Good News Everyone!

So, I don't know how many people still come here on occasion or will even see this, but I figured I would go ahead and post this anyway.

My last post was over a year ago, back in March. I was really pushing forward with my Stormlord project, and I had tried out several different ideas in order to see where I wanted it to go. Then, suddenly, I lost all motivation and desire to write anything for a long time, and now I've gone and graduated. Summer is here again, and this is my last real chance to get some heavy writing done before life begins changing drastically and irrevocably.

I looked back through my old stuff, did some heavy thinking and planning, and starting coming up with new ideas for Stormlord. So, with any luck, I will be posting on here again soon (my computer is in the shop for now). I hope that I can remain motivated and not be frustrated with my writings, so we will see what happens. If anyone does read this, please leave a comment (it doesn't have to be long) just so that I know that I'm not just talking to myself here.

Well, I have nothing to post right now other than this, so here's a funny picture to hold you through in the mean time.

Stormlord, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

The sky was tinted orange by the time the merchant team entered Seras. Isaac watched the Storm above, transfixed by the streaks of blue-white light dancing across the orange background. It was a beautiful scene, one which he could watch forever.

With only an hour of daylight left, Master Hamm’s first goal would be to secure lodgings at one of the city’s inns. Already, some of the residents—mostly children—were watching as the team made its way down the main thoroughfare. Master Hamm would only start selling his wares once he knew he had a place to stay for the night. Isaac waved cheerily at the youngsters who tagged along with the wagons.

Seras was much the same as he remembered. Houses lined the street, giving way to shops as they went further into the city. Other buildings, mostly two-story structures, stood along smaller roads and back alleys. Some houses appeared to be taller or shorter than others due to the rise and fall of the land. As with most small cities, the buildings here were not packed too close together; Isaac felt like he could suffocate in the larger cities because of the close proximity of the buildings. He liked open spaces; too many people in one place unnerved him.

The center of the city was a clear circular area, paved with swirling patterns in the cobblestones. It was more decorative than functional; its real purpose was to allow all the people of the city to gather in one large, open area. Already, lanterns hung from posts around the circle, illuminating the staging grounds for what would later be the place for festivities.

Isaac glanced at a house standing on a rise bordering the circle. It belonged to his old friend Marlow, the man who had taken him in so many years ago. Isaac had shown up on the man’s doorstep one night ten years ago, his only possessions being the clothing he was wearing and a small memento from his father.

Marlow had been like a father to Isaac since then. Isaac had regretted leaving him behind in Seras. He had other friends from his adolescence here as well, namely Claire. He still did not know how he was going to approach her.

The wagons pulled to a halt outside a wide building. A stable had been built next to the main building. A sign depicting a blue bird sitting on a tree branch hung above the doorway. It was the Bluebird Inn, generally regarded as the best in the city. It was not only a place of rest, but also served as a pub. People from out of town were not the only ones to frequent its common room.

Master Hamm huffed as he climbed down from his wagon and entered the inn. Brand sat like a statue as they waited, giving no indication of his thoughts. The man rarely made extended conversation, especially in unfamiliar territory.

After several minutes of waiting, Master Hamm and another gentleman of roughly the same shape and size emerged. The innkeeper, Heb, was a jolly fellow, letting out a deep-bellied laugh nearly every time he spoke. Isaac remembered him well; he was the one who allowed Isaac his first taste of ale, although Marlow had had a fit when he later found out. Still, Heb was a sincere man with good intentions.

“All right boys,” Hamm began, “we’re staying here tonight. Master Heb here will send out some of his workers to take care of the horses and wagons; Jensen, I want you to supervise them.” Isaac knew that Master Hamm simply did not trust anyone who did not work for him, but Heb had probably not noticed.

The rest of the team dismounted from the wagons, bringing their packs with them inside. The common room was filled with the familiar scent of ale, as a handful of men had already settled in for the night. Booths sat against the walls while circular tables dominated the center of the area. A long, polished counter stood against the wall to Isaac’s left. Across from him was a door leading into the kitchen, and the staircase was situated in the far right wall. A small, portable stage stood to one side and could be moved for a performance.

“All our rooms are on the second floor,” Heb pointed out. “The last four rooms on the left side of the main hallway will belong to your group.” Several of them groaned; no one liked sharing a room after traveling for so long. Isaac, however, had no intention to stay in the inn. He had a real home to go to.

The rest of the group headed up the stairs to get their things settled. Isaac made no move to follow them. Master Hamm shot him a glare.

“I suppose you think you’re staying somewhere else tonight, hmm?” Hamm questioned.

Isaac nodded. “That’s correct,” he answered. “If that is all right, of course.”

“Yes, yes, it’s fine,” Hamm said, waving a hand nonchalantly. “This is your home, after all. Just don’t cause any trouble for me.” Isaac suspected the man was also glad to have one less person to pay for.

Isaac grinned, nodded to Heb, and exited the building. More people were beginning to gather in the circle, although the festival would not begin for another hour or more. Isaac strode confidently toward Marlow’s house, ignoring the scowling eyes that tracked his progress. Apparently there were some who did remember him quite well.

He walked up the path leading to the front door and stopped. He knocked and waited; silence greeted him. He knocked again, pounding the door with his fist. Marlow was not growing any younger, and Isaac wanted to make sure he was heard.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” yelled a voice from inside. “Whatever the problem is, I’m sure it can wait a few more seconds.” Isaac waited for the familiar sound of locks clicking. Finally, the door opened away from him, revealing a tall man using a cane for support. His hair and beard were completely white, but his wrinkled face showed the strength of a younger man.

Marlow stood still for a moment, appraising the man standing before him. “Isaac?” he said slowly. A grin split his face, creating more furrows in his skin. “You’re back. I can’t believe it.”

Isaac opened his mouth to speak, but was suddenly gripped in a fierce hug. Marlow had surprising strength for a man of his age.

“It’s good to be back,” Isaac said through clenched teeth. Finally, Marlow released him, and Isaac could breathe again.

They stood in the doorway for a moment. Isaac could see Marlow sizing him up, judging how much Isaac had changed with an experienced eye. Marlow had always been one to examine the actions of others; it was a habit that he had picked up in the past, though he had never told Isaac exactly how he had.

“Well come in, boy,” Marlow said, grabbing him by the arm. “Don’t stand in the street gawking all day.”

Isaac followed the older man into the house, moving through a spacious living room into a well-furnished dining room. Not much had changed in the house, although the extra chairs that had once surrounded the dining table were now gone.

He took a seat and waited as Marlow walked into the kitchen. He limped slightly on his right leg, although Isaac suspected the cane was more out of propriety than real necessity. He had seen the man be quite spry in the past.

Marlow reemerged with two glasses of a dark red liquid. Isaac cocked his head quizzically at the sight.

“What?” Marlow asked.

“I never knew you drank much wine,” Isaac answered.

Marlow snorted. “Just because I don’t drink the stuff doesn’t mean I can’t own it. Besides, this is a special occasion: You have returned, and the Summer Festival is tonight. I have cause to celebrate.”

Isaac accepted the cup and took a sip; it was quite rich. Marlow had always frowned on drinking, finding it a rather unrefined activity. Isaac found the irony of wine being unrefined quite amusing.

“So,” Marlow said at last, “how have you been, Isaac?”

It was a simple question—for anyone but Marlow. He would want to know every detail of Isaac’s journey since leaving Seras.

“I’ve been well,” he said. “I’ve learned a lot these past three years. Not just about trading, but other things. Important things.”

He idly reached into his pocket and pulled out a smooth round object, no more than an inch and a half across. He often rolled it around in his hands when pressed into conversation.

“I see you still have that memento your father gave you,” Marlow said, nodding to it. The gemstone had a polished blue-violet surface, ingrained with white lines radiating from the center. It reminded him of the Storm, like someone had captured its essence in this piece of finery.

Isaac nodded absently. “Of course. I haven’t been able to let it go, not yet.”

“Did you find anything out about your parents out there?”

“No,” Isaac said solemnly, shaking his head. “I don’t really know what I expected to find; we didn’t even spend much time in Aldera. Seras is one of the first stops now that we’re back. Master Hamm intends to make his way north, to Therin.”

“Will you go with them?” Marlow asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Isaac replied. He returned the memento to his pocket. His father had never told him what it was, only saying that it was important. Soon after, his parents had been killed in one of the first conflicts of the war. Isaac still remembered, ten years later, his mother’s lifeless gaze staring up at him….

He shook his head, determined to put such thoughts out of his mind. He did not like to dwell on the past. Still, Isaac had harbored a tiny hope that maybe, even after all this time, that his father might still live.

Banishing his thoughts, Isaac took a deep breath, preparing to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind for the past few months.

“Marlow,” he said, “how is Claire?”

The other man sat still for a minute, idly swirling his wine. “She’s fine, last I knew,” he said. He caught Isaac’s eyes. “She left, Isaac. Almost a month ago, she decided it was her time to see the world. Like you, Isaac.”

“I see,” Isaac murmured, looking into his wine. He really had not known what to expect. He and Claire were the same: restless, curious. He should have realized she would not stay for long in Seras.

“Did she go alone?” he asked.

Marlow sighed. “I’m afraid she did, son. She left a note for her parents and was simply gone one morning.”

“That foolhardy girl,” Isaac said, gritting his teeth. “She should have known better. There are always dangers out there: bandits, animals, the war. Why would she do something so foolish?”

“Oh?” Marlow said, raising one eyebrow. “You mean to tell me you wouldn’t have done the same? I recall quite well how insistent you were to leave when you were her age. I barely got you to wait a year longer before you took off with that merchant.”

Isaac felt his cheeks growing hotter. He went back to looking at his wine. Marlow was right, of course. If the old man had not stopped him, Isaac would have left Seras many times in the past by himself. Finally, when he had turned twenty, Isaac had been able to convince Marlow to let him go.

“I just wish she could have waited a little while longer,” Isaac said. “Do you know where she’s headed?”

Marlow nodded. “She said she wanted to go to Therin, to try to make a difference there. She wants to travel, yes, but that girl has big aspirations too. Sometimes it seems as though she wants to help the whole world.”

Isaac smiled. Claire’s passion for helping others rivaled that of her temper. She had always been small, and more often than not had gotten into fights over her size. However, she could not stay angry for long and would always end up apologizing for her actions.

“You said you’ll be traveling that way too, didn’t you?” Marlow asked.

“Yes,” Isaac said. “But it will probably be a good three months before we make it to Therin.”

Marlow rubbed his chin, thinking. “A man from Therin just arrived here several days ago, actually; a soldier, from the look of him.”

“What is a soldier from Therin doing here?” Isaac asked, scowling. Soldiers were never a good sign. “And why is he alone?”

“I’m not sure. He came in from the south, just as you did. I suspect he is on his way back to Therin. He was fairly secretive about his purpose here, but I don’t believe he means us any harm.”

Isaac’s scowl deepened. He knew that soldiers from the south had been the ones to destroy his home, but he found it hard to trust any of them. Many of the soldiers he had met fought for the pay, not their king or country.

“I know that look,” Marlow said. “Don’t be thinking about getting into any trouble with that man. He’d chew you up and spit you out in a heartbeat.”

“I would never go that far,” Isaac said. “You know I would rather have a debate than a brawl.” It was true. Brand had taught the older members of the team the basics of fighting with a sword. Isaac had picked it up fairly quickly, but he still preferred finding a solution through conversation, not sheer force. Unfortunately, it always seemed that not many people shared his opinion.

He turned and looked out the window behind him. The sun was dipping behind the horizon, casting elongated shadows across the land. The Summer Festival would begin in an hour or so. He wondered if they were having the same celebration in Therin. They most likely were not; the rumors said that groups of refugees were trickling into Therin daily, and it was growing increasingly difficult to find a place to live there. He only hoped Claire was safe.

He downed the last of his wine and stood. “I’m going for a walk,” he said.

“All right,” Marlow said. “I will see you later then, Isaac. Make sure you enjoy yourself tonight. Don’t be wallowing around now.”

Isaac stopped at the door. “I’ll do my best,” he said, stepping out into the street.



Marlow stood in the doorway for a time after Isaac had left. The boy—man, rather, although he found it hard to view him as such—had always been reckless and headstrong. Although, Marlow could not fault him for being so; he too had been like that in his youth.

It was clear that Isaac had grown much over the course of the past three years. He was still his usual self, but Marlow could see the signs in the way he spoke and acted. Yes, Isaac had grown out of the boy he had been. Marlow wondered how, and when, it had happened. Maybe traveling across the lands with that merchant had been a good idea after all.

A figure appeared in the doorway of the Bluebird Inn across the square. It began moving about in a seemingly random, inconspicuous manner, but Marlow discerned that the stranger was making its way toward his house. From the way it walked, he knew it was a man—an old friend of his, no less.

“Welcome back, my old friend,” Marlow said as the man drew closer.

Brand grunted, his gnarled face showing a scowl, meaning he was pleased. People had always mistaken Brand for a grumpy fellow, but Marlow knew the truth about the man.

“Marlow, you old dog, you’re still alive?” Brand joked, giving a raspy chuckle. He gripped Marlow’s hand firmly and shook it.

Marlow smiled. Brand was a friend from days long gone by, when they had been young men traveling the world, much like Isaac. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come in already.”

He led Brand to the dining room and offered him the seat Isaac had recently vacated. He poured a glass for the other man; he still had some of his left from before. With a grunt, he lowered himself back into the chair.

“So, how have you been my friend,” Marlow asked, sipping his wine.

“Well enough,” Brand replied. He took a large swig of wine and managed a smile. “I’m not getting any younger, that’s for certain.”

Marlow nodded. “Neither am I. I trust Isaac hasn’t given you any trouble over the years.”

Brand sat quietly for a moment. “That boy is something else, Marlow,” he said finally. “He’s one of the most polite young men I’ve ever met, but he won’t hesitate to give his opinion. He may be too clever for his own good, sometimes.” He paused. “He’s a good man, though. I’ll be sorry to see him go.”

“I’m not quite sure what he will do,” Marlow added. “I think he wants to go to Therin immediately. How he intends to do so, I haven’t a clue.”

They fell silent, each to his own thoughts. “The world is changing, Marlow,” Brand said grimly. “I have seen it. This civil war in Aldera is just a start. There is tension in other countries as well. There has been talk of strange things happening in the night. I’ve even heard rumors of rogue Vorkyr leaving their herds and attacking people. It’s crazy, I tell you.”

Marlow frowned. “I’ve been hearing the same things, although I am more concerned about the future of this nation at present. What have you heard about the war?”

“There have been whispers of a new weapon in the south,” Brand said. “The northern forces have been holding the frontlines, but something has changed recently, according to my sources. These are not good times to go out alone.”

Marlow wondered how Claire was faring. He cared for the girl greatly; her closeness to Isaac had made her something of a daughter to him. He could not let Isaac go alone to Therin. Maybe, if he could get another word in with that soldier, he could persuade him to go with Isaac….

He glanced out the window. Darkness had descended on the city, and a bright orange glow was emanating from the square as men prepared for the coming festivities.

“Well, we can gossip and worry like a couple of elderly ladies later,” Marlow said, rising with some effort. He really was feeling old today. “I say we go enjoy the Summer Festival like we used to.”

Brand chuckled, standing and following his friend to the door. “I always did like coming to Seras at this time of year. The people here are always so friendly.”

They stepped outside, and Marlow pulled the door closed behind them. Lanterns ringed the square, and tables and chairs had been set up around the edges for the feast that would take place. Like Isaac, Marlow enjoyed the atmosphere of a small city; almost everyone knew each other, making for a safer and healthier environment.

He took a deep breath of the warm night air. “Well, let’s get moving,” he said. “We wouldn’t want to miss the opening.” He started forward, Brand at his side. On nights like this, Marlow felt it was appropriate to stop worrying for a while and just enjoy life.

After all, he would have plenty of time to worry later.

Stormlord, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Lightning flashed across the sky.

Wind howled, rolling across the grassy hills. The noonday sun shone high above, peeking through the passing clouds. Bright flashes arced among the clouds. The wind and lightning were common most days, although rain was not as abundant.

Isaac perched on a large rock jutting from the hillside, shaded by the Seras Woods behind him. Below, a group of men moved about a circle of four wagons, preparing the midday meal. Bird songs drifted through the trees to him, combining with the sounds of horses whinnying and men cooking. As always, Isaac felt that there was a certain music to the noises around him, and the lightning overhead seemed to dance to the rhythm.

He returned his attention to the tattered and faded piece of paper he held delicately in his hands. As he had done every day for the past three years, Isaac read through it, tracing the flowing words that he had committed to memory long ago. He remembered well the hand that had written it, and the girl to whom that hand belonged. Of course, she would not be a girl any longer. She might not even be his friend anymore, after the way he had left.

With a sigh, Isaac carefully refolded the note and tucked back into the pouch hanging on the side of his belt. He should have been helping the others set up, but they had newer, younger assistants now. He was not lazy, but he had needed a few minutes alone to think before they arrived to their destination.

A pudgy man stood in the center of the group of wagons, pointing in different directions and giving orders. Master Hamm—suitably named, in Isaac’s opinion—was a merchant of some renown. Three years ago, just after Isaac’s twentieth birthday, the man had visited his home city, Seras, selling his wares. At that time, Isaac wanted nothing more than to see the world, and so he decided to join the man’s team.

Now, they had come back to Seras. He wondered if Master Hamm remembered leaving the city with a surprise new apprentice. Isaac was an odd case; he had no aspirations to be a merchant. It would be a stable living once people knew who he was, true, and he could travel all he wanted. But the life of a merchant did not suit him, he felt.

He stood and stretched, watching again as lightning danced among the clouds, giving the perpetual appearance of impending rain, although such was not the case. It was the Storm, Isaac had been taught; the innate life force that ran through the world and all things in it. Very rarely were the skies ever completely clear—not that he would want such a thing. Days without the Storm’s presence were odd. Everything seemed to lose a touch of color, making the world look almost bland; lifeless, even.

Sometimes, he wondered what it must be like to be lightning, to be completely carefree, not worrying about what he was going to eat or where he was going to sleep. It was an odd thought, he knew, but he had always been something of a dreamer. His daydreams had gotten him into trouble before, when he was younger, but he had always had Claire then to back him up.

Now, he was not so sure he still had her. She had been his best friend growing up, despite the fact that he was four years her senior. They had been like siblings, reinforced by the fact that Isaac himself had no parents. He knew he had hurt her when he ran off, and so she had simply left a note for him. Reading over the note had become a ritual for him, a reminder of the life he had left behind.

He broke out of his reverie and started down the hill. The meal would be almost ready by now, and Isaac wanted to get a few things in order before they entered the city tonight. Master Hamm would not like it, but Isaac had no intention of staying with the rest of the team for the evening.

As he approached the group, he took note of the other members of the team. Master Hamm’s second, Brand, was a large, grizzled man. Isaac suspected that he had once been a soldier, but Brand never spoke of his past like others in the crew did. Out of the seven other members, most were around Isaac’s age, although the youngest, Kabe, was just over sixteen. He was the most recent addition, and so the more menial tasks fell to him.

They were a close-knit group, for the most part. Brand generally tried to keep up his grumpy appearance, but sometimes he let a smile slip through. Master Hamm was content to let Brand keep the apprentices in line, although he sometimes joined them at night when they conversed about the day.

Brand and Kabe stood in the center of the camp, tending to a pot standing on a grate above the fire. The older man glanced toward Isaac and grimaced; it was almost a smile from him. He spoke softly to Kabe, and then approached Isaac.

“Did you enjoy your break?” Brand asked sarcastically.

“Why, yes, I did,” Isaac replied. He was accustomed to this kind of banter with Brand—preferred it, in fact, to the posturing Master Hamm was prone to sometimes.

“Go help the other lads make sure everything’s in order,” Brand said. “Can’t have our products looking like they’ve been sat on.”

“Right away,” Isaac said, moving to enter the back of the covered wagon closest to him.

He climbed inside and found Jensen, a man the same age as Isaac, carefully arranging large bags of seeds. Seras relied on merchants to bring seeds for growing crops; the soil in these parts was inadequate for growing most things.

Jensen turned and frowned at Isaac. “Nice of you to join me.”

“I can’t let you have all the fun, now can I?” Isaac said cheerily. He and Jensen had butted heads several times over the years, but Isaac usually let any disparaging remarks go.

“Well, I’m just about finished here,” Jensen said. “Why don’t you go see if Hamm needs any help in the other wagons?”

“Suits me.” Isaac leaped out of the wagon and started around the circle, stopping to pat one of the horses on the side. He was in no hurry; Hamm would not move until he had eaten his fill, and Seras was not going anywhere. He almost wished he could put it off, but it was his home, after all.

At least, it was the closest thing he had to a home. Despite his cheerfulness, he was unsure how the city people would react to his homecoming. Would they even remember him? If they did, would they welcome him back? Or did they think he had left to follow a foolish dream? That seemed to have been the popular opinion when he had left. Even Claire had been opposed to the idea, although he knew she would have gone with him, if she had been older.

He could not afford to worry about the past; it would only make him more agitated and uncertain, something he had been feeling a lot recently. Moving on to the back of the lead wagon, he found Master Hamm rapping his knuckles on the wooden frame, supervising two apprentices as they arranged products in tidy rows. Beyond seeds, Master Hamm sold a variety of other items, including wines and clothing from distant lands, as well as a dozen or so “treasures,” as he called them. They were, in fact, souvenirs he had acquired along the road, but some people, like Isaac, liked to collect useless ornaments.

“Make sure those labels are visible, boys,” Hamm ordered. He turned to Isaac and frowned. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, sir,” Isaac said, flashing a smile. The portly man’s frown deepened.

Hamm shook a finger at Isaac. “You had better keep that wit of yours in check today, boy,” he grunted. Isaac wondered why Hamm always addressed those younger than himself as “boy.”

“I don’t want you angering any of my customers,” he went on. “I need a good sale here, or else I might have to let a few of you go.” The statement was, of course, an empty threat, but Isaac took it in stride and did not respond like he normally would. The merchant was not a bad man, but he certainly was not very amiable. Except to customers; those he could always be cheery with.

“Don’t worry about me, Master Hamm,” Isaac replied. “I won’t say a word to anyone I don’t know in the city.” For once, he was being completely honest with Master Hamm. Isaac had no intention of drawing too much attention to himself. However, despite his best efforts, attention always seemed to find him.

Hamm shook his head. “Tell me when the meal is ready,” he said, turning back to the men working in the wagon.

Isaac walked away from the wagon. It appeared that there was nothing for him to do at the moment, besides sitting on his hands waiting for lunch. His attention began to drift to the Storm overhead again. He never could understand what was so intoxicating about it; perhaps it was the mythos behind it.

Taking care to be quiet, he started up the slope on the south side of the camp. The landscape here was hilly and rocky in some parts, but grass covered the majority of the ground. It was difficult getting wagons through, for even with the road they had to go up and down constantly. Too much of that activity could put strain on the horses.

In the distance, Isaac could see the city. It had been built in a relatively flatter location, but parts of it still rose and fell with the land. It was not a large city by any means, but it was the most populous town for many miles in this region of south-eastern Aldera.

More clouds hovered above the city; the Storm was stronger where there was life. One would think that larger cities would be completely shaded, but sunlight always managed to shine through. It was as if the Storm knew that light was required for life to continue, and so it achieved an unnatural balance.

Movement to his left caught his attention, and he turned to see what it was. A large group of creatures was moving rapidly across the hills, heading northward. They were not too far away to make out the distinctive blue-green scales, red feathers, and hunched forms.

Isaac watched them, curious. Vorkyr were reclusive creatures, typically emerging at dusk. They traveled in herds, much like cattle, and tended to ignore humans entirely. Recently, rumors from the north said that Vorkyr had been seen attacking people, but Isaac tended not to put much stock in rumors. He had only seen the creatures a handful of times, and agreed with the idea that they were harmless.

They were exotic looking, though. Reptilian in appearance, but covered with feathers along their backs and heads, they resembled a cross between a bird and a lizard. Their beaks were lined with blunt teeth for grazing, although Isaac did not doubt that they could more than likely crush a man’s arm.

What Isaac found most fascinating about them was the reaction of the Storm. Herds of Vorkyr attracted it just as much as a large city. Isaac watched as groups of clouds clustered together, allowing the lightning in the sky to stay directly above the traveling animals. He had always wondered if, perhaps, they were more than just another strange species that roamed the world.

He heard the grass behind him rustle, and Kabe stood beside him moments later. The youth stood still for a moment, taking in the sight of the Vorkyr herd.

“What are they doing?” Kabe asked.

“I’m not quite sure,” Isaac answered, smiling at the boy’s curiosity. Isaac had always liked Kabe’s ability to question all things, something Isaac himself often did. It was not enough to see something; he needed to know the why.

“I thought they didn’t come out during the day,” Kabe continued. “What do you think it means?”

Isaac was pondering that same question. It was not the first time he had seen them out before, but that had always been an hour or so after dawn or before dusk, never at midday.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” It probably was. He hoped. Isaac did not like to not know what was going on around him. However, no answers would be coming forth this time, so he was not going to let it eat at him.

The Vorkyr entered a patch of trees and disappeared from sight. Isaac watched the lightning high overhead, marking the path that the Vorkyr were following. At least they still avoided going near the city; he could only imagine what people would think if the herd charged down the streets.

“Come on,” Isaac said, turning back toward the camp, “let’s go eat. I actually am quite hungry.”

Kabe nodded and trotted behind Isaac. Hamm sat in an unfolding chair, eating from a fine plate; the man really did enjoy his niceties. The others sat in random spots on the grass, eating out of durable metal dishes. Brand and Kabe had prepared a simple stew for today’s meal, knowing that once they reached Seras they could eat their fill at one of the inns.

Isaac served himself and sat with his back against a wagon wheel. Kabe joined him, and the two ate in silence for several minutes. Finally, Kabe put his spoon down and looked at Isaac.

“So, is it true that you are from Seras?” Kabe asked.

“Perhaps,” Isaac answered, chuckling. The boy really was curious about everything.

“Are you excited to be going home?”

Isaac took a moment to finish his last bit of stew. “In some ways, I am. But I’m also nervous; I haven’t seen these people in a few years.” He regarded Kabe. “Where did you hear that piece of information, anyway?”

“It was just some idle talk one night, that’s all,” Kabe said.

“Well, it isn’t a well-guarded secret, so I don’t mind,” Isaac said.

Kabe nodded and quietly went back to his stew. The wind picked up for a few moments, providing a bit of cool relief in the dry summer air. Summer was important in Seras; it was a time to celebrate the lengthened days and good health. In fact, if Isaac remembered correctly, today was the summer solstice. It meant the Summer Festival started tonight.

Isaac smiled to himself. Master Hamm would benefit from the festivities that would take place tonight, as the city people would be more willing to buy more than they really needed. It would also be easier for Isaac to slip away and go about his own business.

Presently, the group finished with their meal and prepared to break camp. Kabe cleaned up the dishes as Brand supervised the preparation of the wagons. Master Hamm had already taken his place in the driver’s seat of the lead wagon, and was waiting for the others to finish up.

Isaac climbed into the seat of the last wagon beside Brand, who was already holding the reins. Master Hamm called out to the group, and the procession headed out, falling into a single file line on the winding road.

Isaac stole one last look at the grove of trees that the Vorkyr had disappeared into. The collection of Storm had moved on, meaning the herd had continued its journey north. Isaac knew the team would be heading that same direction in a couple of days.

Following the Storm.

Adept Story, Chapter Three B

I decided to extend Chapter 3, and so it is here as two separate parts:


Clearing her thoughts, Siona hurried after them. As she walked into the street, she was unprepared for the scene before her. She stood in a wide street on a slight incline, the midday light shining brightly on the cobbled road. Buildings, most at least two stories tall, lined the street. This appeared to be a mercantile district. She glanced down the street; Lynx and Raven were already heading down the hill, joining the throngs of other citizens going about their daily ritual. She jogged to them.

“Where are we going?” Siona asked.

“A meeting,” Raven answered. She obviously had a specific location in mind.

Siona wanted to follow Raven, but her instincts told her to run and hide. She had no business being in the streets of Alandon. She would be caught again, and then sent back to work at another plantation—or worse.

“It’s all right,” Lynx said, leaning toward Siona. “There’s no need to be frightened.”

Siona fidgeted despite herself. She could not help looking around her at all times. “The city is just so big,” she said, “and there are so many people.”

“Exactly,” Lynx replied. “We blend in perfectly with the crowd.”

The road curved to the right ahead, intersecting with another street. Raven continued to stride purposefully ahead. “But what if someone attacks us?” Siona insisted. “Or what if someone sees me?”

Lynx chuckled, disregarding Siona’s obvious discomfort. “Siona, you are safe with us. Besides, who is going to recognize you? You were twelve when you were kidnapped, and even though you don’t seem to have noticed, you are a woman now. You don’t even look like an orphan child anymore.”

Siona looked down at herself. The clothes she wore did fit better than the outfit she owned at the plantation, but they still hung loosely on her. She still was rather diminutive, and having Leon towering over her made her feel even smaller. He did have a point, though.

“I suppose your right,” Siona said, mostly to mollify Lynx. She did understand what he said, though. None of the other people walking in the street with them bothered to look at them, let alone attack them.

“What did Raven mean when she told Karissa she was the Watcher?” Siona inquired, changing the subject.

“Karissa is watching over us as we speak,” Lynx said, gesturing upward. “Whenever a group of us travels in the city, one of us is assigned to be the Watcher for the group.”

“Why?”

“So that we don’t have to expose ourselves,” Lynx explained. “It’s much simpler for a thief to distract someone, even attack them, than ordinary citizens.”

Siona nodded, glancing up toward the rooftops. Karissa was nowhere in sight. How could she be watching their group? Lynx must have been exaggerating; she most likely was behind them somewhere in the street.

As they walked, she studied the people passing by them in the street. The city had not changed much in the past five years, although she expected that the slums had grown larger. More people packed the city streets daily, coming from all parts of the world to live in Alandon. Over thirty different noble families called the city home as well. With so many people, crime was everywhere, causing soldiers to police the streets where they wanted and ignore the places they were needed.

Despite everything, the residents did not appear to be an oppressed people. They went about their business as usual, just as Siona remembered. Only she had watched these people from shadowed alleyways, trying her hardest to stay hidden. Most did not even understand that not everyone in the city lived well. The poorest parts of Alandon were riddled with whorehouses and beggars. Siona recalled hiding herself behind some minor nobleman’s manor, waiting for any food scraps that were to be thrown away that day. On occasion, she could find a family who would feed her for a day, but no one dared to take her in. The Emperor’s enforcers, chiefly his own Adepts and the Royal Knights, periodically hunted down and killed part of the beggar population, and then sent off the children to the plantations.

Siona had been captured in a similar raid. She had no memories of her parents, but her older brother, Kam, had done his best to raise her. Unfortunately, he had beaten her dozens of times, especially when she had failed to bring back food for him. Life with Kam had not been ideal, but he had protected her from those who tried to harm her.

Until, of course, the Royal Knights had discovered their usual hideout. They had killed Kam and captured her, sending her off on the next prisoner carriage. Lord Irawen had paid for the next delivery, and so she had found herself at his plantation.

The Emperor’s laws had made it possible for her to be sold into a life of slavery. However, she could not turn a blind eye toward the rest of the city’s inhabitants. The excuse of ignorance did not make up refusing to see what was happening in the city.

“Lynx,” Siona began, “how is it that all these people can live so well, while others suffer?”

“Appearances can be deceiving, Siona,” he answered. “Most of the people you see here are not living in luxury. For the most part, these ordinary citizens work all day to support their families at home. Some can’t handle it and are crushed. In a city of this magnitude, there are just too many people and not enough money.”

He gazed into the distance, toward the citadel. The enormous, squarish building rose from the center of the city, a dark, ominous reminder of the Emperor’s omnipresence. “That’s where all the money is,” Lynx resumed. “The people are taxed so heavily that they barely have enough to sustain themselves.”

“And the lucky few who do manage to rise to noble status apparently forget what it was like to be a peasant,” Siona spat. She hated even the mention of noblemen.

“Now don’t be too hasty in your judgment,” Lynx retorted. “Some of the houses would like to change the way things are. Unfortunately, the Emperor does not allow that sort of talk.”

They turned into a small alleyway that passed through a break in the buildings. Siona continued to dwell on the topic of noblemen. To her, they were all the same. If some of them actually did care about the wellbeing of the lower class, why did they not act more charitable? The one act of kindness she had observed had come from House Velariel, a house of moderate importance. Lord Velariel had tried to establish an orphanage. The Emperor had allowed the project to be completed, only to send his soldiers to burn the shelter hours later.

“We have arrived,” Raven proclaimed, bringing Siona back to the present. They stood in front of a small, rather unimposing house. Raven tapped lightly on the door. A slit opened and a pair of eyes looked out.

“Ah, Lady Raven,” a man said from the other side, his voice muffled. He pulled the door toward him. “Do come in.”

“Thank you,” Raven answered, marching into the front room. Lynx waved Siona forward, then followed her inside. Both of her companions had adopted subtle threatening postures: Raven, stiff and formal, still managing to look like a queen, and Lynx, slouching yet somehow watching every corner of the room.

A group of men was seated in a semicircle in the room, which was much more spacious than the outside of the building had suggested. Seven pairs of eyes turned to regard the newcomers. Siona felt uncomfortable beneath the passing scrutiny of these strangers.

One man stood alone in corner in the back of the room. Like Raven and Lynx, he put off a dangerous air while remaining nonchalant. The only other man in the room, who had been addressing the seated men, stepped forward to greet Raven. He was a rather short, squat man, with flecks of gray in his hair. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he approached the group.

“I apologize for our tardiness, Jasner,” Raven said. “I had some business to take care of this morning.”

“No apology is necessary, Lady Raven,” the man, Jasner, replied. “Please, join us.”

Jasner led Raven toward the front of the room. Lynx maneuvered Siona toward a pair of empty chairs behind the main group. He nodded respectfully to the man in the corner before taking his seat.

“Gentlemen,” Jasner began, “this is Lady Raven, the woman to whom I referred earlier. She has been of great assistance to us in these past months, and last night, she rid the world of one of the Emperor’s plantation lords.”

The men grumbled something, but Siona was not listening. “What is this?” she whispered, leaning toward Lynx.

“This is a meeting,” Lynx replied, grinning. Siona almost smiled back at him; his constant humor was intoxicating.

“I mean, what are we doing here?” she said.

“We are here to lend our support to the rebellion,” he answered. “I’m sure Jasner will explain himself shortly.”

Indeed, the short man had begun gesturing toward Raven. Siona returned her attention to the leader of the gathering.

“Yes, gentlemen,” Jasner continued, “we now have a man of great worth and valor to lead us: Raynar Karban. He will undoubtedly free us of the oppression of the Empire after so many years.” He gestured toward Raven. “And now, with the help of the Brotherhood, our victory is assured. We only ask that you join us, my friends, in our noble cause.”

For a moment, the seated men were silent. Whatever Siona had drowned out must have been important. Finally, the men clapped quietly, respectfully. Raven nodded to them.

“We will assist the rebellion in any way we can,” she said. “We only ask that we receive our payment on time.”

“You will, my lady,” Jasner said soothingly.

Siona turned back to Lynx, intending to ask him another question, when Raven announced that they were leaving. She seems to have a knack for interrupting me before I even speak, Siona thought. She stood with Lynx and followed Raven to the door.

They returned to the street. Before Siona could speak, Raven held up a hand, silencing her.

“You may ask questions once we have returned to the safe house,” Raven said. “It is time we put you to the test.”

She turned and headed back the way they had come. With a sigh, Siona followed, Lynx close behind her.

Adept Story, Chapter Three A

Chapter 3 is complete. Enjoy.


CHAPTER THREE

Siona awoke in her bed. She rubbed her eyes, wondering why the taskmaster had not come to wake her. She closed her eyes again, thinking that maybe she had actually woken up too early.

Her eyes shot open as she remembered. She sat up immediately, realizing that she was not actually on her sleeping pallet, but an actual mattress. She surveyed her surroundings and saw that she sat in a small bedroom. The room was bare of any furniture save for the bed and a dresser standing against the wall at the foot of the bed.

Quickly, she threw off her sheets, and stood. Her shirt and trousers were gone, replaced by a white nightgown. For a moment, she began to panic, wondering what exactly they had done to her.

Calm down, she told herself. If they wanted, you would be dead already. Obviously they want you for something.

Taking a deep breath, Siona closed her eyes for a second. Her instincts told her to flee, to get as far away as possible from this strange place, but she could not. She remembered everything that had happened the night before, but none of it made sense. She needed to know who—or what—those people were.

She stepped up to the dresser and opened the top drawer. A clean pair of trousers and a shirt sat folded inside. Unlike her old clothes, these were not torn and stained with perpetual grime. She pulled off the nightgown and dressed herself, relishing the feel of the new clothing.

She moved toward the door and peeked out, looking in both directions. No one was outside. She pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked out into the hallway. To her right was a stairwell leading downward. Unsure of what she would find, she slowly descended.

She found herself in a large dining room. Square tables dotted the area, complete with four chairs apiece. In the center of the room, the man Lynx sat, eating what looked to be some kind of meat. He looked up as she entered.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he said, smiling. Like her, he wore simple clothing. Siona had almost expected him to still be wearing the black uniform he had worn the night before.

Siona approached the table. “Where are we?” she asked.

“Alandon,” Lynx replied. Siona drew in a sharp breath. “Now don’t panic. We are completely safe here.”

“This is Alandon,” Siona stated. “No one is ever truly safe.”

Lynx shook his head. “Don’t worry so much. Take a seat; I’ll find you something to eat.”

Siona took the chair across from him, making sure she had a good view of both the front door and the back doorway. He stood and moved into the kitchen at the back of the room and returned a moment later. He carried a plate with a piece of cooked meat and vegetables. He set it down in front of Siona and handed her a fork. She eyed him suspiciously.

“Eat it,” Lynx said. “It won’t kill you, I promise.”

Siona picked up the fork and jabbed at the meat. It was surprisingly tender and came away easily. She took an experimental bite.

“It’s…delicious,” she said in amazement. She began eating in earnest.

Lynx chuckled. “That’s not very ladylike, you know,” he said as she shoveled the food into her mouth. She shot him a glare and continued eating, slowing her pace somewhat.

“I’ve never eaten this well is all,” Siona pointed out between bites.

“Well, get used to it,” Lynx replied, returning to his chair. “Raven has taken a special interest in you. It seems that you are staying here for the time being.”

Siona swallowed the last morsel of the meat. “Where is Raven?” she inquired.

“She’s probably off gallivanting around the city,” he answered offhandedly. “She usually doesn’t return until afternoon.”

Siona glanced toward the window and realized that it was already past midday. “How long was I asleep?” she asked.

“We put you up there as soon as we arrived here,” Lynx said. “That was just last night. You did well, actually. I’ve seen other Adepts take up to three days to come out of the shock of their first time using a travel stamp.”

“That was that paper you used, right?” Siona asked.

“Correct,” he replied. “We use those to travel to a specific place instantaneously. The shock of the experience knocks out everyone the first time. I’ve only used them a handful of times.”

Siona started in on the vegetables, mostly beans. “I don’t really remember any of it. What happened?”

“Nothing bad,” he answered. “You went unconscious as soon as we appeared on the roof.”

“On the roof…” she said, trailing off. “Who are you people?”

Lynx paused. “I can’t tell you much, right now. Raven may have brought you here, but she does not part with secrets easily. You two are a lot alike, actually; neither of you really trust anyone.”

Siona looked away. “I’m sorry, Lynx,” she said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t, so don’t sweat it,” he said, smiling again. Siona sensed that was his reaction to everything. “Anyway, I know what it’s like in the compounds. I was there once, too. Not at Lord Irawen’s plantation, of course. I was rescued over a year ago, when I was nineteen.”

“How long were you there?”

“Four years,” he said. “I managed to lay low in the city for a while, but eventually I got cocky and tried to steal from a restaurant. The owner caught me and sold me to a plantation. I managed to break his arm in the process, though, so it was not a total loss.”

Siona nodded. Lynx really was a large man. “So, what about Raven?” she asked. “What’s her story? Why did she come to the plantation last night?”

“We were hired to do so,” Lynx explained. “We’re part of an organization that works with…special cases. We don’t ask our employers why they want a job done, we just do it.”

“But, what about those symbols she drew?” she persisted. “What were those? Why was Raven surprised that I could see them?”

Lynx chuckled. “Patience,” he said. “Raven will explain everything in due time. She’s the boss here.”

Suddenly, the front door burst open. Siona jumped, surprised by the sudden motion. A woman entered, closing the door behind her. She was not much taller than Siona, with long honey-blonde hair.

“Hello you two,” she said sweetly, smiling at Siona. “It’s nice to see you’re awake.” She moved past them into the kitchen, humming softly.

“That’s Karissa,” Lynx said. “If you think I smile and laugh a lot, wait until she starts talking.”

“I heard that,” Karissa called from the other room. She returned holding a plate containing food identical to what Siona had just finished. She set the plate on the table, turned her chair backward, and plopped down.

“I didn’t expect you to wake up for another day at least,” Karissa said, “as small as you are.” She stuffed a bite of meat into her mouth.

“You’re one to talk,” Lynx retorted. “You aren’t much bigger than her.”

Karissa shoved him playfully on the shoulder and continued eating. Siona was taken aback by their almost childish banter. She had expected them to be much more serious, like Raven had acted the night before. They were not worried that they were in Alandon, the center of the Red Empire.

“So how was your trip?” Lynx asked.

“Uneventful, as usual,” Karissa replied with a mock sigh. “The citadel is as locked up as ever. They really take security seriously. Honestly, the Emperor is nigh invincible; I don’t think he needs to worry about being assassinated any time soon.”

Siona looked at Karissa, jaw dropping. The woman acted as though the Emperor were of little importance. “You went to the citadel?” she asked.

“Of course,” Karissa said, nodding. “I’ve been there lots of times.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being caught?” Siona asked in disbelief.

“Why should I be?” Karissa replied. “I’m dressed just like anybody else walking the streets.”

“But, it’s the Empire,” Siona insisted. “The Emperor can order his soldiers to kill anyone on a whim.”

Karissa shook her head. “He could, if he ever left his stronghold.”

She turned her attention to Lynx and began a new conversation, but Siona was no longer listening. Why had they brought her here? What did they expect of her? She knew nothing about them, other than their apparent disregard for danger.

The Red Empire had stood strong for five hundred years. The first Emperor had conquered over a dozen different nations, forming them into a single, cohesive empire. When it was all over, he had returned to the city of Alandon, the greatest city built by man, and established it as his capital.

Now, the third Emperor ruled. Like his predecessors, he lived longer than any normal man, and yet no one had really ever seen his face. It was rumored that he attended court gatherings in full armor, never allowing even the richest lords to see him. Siona wondered how anyone could speak of such a man without feeling a sense of dread. Provided that he really was a man.

Siona felt as though everything she knew was now being turned upside down. As a slave, life had been simple. She worked to stay alive; there had been nothing beyond that. Before then, the same rules applied to living in the streets. As grand as Alandon was, it was not devoid of its slums. Many people were forced into lives of hardship. Siona had been abandoned when she was only ten because her parents had decided they could no longer take care of her, and had simply left her in the market one day. From there, she had joined a gang of other orphaned children. They had been fairly successful, until a high lord discovered them rooting through his garbage one day.

Sitting in this building with Lynx and Karissa, who seemed so unconcerned about the havoc they had already caused—and most likely planned to continue—was strange and alien to Siona. Yesterday, she had been a slave; today, she was not sure what she was.

“Why am I here?” Siona demanded, causing Lynx and Karissa to falter in their conversation.

“What do you mean?” Lynx asked.

“Why did you bring me here, to Alandon?” Siona said. “What can I possibly do for you people? I don’t even know who you are.”

Lynx leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “So, are you telling me you were more content with the life you had before?” Siona paused, taken aback. “I know this is hard to accept, especially after living like that for so long, but you are in good hands. Your life is changing for the better. You’ll see.”

Siona pursed her lips, thinking. He was right, though. Working at the plantation had become her life. That was all she was good for, and ever would be. Her chance encounter with Raven had been different, drawing Siona like a magnet.

“I know what you’re thinking, Siona,” Lynx continued. “I thought the same thing. When a person is forced to live a certain way, it becomes the only way. Such a drastic change is difficult to accept at first.”

“I think I understand,” Siona replied. If Lynx was to be believed, he had been in her situation before. One thing still bothered her, though. “But I still don’t know why you brought me. What good am I to you?”

Lynx sat back, chuckling. “That again. You sure are a curious girl.” Siona blushed, causing to laugh again. “Raven will explain. It’s her duty to tell you.”

Siona nodded, but she still was not fully convinced. They obviously expected her to do some kind of task for them. Nothing in the world was truly free. Before she could press the issue further, the front door swung open again, revealing a tall woman. Like Karissa and Lynx, she wore the traditional clothing of the peasantry, although she managed to wear the outfit like a queen. Jet-black hair fell to her shoulders, framing a beautiful face.

Seeing her in the daylight, Siona barely recognized Raven. Siona was not prepared for how breathtaking she would be. It was nearly impossible to connect her to the same woman from the night before.

She closed the door and strode to the table, standing behind the empty chair. Lynx and Karissa waited patiently for her to speak. Siona held her breath, noticing the silence that had descended on the room. Lynx had not exaggerated; Raven truly was in control here.

Finally, Raven flicked her left hand. A knife slid from the sleeve, dropping into her waiting palm. The entire piece was of one solid metal, painted black. Siona guessed that the extended triangular blade was about six inches long, leading into a hilt ending with a small metal ring. She turned the handle toward Siona.

“Take it,” she prompted.

Hesitantly, Siona took the proffered knife delicately. “Why?” she asked in confusion.

“You found that last night,” Raven said. “I took it from you to clean it. Consider it my welcoming gift.”

“Thank you,” Siona said, hoping that was the correct response.

“Mark the handle with your name,” Raven said. “That way, everyone will know that was your first knife.”

Siona nodded, unsure what the point of the knife was. She was hardly a fighter, considering her size. However, she had no intention of doing anything that might procure Raven’s displeasure.

“Now, down to business,” she said. “The meeting will be starting shortly. I see you have all eaten. Karissa, prepare yourself; you’re the Watcher today.”

“Yes!” Karissa exclaimed, jumping up and fairly running upstairs.

Lynx shook his head. “Lucky her,” he said. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to attend the meeting today.” He stood and followed Raven to the door.

Raven looked back. “Get up,” she said to Siona. “You are coming with us.”

Siona was taken aback. “Why?” she asked.

“You will see,” Raven answered. “This is the first day of your new life. Come with me, and I will explain why I brought you here.”

She placed a hand on the doorknob and pulled it open. She stepped outside. Lynx looked back at Siona and smiled. For a moment, she almost believed that there was sincerity behind the expression. Regardless, Raven had knowledge that she wanted. She needed to know as much as possible.

And then she would leave them.

Adept Story, Chapter Two

Chapter 2 is complete. This story does not have a title yet, so I will refer to it from now on as "The Adept Story". Yes, that sounds lame, but it's not the title. So, here it is. Enjoy. Hopefully Chapter 3 will be completed by the end of the week.


CHAPTER TWO

When Siona arrived at the manor, she could see that the woman had already entered the grounds. The front gate, made of iron bars, was smashed inward, a gaping hole in the center.

Cautiously, Siona stepped through the opening, making sure not to cut herself on the jagged metal ends. An ornate cobblestone walk extended toward the entrance to the manor itself, running between two rows of cultivated shrubbery. A line of lanterns suspended from tall metal poles stood on either side of the walk. Trees and other greenery were planted throughout the yard. It was a stark contrast to the quarters Siona was used to living in.

Her nose wrinkled as a stench washed over her. Dead guards lay scattered along the path. The mysterious woman had made short work of them in the two hours it had taken Siona to reach the manor. Surprisingly, she did not feel any sadness for these men. They had been people, true, but they had been the ones who had oppressed her and her fellows. They would have been the ones who murdered in the morning, if she had not been saved.

She stepped around the bodies, breathing through her mouth and holding her nose. As indifferent as she was to the situation, she still did not like the scent of corpses. Fortunately, they were fresh, else Siona would have gagged from the smell.

She crept toward the door, wondering where exactly the woman had gone. She wanted to thank her savior, and aide her in freeing the rest of the orphan workers. It would not be right to simply leave them behind, unsure of their fate. It was night, and most of them would be asleep by now; they would not know what had transpired unless Siona told them.

A shout came from above, and Siona looked up, trying to identify where it had come from. A window on the third story shattered, a large form falling through. Siona yelped and scurried out of the way, barely avoiding the glass shards. The body crashed to the cobblestones a moment later.

Siona moved to the man, knowing he was already dead. A black knife, the handle and blade made from a single piece of metal, protruded from the man’s chest. Siona glanced toward the window, and thought she caught a glimpse of a cloaked form gazing down at her.

Determined, Siona gripped the handle and yanked the knife out of the man. Drops of blood fell on her trousers, but she did not mind. She wiped the blood from the knife on the man’s shirt, and then moved to the door. Like the metal gate, the thick wooden doors had been blasted through, little more than chunks of wood hanging from the hinges. Siona pushed her way inside.

The interior was lit by several lanterns, casting shadows across the floor. A rich, golden rug extended from the doorway to a large staircase across the room. The walls were a deep red, and several paintings depicting past lords and ladies hung between doors and lantern rungs.

Siona was taken aback by the lavishness of the room. She had never seen such beauty. It was such a waste of wealth. Siona clenched her fists, the knife pushing into her palm. She was furious at the lord of the plantation. He could have easily spared money to give the orphans better lives, but instead chose to enslave them.

She did not understand. There were only a handful of orphanages throughout Alandon, and most of those had to be hidden from prying eyes, lest they be sold out to a noble. Any one of the noble houses, even the minor ones, could fund a dozen orphanages, where they would actually be cared for.

She approached the staircase and gripped the rail, using it as a support to ascend. Despite the excitement of the situation, she still was exhausted from the day’s work. When she reached the top, her legs ached. She did not stop, though; she needed to find that woman.

She stood on a landing that ran around the edge of the room. She began walking toward a spiral staircase at the other end of the hallway, passing even more doors. What did they need all those doors for? She had never been in a house like this, but it seemed like a waste of space.

A light appeared on the staircase in front of her, accompanying a pair of voices. Her heart racing, Siona opened the closest door and darted inside, closing it most of the way. The voices drew nearer.

“Where could she have gone?” the first voice asked.

“Not sure,” replied the second one. “The manor isn’t all that big; there aren’t many places to hide.”

“Well, obviously she’s alluded us so far,” the first said. “It’s giving me chills. You saw what she did to the men outside.”

“It’s a scare tactic, Nem,” the second answered. “Once all the guards awoke, she probably realized that she was in over her head. She might not even be here anymore, for all we know.”

Siona frowned. The woman had seemed so determined; she could not have just disappeared. On top of that, Siona had seen her only minutes before, on the third story. No, she was not gone.

She simply was not allowing herself to be seen.

“I don’t think so, Jaren,” Nem asserted. “She’s an Adept. They don’t give up that easily.”

They continued on down the walkway. Siona held her breath as they passed the door she was hiding behind. In the weak light, they did not notice the partially opened door.

Siona watched as the guards rounded the corner and descended to the first floor. Carefully, she crept out from her hiding spot and resumed travelling toward the staircase at the end of the hall. Several lanterns lit the stairwell. Siona was glad for their light; she did not want to be caught alone, especially in the dark.

She reached the third floor and came into a hallway that extended to either side and around the corner. Siona stopped. She did not know which way would be safe. If any of the guards caught her, she would be killed on sight.

As if reacting to her thoughts, four guards rounded the corner to her left, nearest her. They saw her and paused, unsure what one of the workers was doing in the manner. Not waiting around, Siona fled in the other direction.

“After her!” one of the guards shouted, kicking the whole group into motion.

Why did I come here? Siona thought, panicked. I should have just gone back to my bed and forgotten this whole incident. In seconds, she felt one of the guards grabbing for her shirt. She tugged it forward, holding the excess in her hands. She dodged around the corner, breathing frantically. The hallway ahead of her was dark.

A figure detached itself from the shadows, knocking into the lead guard. The figure pushed the guard down and spun around, throwing out its hands. Two objects struck two guards in the neck, knocking them to the ground. The one in the back hesitated, allowing the figure to pounce on him. A hand darted toward his neck, and he fell.

Siona turned to her savior, only to find herself being shoved backward into the wall. The figure pushed back its hood, revealing a woman’s face.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

Siona tried to think of something to say, but her mind was locked up. Had she simply traded one enemy for another?

“You should have stayed back there and gone to bed,” the woman said angrily. “If you had not shown up, I wouldn’t have had to save you again.”

“I’m sorry,” Siona croaked, unsure what to tell the woman.

She gasped as she felt herself rise, her feet leaving the floor. She looked at the woman, and froze. On the front of her shirt, a strange, alien symbol had appeared, as if drawn with light.

“What…is that?” she stammered.

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “You can see it?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Siona mumbled, unsure of what “it” was.

The woman stood transfixed for a moment. “What’s your name, girl?” she asked. Her tone had become softer, more polite.

“Siona,” she managed. Hovering a foot above the floor was becoming increasing disorienting.

“Hmm,” the woman said, tapping her chin with a finger. “Could she really…?” She trailed off, realizing that she had begun thinking aloud. She locked eyes with Siona, and without any movement, the symbol disappeared from Siona’s shirt, dropping her to the ground.

“I’m Raven,” the woman said, offering a hand to help Siona up. Siona merely gazed up at her, petrified by her sudden change in attitude.

“It’s okay,” Raven said reassuringly. “I won’t hurt you. You…startled me is all.” Without waiting for an answer, she gripped Siona’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “We need to leave this place. I’ve already taken care of Lord Irawen.”

Siona stopped, drawing in a sharp breath. “He’s dead?”

“Yes, I believe I said that,” Raven replied.

Tears began to trickle down Siona’s cheeks. The man who had seen to her capture, allowed his men to abuse her and her companions, and had nearly taken her to his bed that night, was dead. She threw her arms around Raven’s neck.

“Thank you,” she cried.

Raven pushed her away. “You sure are a weepy girl,” she asserted.

“Not usually,” Siona muttered. In fact, she could not recall when she had last cried, for any reason. Now, overwhelming happiness washed over her.

At last, she regained control of herself. She dried her eyes and cheeks with a sleeve. “What about the others, though?” she asked. “What will happen to them now?”

“Don’t worry about them,” Raven replied. “One of my friends took care of the rest of the taskmasters. They should have freed the other orphans by now. Where they go from there is up to them.”

“Good,” Siona said, nodding. Despite her mistrust for the others, she knew that they deserved their freedom just as much as she did.

“Now, we need to leave,” Raven insisted. “You can cry all you want later.” She turned and headed back toward the stairwell.

“Where are we going?” Siona asked, hurrying to catch up. Raven was a half a foot taller than Siona, so she tried to match Raven’s quick pace.

“Just follow me and don’t ask questions,” she retorted. It seemed her caring moment had passed and had been covered up by her original rough exterior. Siona honestly did not mind; she was used to that kind of treatment.

In minutes, they exited the manor and returned to the front walk. Raven stopped and pushed back her black cloak, revealing a small pouch strapped tightly to the side of her waist. She flipped open the cover and retrieved a small rectangular piece of stark white paper.

“Burn building,” she said. She began to draw a pattern on the paper with her finger, lines of light trailing behind. Siona watched in amazement. Finally, the symbol complete, the woman slapped the paper onto the door frame.

“I suggest you move away,” she commanded. Siona took a few hesitant steps toward the iron gate. Raven stepped backward, pushing Siona farther away from the building.

“Activate,” she said clearly, pointing at the piece of paper. To Siona’s surprise, the paper burst into flames, lighting the wooden doorframe. The fire started to spread quickly.

“There,” Raven said, turning and climbing through the hole in the gate. “It’s finished.”

Siona followed her, but could not resist looking over her shoulder. The entire doorframe was already ablaze, and the fire was climbing upward, as if it were a living creature.

Once they were safely away from the burning manor, Raven paused underneath a tree. The leaves blocked the light from the moon; she would have been invisible if not for the flames consuming the manor. Siona took the opportunity to study the woman’s attire. In addition to the black cloak, she wore lightweight, form-fitting clothing, the color matching that of the cloak. With the hood up, Siona figured the woman really could disappear in the darkness.

A soft thud to her right startled Siona. She whipped around and saw another figure, cloaked similarly, standing in the open.

Where did he come from? Siona wondered. Aside from the few trees, there was really nowhere to hide. Maybe he flew here, just like Raven did earlier.

“Is the job finished, Lynx?” Raven asked.

“Of course,” Lynx replied. He threw back his hood, revealing the face of a young man. Disheveled hair fell across his eyes as he studied Siona. “Who’s this, Raven?”

“Don’t you worry about her,” Raven answered, regarding Siona. “I think she might be useful. Do you have the travel stamp?”

Lynx barked a short laugh. “Like I would lose that,” he scoffed. “There are barely enough of them left as it is.” He put his hand to his side and produced a piece of paper, identical to the one Raven had stuck on the house, only with a different symbol drawn on it. He moved closer to the two women and carefully laid it on the ground.

“Close your eyes, Siona,” Raven instructed. She took a hold of Siona’s left arm and Lynx’s right arm. Lynx likewise took their free arms, completing the circle.

“Whatever you do, don’t struggle,” Raven continued. “This might seem uncomfortable, but it will only take a second.”

Siona nodded in assent. However, her suspicion and panic were growing again. She barely knew these people; how could she trust them? What were they doing huddled around a simple piece of paper?

“Activate,” Raven commanded, staring at the paper. The lines of the symbol glowed, and the whole design began to rotate. As it sped up, the symbol widened, enveloping the group’s feet. Siona looked down in horror, and tried to pull free of Raven’s grip.

“Don’t struggle,” Raven reiterated. The symbol was now expanding upward, shrouding them in a spinning cylinder of light. “Think of something pleasant. It will all be over soon.”

The light now completely covered the three of them. Siona took one last look at the manor, already buckling from the damage the fire was causing. As it crashed to the ground, the light of the symbol flared. A loud crack sounded in Siona’s ears. She glanced at the two black-clad figures, and suddenly felt as if she were being pulled apart.

She screamed, and the world went dark.

Third Story

This is the third story that I am working on currently, and will most likely become my main focus for now, as it is slated to be the shortest. Once again, it's a draft, but I hope everyone enjoys it.

CHAPTER ONE

Siona awoke to a loud banging on the front door. She groaned, knowing that dawn had come, and it was time to go to work in the fields.

The door slammed open, allowing sunlight to pour into the small building that was Siona’s living quarters. A man stood framed in the doorway, thick arms crossed, glaring angrily at Siona and the nine other workers rising slowly from their cots.

“Wake up, you lazy lot,” the man growled, hauling the worker nearest to him up. “Those crops aren’t going to harvest themselves.”

He turned and exited the room, but Siona knew he would return in a few minutes if the workers did not come out. She grimaced; “workers” was the nice way of describing their situation. They were slaves, really. There wage consisted of food and shelter, nothing more.

Siona threw back the coarse blanket that covered her and sat up. The “house” she shared with the nine others was nothing more than a large rectangle. Ten wooden pallets covered in woolen blankets were their bedding. The only real furniture was the table and chairs in the center of the room. Their meals were brought to them, if they could even be called meals.

She pulled on a pair of dirty trousers and a loose fitting shirt. Both were dull blue, since the dye was the easiest to manufacture. The plantation owner would not waste more money than necessary to clothe the orphans.

Siona and her housemates were all orphans. Plantations and small farms dotted the land for thirty miles around Alandon, the capital city of the Red Empire. Most of the plantation owners picked up children who had been abandoned by their parents from the city, knowing that they would not be stopped by the Emperor. Alandon was like a massive, living being, and so required large quantities of food and other resources to keep it running. That, in turn, meant finding enough laborers to work the fields.

Siona had been caught when she was twelve, just over five years ago. Most only lasted two or three years, but some, like her, managed to make it longer. Despite her small, scrawny stature, Siona had fought for her survival for the past five years. She was now one of the oldest in the orphan population.

With a sigh, she picked up her wicker basket and moved to the door with the others. The burly man who had woken them waited outside, a thick leather whip coiled in his hand. Like the other taskmasters, he was dressed in sturdy work clothes. The sleeves of his shirt were torn off, so as to expose his muscled arms, reminding them that they were no threat to him.

The group stepped outside into the dawn sunlight. In the distance, Siona could see proud Alandon, standing tall and mighty. For the most part, the city was a grand place, a testament to what men could build.

Only, the city was no longer ruled by a man.

Siona looked around, seeing other groups of orphans emerging from their houses. There were ten houses in all, set up in two rows, in the encampment. It was only one of many. A fence surrounded the yard, although none of them would even consider trying to escape.

The taskmaster led their group through the gate of the compound toward the fields. Their particular compound sat atop a hill overlooking the nearest field, where corn was growing currently. Siona hated this time of the harvest season, when the corn stalks were nearly eight feet tall. Siona, who was just over five feet tall, had a hard time reaching the cobs that grew near the top of the plant. On top of that, the stifling heat of the fields made the job nearly unbearable. Of course, a lashing from one of the taskmasters was much more unbearable.

“Keep the line moving,” the taskmaster commanded. Several members of the group, perpetually worn down by a shortage of food and rest, were already slowing from the ragged pace that the master kept up. They quickly straightened, not wanting to feel the lash on their backs.

At last, they entered the field proper, spreading out amongst the rows. As always, Siona was determined to bring in all she could before the midday heat really began. As long as she fulfilled her quota, she would survive another day. That was all she could hope for.



The sun was barely visible over the horizon by the time Siona and her group returned to their quarters for the night, sweaty, itchy, and exhausted. The younger ones flopped down onto their pallets immediately, resting before the evening meal came. Siona frowned; doing such a thing only drenched their blankets with their sweat.

Siona pulled a chair out from underneath the table and eased into it. The young ones—if they lived long enough—would learn that maintaining control of oneself was crucial to keeping up a façade of strength.

Unfortunately for her, being on the edge of womanhood was not beneficial in her situation. Despite the constant lack of energy, Siona’s natural beauty shone through, although she did not think of herself as beautiful. Being a woman in this environment was simply another obstacle to overcome. Some lords took girls from the orphan compounds to their beds, and then killed them the next morning. She had seen the taskmasters gazing at her, studying her. She feared that her time was almost up.

A boy came up plopped down on the chair next to her, disrupting her musings. Siona glanced at him. Like her, he was old, nearly sixteen. He was lucky, though; he had developed early in life, giving him a rather discernible advantage over smaller, younger workers.

“Hi, Siona,” the boy said. He flashed a toothy grin at her.

Inwardly, Siona sighed. “Hello, Mannik,” she said.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied, rolling her eyes. Mannik, like all the older boys, began taking a liking to Siona immediately early on. Some viewed her as an elder sister, others, in different ways. Fortunately, none of them had been stupid enough to try anything.

“I have some news for you,” Mannik said eagerly.

Siona perked up at this. Mannik had an uncanny ability of picking up gossip. “Well, would you be kind enough to tell me?”

“Maybe,” he said, smiling. “But maybe you should do me a favor.” His eyes flashed down momentarily, so fast that Siona barely noticed it.

“Typical boy,” she huffed. She made as if to leave the table.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her wrist. She glared at him until he let go. “I mean, that’s not what I meant. I’m your friend.”

Siona nodded, but she did not believe him. She had no friends. If it was a question between his survival and hers, he would choose his own. That was the way the world worked. Siona had been abandoned by her parents; she would not put it past Mannik to do the same.

“So what’s your big news?” she inquired, putting the conversation back on topic.

“Oh, that,” he said, flashing another smile. “Well, do you remember those rumors about the rebellion?”

“Of course,” she answered. As frivolous as it seemed, a small part of her hoped that someday she and her companions could be freed. Anyone who fought against the Red Empire would be a useful ally, for a time.

“Well, those rumors are true. They say a small force has been sabotaging other plantations, disrupting supply lines, and…” he lowered his voice and leaned in, “…even assassinating some of the nobles.”

Siona’s eyes opened wide. If Mannik was telling the truth, then this was the best news she had ever received in her life. Hope swelled in her chest, but she pushed it back down. It would be useless to hope for something if she was killed sometime soon.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the door swinging open and banging into the wall. Their taskmaster and another large man carried in a steaming pot. They set it on the table, nearly knocking Siona and Mannik out of their chairs at the same time. One of the men threw a stack of bowls and a wrapped up pack of spoons onto the table, and then left the way they had come.

As soon as the door closed, the entire group jumped up, rushing for the pot. Siona, being faster, grabbed the bowls and spoons away and began passing them around the table.

“Aw, come on Siona, I’m hungry,” cried one of the boys.

“Everyone will get their share,” she responded. Typically, there was only enough stew to nearly fill each bowl, and so some of the larger orphans would try to bully the smaller ones out of the way. Siona had taken matters into her own hands; no one would starve as long as she was alive.

Eventually, all the bowls were filled, and the group took their seats around the table. They ate in silence, too focused on eating their meal, lest someone else take it away. The lords and taskmasters always insisted that the orphans were better off at the plantations, where they had regular food and shelter. Siona had managed on her own in the city, often eating better than she did here.

As she took her last bite, the door was thrown open, startling all those in the room. After the meal, the taskmasters never returned to the compound until the morning. Siona turned toward the door; three men filed into the room.

“You,” the leader said, pointing at Siona. “Come.”

Siona froze. This was it; she was being taken to be the plaything of the plantation lord, before being murdered in the morning.

Before she could react, two of the men grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet, pulling her toward the door. She began to kick and scream, knowing it would do no good. The men were at least a foot taller than she, and could probably pick her up with one arm. The other orphans simply stared at her, unable to help and unwilling to bring trouble upon themselves.

They pulled her out into the night. A cool wind tossed her hair about, sticking to the tears that had begun to run down her cheeks. This could not be happening to her. Why now? Why had they waited five years to take her?

She closed her eyes and screamed. To her surprise, the weight lifted from her arms. She opened her eyes and saw the two men who had been holding her flying away into the darkness. Their leader stood wide-eyed as his feet left the ground. He tried to struggle, but it seemed as though he was held by invisible ropes.

“That’s quite enough of that,” a voice said from behind Siona. She turned and saw a figure detach itself from the roof. A small object flew past Siona and struck the hovering man in the stomach. She watched in surprise as the man drew in a sharp breath before falling to the ground.

“Are you all right?” the voice asked. Siona looked at the person, still cloaked in the shadows. She could not be sure, but the voice sounded like a woman’s.

“I’m…okay,” was all she could manage.

“Good,” the woman said. “Don’t worry; they will not be bothering you anymore.” The woman jumped into the air, and to Siona’s surprise, darted away, flying toward a building several hundred yards to the west: the plantation lord’s manor.

Siona stood still for a moment, wondering what she should do. She surveyed the men; they showed no signs of stirring. She stared in the direction the woman had gone, and then, against her better judgment, began moving toward the plantation.

Something important was about to happen, and she intended to find out what that was.