Prologue: How It Was Back Then
It was summer and, naturally, the sun was out in full force. The clouds were in strong ranks as well, though, their white bodies shining in their effort to block the sun’s light. Underneath this atmospheric contest, sprawling under slow-moving shadows, the city of Semanath bustled and rumbled, its more than numerous citizens milling about with an air of short-term purpose.
Unlike most cities, there was no real market district in Semanath. Anyone could sell right on their doorstep and considering most of the locals had no liking for middle men, that was exactly what they did. There were a few artisans’, farmers’ and importers’ unions, of course; what city was complete without them? Suffice to say, though, on almost any summer day, there wasn’t a quiet place to be found in the city. Until the height of noon, that is.
As soon as the sun bore down directly on the sprawling city, no army of clouds could stall its volley of golden rays; there’s a saying that half the rain of Semanath’s summer turns to steam even as it hits the ground. With this kind of burning forecast, the people would at last retreat to the shadier, if blazingly still and stuffy, interiors of their dwellings to enjoy a good lunch and refreshments of fruit and crushed ice.
There are always exceptions, though, and two of them were sitting under the shade of a mango tree, watching a pet breeder testily attempt to seal one last deal before lunchtime with a very indecisive pair of little boys and a decidedly sweaty mother. Across the street from them, two older boys, riding at the crest of the wave that is adolescence, lounged in the shade between a pair of high-rise warehouses whose multiple lofts held the sunlight at bay.
One had long hair black with nobility and shiny with youth; he let it flow freely around his shoulders, but kept it out of his face with a bandana around his forehead. He was dressed in a loose shirt and narrow pants; a dark brown belt with a draconic buckler was pushed through half the belt loops, and a pair of gloves thrust through it on his right hip. He watched the breeder with reserved interest. His name was Liam Sandar Sanxing. The boy with him, who kept his eyes on the breeder and his customers with an owl-like vigilance, was Adram Irine Nabansha. He had dark brown, almost black, hair combed in bangs that almost covered his left eye. He had a smirk on his face, and held in his right hand a small stone.
The breeder stopped down, and picked up a cat. It looked irritated, but more than that, somewhat edgy. This was their moment. Adram loosened his fingers, and as the cat was not more than an inch from the closest boy’s outstretched hands, he dropped the stone soundlessly. Without lifting his eyelids more than halfway, Liam performed a quick gesture with his hand and smirked.
The cat screeched, the boy squealed, drawing back, the breeder dropped his pet in surprise, shock. Adram repressed a laugh. “Our justice is done,” he whispered. Liam smirked and nodded.
Adram got up, placed a sakkat on his head, and started walking down the alley where they had sat, away from the breeder who was apologizing profusely. Liam followed, covering his head with a white hood.
“What did you do to it, exactly?” Adram asked as they turned into a main street flanked by houses with red pillars, green roofs and whitewashed walls.
“I sparked a little fire under its ass,” Liam replied. “Simple stuff; I’ve done it before… Magalak’s dog, I think.”
“So that’s what you did, eh? Hmm… Well, I wonder…” Adram trailed off, saying nothing more. Neither of the pair felt anything needed saying, and they continued the walk in silence.
It was when they reached a gate in a low wall separating a rich subdivision from the rest of the city that Liam ended the protracted pause. “What do you think Raya’s serving?” he asked, adjusting his belt.
“Hmm… I have no idea,” Adram said, grinning.
“Guess it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, I’ll get one serving and then you’ll stuff the rest in your mouth before I’ve got four spoonfuls done.”
Adram nodded. “Your praise is slightly exaggerated, but I admit my talents are indeed great.”
Liam sighed. “Whatever…”
The two reached the center of the subdivision, marked by a large fountain with four gold eagles gracing its center; panicked carps caught in their talons sprayed four glistening liquid arcs into the large pool surrounding them. There was a couple sitting on the far side of the fountain’s rim.
“How’s that thing with your mother and the general?” Liam asked, averting his eyes from the couple to preserve their privacy.
“Oh,” Adram adjusted his collar. “She’s bringing him over, I think.”
“What, now? For lunch?”
Adram nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
Liam’s eyes widened slightly. “Interesting… Do you talk to him a lot?”
Adram rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”
Liam decided not to pursue the topic, but, sensing the awkward position he’d placed his friend in, Adram went on. “It’s hardly like a… troublemaker like me would have much to talk about with a respected general of the state, is it?”
Liam shook his head. “I guess not… Still, what if they… go through with it?”
“We’ll see…” Adram said, and with that, they reached Liam’s house.
It was, like the majority of houses in the city, built with large double doors inlaid with brass, fronted by a broad porch lined with narrow red columns that supported a green ridged tile roof. On one side was a lush garden with a line of flat, round stones leading to the backyard. Two small circular windows, their grilles worked into twin phoenixes, scattered a little of the internal sounds and scents onto the porch.
Adram removed his hat and Liam his hood, and they entered the double doors.
The reception room had dark wooden panels for a floor, and was largely undecorated, the only aesthetic additions being a tapestry on one side. On the other side was a small door –and entrance to the servants’ quarters. Across from the double doors was a set of more elaborate doors, these inlaid with more complex bronze patterns and lined in some places with silver. A bell hung on the right side of the door, and Liam proceeded to ring it.
There was a short wait, and then a girl who looked two or three years older than Liam opened the door. She smiled when she saw the two of them; her name was Raya, and she was Liam’s older sister.
“Hmm… have you two been up to something? Never mind.” She ushered them in, leading them to a round table where two younger girls were poking each other and giggling, and a teenage boy was popping nuts into his mouth. “Stay here; lunch will start soon.”
“Where’s Sara?” Adram asked, seating himself a chair away from the young man.
“Still studying, probably,” Liam replied, sitting down next to him.
“Crazy girl…” Adram grabbed a handful of salted nuts and put them on his plates. “Want any?” He indicated the nuts with a jerk of his head.
Liam got one in response, and popped it into his mouth. “Oh, hey, it’s your mother. And the general’s with her.”
Adram frowned for a split-second, then stood up. “I should probably go greet them,” he said, and walked up to them.
There were a few short greetings exchanged. Adram’s mother asked him how he was, the general, whose name was Ragas Osolo Rossi, made a bit of small talk with him. Adram got them both drinks, and then returned to the table.
Liam didn’t say anything, and at length, Adram muttered, “He’s not a bad guy, really; not too much in common is all.”
Just then, a girl a year younger than them sat down between Adram and the older boy. She said hi to him, received a ruffle of her hair, and then turned to Liam and Adram. “Hey,” she said.
Liam nodded.
“So, Sara, been studying even more?”
She nodded enthusiastically. She was an oddity. Most girls with as much energy as her joined dance troupes or theatrical companies, she, on the other hand, had chosen to pursue magic.
It had been a surprise to most of her family, but to Liam, who had let her, and only her know of his natural talents, it didn’t come as much of a shock. What came to Liam as easily as breathing, though, consumed almost all of her time. Needless to say, with her admiration of him, the rest of it was spent with her idolized brother.
“Have any new tricks?” Liam asked, popping another nut into his mouth.
“Not really,” she sighed. “I’ve been stuck on metallurgical thaumakinesis for a while now… I can draw the trigrams properly now, though.”
“As in, on the ground? With the dust-moving?”
“Yup,” her eyes lit up.
Someone struck his glass a few times with a knife. “Attention! Attention!”
He got results. The gathered diners turned their heads to him, ears awaiting some important message or another. “It has come to our attention that the lord governor is busy with most urgent matters. He sends his condolences and urges we not wait upon his presence. Without further ado, therefore, please, begin eating.”
No questions asked, this was what Liam, Adram and all the other younger ones had been waiting for, and they immediately helped themselves to the heaping dishes at the center of their table. They were young, and they didn’t fully understand what was going on. No one at that party had. So they ate and talked and for a few hours were merry.
That night, whispers of trouble swept through the city, and portents of danger knocked at every door. Five days later, the war marched into their lives on a foreboding tempo of iron-clad soldiers.
That party had been the first day of Liam and Adram’s last week together, and had set in motion events that would last more than lifetimes.
