Xecran threw himself onto his bed. He didn’t care how dirty he was. He was finally finished cleaning the furnace. Sometimes he wished they ran the smithy without the aid of magic. True, it was safer and there wasn’t a need for hauling tons of wood, and you didn’t have to manage a temperamental fire. However, if they did it the old-fashioned way he wouldn’t have to climb into the furnace and spend countless hours scraping off the soot-like residue deposited by the magical heating source. On the other hand, one of these days, he’d have his own smithy and his own apprentices he could make do the dirty work.
Despite the hard work, and the soot, he loved doing it. He always knew he wanted to work with metal, learning all its forms and discovering its secrets. When Hirthron, his uncle, offered him an apprenticeship he jumped at the chance. Not only would he get to learn what he knew he loved, he would get to grow up with his cousins, Klavis and Kamilis. That was nearly twenty years ago, and he still felt like a novice compared to Hirthron. Hirthron himself was an apprentice for nearly a hundred and fifty years before his own father said he was ready to start learning the deeper secrets, the secrets he’d need to master before he could be the master of his own smithy.
Xecran smiled thinking about all the things he still had to learn and welcomed the challenge. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else, yet he found his mind wandering to the forest. It had been happening more and more often over the last few weeks. Ever since he followed the light trail that Klavis had made, the one that took him beyond the Beacon Tree.
Klavis and Kamilis had been going on outings for years, and continued to do so, even as they took on more responsibilities as they grew older. Like himself Kamilis had already found his life’s path, magic. Kamilis had been admitted to the Magi Guild and had quickly risen through the school’s lower ranks and now he was often left to his own studies, only going to the Guild to talk with the masters and to test his knowledge.
And then there was Klavis…
He has always had the annoying ability to be naturally good at everything he did. For years Hirthron tried to get Klavis to take a path and stick to it. He’d hoped he’d work the forge and for a time he did. Klavis had worked alongside his father and Xecran, but after a few months Klavis got bored and moved on. For a while he joined his brother at the Magi’s Guild. After just a few months he was easily able to do things that took Kamilis years to learn but again, after a while, Klavis got bored. Sword play, archery, alchemy, carpentry, he tried it all, he even spent time shadowing a poet that visited from the city.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
It’s not like Klavis stopped improving himself, he still tinkered with everything he’d enjoyed but he never put in the effort to master any one thing. If Klavis would ever stick to one career everyone had no doubt that he would be among one of the greatest persons in whichever field he chose. However, that was years ago and Hirthron had given up trying to guide Klavis into something productive. His uncle figured he’d settle down when he wanted to. Which left both Klavis and Kamilis free to pretty much do what they wanted.
Xecran never had that luxury. When he was younger, he had spent more time with them, exploring the edges of the village and spending nights under the stars, but as he grew up Hirthron gave him more and more responsibilities. By the time that his cousins were pushing the boundaries of the forest he’d been spending nearly every day in the smithy, he no longer had the time to go on their trips and he had no desire to join them in flirting with the forest’s edge. So why did he keep thinking about it?
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, trying to still his mind and relax his body. The soreness in his arms and legs lessened slightly and he forgot he was covered in dried sweat and soot. He could see the deeper forest, the area beyond the Beacon Trees, just like he did last time he was there. The image didn’t change but it alternated between feeling darker and ominous and being bright and inviting. It was the first time he had gone beyond the Beacon Trees. In fact, as far as he knew there have only been three people in living memory who’d gone beyond the Beacon Trees, Klavis, Kamilis and himself.
If the stories his parents had told him as a child were to be believed the Beacon Trees were grown countless centuries ago to mark the boundary between their lands and the rest of the world. The Beacon Trees hid the city, the surrounding villages and the Greenwood. They outlined the edge of the forest, providing a barrier for those wanting to enter and a physical warning for those inside to go no further. It was said that if you went beyond the Beacon Trees, you risked never being able to go home again; yet here he was, lying in his bed at home.
He’d passed the Beacon Trees to find his cousins, and nothing happened. If Klavis was to be believed they’d been going beyond the Beacon Trees for months. People quickly learned that Klavis was prone to exaggerating, but Kamilis, he seldom did. Xecran was certain that they’d been toying with their fate for months. Yet they had always returned. Does that mean there wasn’t anything to be afraid of? Was there no doomed world, subjugated by the nameless enemy of ages past, waiting for the moment to invade his home? He was no longer certain if those tales could be believed.
Xecran opened his eyes and in that moment, he decided two things. One, when his cousins returned from the city, he was going to surprise Klavis by taking him up on his offer to join them on their next trip; an offer he figured Klavis had only made in jest. The second decision? He was going to go take a nice long hot bath.