Part One
Snow Goose
It was early morning when Hunter awoke, a hand banging on the door to his room. With a groan, Hunter rolled over, opting to ignore the pounding fist. Whoever it was would soon get the message that he was still sleeping and leave him alone. They could wait for a more suitable time than dawn to talk to him.
The knocking stopped for a couple of seconds and Hunter sighed with relief. Only for his relief to vanish quickly, when the knocking started back up again. Feeling that the conversation soon to occur was inevitable, Hunter sat up, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes.
“What is it?” he called, his voice slurring from sleepiness.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Apprentice Wright,” the voice answered, genuinely sounding apologetic. “But Senior Archer Johnson wants to see you in his office.”
Immediately, Hunter felt wide awake. Senior Archer Johnson was his mentor and the last time he wanted to see Hunter this early in the morning was when they had received a special mission from the king. And missions, especially special missions from the king, were one of the reasons why Hunter longed to be a full-fledged archer one day. He lived for them and for the adventure and excitement they brought into his otherwise dull life of living in the Tascelan Court.
“Why?” he asked, trying to keep his excitement to a minimum. After all, if it wasn’t what he was thinking of, why get his hopes up?
“I don’t know,” came the response. Good, that bonded well with Hunter’s hopes. If it was a secret mission, then the person on the other side of the door would know nothing about it.
“You can go,” Hunter said, standing up. “Tell him I’ll be in his office shortly.” Hunter heard the sound of footsteps walk away, signaling that the person at the door had left. Hunter wasted no time in getting dressed, pulling on dark pants and a green shirt. Finally, he pulled on his soft, brown boots. He was about to leave when he noticed the silver sunflower head pinned onto his gray cloak. He didn’t hesitate as he unpinned it, pinning it to the collar of his shirt. It signified that he was an officer of Tascela, something that most boys his age couldn’t say. Not only that, but the silver color of the pin signified that Hunter was a part of the Tascelan Archers, an elite intelligence force answerable only to the king of Tascela. Having it was a source of pride in Hunter’s life and gave him a sense of family that he knew most orphans like himself didn’t feel. Now fully dressed with the light glinting off of his pin, he left his room, locking the door behind him.
He walked down the hallway, making it to the stairwell. Taking the stairs two at a time, Hunter hurried up the stairs, making it from the second floor to the fifth quickly. He hurried down the hallway, waving to the people he met on his way. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone, though, determined on making it to the last door on the right: his mentor’s office.
The door was open, as it usually was when his mentor was in his office. Hunter walked in, standing in front of Michael’s desk in favor of sitting down in the chair.
Michael Johnson was a short man, with completely silver hair. His green eyes were sharp, good at seeing both the smallest of details and the largest of details. Seven years ago, when Hunter met Michael, those green eyes had assured Hunter that he was a friend. Years later, the man’s eyes still held the same warmth and still had the ability to calm anyone looking into them.
Michael leaned back in his desk chair, taking Hunter in. Michael’s gray cloak was slung over the chair and Hunter could see his own silver sunflower pin on it. Instead of only being a head, it had a sunflower stalk, complete with a leaf. The stalk signified that Michael was of a higher rank than Hunter--a full-fledged archer while Hunter was just an apprentice--and the leaf showed that Michael held one of the highest officer ranks in Tascela, the rank of an advisor. In fact, out of all of the Tascelan Archers, Michael was the only one to have the leaf on his sunflower, as there could only be one Archer Advisor in the whole kingdom at a time. The advisor also took up a new form of address, making Michael’s official title Senior Archer.
“Good morning, Hunter,” Michael said.
Hunter snorted. “I suppose it’s a good morning if you like dawn.”
Michael chuckled. “I always forget that you hate mornings. I honestly have no problem with it. Early bird gets the worm and all.”
“But the early worm gets eaten,” Hunter pointed out. Swapping proverbs like this was a common pastime for the people of Malin, an activity that Hunter’s parents themselves partook in when they were alive. While Michael wasn’t from Malin, he had picked up the habit over the years, maybe from the trips to Malin he took each year. In fact, it was on one such trip that Michael had met Hunter. Regardless of where or how Michael started speaking in proverbs, he had taught Hunter to do the same, saying it was a way for Hunter to participate in his late parents’ culture. “What did you want to talk about with me?” Hunter asked.
“Right to the point as always.” Michael looked down to the paper on his desk, sighing as he did so. “I received a letter from Emperor Elliott late last night.”
Hunter frowned. Emperor Elliott was the leader of the Aspayan Empire, a country Tascela had fought with for five years. As of two months ago, Tascela lost, becoming Aspaya’s second tributary, the first being Malin. “What did it say?”
Again, Michael sighed. “Nothing good, I’m afraid. It lays out a new rule, effective immediately. Here,” he said, handing a piece of paper to Hunter. Hunter recognized the red insignia of Aspaya instantly. “Read it yourself.” Hunter took it without hesitation, desperate to read what it said.
To all Archers of Tascela,
In light of recent events, the emperor of Aspaya has decided to demolish the officer position of the archer. Effective immediately, all Tascelan Archers must turn in their officer pins to King Charles Richter of Tascela. Any archers withholding onto their pins and claiming to still be an officer of Tascela are deemed Traitors of the Aspayan Empire and are to be dealt with accordingly. Thank you for your cooperation with the new act, called the Archer Act.
Sincerely,
Matheson Wells
By the time he finished reading the short letter consisting of only four short sentences, Hunter’s hands were shaking with anger. All of his work for the past year, all of his dreams for the future for the past seven years, everything that he drew joy from, gone, vanished, virtually overnight. He stared at the signature at the bottom of the letter, the source of all of his anger at this new act.
Matheson Wells.
Anyone familiar with history, news, and basic politics knew of him. Known as the Aspayan Hero, Wells had joined the ranks of the Aspayan Army when Emperor Elliott had just come into power, just a king of a single kingdom back then. Wells had quickly risen up, becoming the emperor’s right hand man in just a few months. With Wells’ help in leading the army, Aspaya was able to take over Malin, completing their first step towards world domination. Wells had been monumental to the victory and, when Aspaya attacked Tascela, he helped to win that war as well. Still, victory did not come easy for the Aspayan Empire, depleting the Empire of resources and supplies and killing thousands of soldiers. The low number of soldiers had led to the Enlistment Act, which forced people to fight for the Empire, and the low amount of supplies led to an increase of tribute from Malin. Requiring Malin to send three-quarters of its produce monthly, citizens around the kingdom of Malin had felt the impact. Now, with Tascela a tributary to the Empire, Tascela was required to send three-quarters of its produce to the army as well, in preparation of Aspaya’s attack on the fourth, and final, kingdom on the continent of Esmaya: Eskil. And, when Aspaya finally started that attack, it would be inevitable that boys from around the kingdom would be set off to war thanks to the Enlistment Act.
Now, a new oppressive act was coming Hunter’s way, affecting him more than the other two acts ever would: the banning of the Tascelan Archers. Hunter clenched his fists, the letter in his hand crumpling quickly, as he felt anger rising up in his chest, desperate to unleash it upon the man who helped to destroy his life’s goal and his dreams.
“Hunter,” Michael started to say, “I kn--”
“Where is Wells?” Hunter asked, looking up at his mentor with a fiery look in his eyes.
Michael paused, seeming to consider his next words. “I believe he’s on his way here, to ensure that the Archer Act is carried out and that Tascela is following the Empire’s orders.”
“Good,” Hunter said, nodding swiftly.
“Good?” Michael repeated, raising one of his eyebrows. “Hunter, nothing about what I just said is ‘good.’”
“Yes, it is,” Hunter said stubbornly. When Michael still looked at him as if he had lost his mind, he added, “I want to tell Wells myself what I think about his new law.”
Michael leaned back in his seat, taking in the angry expression on Hunter’s face and his tight hold around the letter. “Hunter, I understand why you’re upset, but let your anger go for a few seconds and think logically about our next steps.”
“Let my anger go?” Hunter asked, not believing what he was currently hearing. He let the letter in his hand fall to the ground. “All of my training for the past year is now lost, everything I have been wanting for the past seven years is now unable to be fulfilled, and you want me to do nothing about that?”
Michael shook his head. “I didn’t say I wanted you to do nothing, I just asked if you could think logically.”
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Hunter blinked, then stared at Michael, still not quite believing what Michael was saying. When Michael steadily met his gaze, Hunter closed his eyes and exhaled, forcing himself to do what his mentor asked him to do. While it did little to calm himself completely, it did help alleviate some of his anger, leaving him slightly more clear-headed. “Fine.” He re-opened his eyes. “What are you planning to do?”
“I’m leading an evacuation of the Archers. We’re leaving Tascela behind, heading to Eskil. From th--”
“That’s it, then?” Hunter asked. The calm feeling that he thought he had evaporated in the face of Michael’s stupid plan, his anger from earlier washing over him again. Much of his anger was directed at Wells and it demanded to be let out in some way. With the man in question not present, his mentor and his idea of retreat was the next best candidate to release some of his anger. “The kingdom you swore to protect is being overrun by Aspaya and you want to hide? The best thing for us to do is to stay here! Protect the people of Tascela from the oppressive rule of Emperor Elliott!”
“Hunter, we can’t do that with this new law. If we stay, we will be arrested. Or maybe even kil--”
“Who cares?” Hunter snapped. “Who cares if we die protecting our kingdom, our people? Protecting them is what we swore upon when we received our sunflower pins. If we die doing what we swore to our king we would do, so be it. We died doing our jobs.”
“We have a new leader now, Hunter: the emperor. Our king’s orders are null and void in the wake of the Archer Act.”
Hunter brought himself to his full height, easily towering over Michael, who was still sitting in his chair. “So? We should still stand behind the king.”
Now, Michael stood up, although Hunter was still taller than him by a couple of inches. “And in Emperor Elliott’s eyes, I will be a traitor if I follow King Charles’ commands. Which is why we’re leaving.” Michael turned around, signifying the end of the argument, but it was nowhere close to being done in Hunter’s eyes.
“You’re a coward,” he spat. “You’re too scared to face the consequences of fulfilling your oath, too ready to turn tail when life gets hard. And if you expect me to follow you to Eskil, leaving behind everything I know and have fought for, then you’re stupid. I’m staying here, where I can satisfy my oath to the people of Tascela and protect them from the Aspayan Empire.”
Michael whirled around, his eyes flashing with anger, an emotion that Hunter rarely, if ever, saw in Michael. “Like I told you to do earlier, put away your emotions for once, Hunter, and think.”
Hunter’s lips parted to speak, but Michael spoke over him, leaving him no room to reply.
“One thing you and I both agree on is our oaths to King Charles and our sworn duty to the people of Tascela. But, if we stay and try to do that, we will be killed within days, thanks to this new law.” He gestured towards the abandoned letter on the ground. “Within days, the people of Tascela will be left with no one to protect them from Emperor Elliott, the most oppressive and self-seeking leader ever to grace the continent of Esmaya. What you suggest we do will leave no one to protect the people we swore to protect when we received our sunflower pins.” He paused while Hunter considered his words, turning them over in his head. Then, he continued talking. “What I am suggesting is not to flee our posts and abandon our people, Hunter. I am not forgetting the oath I swore years ago, an oath I have withheld for the thirty years I have been an Archer of Tascela. I have never, nor will I ever, forget the oath I swore and the oath I upkeep every day I put on my pin. And don’t you dare suggest otherwise.”
Hunter pushed his chin up defiantly. “Then what are you planning on doing?” he asked. “If you mean to keep your oath, then how the hell do you plan on doing that when you’re leaving your kingdom behind?”
“I plan to bide my time, in a kingdom where Aspaya has failed to get in their grasp. I plan to help Eskil keep Aspaya out of their borders, perhaps even helping them take back the territory Aspaya has taken. The Aspayan Empire needs to be dealt with--and swiftly. The best course of action at this time is to leave the Empire behind and build up a rebellion outside of its borders, far away from Matheson Wells, the emperor himself, and other people who can hear the rebellion’s whispers. And the only way to ensure that the rebellion is alive is to stay alive, not throw away my life here.”
Hunter went quiet, thinking about his mentor’s words. It made sense when Michael explained it that way and Hunter was ashamed that he ever insinuated that Michael was a traitor to his oath. And, upon thinking about it further, Hunter realized that he liked Michael’s plan more than his own. “I’m sorry, Michael,” he said, quick to fix his errors. “I’ll join you in the evacuation of the Tascelan Archers and go to Eskil with you, if you’ll have me.”
“Of course I’ll have you, Hunter,” Michael said. “But, in the future, try to understand the full picture before deciding upon a plan. The worst plans are the ones decided with your heart; the best plans consider both the heart and the mind. Logic is a tool, Hunter, and it makes a good weapon. Learn to use it to your advantage. I know you’re smart, Hunter, just let your heart listen to the facts.”
Hunter nodded, understanding what Michael was saying. He had been told before that his emotions would lead to his downfall, but he still struggled with not letting it. “Understood, Michael. I’ll try.”
“Don’t try, ju--”
“Just do,” Hunter finished, nodding in agreement. The sentence was a favorite of Michael’s. “What do you need me to do?”
Michael held up a stack of letters. “I spent all night writing these letters.”
Hunter tilted his head to the side. “Did you sleep at all?”
Michael waved a hand, dismissing Hunter’s question. “Unimportant. Talk to the couriers about sending this out. The archers need to see these letters as soon as possible.”
Hunter nodded swiftly, taking the stack of letters. Before he could turn to leave, Michael stopped him. “Your sunflower,” he said, gesturing to the pin on Hunter’s collar.
Hunter’s hand came up to brush it, a thrum of fear washing over him. “Are we actually going to give them up?”
Michael shook his head and Hunter sighed in relief. “Just hide it from sight. We don’t want anyone to know what we’re planning on doing.”
Hunter frowned, looking down at the letters in his hands. “But the letters…if they’re intercepted, people will know what we’re planning.”
But Michael was already shaking his head. “They’re encoded. No one but the archers will be able to understand what they say.”
“There’s an Archer Code?” Hunter asked, his interest piqued. “What is it? How do you de--”
“Letters, Hunter,” Michael interrupted, not unkindly. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Hunter nodded, leaving the office behind him. He hurried down the stairs, unpinning his sunflower pin and stuffing it into his pocket. He’ll find a better hiding place for it later; for now, it would have to do in his pocket. With the letters in his hand, Hunter quickened his pace. Michael was always telling him to go slow, but Hunter was one to always move quickly, moving from one task to the next. When he was younger, it must have frustrated his parents to no end, watching their toddler fling himself at a different task every few seconds.
He smiled ruefully as he thought about his parents. It was a subject he tried to avoid in his mind, as it sometimes led to him spiraling down in a dark place that he had resided in the years following their deaths and before he met Michael. Today, however, it seemed to lift his spirits, pushing him to hurry towards the courier offices.
If they were still alive, what would they think? Would they be proud of their son, with a silver sunflower pin in his pocket? Or would they hate him for leaving behind his birthplace in Malin Kingdom in favor of Tascela? Would they be disappointed in the choices he had made to lead him to this very moment in time?
These last two thoughts Hunter shook away, trying to imagine his parents smiling down at him with smiles on their faces, happy to see how and where their son turned out to be ten years after their passing.
But he couldn’t shake the memories of his father teaching him the skills a farmer needed to possess, hoping for Hunter to one day take his place. How would he feel if Hunter left their family farm, deciding to become Michael’s apprentice? He couldn’t shake the memories of his mother teaching him the Malin tongue, impressing on him a hope that he would uphold their traditions and heritage, and would one day pass it on to his own children. Would she be happy to know that Hunter hadn’t spoken the Malin language in five years now?
Hunter paused on the steps, realizing that thinking of his parents hadn’t lifted his spirits at all; no, they had brought him to that dark, dark place, threatening to swallow him in its depressing depths, dragging him down farther into a sea he felt he would never learn how to swim in. And in that sea resided memories best left forgotten, memories that he tried to ignore. But they came in full force now, when his mind had wandered to that part of his brain, rooting him in his place on the steps while they played out.
Hunter was in his mother’s arms, looking behind them to where their burning house was. The flames were rising higher and higher every second, taking with it ash, embers, and smoke. His father was next to them, pulling them away from their farmhouse, heading for the fields behind the house.
“We have to go,” Papá was saying. Hunter turned his head, noticing the fear in his dad’s blue eyes. Fear gripped inside of Hunter as he watched it overtake his dad’s normally calm temperament. What was scaring his dad so bad? What was so frightening that had made his dad scared?
Hunter soon got his answer moments later, when a soldier stepped out in front of them, a captain on a horse close behind him. He got his answer when the soldier with a sword fought his dad, armed with only a dagger. He got his answer when the soldier’s sword drove itself into his father’s chest and his father fell to the ground. He got his answer when the captain struck down his mother, blood pooling out of her stomach. He got his answer when he laid on the ground, looking up at a captain with a bloody sword. He got his answer when that sword cut his forehead, making blood pour into his eye. He got his answer when the soldier came back, stepping in between the captain’s sword and Hunter, catching the blade with his own bloody sword. He got his answer as he scrambled away from them, the captain beating the soldier. He, too, felt the fear that had been in his father’s eyes as they had tried to run away.
And it was that fear that pushed Hunter forward, pushing him farther and farther away from his burning house, the dead bodies of his mother and father, and the captain beating the soldier to death. And when that fear finally gave in to his exhaustion, Hunter collapsed to the ground in front of a river, sobs overwhelming him. When they finally subsided, Hunter looked up at the rising stars above him, a desire washing over him that would fuel him for years to come.
And that desire that still fueled him, Hunter realized as he came out of the memories, his body shaking and tears streaming down his face. He shoved his hand in his pocket, touching the cool silver of his sunflower pin. He gripped it tightly, focusing his thoughts back on his goal, his sole purpose in his life. He let it come over himself, wrapping around him like a favorite cloak. And as he started down the steps again, his left hand clutching the letters for the archers and his right hand shoved in his pocket gripping his pin, he let it center him, washing away his sadness and his grief.
For one day Hunter would avenge his parents. He would destroy the people who destroyed his parents, destroy the Empire that destroyed his life.
And it started with growing the flame of the rebellion against the Aspayan Empire, with letters held tight in a hand, requesting an evacuation towards a kingdom where he could fan the spirit of a rebellion, turning it into a raging fire that would destroy everything in its path.