CHAPTER 9: FAMILY TIES

Dan groggily startled awake. At first, he struggled to get his bearings. It had to have been the first time he’d ever slept outside of the comfort of his own bed.

The carriage door rattled uncontrollably. Dan didn’t realize at first, but once he cleared away the fog of sleep, he abruptly jumped to his feet.

“Y-young master! Help! Please help! Master Dan!”

Dan unlocked the myriad of latches one after the other, wishing for the first time that the cabin door wasn’t so secure. The last latch clicked open, and he shouldered the door so hard that it flew loose from its hinges.

The dishevelled driver, hair loose from its once tidy style and robes bloodied of all things, latched to Dan’s ankles with a tremble to his step. A fresh mark on the man’s forehead oozed blood, and from the trajectory of the door and the driver’s position, Dan guiltily understood that it was his fault.

The driver mustered strength to pull Dan from his feet in what Dan saw as a misguided attempt to get his help. Miraculously, despite the position, he wasn’t moved an inch. Unless he wanted to move, he wouldn’t. If he had the wherewithal and a greater sense of the childish wonder his father hated so, the ordeal could have been satisfying.

“What is it? What’s the rush? Why are you panicking? Why are you covered in blood?”

He only intended to ask one question, but opening his mouth released the floodgates. Dan’s ears flicked with activity, and his eyes darted past the middle-aged man and to the distance.

His eyes widened, and without waiting for answers to any of his questions, he darted off. A shake of his leg detached the shaken driver, and a push of the other launched himself ten feet into the air.

In fact, the driver had guided the carriage all the way through the wide streets of central Bluecorn Hamlet before the happenings detracted from his driving. All the way to the Valyon family compound.

Which was on fire.

There was no precedent to relate to the panic that assailed Dan’s heart, nor the welling of confusion that mustered in the back of his mind. Who did this? How did this?

His father never left the family compound. Never. But bodies littered the landscape, cousins and aunts and uncles that Dan was in-part acquainted with. Doubtlessly, he had siblings lying on the ground, their identities unknown to him but their deaths real, and he was left with nothing but two burning questions.

What was happening?

Where was Immortal Valyon?

Uncertainty propelled Dan forward, and a steadily growing sense of dread guided him toward his home.

He arrived in moments, dozens of times faster than he’d ever managed before. Against his wildest expectations, before him lay a perfectly fine building. Runes burned brightly around the walls, an exquisite protection that might have left the house itself unassailed, and Dan rushed inside.

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But despite the home being relatively open, there was no father in sight. Until he found him, it was all up in the air.

Dan dashed into the depths of the family compound, through hastily trodden dirt and clustered wooden husks that resembled homes. In seconds, he reached the proud stone behemoth that represented the family hall, where Dan might have wandered once or twice whilst his father met with elders and engaged in the kinds of boring meetings that a smaller Dan couldn’t even begin to understand.

The surrounds were littered with bodies, but it wasn’t the dead that propelled him forward.

Shhhhng.

Clang!

The rasp of metal and the clashing of blades assailed his ears, and Dan finally caught sight of the family’s attackers.

Or attacker, rather.

Tall and lean, enveloped in an exquisite red robe, an impeccable copy of his father, stood opposed… to his father.

“What is this…”

Dan faltered immediately, but after a second glance, he noticed several minute differences in the man’s features. A somewhat smaller nose, hair a smidgen lighter, ears more rounded. A handsome man, for sure, but certainly a unique individual.

His father saw him first, and so too did Dan see the dishevelled, sweat-smothered figure of angst that usually watched him from such a lofty – but relatively kindly – position.

“Who is this?”

The spotless, white-robed individual that could easily pass as a twin to Dan’s father turned to regard him. As soon as his eyes moved, Dan’s father immediately struck.

Clang.

“You doddering old fool, don’t you get it?” The twisted murderer manoeuvred his sword arm in a flash, and his father’s precious blade, a beautiful mithril-wrought weapon Dan had only once touched, shattered into shrapnel. In return, his father only grunted, but Dan could hear the turmoil in that short noise.

Dan could see that his father was utterly drained. It wasn’t a state he’d seen the man in before.

“So what?” His father spat. Blood splattered by his assailant’s toes, and the surrounding fires added a terrifying light to his father’s eyes. Unless, perhaps, that light had always been there.

“Is this the son you decided on?” The blood-soaked copy of his father spoke with bemusement. A searing anger was so poorly hidden in the man’s tone that Dan felt its heat against his stilled, paling skin. “A little boy with a nature aspect? Compared to me? I already knew you were senile a long time ago, old man, but this is a poor showing. Has your bias rotted your brain?”

The stranger carelessly swiped with his blade and Immortal Valyon backpedalled.

As for Dan, he turned and ran. This whole situation was a whole lot of nope. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t watch. He just couldn’t!

Before he’d even made two steps, a splattering of fire erupted behind his back.

“Oh! He’s a quick one, isn’t he?”

Dan fell forward. The ringing of a blade splitting the air resounded loudly in his ears. His adrenaline spiked, and in his panic, he span in something resembling a somersault and landed on his feet. His waist erupted with blistering pain, but it did nothing to prevent stamping his feet and dashing away in a burst of speed.

Dan was in a hurry as he mustered every bit of energy he could down his meridians and directly toward his toes.

Poomf!

He bound through the air at a height and speed that weighed heavily on his nerves. He landed outside the compound, saw his driver crying into the dirt, and decided immediately that the carriage would be too slow.

Another burst of his spirit energy, expended in a rush, saw the earth pass rapidly beneath his feet. The stores of energy in his dantian plummeted, and aches spread amongst his flesh nearly right away.

But he bound again. And then again. And again…

Dan eventually fell into a tangle of twigs and branches beneath a simple oak in the woods. A hole in the canopy lead to a cascade of moonlight enveloping his bruises and, worst of all, highlighting where he lay. It took considerable effort merely to drag himself out of the light.

Amongst wet grass, errant roots and muddied earth, his robe stained and littered with blood, soot and forest produce, it all fell to black.