illuminated faintly in the light of the fire.

“Sage Sevil!” he repeated again through heavy gasps. Unable to think, unable to rest, he was in poor shape and likely to die if left to his own care. The rain and winds had stripped both his ability to move and think in their chilly embrace.

With the sudden shock of his appearance wearing off, I rose from my chair and ordered him to pull off his wet clothes and dry himself off. Moving over towards the spreading blaze which could not be put out conveniently, I simply bathed in the heat and ushered the boy to do the same.

Now naked and shivering uncontrollably, the two of us enjoyed the warmth of the fire even though it would burn itself out in minutes. Silently and solemnly warming in the heat of the flames, words were not needed to understand why he had come.

For many years, Fian had been isolated from the rest of the world, but recently that had changed with a neighboring town a days walk away. That town was Belvil, an outpost of the Kingdom of Zar, specifically a military outpost in the middle of the pass dividing north and south. Unlike the neutral and peaceful people of Fian, the Kingdom of Zar was full of violent and proud people, who fought and died for their land in the name of God, Glory and Gold. Twisted and xenophobic, they did not deal well with foreigners and their gifts of well-being. Even the words of celebrated leaders and wise elders did not reach their foolhardy ears, and it was they who paid the price for it.

“Belvil has been swept away,” I stated for the boy, who only nodded as he crouched down in front of the withering flame.

The town was built upon unstable fertile soil on a plateau of rich soil flooded into the valley during terrible rainstorms. It was only inevitable that it would disappear beneath new layers of rich soil from the mountainsides. Like a winding river, the pass snaked through the mountains, but the pass itself was sloped and prone to flooding and upon those layers of unstable rich soil brought down from the mountainsides, the earth could flow.

“A pity. They pay the price again,” I sighed and reached for the blanket of my bed, “Clausek, take this.”

The boy took the blanket from my soft and small hands, though he appeared older and more mature, I was many times his senior. Standing a head above mine, he dwarfed me as did all others who have sought me out in my hermitage on the mountain. Wrapping the blanket around his slender and toned naked form, his eyes stared into the last flickers of the flame as they went out. Darkness filled the room as I took the oil lamp and set it upon the table again. The heat of the brass burned only slightly, and with a match and tap of the top, light once more filled the room.

“Sage Sevil...you don't look a day older then when I first laid eyes upon you.” Clausek said with a tinge of embarrassment, “It's been seven years.”

The rain and wind continued to lash against the shack as an uneasy silence separated the two of us. Usually the words came so easy after all these years, but to the son of the man who I had loved as my own brother, it was not that easy. The flow of time did not affect me as it did them, I had watched as he grew into a man, fall in love and even the birth of his sons. The memories flooded back and like the rain falling upon the tin, turned into something almost maddening.

“You've grown into a fine man, Clausek. You resemble your father, the first time I met him.”

“Thank you, but I look nothing like him. I will never be the man he was.”

Clausek threw his soaked clothes upon the heated stone, a hiss of steam shot up and seethed angrily as the clothes rapidly dried. The knitted wool coats and slacks spread across the stone floor stole the heat and attention again, but did not catch fire as originally thought.

“She has been asking about you.” Clausek said firmly.

“Has she changed at all?”

“She is a woman now and a very fine one at that,” Clausek said softly, but then finally giggled and added, “Same size, same face, but she had changed considerably. She has business with you, but cannot make the trip herself.”

“Serena has returned at last...”

I drifted off into thought, but Clausek pulled me from my memories with a surprising message in my native language. Five simple words, mutilated in tone and in accent, “I cannot live like this.”

Staring and starting to shake in fear at the words spoken in English, from which came from the mouth of my master and closest friend it weighed heavy upon my chest. Dedicated to cheating death and everlasting youth, a solemn promise existed between the two lost souls. There was no return, one could not undo the past, death was the only salvation for us. What had come from fear of death, transcended to its mastery and finally became seeking death. So disturbed and filled with pain, I started to breakdown and cry in front of Clausek.

“Did I say it wrong? Sage Sevil?” asked Clausek, moving closer to my trembling form to embrace me softly in his strong arms.

“You said it beautifully, Clausek,” I lied and fell into his arms as a helpless child. A weight which I could not lift had been thrown onto my chest, crushed under it, but still able to breathe in agony. A dulling pain throughout the core of my being, driving itself into my heart and filling me up with misery.

It was there, embraced in the arms of Clausek, on cold stone and surrounded with the sounds torrential rain on tin and fierce howling of the wind, that my life would forever be changed by that sworn and unbreakable promise between the two sages.