All of their clothes were mismatched. Some of them had wool jackets while a scant amount only wore cotton tunics despite the season. Their heights were not the same and more than a few had straw-woven hats. One group stuck to their weapons on their hips while others decided to keep the ethereal as the main avenue of offense. The horses underneath them weren’t the same breed or size. One or two equines had well-worn saddles on them while a few others didn’t have any at all.
It was in their abstraction that hid their uniform. On the roadside, they couldn’t have been mistaken. Certainly not with their killer's intent barely sheathed by their patient greed.
They resided in a temporary camp not too far from the mark, but not close enough to be seen. It was regarded that the raid would occur after winter and when campaign season began. That changed when the humdrum of war kicked up when Shio officially declared war on Alfaria. Things changed. The Shiens did not understand the cold of the kingdom, and the citizens of Alfaria were not afraid of the freeze or much less the empire.
This raid was much more than that. It was a direct provocation but that was unknown to the great majority of the band.
Squeak was forcefully volunteered to oversee the ruse and make sure the deception was carried out with no hindrances. It bristled him that he was coerced to work but relieved that he was chosen for this field. He was small, quick, and deceptively clever. Skulduggery was a specialty. The plan was simple. Squeak would pose as a courier, and give the Audimator a fake recruitment letter for the youth.
From there the preparation forked into different scenarios. First, the kid of the farmstead would be sent out. Then they would grab him from the road, then the Mark would be baited into a bad situation. Or rather, if the Audimator himself left, they would raid and wait until he realized the letter was a fake. Either way. The legend was dead.
There was a two-mile trek back to the camp and Squeak was sorely tempted to conjure some wind underneath his feet. His short legs and obtusely long torso weren't fit for hikes. But magic could be sensed and tracked. That wasn’t something to risk.
The temporary lodgings were lit in a buzz. The farmstead was a grand step that would lead down to their final performance. Taking Ascot.
Squeak slipped his way through his comrades. He wasn’t one for their vices, much less their base celebration and revelry. He wasn’t one of them, he was an outsider. Always had been. The target was reached and he stood silently outside. “Sir.” He said.
“Yeah.” A rough voice belched out. So thick with alcohol and a poorly veiled accent that the word came out more like a grunt. A large humanoid came out of the giant makeshift tent. He towered over Squeak with all eight feet of him corded with muscle. Out of all the band, he was the only one not to wear a mask. It would do little to cover the two large tusks that peaked from his lower lips. Or the dark green of his skin. “You’ve come to give me good news.”
“He took the bait.”
“Haha!” He bellowed. Either he was too liquored or the orc mentality was too different from humans. The news of incoming terrible violence excited him. Vigored the orc to a point that it scared Squeak. The smile that bloomed from the leader was ugly and awkward. On the whole, the facial expression leaned more on the side of a frown. “Listen here!” Like a whip, the hubbub was cleaved. “Sharpen your weapons and prepare your magics. Saddle your horses. We raid!”
The men erupted into a cheer. There was a whir now as each person had a hurried energy about them. Squeak left with the cover of the announcement. The orc turned and entered his tent to grab a large battle ax that rested on the ground. Both the weapon and he thirsted for blood.
***
Kenan had an itch. He was unsure what it was, but it wasn’t something that could’ve been scratched. It was in his mind, intangible and was focused in two directions. Sometimes it would come from the south, then at other times the north. He knew the latter was the general course for the village. The former was a source of confusion.
Maybe it was because of his other point of agitation. Both of his animal companions were missing. Dion was gone to probably hunt. That was unusual for winter but nothing the fox hadn’t done before. What worried Kenan was Jefned. The colts' stable was unlocked and the equine wandered away. He believed Jefned would come back. But the anxiety was there regardless.
It had only been a day without Doco’s regard, and Kenan had already changed the schedule to fit him. The early morning to breakfast was devoted to his chores. After was his first session of training followed by a break with lunch and a second round followed that. The time between dinner and sleep was taken to study, think, and understand. The first day of this regime passed and went.
His body had been altered with the steps of his old tan book and because of that, his mana system had been too. For any sentient, the meta-physical collided with the tangible at various points. Kenan peeled away those connections. Instead of two intertwined realms, it was like they had been laid on top of each other. When he focused on his dantian, he sensed nothing about his body. That applied vice-versa. Some portion of his mind was afraid that he had already veered from the rest of the population. Another larger section didn’t care.
The organic circuit that made his mana system was focused under the lens of his inner eye. All but one of the gates leading to his dantian were filled. The rest were blocked with thick impurities and other detritus that had an unknown origin. He hadn’t a pattern to push potency through. Spells were out of his range for the time being. Regardless, he had the potential for magic. He thought about how he would use his mana, and why he would. The target was how he could increase its efficacy.
He could try to excavate a gate. But that was a long-term goal. From the brushes of magical instruction received from his uncle. Each gate was harder to open than the last and took longer too. What could he do now?
Kenan took his vision and focused on the whole. Then he dived deep into the details and backed out. He took his time. Noticed the small, rough, and bark-like layers of his dantian and gate. Tried to understand the absorption of mana.
Something swirled in his mind, came to the forefront, and popped. Mentally Kenan grabbed all the received mana and any stored potency. He pushed it in reverse of the normal flow and shoved his gate full of the ethereal substance. Then he doubled down on his pressure and pain shocked him. A mix of a strong burn and deep cold attacked his spine then spread to his fingers and toes in a slow pulse. It was agony but he continued.
His will waned and the control he had snapped from his grasp. All the mana was shunted back in his dantian and it hit fast and hard. Kenan was ripped from his inner perception. It felt like his blood was lit and wanted to vibrate out of his skin. He writhed for a few minutes in teeth-clenched silence. Like a mental signal reached his body, all at once his muscles released, and suddenly he was fine.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
When the adrenaline spike soothed and took back the full cognitive function of his brain he checked his body. Then the metaphysical. No signs of damage were seen, but there was a change in his gate. It had widened. It was minuscule and didn’t compare to other relatives. But it was still a win. A huge victory.
He reveled in his discovery. He let the emotion carry him out of his concentration. It would have been broken anyway from the flicker of smell that wafted into his senses. His stomach grumbled, almost yelled. Kenan had faced this hunger before, and his body passed it. There wasn’t enough information to go on, but Kenan guessed it was the mental energy used that beggared his nutrition. With the grog of starvation, he shuffled from his bed and into the dinner room. The supper was late, but it was big. He sat down. In the undercurrents of scent was the delectable aroma of seasoned cooked potatoes. There were also bits of a cheese dish but mainly there was the smell of freshly cooked meat. The sizzle of pork attacked his nose and he breathed in with greed.
“Kenan. Keeeeenan. Kenan!” Lucy half-yelled. She poked her brother in the neck, then flicked him in the forehead. It was another extra-strength flick that snapped Kenan out of his smell-induced coma. “Pig brain got you that happy?”
“Can you blame the boy? He is my son. When I was his age I could’ve eaten an entire pig.” Tyris said. He too waited for food. Ava didn’t allow anybody in the kitchen when there was something on the stove. Not even her beloved.
“Might as well serve up Luce while you're at it,” Kenan said. His sister reacted with an offended shriek as she tried to hit him. Kenan misplaced each attack. Tyris ignored the bickering siblings. He had enough of that in his childhood to last a lifetime. Instead, his attention shoved the focus to the approaching plate, held by his wife, and a half dozen others aloft by magical tendrils of water.
It was not long until the family became lost in the meat. Their words chased away the taste of the fat and the creamy perfection of the potatoes. When each had their fill, the large pig leg was all but stripped away. The remaining vegetables and sides were scraps compared to what was came out with. Ava had the least to eat followed by her daughter. Then came Tyris and his son respectively. Kenan took the lion's share of the feast.
It was for some time before everyone could conjure their conscience through the haze of their swollen stomachs. Ava was the first to rise and clean the gruesome aftermath of their gluttony. The three others woke later. With his hunger wrestled away, Kenan had finally grabbed a question he had meant to ask before supper. “Do the gates you were born with open matter?”
Lucy burped. It smelled so bad It made Kenan cringe back. “Yeah and no. Having all thirteen and only having one both have advantages. But it’s said that only having one is better.”
“What are the advantages of both one and thirteen?” Kenan asked.
“The amount of gates at birth is the bare minimum that you need to function,” Tyris said. He picked something from the gap between his teeth. “The less gates, the more potential you have. As to why you would have thirteen…” Tyris shrugged. There wasn’t going to be any deeper truth. None that Kenan could pull out.
Kenan thoughts swirled and questioned. “How many gates did you have?”
“three,” Tyris grunted out.
“seven,” Ava yelled from the kitchen. “Your sister too.”
“Why? Let me guess, you have all thirteen and you were gonna be all…”
“I have one”
“Huh?!”
Tyris delivered another shrug as Ava stumbled into the room. “He is my father's grandson.”
“Wait? What? Grandpa….” Kenan's query was interrupted. Violent and sudden. Their dishes rumbled. Dust was shaken from the ceiling and their bones rattled with the vibration. Something in the house upended and then crashed.
“The earth?” Ava asked.
Tyris shook his head and stood. Stomped towards a window and gazed out of it. Then the quake turned and settled. He glanced at Ava, and then at his children. “Hun. Go get it. Now. Lucy and Kenan, get your travel gear. Quick.” Tyris' face contorted, and it made Kenan freeze. The sudden events led him to confusion but the emotion on his father's face had brought the situation to a ugly realization. Veiled behind the rock image of rage, was a timidity Tyris never had before.
“What’s happening?!” Lucy yelled. Kenan didn’t move, couldn’t for fear crept in all of his muscles and paralyzed him. What was out there? Why was his father like this?
“Lucy, you have to go.”
“No! I don’t! What’s out there!” Like her father, her tread to the window was heavy. Tyris grabbed her and prevented forward track. “Let me…”
“There are nothing but men out there.”
“I can help you!”
“You will not.”
“You can’t make me leave! Kenan can escape. He knows the way to the village and he can warn uncle."
The silence made the echo of the boom from the outside all that much louder. The house shuddered and bright orange and dark red engulfed everything. “Fine! Run if you can!” Lucy headed towards the door, Tyris did too but stopped. He was side to side with his son but each faced a different direction. “You have always been my pride.” He placed his hand on Kenan’s head. “I have so much to tell you, but I love you son.” Tyris exited.
Something moved Kenan. It wasn’t his conscious mind but something deeper. Instinctive. He ran into his room. Grabbed his pack and put in all the survival essentials. He tried to find his tome’s but didn’t have the time.
Outside of his room fire licked at the core of his home. It burnt and devoured everything in its path. The ramifications of the carnage pounced off of his emotional numbness. His mother came as she rushed out of the hallway. “Baby. You need to be quiet. Travel to the village, don’t take the road. Be wary of everyone.” She hugged him. “I love you.” Kenan tried to hug back but she backed off and then shoved a long black object in Kenan’s hands. There were pained screams that broke the dangerous cackle above. “You're strong Kenny, much more than you think you are.” Then as fast as she arrived, she left as tendrils of ice-cored water formed in the air.
Kenan breathed. But it was interrupted by a cough. The smoke he inhaled fought back against his lungs and tried to seize everything else. That, along with paralysis of emotion that flash froze him. He wanted to cry, to scream. To do more. Something fell behind him and almost scorched his back. Its sound cracked against his mind and made the practical punch through the rest. He ran past gouts of flame and to the back door.
There, a monster stood. Nestled in the doorframe was a man who waited. To Kenan, it wasn’t a human before him but something that was the representation of gross sorrow. The man, the thing, laughed. It towered over Kenan, its lanky arms lazily unsheathed the pocketed, crude sword at its hip. The two made eye contact. Kenan's soul lay bare and burned as he looked into the creatures.
The sword swung down. Arched for the length of Kenan's torso. The instinct that washed away his fear clung to anything it could. Without proper thought, Kenan grabbed at the long black object in his hands and held what was a handle. Then unsheathed a long, slightly curved black blade. Kenan had enough time for him to meet steel with steel. The impact shook, maybe even cracked his bones. All the previous training felt inadequate, as the man sent blow after blow. Each just blocked but not all of its transgression left depleted.
Kenan gained shallow cuts, but worse the intensity tracked down his stamina. He began to flog, even though the man's strikes got quicker, hit worse.
The knowledge Kenan brought with him was not enough. The staff training failed him, his body failed him, and he had failed. His blade was too late and too heavy for a sideways chop aimed at his throat. The tip inched forward, motions turned slow as Kenan tried to rapidly understand what had happened, and what was next. Then he watched as a small black and white blur collided with the sword and threw its arch away. Blood spluttered from the canine body and the composition of both the fight and Kenan's mindset flipped.
An epiphany struck him. The thing in front of him was just a man
There was confusion and it was deep-rooted to be sure. More emotions followed. Thought got clogged. Dion. He had. Kenan felt it arrive through his stomach and spread to all of his being. It was anger. Instinct thrown away for the favor of an eroding, insatiable rage.
“NO!” Kenan yelled. Something pulled taunt at Kenan’s dantian. It latched on and didn’t let go. The blade lit up in a thousand different white dots. Kenan lunged at the man.
The enemy delved into a fit of laughter. His blade was positioned to deflect Kenan’s strike. He didn’t have time for the cackle to abate as the black blade sliced straight through the rusted sword, continued in the air, and ripped the upper half of the bandit.
The man died in an instant. Kenan fell unconscious and was buried under his burning home seconds later.