Prologue
Jacob Rayne knelt into the dirt outside his home and closed his eyes to pray. In his hands he gripped the earth that he had come to call his own and pleaded to the gods in desperation. This prayer he knew would be his last.
As dozens of bandits began circling him, each grinning with cruel intent, Jacob thought only of his beloved wife Sarah. She lay inside their home, moments from birthing the child that would bear his name.
Jacob wished he’d spent more years with a blade in hand. He begged for strength, so that his meager experience might purchase his family even a moment’s reprieve.
Flanked on all sides, Jacob then stood. He rose slow and ready in the light of the many carried torches that would soon be used to burn down his home.
Drawing his blade, Jacob whispered under his breath…"farewell my love".
·
Sarah Rayne screamed in tired agony, her cries piercing through the sounds of battle outside. She knew her enchantment on the door would only hold a short time and she needed to hurry.
Jacob’s brother, Figgis, stood near Sarah’s bedside. His eyes shot between the door, Sarah, and a loose panel of flooring barely visible in the next room. Sarah screamed out again, writhing in pain, and her eyes caught Figgis.
“Don’t you dare leave us...” She gasped.
“You are responsible for the evil that falls upon us this day and you will stay here and give everything for this child.” She let out a heavy breath.
“You took his future from him, you-“. Sarah cried out in pain as the noise outside fell silent.
Suddenly, the door then cracked under the weight of a thunderous blow. In that same instant ethereal shackles emerged, illuminating the door and its frame in a soft blue glow and bracing it firmly back into place. Blow after blow continued to follow, each one rattled the very walls around them and seemed to slowly weaken Sarah's enchantment further. As the home shook, dark smoke carried its way under the door and hot embers began to fall through the thatching in the roof.
They had run out of time.
Sarah drifted into her mind. She thought of her husband and of the wonderful life they might have lived. The day she had first met him he had been so awkward and frightened to speak to her, how could she not have loved him? He was a good man, and would have made a loving father. Now, he lay outside that door having given everything for her and their child. She would honor his sacrifices by doing the same.
With great effort, Sarah began to suck in all her breath and then screamed loudly, fighting with every fiber of her soul to give life. Then just a second later, as if her desperation willed it to be so, she knew she had.
Figgis rushed over to her, quickly swathing the newborn baby in some bedding, and anxiously presented it to Sarah.
In a daze, Sarah lifted her tired eyes to set sight on all her effort’s reward. What she saw in that moment made her heart smile with a lifetime of happiness, her child, a beautiful baby boy.
“…William,” She whispered. Her breath fell short. She then looked up at Figgis with what energy she could muster and reached out to grasp his arm.
“…Take him. Promise me, YOU MUST promise me, you will keep him safe…” Sarah pleaded.
Sarah’s words were silenced as tremendous strike brought the door crashing in, sending splinters askew and fading arcane wisps into the damp air. Fire wreathed the shattered pieces, carrying in a wave of oppressive heat and rolling black smoke.
Figgis hesitated for a moment, then took William under his arm and vanished in an instant down into the passageway hidden below the floorboards. He ran as fast as his feet would let him in the poorly lit tunnel.
When Figgis heard the explosion from the tunnel behind him he froze for a moment; turning back he saw a flash of sweltering heat and burning light… then ….nothing. He knew what Sarah had done. He knew her sacrifice would likely purchase his escape. Still Figgis ran hard into the night. He didn’t look back another time, not then or ever.
Chapter 1
In the dry heat of the summer day, young William raised his hand up to the sky to block out the blinding sun. He stared at the light as it passed over the spaces between his fingers. Back and forth it bounced, warming his skin, and catching sharply in his eyes. He wondered how it could be so warm but so far away.
- “WHAT in the hells are you doing, boy?” The sharp, gritty tone of his uncle’s words jolted Will back into reality.
“Have ye’ gone empty headed?” Figgis glared.
“Now take the damned coin purse when I turn me back again, an’ do it so I DON’T feel it this time! Damn the gods, you’d think you were born a halfwit.”
Will just recently had his seventh nameday and he hardly considered himself a halfwit. He had been forced to practice sleight of hand all afternoon at his uncle’s demand. It was a torturous routine where Will was expected to bump into Figgis accidentally while playing with his friends, hopefully making off with the coin purse tied to his belt. All the while, as Will pretended to be chasing another child through the streets.
It probably wouldn’t be a completely rotten plan, if Will had had any friends, or if he wasn’t so incredibly terrible at pickpocketing. Though, despite all his protesting and complaints, Figgis insisted that he would get it right if he wanted to eat each day.
·
In the years that had passed, Figgis and Will had found refuge in the slums of the small trade city of Ferrun. Ferrun may have been small, but it was a boisterous city nestled between the salty airs that wafted from the trade docks of Luss Port, to the East, and its endless red oaks of Applewood’s forest, just a half day’s walk West.
In Figgis’ case, refuge also came at the bottom of whatever bottle of spirit he had recently pilfered from the merchant quarter. He despised children and had made many attempts to rid himself of his nephew over the years. Though none were successful as his love of drink outweighed his hatred for the boy. It was always easy enough for Will to follow the stench of wine to the backside of whatever pub Figgis had hidden behind.
After long nights of drinking and cards, he would even try bartering to sell, trade, or gamble Will away. Often, only to find himself waking in alley garbage, head pounding, and young Will prodding him with a stick. Their life had continued this way until recently, when on Will’s seventh nameday, Figgis had decided to try to teach the boy the art of thievery. He had hoped that by being able to pilfer his own meals Will might finally begin to leave him alone. He hadn’t known at the time that his nephew would be so utterly useless at it.
·
“But why do I have to steal from people? A knight wouldn’t steal from anyone and I’m going to be a knight! I am!” Will insisted, as Figgis barked at him to try again; his commands echoing through the empty alleyway and frightening several rats out of a nearby heap of garbage.
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“You ain’t gonna be a ‘nite any more n’ I’m gonna be King. You stupid brat! Now put down that damn stick and get it right in your head.” Figgis retorted, as Will scrunched up his face and huffed, obviously trying to make his best impression of a brave man facing danger without fear.
William was small and thin, but a stubborn boy. He had a sturdy stance and loved to practice with the wooden stick he had sharpened and named “Sword”. He hated his uncle’s ways and he was far from skilled in thievery.
Often William dreamed of one day being a knight and fighting valiantly in the battles of the great wars. Though, he also knew that without enough coins to pay the entrance fee to the Squire’s Guild he would never become a knight. So, after throwing his tantrum for almost a full minute, Will gave in and tried to heed his uncle’s words.
They practiced all evening, until the lights through the many windows of the city were all that could be seen through the darkness.
Will awoke the next morning to Figgis looming over him, carrying a half-eaten leg of roasted mutton in his greasy hands. Bits of fat and skin dangled from the meat and Will couldn’t help but catch the scent of the spices and herbs that flavored it. Suddenly he was very aware of the heavy grumbling his stomach voiced, as it yearned for a taste or even just a scrap.
“Ah, you’ve finally ‘woken. Good boy…” Figgis leered, blocking out the sun behind him, as he chewed off another piece of delicious meat from the leg.
“Now, we’re gonna ‘ave us a little game, see? If ye’ can go into town an’ use what I taught ya an’ bring me back a shiny, any ole’ one. I’ll let ya have a bite o’ me ‘ere mutton.”
The thought of the warm roasted meat made Will’s mouth water and his stomach churned again. Eager to put an end to the rumbling, Will agreed.
So Will began his venture aimlessly into the streets of the trade quarter to scout his first target. He knew he wanted to start with something easy. Safe and quick, so that he could hurry back before Figgis had finished the mutton and left him only the bone to chew.
He rushed to browse over the crowd. There were many people bustling through the streets, each seemed to be so busy with their morning work.
There was a tall muscled man wearing a cotton doublet stained with dirt and pulling a wagon full of seed through the cobbled street. Several common women passed him by, swathed in draping garbs of various colored silks and carrying pots of what Will could expect were spices, oils, and herbs. Groups of as many as a dozen curious shoppers filled the areas surrounding the many merchant booths that stood crowding each side of the busy street.
Staring into the crowds, Will spotted a particularly fat noble with a jeweled dagger in his belt. He was wearing a purple tunic embroidered with golden threads, thin white stockings, and a rather large fluffed hat of the same vivid purple of his tunic. Will stared for a moment and wondered if the clasp over the hilt of the dagger might pull the man’s attention before he could free it from the belt. Deciding not to take the risk, Will moved on, passing over several other merchants and peasants, beggars, nobles, and tradesmen.
Then he saw it! A small brown pouch that appeared far too loosely tied to a man’s belt. It had a little lump to it, containing maybe just a few coins. Will examined, as it dangled precariously from the waist of an old wrinkly geezer wearing a sagging grey woolen robe and a tall-crooked woolen hat to match. He looked like he wouldn’t notice if his pants were missing, let alone a few coins. He was perfect.
Will did his best to walk casually towards the old man, who was browsing through the various trinkets on a bauble seller’s table. Will pretended to browse through the trinkets also, “Wowing” and “Oohing” at the many glittering spectacles before him, as he waited for the right moment.
Then, when the old man bent over to take a closer look at a glass lens with a silver metal rim, Will seized his opportunity. Shifting slowly, he slid his hand over the pouch at the man’s belt side. Will Started to walk away casually, just like Figgis had taught in one of their practice sessions. All Will had to do was let the loosened pouch slide away from the man’s belt as he walked away and it was his. Suddenly, Will felt a sharp tug and in the next instant he froze.
Someone’s voice, who he could only guess was the old man’s, whispered smoothly, “You don’t want to do that.”
Panicking, Will gripped the coin pouch tightly and broke into a full sprint. Dashing off through the crowd and looping through the alleyways in as random of a way as he could while still putting ground between him and the merchant quarter. Only looking back for a second, he saw that there were already guards pushing townsfolk aside in pursuit.
Will knew what would happen to him if the guards caught him. He would be thrown into the stockades with no food and barely any water, until a trial, and then likely it would be worse. He pushed the thought from his mind and decided he absolutely had to make it away. Trusting his knowledge of the slums and their passages, he ran with all his breath for the one place he knew he would be safe, his secret spot…
Will had discovered, years ago, a small crevice between two city walls that was only wide enough for someone small and thin to slide through. It led to a tiny dirt enclosure encapsulated between the large city walls and still in light of the sky.
Out of breath and with aching feet, Will arrived safely at the crevice and quickly crawled through to the small clearing on the other side. Now completely surrounded by stone walls nearly 15 feet high, Will slumped against the cold stone to catch his breath. He had come here often to play. The enclosure inside was large enough for Will to swing Sword around and practice his stances. It was also his favorite spot to get away when Figgis was enraged and had had far too much to drink.
Still heaving, Will slid down into the dirt against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. Finally gathering his bearings, he realized - he had done it! He could almost already taste the juicy mutton, despite the overwhelming dryness in his mouth from all the heavy breathing.
A little calmer now that he was in his secret spot, Will was excited to see how many golden coins were in the pouch. He quickly untied the knotted leather and slid the contents into his open hand.
Unexpectedly, what came out wasn’t gold at all… it didn’t even look the least bit valuable, nor was it even shiny. It was just a small wooden cube with various numbers and symbols etched into panels across its surface. Will was furious. It was just a toy! He had risked his life for a little wooden bauble.
“What a waste!” He spouted. Will sighed and sat in the dirt glaring at the cube. His stomach grumbled again reminding him that he’d still had nothing to eat. He decided he hated the little wooden toy and pondered smashing it against the high stone walls to exact his revenge. He pictured it exploding into a million pieces as he crushed it with the mighty Sword.
However, as he started plotting its destruction, Will began to notice something strange. It looked like the etchings on its surface somehow formed a pattern. The pattern was broken and it looked like the panels on the surface could be slid around into different combinations to match.
Will jumped up and began sliding the panels immediately, quickly moving them into various positions. After recognizing the patterns lined up in certain places more easily, he began to place each symbol, one by one, in proper sequence. After a moment, he believed found the correct position and when the last panel slid into place Will heard a faint ‘click’.
Suddenly, the cube fell into hundreds of tiny pieces in his hands, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Will coughed, as the musty dust filled his lungs and tasted like he had just licked a sheet of old parchment. When the dust cleared, it revealed a small purple crystal shard that glowed faintly in Will’s hand.
“Wow!” he gasped. “What in the gods could it be?”
Before he could ponder it more, Will jolted to his feet and a cold chill suddenly shot down his spine. It felt as though his heart was caught in his throat. A towering spectral figure had appeared in front of him, after having passed directly through the high stone wall opposite Will.
It spoke in an eerily casual tone, “I believe you have something that doesn’t belong to you, child. You should pick your pockets more carefully.”
William stood shocked, his eyes fixed wide upon the apparition before him, as wisps of grey light seemed to slowly materialize onto the specter, forming solid cloth and flesh. Will realized that the horror before him had assembled itself into the wrinkly old man from the trade quarter.
Will watched in fear, as the man looked up from the brim of his hat and met William’s eyes with his. Then the man looked down at the crumbled pieces of the cube that William now gripped tightly in his hands and his face formed a look of terror. In a flash, rage seemed to fill the man’s eyes and he moved with unbelievable speed across the clearing.
Instantly he stood before William and yelled furiously, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”. His hand gripped William by the shirt and lifted him clear off the ground with an uncanny strength.
William gasped; struggling. He felt as if his body were being turned to nothingness while the man carried him and then somehow pushed him straight through the stone wall of his secret place, following him right out into the next alleyway over. Will’s body then strangely felt as if it were filling with substance again and he came crashing into the ground as the old man dropped him harshly.
As Will hit the ground, his hands went to catch himself. Not realizing he was still holding the pieces of the cube along with the shard, he sent them scattering across the dirt.
In that instant, the old man’s head shot up. He seemed to immediately notice the glinting crystal shard through the unsettled dust and rushed over to retrieve it. A moment passed where the man's eyes glazed, distantly gazing into the soft glow of the light of the shard.
Will laid still on the cobbled stone ground, bewildered and in pain. Then, as if snapping out of a dream, the old man produced from his robes another small pouch and slid the crystal shard safely into it.
Afterwards he called out a word that made Will’s heart sink into his stomach and tighten around his lungs…
“GUARDS!”
In the mere seconds that followed, several armed guards appeared rushing into the alley and seized William. They threw iron shackles around his hands and legs and pulled him roughly to his feet.
Will watched staring blankly, as the mysterious old man never once looked back at him. He just lingered less than a moment, turned, and slowly walked away, holding the little brown pouch tightly in his hand.