Medieval Fantasy Novel: The Skies of Felali

Here is the medieval fantasy novel I've been writing for a long time. I'd like any kind of feedback and suggestions. I just need readers! This is the first draft of a portion of the book.

About the rating: 12+ for this sample part. The full book will be 16+ because it gets more violent but this part of the story is relatively tame. No curse words. Only mild violence in battle with medieval weapons and magic, but nothing disturbing.

The following is chapters 1-3

The Skies Of Felali

by Patrick Mulvihill

Prologue

Flames swam across the mighty fortress. Thunder roared in the black sky, lightning illuminating a mighty tower atop a fortress drenched in flame.

A mother stood, clutching a baby on the tower top alongside a father with dark hair and strange eyes. The man stared down at the baby. Its eyes were a mirror of his, a dark mark slashed vertically across one of them. That child had to live on.

Suddenly, a roar of a monstrous creature rent the air, clashing with the pounding of colossal wings.

“Go now, Yema. Take the baby. It is the end,” he whispered.

“But you-”

“I must do this. Take him to safety. It is my final wish,” he said sadly.

A ray of flames shot from the monster’s gaping jaws, blazing a hair’s width from the woman, blasting against the tower walls. The sky flickered ominously. The woman stared forward where a massive creature flew in the black sky. It’s enormous, feral eyes glared, its wings beating madly. Its enormous tail thrashed with a trident-like spike jutting from the tip. It opened its lizard mouth to roar again.

Then, a burst of intense light blazed from the father and the slash on his eye glowed a deep red. The light grew blinding, concealing him like fog. When it cleared, where the man had stood was a great dragon with scales gleaming dark red. Its bat-like wings fanned out, obscuring the moon. Its head topped the towering snakelike form with glaring eyes and spiraling horns stabbing the sky.

The two dragons locked eyes. The dragon in the sky hissed, it’s emerald scales gleaming nearly as bright as the ruby scales of the baby's father. The red beast the man had been snarled and flew at the fiendish shape in the sky, wings pounding, wind blasting. The two shapes collided, claws slashing scales in a mad frenzy. Fire lit the skies.

The woman finally reached the exit on the ground fifty feet below and stared up in fear. The two winged figures battled above as silhouettes, illuminated by roaring lightning flashes. The villainous emerald dragon suddenly withdrew, wings beating madly. The woman squinted up at it, mystified.

The evil emerald dragon opened it’s fanged mouth and the entire sky flashed in painful brightness. The air itself pulsed and the skies rumbled. A cyclonic sound grew deafening. From the green dragon’s mouth, a beam of pure, blinding white light circled in spinning halos of fire burst toward the red dragon. There was a jarring blast of white flame and the light cleared, leaving a rain of ashes that the red dragon had been, cascading onto the tower top. The woman wept, clutching the child even tighter. His father was no more.

Chapter 1: Kynon

Kynon leaned against the grimy wall, the alleys stretching endlessly. The city stared back at him with its dull buildings and filthy streets. A chilled wind blew across his face, rustling his worn, dark cloak. His black hair swished back, recoiling from the wind’s icy embrace. Kynon sighed and walked into the tavern across the street, its creaky doors squeaking as he entered.

Pipe smoke filled the air and there was a thick scent of cheap wine and mead. He sat in the far corner, the shadows cloaking him slightly. Cover was what he preferred.

At the various tables were the typical assortment at the tavern. Quiet men sat silent in the dim area, dazed by their lives and their ale. No one had set foot in the city other then humans since anyone could remember. There was whisper of other, strange peoples outside of the city of Cale that weren’t human but Kynon considered most of the rumors to be mere mythology. Still, the idea fascinated him, fantasy or not.

As Kynon sat in the semi-darkness, the squeaky tavern door opened. Two young men barely older than him sidled in. There was something about these two men that caught his attention. Their blond hair was rare in these parts and their fine clothing with black shoulder pads set them apart. Their clothing vaguely resembled a uniform. The city guards alone wore uniforms but these men hardly seemed like guards.

They both smiled widely and had an air of superiority rarely encountered in the gloom of Cale. Kynon eyed them with interest. They walked around the tavern to the corner. As they passed Kynon, one bumped into him accidentally.

"Sorry,” he muttered, glancing at Kynon. Then, he doubled back and caught his eye.

“What’s that on your right eye?” the other asked, now staring as well.

“On my eye?” muttered Kynon.

“The black slash. You can’t be . . .”

“‘Course he isn’t. There aren’t any left.”

“I’m not what?” Kynon said, confused.

“Never mind. It’s just that slash on your eye . . . Tell me,” he said with a hesitant pause, “What do you know of magic?”

Kynon’s eyes widened slightly. Memories swam in his head. The word was scarce in Cale but hearing it spoken again illuminated darkened memories in a new light.

Something had always set Kynon apart, in isolation. Something subconscious in people had separated him as an outcast and he had grown with little social interaction because of it.

He remembered at eight years of age, an older boy bullying him, pushing him to the ground. It was easy to bully an outcast. He had stared up at the sneering face with pure hatred. Then, the rage had burned into a fury in him and welled up until his insides screamed. A strange presence pulsed with energy in him. The energy had felt like a flame in him, fighting to consume. Under the pure rage and humiliation, it built and tore at him until the fire inside him was no longer a feeling, but reality. It had burst from his hand, a tongue of flames that had erupted into reality.

The fire had flown at the boy in a sizzling burst, striking him, knocking him to the ground, smoke rising from his tattered shirt.

Kynon had stood, stiff with horror. He had stared for a moment in shock and disbelief at the boy on the ground, smoke puffing faintly from him. Then he had ran, his feet splashing puddles along the dark alley. Soon, the city guards would arrive to aide the boy but Kynon feared their reaction to him. Things like that did not occur in Cale. He couldn’t fathom it that day but now, as Kynon sat in the dimly lit tavern ten years later, he realized what he had done that day. Since his birth, he had heard legend and evil associated with magical force, though it had all been supposed myth. How could he have stepped straight into a world only in stories and imagination?

Kynon suddenly jerked back to reality. The strangely clad men still stared at him.

“Well, have you heard of it?”

“I . . . What do you mean?” Kynon asked.

“Magic? Controlling energy, performing anything beyond what’s possible? Bending the rules of this world. Have you experienced anything like that?”

They spoke with a strange passion and understanding that frightened Kynon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why are you asking me?” he snapped.

“Let me be clear. That slash on your eye is a sign. It’s no injury or coincidence. I know it isn’t possible for you to have one, but there were others in the past with that mark, all with magical prowess,” one said.

“I don’t want to be caught in this sort of thing. I’d better be leaving now, this isn’t safe to talk about here,” Kynon said, slowly rising to his feet.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then back at him. “All right, then. But if you want answers, we can give them,” they murmured.

Kynon hurried out of the tavern and down the street. He leaned against a wall and sank against it.

Of course he wanted answers! All his life, he had wondered about that one time in the past. He wondered if magic had controlled anything else in his life. However, in this city, the idea of magic was only acceptable in a story book, not from a living person. Most feared the idea.

The pure lack of friendships and isolation had turned him bitter towards the world. This city was suffocating him. Surely there was a place out there where magic was understood. Still, he would never know for certain because the city wouldn’t allow him to see beyond its foggy streets.

He made his way through the dirty streets, past gray buildings. Soon, he found the east district. The houses were humble but far from poor in comparison to many others in Cale. Some lived in filth in this city. Turning down another alley, he found his home, small and frail like the others. Kynon was surprised his mother could afford it.

He waited and soon Yema appeared, tired, her arms loaded with clothes.

“How was the market, Mother?” Kynon asked. “As usual. Summer times bring in more buyers and I’ve been sewing more to deal with it.”

“Are the other merchants selling pretty well?”

“I suppose. By the way, you’ve reached the age to be looking for a job. How about with the merchants, Kynon?” she asked.

“I just don’t want to spend my life that way,” he said firmly.

There was a strangely understanding look she gave him.

“Mother, what if I leave Cale?”

She gave him a calculating look and said, “What would you do out there? Besides, I need you here to help me from time to time.”

Kynon frowned and folled her into the house. It was true that he knew very little outside of Cale. Few of its citizens did as there was nothing but the towns Doni and Tondon to the north and blank land, dense forest, and mountains to the south. It was self contained by farms south of Cale and other materials from Tondon. There was no reason to leave.

Later that night, Kynon sat, staring out the window, the fireplace crackling faintly. He saw the dark street and the thin fog of the city over the buildings.

“Kynon, the traders are coming tomorrow. Can you pick up the supplies?” his mother asked.

“The traders are coming again? What do you need?”

“The usual. Wool, cotton, you must know by now. You’ve done it before,” she said.

“Is it safe on the roads outside the city now? I’ve heard it isn’t so calm lately,” said Kynon warily.

“You’ll be fine, Kynon. No one will trouble you.”

“I’ll bring the bow, anyway,” Kynon replied.

'You shouldn’t walk the roads armed. That’s more of a reason to cause trouble, just carrying a weapon,” she warned. “These are dangerous times. I’ll take the risk.”

Few ever troubled him. Most avoided Kynon’s presence, whether being familiar with him or not. It was partly due to his dark appearance with a dark cloak and long, black hair but some of it was just his presence. Something about him made commoners avoid him. But Kynon now remembered the uniformed men from the tavern. They had questioned him about his eye and singled him out because of it.

“Mother, did my father have a mark on his eye like mine?” he murmured.

Her eyes narrowed. “The birthmark? I supposed he did,” she said, “but why do you care?”

“I was just wondering. Did you say he was a commoner?”

“Not quite. He was part of his city’s military for a while,” she said.

“Where did he live during all this?”

“We both lived in a city called Faidale, a long distance from here,” she explained.

Kynon had never heard of Faidale. Cale was only place he knew well in all of Felali.

“Then why don’t we live there now? Are you telling me this is the only city a merchant can make good profits in?”

“No we left for somewhere more, well, secluded. Cale seemed like a good option. Some other cities are in dark times but we can live a good life here,” she explained.

Kynon thought in silence. Why had those men said remarkable people had worn the mark on their eye? His father didn’t sound remarkable at all, a common soldier in a city he had never heard of.

“Why don’t you ever talk about him?”

“Believe me, Kynon, I loved your father and I don’t want to forget about him, but he lived a dangerous life and exposing you to the struggles he faced is dangerous. I can’t let people in this town hear about his past or you could be in serious danger. That’s all I will say,” she said gravely.

“All right” growled Kynon abruptly, “I’m going to take a walk now.”

He walked outside and collapsed against the wall of the street, wind chilling his face.

He was always kept in the dark because of danger. If he had his will, he would face it, whatever horror it could be. Anything was better than the ignorance he had been raised with. But could his life really fall apart if he knew his father’s past? And the magic -- would he have to suppress it to keep his life intact? The cold wind blew on and his eyes glazed in the dark.

Chapter 2: Sighted

Kynon had already hoisted his old wooden bow on his shoulder and packed his quiver before the sun rose. Without a word to his mother, he had set off, a large pack in one arm to hold the day’s wares.

He traversed the shady streets, little more pleasing to the eye with the sun up than down. He crunched over the firm stone of the mucky alley. Soon, he reached the city gate, the towering stone mesh raised open.

“Off to the market?” the guard asked unconcernedly.

Kynon nodded and passed under the giant gate, worn and rusted from years of age. He stepped out to see the bright countryside. It was quite bare with some small trees and grass growing but in contrast to the claustrophobic corridors of the city, it was truly beautiful.

Small hills spread over the distance and the sun peeked over the distant mountains. In the other direction were small patches of fir trees that grew denser in the distance, dew gleaming on the needles like tiny lanterns.

He regretted that he could rarely leave the city but all there was of purpose outside of Cale was the market days several times a year with traveling merchants. The city was painfully isolated.

Other people passed the dirt road to the market but few this early in the day. He peered down the road to see a few people pushing empty carts and some carrying packs like him. Most bought from the merchants but it was also a good grounds to sell and trade wares.

Soon, Kynon reached the trading square set up at the end of the dirt road, just outside of the town of Doni. Merchants had set up wooden stalls with tables to hold their merchandise. Kynon walked past booths with trinkets, leather goods, and countless wares. He wasn’t interested in buying any of it but found browsing mildly interesting.

He reached the merchant who sold wool and cotton and payed for enough to fill his pack. He heaved the pack back onto his shoulder again and headed back to Cale.

As he walked along the quiet road, he thought about the two men in the tavern again. The memory of the time he had fought off the boy when he was young drifted in his mind. Surely that had been magic. Though he had been denying it for nearly ten years, it now seemed clear.

Stories spoke of all kind of miracles through magic and it seemed so amazing in the legends but the idea of it being reality was unheard of. The legends could be based on truth after all.

He remembered his mother reading him a story with a withered cover and yellowing pages when he was young. It had been called “Adol the Wanderer” and it had fascinated him.

Adol was a larger than life hero who’s miracles through the story caused him to garner admiration from commoners and respect from the mighty. When drought had threatened, the wise Adol would bring rain in mighty storms. When enemies attacked him, the earth would cave in under their feet.

If such heroes of legend were revered, why was magic feared now? Then, Kynon realized that when he had used magic, he had been confused and frightened to the point of denial. These people’s reaction of fear was understandable.

Kynon looked at his hand. Had fire really burst from this same hand? It was his gift. Why should he fear it? Kynon peered to the side of the road and saw the sparsely needled trees stretching on and he made his decision.

He crunched over fallen needles and dry dirt, passing trees. He continued deeper until the trees grew denser. Now he could see the Silt River near, it’s calm water glistening in the sun. He looked back and saw the road back in the haze of the distance. The trees now looked thick enough to conceal him, He set his pack against a tree and stood tall.

Kynon reached his arm out, his hand stiffened. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the feeling he had felt when he had created the flame. It had been so long ago . . . The energy had welled in him like a flame then escaped into reality.

If he felt the flame inside him, he could create it, Kynon was sure. But where did the energy come from? He had now been thinking, instead of being blindly furious in pain the time he had used it. It had all been beyond his control. Now he had to create the energy from in him.

He tried imagining a flame. He closed his eyes and pictured it as vivid as he could but there was no new energy in him, still. He opened his eyes and searched for a target. Maybe he could make it appear if he pictured its destination. Kynon gritted his teeth and tensed his protruding hand. He could almost see the fire, his imagination was working so hard. Still, nothing welled up in him but frustration. He cursed and kicked a tree in anger.

Kynon sat on a stump, his face starting to sweat from heat and concentration. He reflected and tried to remember again. He had subconsciously released his anger into flame when he was young. He had not been building off any particular drive now and that was his mistake.

He stood again and regained his stance, hand outstretched again. He stared at a nearby rock coated in moss. He imagined fire bursting at it, glorious and scarlet, smoking and crackling. He could almost see it.

Then, he thought of his confusion and frustration. The thought of the anger at his mother hiding truth from him, his anger at the dank streets of Cale and his isolation. Above all rose his desire to leave this place and learn his true nature and power. He wanted truth so bad, it was painful. Then, the ominous feeling returned. The emotion burned something new in him. It roared in him and he felt an energy beyond him. The flame was there, waiting for him to beckon it into reality. His gritted teeth turned to a smile and the fire in him exploded.

Scarlet fire burst in an otherworldly light, like a single, jarring color in a black and white painting. The bright flames writhed and twisted in a small shower of crackling heat. The flurry of sparks and fire showered the rock with a rain of tiny crackles. The fire disappeared, leaving the moss on the rock black and smoking.

Kynon stared for a moment in disbelief for a moment at the burnt moss then collapsed on the dry grass of the ground. He let out a soft laugh, the first time he could remember laughing. His emerald eyes sparkled in triumph. He had truly controlled magic. Though nothing like stories of legend, the small wave of fire had shown his dominance of his concealed abilities and displayed that he still could us the magic. No longer was it a suppressed memory but reality.

Kynon felt a triumph he had never felt before. His smile did not fade as he stood up again, the sun shining down through the trees. He trudged toward the Silt River. He crouched on the moist rocks and splashed cool creek water on his face. For once, he felt peace as he stared at his smiling reflection in the calm water.

He gazed into the crystalline depths, losing track of time. Light sparkled over the water surface and the calm rustle of the breeze combined with the soft trickle of the stream soothed him.

Kynon became lost in thought. The thrill of the magic still lingered in his mind, tingling faintly. Could he stay here anymore? The fact that he alone could manipulate magic set him apart from the commoners of this land. Would he be content living in denial, hiding like a lost child from the truth?

Kynon imagined the land of Felali beyond here. How large could it be? Did the skies of Felali forever soar endlessly? Was there anyone else out there? Was there anyone else with his gift . . . surely there must be. The myths of legend had spoken of others like him. Kynon wondered what it would be like to not be alone, accepted by others like him. The thought brought a faint throbbing into his insides.

A distant sound interfered and Kynon lifted his head to the left, looking up the stream’s path. The clatter of hooves came with the shapes of dark horses. As they trotted closer, Kynon eyed the riders. Several were clad in chained mail, short swords resting in their scabbards. Kynon peered closely as they drew nearer.

In the center of the guards rode a cloaked man, the nearest side of his face shadowed by his hood. The man wore no armor, unlike the guards. One of his arms was buried in his cloak, oddly stiff. As they drew level with him, the man’s head turned his way.

His piercing green eye locked with his. A strange buzzing floated in Kynon’s head and his insides rumbled vaguely. The gaze brought a strange feeling of familiarity that chilled him. Then, the man turned his head away again and plunged his stiffened arm further into the cloak.

Kynon continued to stare as they passed. He still watched where they had been in the distance once they were gone. The buzzing was now gone from his head and silence returned.

Something had felt strange in him, seeing that man. Why did he feel like he had seen him before when he was surely a stranger? He could not think why but an unsettling feeling awoke at the man’s presence. The man himself seemed peculiar, as well, hiding his face and covering one of his arms. Most travelers rode on the large dirt road from Doni and any who would ride through the more rugged land cared more for secrecy than speed and convenience.

Kynon eventually ceased puzzling and looked back into the trees and spotted his pack full of wares. He hoisted it onto his back again and trudged through the dry needles and dirt until he reached the road again, turning back for Cale. He took one look at the trees again, the skies bright and endless before he continued back until he passed under the dark gate into black streets again.

Chapter 3: Escape from Cale

Kynon’s eyes cracked open to welcome the rising sun’s light from his window. He lay on his stiff mattress, gazing out at the monochrome stone walls, light glimmering off their shabby surface.

His door creaked open and his mother, Yema stepped into the room. “Get up, Kynon. I need help bringing the supplies into town,” she said wearily.

He grunted in response and rose shakily from the tough bed. He followed his mother to the door. She lifted a sack of clothes and he pulled the pack of supplies from yesterday onto his shoulder.

The pair trudged down the blank streets, Kynon slouching along under the weight of the pack. Kynon’s eyes started to adjust to the light, grudgingly welcoming the sight of the gloomy alleys. Soon, they reached the market stalls where the merchants gathered. Kynon helped Yema unpack the clothing and materials from the bags, piling them onto one of the wooden tables. Other merchants set their stalls up for the new morning as well, organizing goods and arranging tables. Once Yema had positioned the clothing in piles, she said, “All right, Kynon. You can leave now. Thanks for the help.” “All right. Good bye,” he muttered and stepped back into the alleys.

As he walked, many people passed with shabby clothing and blank expressions. Another day had begun in Cale. The streets wound on until he turned off the road to a back street into his district.

Right ahead were two men leaning against a wall. Kynon recognized them from the tavern a few days ago. They stood out in their finely made clothing with padded shoulders.

“I thought we might run into you again,” one said brightly. “Let’s introduce ourselves properly this time. I’m Feld and this is Boyet.”

When they reached out their hands, he shook them gingerly, his eyes darting to the sides. No one was approaching. “And you?”

“My name’s Kynon.”

“Right. Well, have you thought about it? Do you want to talk to us now?”

“I . . .” Kynon stammered. His eyes searched the streets nervously but still, they were alone.

“We can’t. What if someone hears us?”

“So what if they do?” one said, his eyes narrowed.

“You aren’t from around here by my guess. It isn’t spoken about here. People are afraid to talk about-” he trailed off. “Magic?” one suggested.

Kynon nodded. The word still sounded strange to the ear.

“Well, if that’s a problem, no one can hear us if we go to the tavern. Barely any people are there anyway.”

“Well -- alright,” Kynon murmured.

When they entered the tavern, they headed to the dark corner where Kynon had been when they met. They sat at the table in the dim, shadowy light.


“All right. Who are you two and why did you want to talk to me,” Kynon said when they were finally seated.

“Boyet and I are from Vayon down south.”

Kynon stared, puzzled.

“Surely you’ve heard of it?” Boyet asked.

“No. Why should I have?” said Kynon.

“It’s a large city. It has a lot of weight in this land, I’ll tell you.”

“I don’t hear much from places apart from Cale,” Kynon explained.

“This area is pretty tough to reach. No surprise that it’s isolated from the other cities,” Feld said.

“Well never mind. What brings you here? Why did you even want to talk to me?”

“Well, like we said last time, we saw that slash on your eye when we were passing and wondered if it meant anything. The reason is that mark has been a birthmark on the eyes of some of the most famous people of legend,” Feld said quietly.

“Why did they all have the mark?” Kynon asked, eyes narrowed.

“Some said it was a sign of what was in them. Almost like a reflection of the magic inside them,” Boyet murmured.

Kynon’s eyes widened slightly. “Well, there must be a mistake. My eye,” he said, pointing, "
has a mark, I know, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I’m guessing it’s a scar or-”

“It’s too distinct. That dark shade . . . What could give you a scar that color?”

Kynon drummed his fingers on the table nervously. “I don’t know. But it it’s not-”

“Tell me something, Kynon. Have you used magic before?” Feld asked, his eyes now piercing, set in a sharp stare.

Kynon winced at the question. He stared back for a moment then nodded. Boyet and Feld gave each other a strange look.

“I have to know something. Is there anyone else? Can anyone else use magic?” said Kynon quickly.

They stared in disbelief. “You’ve never met anyone-” Feld began.

“Feld and I work for a whole alliance of casters like you in Vayon. How could you never meet one before?”

Kynon buried his face in his palm. He could barely believe them. The two men sitting across from him had met people just like him, maybe many of them.

“You didn’t know casters exist?”

“No. I’ve never heard about them, never even met one,” Kynon whispered.

“Someone like you shouldn’t have been raised here. If you’ve never heard of casters, this truly is an isolated place,” Feld breathed, a bitter tone in his voice.

“You say there’s even an alliance?” Kynon said.

“Yes, The Magical Alliance of Vayon. Pretty far south of here. They probably harbor the most magic users in the land. They could probably even teach you to use magic.”

“They could teach me?” Kynon said in awe.

Could he finally leave this place and discover what he had missed? The staggering dream of it left him feeling dazed.

“Kynon, you have to come to Vayon. If you really can use magic, the only ones who can teach you are there. You won’t learn much from staring down streets in Cale,” Feld said, seriously.

“I wish I could. I hate this city more than you could know. I can’t leave my mother behind, though,” Kynon said bitterly, “She needs me here. I’m all she has left.”

“I can’t force you, Kynon, but Vayon is where you belong. You know it as well as I do,” Feld said, sadly.

Kynon bit his tongue and stared down at his feet under the table.

“Well, if that’s it, we’d better leave. Let me say one thing before we go, though.” Kynon looked back up at the uniformed men. “

'You won’t be safe alone. Many from outside of your land could recognize your eye and even fear you. If you come into contact with outsiders, be wary. Magic can be hated and that slash on your eye is a beacon to the haters,” Boyet said darkly.

Kynon nodded, not knowing what to say.

“Goodbye, Kynon. Hopefully we’ll see you one day in your rightful place. We’ll be waiting,” Feld said quietly as they walked away.

The tavern door creaked shut behind them.

Kynon buried his head in his hands, his emerald eyes squeezed shut. To think that there were others out there who could use magic; casters, Feld and Boyet had called them, and he had been locked in Cale, alone from people like him. The city the men had told him about, Vayon, sparkled in his mind’s eye but the thought of leaving his mother alone in this lonely, dark city sickened him.

His mother, Yema could live without him and hold her career as a merchant but Kynon knew it would be a terrible crime to abandon her when she was widowed and with no remaining family. She had never spoken in depth of her past and was distant with Kynon but he had the feeling that she missed her old times and wasn’t fulfilled in Cale. He was all her support now.

But surely she would understand why he had to leave if he told her about the magic. He couldn’t stay here, alone and she would have to realize that. He thought long and hard, staring into the dusty wood of the tavern table. Kynon would have to tell Yema now. Whether abandoned or not, she couldn’t hold him back from his necessity. If he needed to pursue The Alliance to lead a real life, she couldn’t stop him. It was time to explain to her about the magic.

Kynon stepped out of the tavern, into the sunlight and paced nervously down the road, to his district. As he made his way along the streets, he took a glance at the enormous city gates, thinking of when he had left them to rediscover his magic inside. Maybe someday he’d leave for good.

He was about to turn away from the road leading to the gate, when he heard a sound of yelling and a metallic clatter of footsteps. He peered down the street and saw a group of soldiers in the distance, their gleaming armor in thick, steely white, shining in the bright sun. Their swords were drawn, long, sharp blades shimmering in the haze. Their shields stood out from the white armor, a sharp red, sun-like symbol set in the center.

Beside the marching soldiers was one of the Cale city guards, lying unconscious, slumped across the gate.

They stepped forward slowly, yelling things Kynon couldn’t discern in the distance. They gave Kynon a feeling of dread and he had a strong desire to escape. He looked quickly around the streets. Instead of revealing himself and running along the street, he ducked into a side alley and leaned against a wall.

The yelling soldiers came nearer and reached the houses. He heard the banging of doors as they intruded the separate houses. Kynon wondered what they were searching for.

He did not know why but fear gripped him as he heard them come near. Something mad him wary of their presence. They soon were audible from his alleyway.

“We’ll never find him this way. Some you go off down this road and the rest work their way down these houses. He’s got to be in this city, it’s just a matter of time,” one of the soldiers declared.

There was muttering from the soldiers and several footsteps sounded nearer. Kynon crept down the alley but it only stretched a small distance until a dead end. He cursed silently. Kynon look back up the alley, still hearing the approaching soldiers. Who were they searching for?

All Kynon knew was that he wanted to be as far from these invaders as he could. Sweat trickled cold down his neck and he gripped the stone wall, his fingers white. The metal clank of boots grew louder and louder.

“Check if anyone’s down this way,” a soldier ordered, “You three look down there and the rest of us will go down the main road further.”

There were grunts of agreement and most of the footsteps trailed away but several were now coming nearer. Kynon’s fingers now slipped against the wall from icy sweat. His eyes stared, emerald knives locked forward. His body was tensed like a cornered animal.

Three shining, white figures stomped into the gloomy alley, Kynon pressed against the far wall, caged in. One pointed at him and they ran forward, swords drawn.

Kynon stood tall, his eyes piercing the men. They stopped in front of him, intimidating in their glimmering armor and swords.

“What are you doing down here?” demanded a soldier, a helmet shadowing his face.

Kynon only stared at them.

The soldier turned to the others and muttered, “This can’t be him, can it? The King said he had a false hand, made of wood.”

A memory flashed in Kynon’s head of the man across the river. One hand hidden . . .

Another soldier with dark hair suddenly pointed at Kynon’s face, comprehension dawning, “Wait, Dorin. His eye! The King said he had an eye just like that black mark! It might be him,” he shouted.

The third soldier off to the side peered at Kynon’s face. This soldier’s hair was a deep red and his young face showed a strange compassion the others were devoid of. “No. Where’s your reasoning? Do you see a scrap of wood on his hands? Don’t be a fool,” he snapped.

“But that scar. The King might be interested in him,” sneered the dark haired soldier, malice in his eyes.

“King Fane would be glad if we brought this man in, though. He might not be the same as the wanted man but he has the same scar on his eye. Don’t you think the King would be glad, Aerid?” the helmeted soldier said.

“What’s wrong with you?” barked the younger, red haired soldier, “This isn’t the right man! What right do we have to kidnap just because you think the King would be pleased? That’s wrong and you know it.”

'It’s time you started acting like a real soldier, Aerid. If it might help the King, we’ll do it and you won’t stop us,” snarled the dark haired soldier.

Kynon glared, fury in his eyes. He didn’t care who they were searching for or why they wanted him, all he knew was a fury churning his insides.

“If being a soldier means being a criminal then you can consider me out. I won’t watch you ruin these people’s life for greed, or as you call it, duty,” roared Aerid, the red haired man.

“So it’s mutiny, Aerid?” snarled the other soldier, his teeth bared and eyes fiery, “You’ll wish you never betrayed us, you sickening little-”

The soldier raised his sword but Aerid was too quick, his rapier striking like lightning clanging against the soldier’s steel blade. With fury in his eyes, Aerid slashed in a frenzied flurry, the other man barely protecting himself from the onslaught, wincing at each clash of steel.

The other soldier with the steel helm stared for a moment at the two engaged in combat before reacting from the shock. He lunged forward, about to strike the betraying red haired man’s unprotected back.

Kynon reacted instinctively and leaped at the intervening helmeted soldier’s legs, toppling him onto the hard stone with a massive crash of armor. Kynon roared in fury, grappling with the soldier. The man struggled against Kynon to lift his sword but Kynon pinned his bracered arm to the stone.

As Kynon and the soldier writhed on the ground, the red haired man, Aerid, backed the enemy soldier against the wall, his attacks an intense blur. Aerid slashed so viciously that the soldier’s sword clattered to the ground. Before the soldier could retrieve the blade, Aerid’s massive shield bashed him onto the stone street with a hideous crunch where he lay still.

Kynon pushed with all his might at his assailant who tried to raise his pinned sword arm. The man’s strength slowly pushed Kynon’s arm back. Kynon gritted his teeth and pushed at the writhing man but the man’s superior strength was rising the sword arm free. If that sword came free, one slash could end his life.

The grappling soldier’s arm slipped free from Kynon’s grasp. Kynon stared, wide eyed. The sword flashed in a wide arc toward him, his life about to be severed like rope.

Suddenly, a blade stabbed down, blocking the lethal blade a hair’s width from Kynon’s neck. Aerid pushed the soldier away from Kynon, a grind of steel screeching from the tension. Aerid leaped onto the soldier, pinning him to the ground. With a yell of anger, Aerid pounded the soldier’s face with the butt of his sword with a heavy thud. The man lay limp.

Kynon gingerly rose to his feet to look at the red haired man, rising as well.

“You saved my life,” Kynon murmured, amazement in his voice.

“Those men had no right. They call themselves soldiers,” Aerid said bitterly. He stared at Kynon, “You saved my life too. The name’s Aerid.”

“Mine’s Kynon. I don’t know how to thank you,” Kynon said.

“Well, I guess we’re even. It was about time I left the King’s army, anyway,” Aerid chuckled bitterly.

“Why did you save me if you’re a soldier just like them?” Kynon said warily.

“Fane’s army is not all evil, Kynon. But seeing those men abuse their power makes me sick and I won’t stand it anymore,” spat Aerid.

“Fane’s army?”

“The Kingdom of Fane. From Faidale. It’s the largest nation in the land, the most powerful. I couldn’t have stood being a soldier much longer, though. Evil or not, it wasn’t my way,” Aerid explained. “I couldn’t stay in the army because -- I realized I could use magic and the army wouldn't let me leave to learn about it.”

Kynon stared, “You’re a caster?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

“I am a caster as well,” Kynon murmured.

Aerid gasped, “You are? Then that mark on your eye -- is it true?”

“Is what true?” Kynon demanded.

“You must be-” choked Aerid, “a Variant.”

“A Variant?” Kynon whispered, mystified.

Aerid’s eyes were hazy, almost not believing. “So few magic users, so few-”

“What does that mean?” Kynon said.

“I don’t have time to explain. We need to escape the rest of the soldiers here in Cale. You can’t stay here after attacking those soldiers. They’ll hunt you, Kynon,” Aerid warned.

“I can’t leave! I have a mother here. Where could I go anyway?” Kynon said.

“I’m sorry but you have to leave now if you still want your life. I don’t know when you can return but right now, this city is the last place you should be. As to where we will go, the city of Vayon. They don’t belong to The Kingdom and they will protect us as we are casters,” Aerid murmured.

Kynon bit his lip. “Alright. It doesn’t look like I have a choice. But one day, when it’s safe, I’ll return for my mother,” Kynon promised.

“Alright, you’ll need this,” Aerid said darkly, handing Kynon a simple pine bow and a quiver from his pack.

Kynon accepted them silently and strung the quiver on his back. He looked down at the two limp soldiers on the dirt street floor.

“Are the soldiers dead, Aerid?” Kynon asked blankly.

“I don’t think I killed them. They’re only unconscious by my guess. You should never kill unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Kynon said nothing, only looking at their silent forms.

Aerid was removing his heavy armor, dropping the pieces with heavy clanks of metal. He threw off his metal boots and replaced them with leather ones from his bag.

“Anything that’ll speed us up will help evade the soldiers. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

Kynon stared at Aerid.

The red haired man's eyes lit up. “It’s time. By The Sky above, run as fast as your feet will carry you,” Aerid yelled.

Kynon tore across the stone street after Aerid, racing down the alleys. They skidded the corner into the main road and shot forward, the giant grating of the city gate in sight.

Yells of shock and outrage came from behind them as the soldiers discovered their fallen comrades. Then, a clamor of metallic boots roared from behind them. Kynon glanced over his shoulder as he ran and saw a group of soldiers chasing them, their white armor gleaming and their mouths roaring curses.

Kynon closed his eyes and ran on. The drumming of his heart was so strong. He would not stop. The cursed soldiers would never catch him. He followed Aerid under the massive gateway and they crunched over grass and dirt, wind blasting through his ears. Aerid shot to the right and Kynon struggled to keep following, Aerid’s speed never ceasing in intensity.

Kynon still heard the shouts of the soldiers in the distance behind them. Pine trees soon came into sight and grew denser as they ran.

“Stop!” Aerid yelled, leaping behind a large clump of trees.

“What are you doing?” wheezed Kynon.

“We won’t outrun them forever. We’ll freeze those cursed sun-shields in their path.”

Kynon wordlessly strung the pine bow and ducked behind the trees. He spotted the gleaming white shapes tearing across the grassy land. Kynon’s eyes locked forward, his palms sweating. He had rarely used it but now was the time for the bow to save his life.

He pulled back the arrow, squinting at the distant forms. He loosed the shaft, a white streak through the air that soared at the soldiers. It flew off course halfway towards them. Kynon cursed and set a new arrow in place.

“Watch this, Kynon. They aren’t going anywhere,” grimaced Aerid.

Aerid reached out his hand toward the soldiers in the distance, as if aiming an invisible bow. His eyes closed in concentration for a moment. They suddenly snapped open and from his palm, a beam of crackling energy burst forward, an electric beam that gleamed, a bolt of lightning on a clear day. The lightning sizzled through the air and exploded in a fiery burst at the feet of the soldiers where they toppled to the ground, yells of terror filling the air.

Kynon stared in amazement at Aerid. He wasn’t alone anymore.

“Now’s your chance, they’re on the ground!” Aerid barked.

Dazed, it took Kynon a second to react before taking aim again. The bow twanged and the arrow shot true, knocking one the soldiers limp to the ground.

Kynon roared in triumph. The white mailed soldiers stared in terror for a moment. Then, they turned and ran, several lifting their fallen ally. The glimmering white forms faded into the hazy distance.

“Kynon! We’ve lost them!” Aerid yelled in triumph.

“For now, Aerid,” Kynon murmured darkly.

“They won’t follow us after that, I’d guess.” Kynon shrugged. “Which way will we take to this city, Vayon?”

“We’ll follow near the river south. Then, I say we go through The Faise,” suggested Aerid.

“The south forest?”

“Yes. It’ll be tough but the forest is the easiest way out of this valley.”

“Is it the only way out?” Kynon asked.

“Well, there’s the mountain range but that would be much more difficult to traverse. The woods are thick and rugged but it would still be easier. It would be a straight shot to Vayon.”

Kynon and Aerid pressed on through the land, pines and hills passing by. Kynon nervously looked back. All he could see was the gray walls of the city in the distance. He wondered if he would ever enter those gates again. Aerid silently stepped ahead of him, his red hair rustling in the breeze. He was a sharply contrasting figure to Kynon. Aerid stood tall, his sword resting at his hip, his clothing rugged but of finer make. Kynon’s dark cloak and black hair, mixed with his pale, sun-denied skin was a much darker figure.

The pair eventually passed out of sight of the city and fields of wheat and farm houses came into view. Aerid and Kynon passed further away from the farmlands to retain their solitude, the fields eventually growing smaller and the sun lazily sinking beyond the distant hills, orange light bathing the pines.

“Aerid, it’ll be dark soon enough,” Kynon said.

“Right. The country gets more rugged soon and we might find a good place to camp,” Aerid explained.

More and more pines rose from the distance as they marched on. Dusk was slowly falling and the sun’s light waned across the land. Soon, the trees were dense enough to block most of the remaining sunlight, leaving a shadowy mass of trees. They reached a small clearing and decided to finally halt their march.

Soon, a large tent was pitched on the earthy soil. A campfire’s flickering light melded with the faint moonlight’s silvery glow. Crickets and the breeze formed a gentle forest sound. Kynon stared into the firelight. His emerald eyes reflected the crescent moon.