Thunder rolled across the city in great, rumbling peals. The sounds were disjointed and varied but all somehow the same. Xion stood at his window, staring transfixed at the destruction beyond. Each crash shook the house and rattled the shelves and cupboards.

At first he had been terrified. Pastrino under attack, it seemed ridiculous. There had been no warning, and the rain of death and the following tide of dark warriors had been swift and merciless. Fires burned everywhere and a constant symphony of screams echoed through the cramped structures. Fear had clutched tightly at his heart until he had his first clear look at the beasts.

“Could it really be? Forukks? I thought them lost to the pages of history.”

He stood in terrified fascination, watching the beasts ravish the city further down the hill. It would be a matter of minutes before they pillaged their way to his house. He did not move though. He watched; watched the Forukks kill those who stood against them but carried many more away back to the west. The Forukks had no need for prisoners. Xion’s only knowledge of the beasts confirmed that they lived to fight and only used humans as targets and food. This did not fit with their behaviour.

A sudden thought struck him. If the Forukks were taking prisoners, then presumably they would be taking them back into their own lands. The Shadow Land, Miankkuth. If Xion’s theory was correct, Miankkuth was where the weapon was hidden. Excitement flooded his body. It was a sensation that he had almost forgotten. This was perfect. He had finally been handed a method to fulfil his life’s work. Forcing down a smile, he seated himself at his desk and waited.

He hadn’t been there long when the monsters burst down his door. They trampled into his study then stopped at seeing him so full of calm and control. One spoke in its own guttural tongue and Xion knew enough to piece together its meaning: “He smells happy.”

“I am happy, Forukk,” Xion responded. The creatures grunted in surprise at his ability to understand them. “You are taking us to Miankkuth, correct?”

“Correct,” growled the same Forukk as before. Xion took him to be this group’s leader.

Xion gave a satisfied laugh. “Perfect. We have much to offer one another.”

Previous – Chapter 7. The Heart of the Darkness.

Next – Chapter 9. Shattered Lives.

A violent boom of thunder overpowered all sounds. The sharp clacking of metal-soled boots on the hard stone floor cut through the thunder like a knife. The boots belonged to a tall, pale skinned man with armour of darkened steel and a cape made of carrion birds’ feathers.

He turned a corner and his cape billowed behind him. He had stepped into a huge hall filled with many people, all wearing differing armour comparing with their rank within the fortress. All of the armour kept with the theme of jutting black metal despite their different designs. All had silver trim that added a level of sophistication to the practical steel. The larger figures of the demonic Forukks dotted the hall, crude weapons in hand, constantly ready to spill blood. As things went, they were a relatively new race, but they were from good stock and served his ends well.

Purple tinted flames burned from torches positioned upon the near black stones that made up the imposing walls of the structure. In the far corner was a small rusted cage. Within it a man could be seen sitting, back bent, head drooped, no part of his body moving. The feather caped man strode through the crowd menacingly towards the cage. The men around him shifted to create a wide path that moved with him, forming a bubble of open space. He stopped in front of a smallish man in simple leather armour with a balding head and a stringy moustache.

“Did you get any information out of him?” asked the caped man. Every word he spoke was embedded with power. 

“My lord. We learned little from him. But what we did learn is very good.” The little man waited for the lord to answer, but when he did not he quickly went on. “Nobody knew that any of us survived, let alone rebuilt our forces. Our attack will be a total surprise to them.”

A barrel chested man walked up to the prisoner. In his hands was a small tank of water. Inside the tank was a diminutive, strange looking fish, swimming slowly around the tank’s edge. Its crimson skin appeared to have hundreds of small holes across it, its mouth was like a sucker and its eyes were too big for its body.

“We are about to proceed in our last attempt to gain information from him, unless you have any objections, my lord.”

The caped man just stood staring at the prisoner in the cage, stroking his small beard. From this distance he could see it was a scout. He had long blond hair and blue eyes, one of which was scarred. His body was lean and his skin tanned by the sun. A small, barely visible grin of amusement set into the lord’s smooth face.

The little man spoke again, this time addressing the man with the tank. “Prepare the Basenci.”

The large man placed the tank on the floor, took a leather glove from his belt, and picked the fish up. The second it was in his hand, needle like spikes shot up from the holes across its slimy body and punctured the bottom of the thick gloves. The man lowered the Basenci with deliberate slowness towards the scout’s stomach. With the man’s other hand he used a small iron knife to cut a square hole into the scout’s shirt. Instantly upon seeing the bare flesh the Basenci retracted its spikes back into its body and started to try and wriggle out onto the scout’s stomach. The man placed it onto the flesh then stood back.

The Basenci put its mouth onto the scout’s skin then the scout started to move. The next second the Basenci had vanished under the skin, leaving behind a small, bloody wound. The scout started to scream and writhe in pain, tearing his own skin off in his desperate attempts to remove the Basenci from within him.

“Stop,” said the caped man suddenly, still stroking his silky beard while looking faintly amused.

“Yes, my lord,” replied the large man. He mumbled some incomprehensible words and waited. A large lump appeared on the scout’s leg, then in a splatter of blood the Basenci erupted out, spikes still covering its body. The handler quickly grabbed it and released it back into the water. The spikes retracted again and it swam back around, the water becoming murky with blood.

The scout was shaking violently. “T-thank you, t-thank y-you.”

The caped man clicked his fingers with the hand he was not stroking his beard with. The scout burst into flames before their eyes.

“Have you finished my machine yet?” the Lord asked the little man. He had not batted an eyelash as he murdered the man and no sooner had he turned away had the scout been forgotten.

“Yes, my Lord. Follow me.”

The smaller man led the way out of the hall and along the maze of stone corridors. The air felt like ice against the skin. The few windows that they passed were very narrow, simple slits in the wall that let in a dull, watered down light. Thunder dominated most sounds again and vivid streaks of lightning lit the walls with harsh white flashes.

After several minutes of walking, the little man pulled a slender key from his pocket and opened a door to his right. It swung open to reveal a small room with only a strange wood and stone contraption stood against the back wall. The object made a whirring sound. Gears turned and complicated devices spun and bobbed in an unnerving parody of life.

The cloaked man walked up to it and closely examined the workings. “Does it work like I specified?”

“Yes, my Lord. As soon as the assault reaps its first victims it will start to toll.”

“Hmm. You may leave now,” the caped man said. “And thank you, Maqoig. Without you I wouldn’t be able to tell what’s going on outside of my lands.”

“You’re welcome, my Lord,” Maqoig replied joyously, stunned by his lord’s grateful words. With a deep bow he quickly left the room.

The Lord stared at the two stone panels mounted upon the wooden structure. Various stone shapes were positioned on the wood and bits of the construct glowed eerily in the dull room. Some very fine enchantments had been placed upon it. One of the stone panels groaned slightly as the number one appeared on its surface. The one was quickly replaced by a two, then within a microsecond three then four.

“The first of many deaths in my crusade. With the added slaves from this campaign I will be able to take over all of Farava, like my ancestors tried before me. I shall succeed where they failed though. It is my destiny to bring salvation to the land,” the man spoke aloud. He chuckled softly to himself but tears slid down his cheeks.

By now the number on the first panel was at thirty-two. On the second panel there was only the number one. His soldiers had killed over thirty of the enemy with only one loss. That was without adding the casualties of the catapult attack.

“The naive people of Pastrino don’t stand a chance against me. They will never learn,” he laughed, the sound echoing through the hallways. The only sound he heard though was the dripping of his tears onto the machine below him.

Previous – Chapter 6. Goodbye to Peace.

Next – Chapter 8. Plans.

The streets were growing quiet. The citizens of Pastrino were returning home, no doubt awaiting a warming supper after a hard day’s work. Being the height of summer, the sky was still light despite the bell tower chiming out six times. While still light, the sky could hardly be called bright though as storm clouds were building above.

Lieutenant William Gapon observed all of this passively as he patrolled through the city. He was a tall, well-built man with short brown hair that descended into a flowing ponytail at the back. His face was bland, emotionless, yet in no way hard, and his brown eyes never ceased their slow study of their surroundings. His uniform was neatly pressed but had clearly seen wear.

Since becoming a lieutenant, he had been offered a paper intensive role in the castle but had turned it down without thought. The streets were in his blood, they were where the guards were really needed. So now he was head of city patrols, despite never having expressed any desire to lead.

He followed his usual path through the market then around past the church before meeting with a small group of guards beside the smithy’s forge. They greeted him and he nodded back.

“Been a quiet day, Lieutenant. After the riot the other day, normal seems kinda dull,” muttered one of the younger guards.

Gapon smiled slightly. His voice was soft, almost poetic, but his language never strayed from the point. “So long as it stays uneventful tonight under my watch. You lads finished?”

“Aye, sir,” answered the youth. He was a stick of a man but Gapon knew him to be a good fighter. “A quick catch-up with the boys then some grub and a kip for me.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Gapon said with a salute before continuing on his way.

The clouds were growing darker above. Gapon frowned but showed nothing else at the prospect of a rainy night. He met with fewer people as he walked until only figures beyond windows were visible for the most part. A city like Pastrino would never have empty streets but most got the idea to be inside when those clouds decided to burst.

He turned a corner and stopped abruptly. He thought that he had seen something moving through the sky. Glancing between the rooftops and the snaking aqueduct, Gapon scanned the darkening sky. Even as his brain worked to convince him that it had been a bird, the lieutenant saw the object again, hurtling back toward the ground. There was a sudden crash that shook the earth and stung his ears. Smoke or dust began to rise from the poor district of the city. It took a moment for Gapon to process what was happening. In that short time, another object tore through the sky. This time he could make out that it was a rock. There was another crash, closer this time.

“We’re under attack!” Gapon bellowed, repeating the words as loud as he could as he ran west toward the projectiles’ origins. His iron mace was held firmly in his hand as his feet pounded down the cobbles. His voice was growing hoarse already but still could hardly be heard over the destruction of stone as buildings and pathways were levelled. Those sounds alone were enough to drive the people from their houses in a panic to see what was happening.

“Prepare for battle! Get the children to safety! Fortify the streets!”

As Gapon ran, other guards formed up around him, as did many civilians with farm equipment or other household weapons.

Men, women and children ran in the other direction, fleeing away from the west. Gapon grabbed onto one of the frantic men. “What is going on? Tell me what you’ve seen.”

The man looked around skittishly. “Bless my eyes, sir. There are monsters, awful creatures in black. They’re flooding into the city from the gaps in the wall. Sprites save us all!”

Releasing the man, Gapon cursed as another rock smashed into a building beside him, blasting him with rubble that knocked him to the ground. Through bleary eyes and ringing ears, the lieutenant watched a sudden wave of black-clad figures charge out of a street and spread like oil across every pathway. They were bestial giants who growled and hissed like demons with each loping stride. Crude weapons were held in clawed hands.

Pushing through the pain, Gapon stood and grabbed his mace. The other guards were already in combat but the monsters ploughed through them without slowing. Even as he sped toward the chaos, he watched one of the beasts cleave a guard clean in two with a single mighty swing of its axe.

“Disengage!” the lieutenant ordered. “Pull back to the narrower streets. We can’t take them on in the open like this. Keep their movements in check!”

With those words he closed with the enemy, smashing his mace into a creature’s snout without slowing. Bone, tooth and gristle flew in a spray of blood. Another moved to hack him down but with his free hand, Gapon plunged a dagger into his attacker’s throat. It gurgled but continued its swing. Gapon was only just able to dodge.

Risking a glance behind him, Gapon saw men pulling back from the melee to seal off as many avenues into the heart of the city as was possible. Those men on the frontline had no option other than to stand and fight, hoping to buy their friends as much time as possible to prepare.

Gapon kicked at an armoured knee with all of his strength. It should have snapped any man’s leg but it barely made the monster stumble. That tiny imbalance was all Gapon needed though to ram his mace into the terror’s gut then swing it upward into its chin. A shout was raised from somewhere behind him. It was just another sound amidst the screams and howls at first but distinct words began to filter through his mind.

“Draw. Pick your target. Release!” Sharp twangs cut through the grunts and clashes. Gapon felt sudden wind rush past his face. White feathered arrows slammed into the monsters’ ranks. Several beasts fell but many more continued to fight with shafts jutting from their thick hides. The order was repeated and more arrows sped past the defenders and into the attacking monsters.

Gapon grabbed the man beside him and shoved him back away from the combat. “Everyone back! Form up around the next ring. Fall back!”

The second that he heard another snap of bowstrings, Gapon turned and ran, sighting a contingent of archers atop of the nearby buildings and behind hastily erected barricades. A second of scanning the faces revealed to him Bow-Captain Kenroy Green. He directed his steps toward the barricade that the captain was positioned behind.

“Sir,” saluted the captain as Gapon jogged up to the barricade. Gapon nodded and Green continued his methodical nocking and releasing of arrows. He was a muscular man with short black hair and a thin moustache.

“What’s the situation?” Gapon asked. The barricade was opened up for him and a few other guards and straggling civilians. He wanted to sit and regain his breath but there was no time with those beasts forcing their way forward with every step.

Green never looked away from his target. His movements were smooth and flowing. “The city is breached in multiple locations. These creatures are storming through all sectors. Nothing important was destroyed in the barrage but fires are spreading quickly. We have orders to retreat to the inner city.”

Holding back a choking sound, Gapon rounded on the man. “Retreat to the inner city? That is crazy. The main city would be lost within the hour. What good is protecting the castle if everything else in the city burns?”

“You know that and I know that but orders are orders. The Commander gave them to me himself,” Green said, spitting between shots. “The monsters were running through the city before we even knew what was happening. The city is already as good as lost. I’m here to help as many people escape to the castle as possible before our last defences are overrun.”

“But how could this happen?” stammered a young guard who had fought beside Gapon. His eyes were almost wild. “What are those things?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Gapon darkly. He looked to Green for an answer but the captain simply shook his head.

The monsters were charging the barricades now that all of their opponents had fled. Green released a final arrow then signalled for his men to retreat. The archers began a steady walk east, continuing to lay down suppressing volleys of arrows.

Gapon moved with them. He gritted his teeth at the prospect of abandoning the city to its fate but as Green had said, orders were orders. As lieutenant, Gapon knew that well. Hopefully they could make a stand at the tiered stone of the castle and keep those who had fled safe within.

Previous – Chapter 5. The Reality of the World.

Next – Chapter 7. The Heart of the Darkness.

Billy went home while Trey dashed upstairs to get into some dry clothes, then they met at the statue of Lord Silazu, the ancient creator of the aqueduct.

“Are you sure you want to come along?” Trey asked Billy. “You’ll get in trouble for skipping school.”

“You honestly think I care?” was his simple answer. “I think that a scary monster is slightly more important.”

The man who Sarah had sent them to speak with was an elderly widow who she spoke very highly of. In her own words, Garvel was the person who had made Trey’s father the man that he had been. Trey himself was unsure what to make of that, but he had bigger issues to deal with than any such thoughts.

They followed the directions that Sarah had given them until they found themselves in the poorer part of the city. All of the houses here were joined together in long rows, had old grey walls, dirty windows and no garden. The grimy pathways were scattered with litter and any patches of green that managed to grow between the cramped housing was wild and out of control.

They carried on until they came to the house that Sarah had indicated. It looked the exact same as the other houses around it. Billy knocked on the door but there was no reply. He knocked harder, causing a section of flaking paint to fall, but still there was no answer.

“Great, either no one is in, he’s dead, or is just plain rude. Look if anyone’s there we need to ask you some questions.”

“Just leave it to me,” Trey said. He pulled the crowbar from his belt. “If you’re in there open up now or I’ll break your door down.”

“That’s a bit extreme isn’t it?” muttered Billy. He was not used to Trey taking any form of direct action. It seemed out of character for the usually laid-back slacker. 

“Not really. If he knows about that monster I need to know about it.”

Banging could be heard beyond the door, then rattling followed by bolts being slid. Trey lowered the crowbar. The door opened just enough for a shadowy face to be seen beyond.

“What’s all this hammering on my door and talk of monsters, you noisy kids? Shouldn’t you be at school?” His voice was deep and gravelly as though he gargled using sand, and he looked younger than he must have been. He’d been alive when Trey’s great granddad had, yet he only looked in his early sixties.

“Sorry sir, but I need to know about something I saw this morning.”

“What makes you think I want to listen to you babble on about some animal,” grunted the man harshly.

“How many animals do you know that are seven foot tall, walk on two legs, have jet black skin, huge horns, and carry a battle axe?” Trey answered calmly. The old man didn’t move or speak for a few moments.

“I suppose you’d better come in and say what you want to say,” replied the man. He was trying to sound neutral, and to most people he would have, but Trey thought he could detect worry in his voice. The man fully opened the door and stood aside for the boys to pass.

The room that they stepped into was dark and dull with only a single table, chair and bed for furniture, and a shelf on the back wall with bits of food, books and other little oddments. There was a battered door opposite them. The door that they had entered through had all manner of locks, chains and bolts to fasten the entrance closed.

The man himself also had a rough appearance that fit well with his residence. He had scraggly white hair that looked in need of a good cut while his face was filled with deep wrinkles that made him look stern like a cracked bust. The sapphire eyes still shone though, bright with life and deep with wisdom.

At first look Trey thought that his clothes were nothing more than cheap rags but on closer inspection he saw that they were actually well made, practical garbs that were heavily weatherworn. The once emerald shirt and beige trousers were so faded and dirty that both appeared almost grey while the dark brown coat had been patched multiple times yet still looked warm and resilient to any weather.

He sat down on the chair and took a long ornate pipe from the breast pocket of his coat. He lit it with a spark from his index finger. Powerful muscles flexed with every slight movement beneath the thin rags that he wore. He could have easily been mistaken for a recently retired warrior.

“Speak then!” he snapped. He didn’t offer them a seat.

Trey stood by the door and recited what happened to him for the third time. His eyes never left the old man’s face, assessing the impact that his words were having. Garvel looked on impassively. Once he had finished, the man blew a cloud of white smoke that drifted around the room like a snake. It coiled its way around the table legs then wrapped itself around Trey and Billy’s necks, making them cough and waft it away. It started to fade as it seeped through a narrow gap in the window.

The man looked deep in thought. “If what you say is true, then we are all in grave danger.”

Billy stepped forward. “Why? What’s going to happen? The guards can handle a monster or two.”

Garvel spat. “What do you know of ancient history?” he replied, taking the boys by surprise with the tangent.

“What kind of an answer is that? Very few people know any of Farava’s ancient history,” Billy shouted out angrily. “Most records were destroyed by wars or the Neototes.”

“I can see why you’re not at school. They don’t teach you anything anymore,” Garvel grunted. He took another puff of his pipe. As the smoke left his lips it formed into a humanoid shape with horns and a mace. Trey recognised it instantly as whatever he had seen.

“The creature that you saw was a Forukk. Last time they wandered this land, Pastrino was almost destroyed. If it wasn’t for one of my distant ancestors, know as a Sword Summoner, all of Farava would have burned. If the Forukks are wandering the world again then that means they’ve regained much of their former strength. If they are bold enough to approach the city then we should be very nervous. Can you imagine it? Hordes of bloodthirsty monsters storming the land, killing and burning all that they see until only ash and blood remains.”

No one moved or made any attempt to speak so the man carried on. “You are the one that everyone has been talking about? The one who supposedly caused the riot?” He paused for a second. “Sarah Sted’s son.”

“That’s what they say,” Trey answered. “You are right though. I am Trey Sted.”

“I know that you’re a good fighter just like your father and that you didn’t start that trouble,” Garvel snorted.

“How?” Billy asked, slightly stunned.

The man glared at Billy for interrupting him. “My grandson witnessed it happen. But that’s not important. I think you could be of some use to the world. If you have half the skill of your father then you might just survive longer than a day when the chaos breaks loose. We don’t have much time so follow me.”

He walked over to his bed and pulled it into the centre of the room with incredible ease. Where the bed had been there was a small rug, depicting some ancient battle, which was also dragged across the room. Now a little wooden hatch was revealed. It was plain wood with a simple design like the rest of the man’s house. As he opened it, the teens expected a loud creak, but the hinges were silent. The hatch opened into a dark hole with a rickety old ladder as its only means down.

Mr Malma stepped back and pointed to the hole. “This is just a tunnel not some kind of test so get down there and make it snappy.”

Trey and Billy stared hesitantly at the hole then at each other. The man was growing impatient now. “You can either go in now from your free will or you can wait five seconds more and have some gentle help.”

“What kind of help?” asked Billy cautiously.

“Wait five seconds more and you’ll find out.”

Trey figured that nothing within the hole could possibly be worse than the Forukk so he slowly lowered himself into the darkness and started to climb down. Within seconds he was submerged in the thick black. All he could see was the dark figure of Billy climbing above him. The air felt musty, like it had not seen the outside world in many years.

They had been climbing for about a minute when Trey’s foot hit the ground. He hadn’t expected this so he toppled over. Billy reached the bottom but instead of his foot hitting the ground it hit Trey’s back so he too fell, crushing Trey further into the floor. Everything was still pitch black but the old man simply jumped from the last few steps, landed on Billy’s back and stepped off, ignoring the grunts of pain from below him.

“Are you just going to lie there all day or are you going to follow me, you lazy little layabouts.”

With lots of moaning the two boys scrambled to their feet and followed the sound of the man’s voice down the tunnel.

As they walked they uncontrollably kept curving to the sides and crashing into the walls. Soon the man got tired of them falling behind so he clapped his hands and torches all the way along the tunnel magically lit up with a gentle amber flame, flooding the tunnels with a warm glow. Now they all could see each other and Billy looked very annoyed.

“Couldn’t you have done that to start with?” Billy hissed, barely keeping his anger in check.

The man smiled evilly. “Where would the fun have been if I’d done that?” With that said he continued on down the tunnel without another word.

As they walked, Trey and Billy quietly spoke to each other, questioning as to where they were being led. There was still no sign of the end of the tunnel. They both turned back to look for the ladders but they were out of sight. As they looked forward again a sudden fear washed over them. The man was nowhere in sight. They ran forward to try and find him when a hand came from nowhere and pulled them into the wall. They close their eyes and braced themselves for impact but it never came.

Trey opened his eyes then blinked several times as he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. All around them was a vast chamber filled with weapons he had never seen before, strange training equipment, shelves upon shelves of old books, and various other weird contraptions. Everything was dust free and in top condition.

“Not bad, is it?” smiled Mr Malma. “It was once part of the mines below the city but after my grandfather did a certain service for the lord of the time, this area was closed off and given to him. Nobody alive knows about it anymore except select members of my family and a few close friends. I trained your father here,” he informed them, directing the last part at Trey.

Garvel walked over to a rack filled with training weapons, picked two ash swords up and threw them over to Trey and Billy. “Back to business. Like I said, you two can fight but you can’t truly fight”.

They both had puzzled looks on their faces for a few seconds then Billy spoke up. “And that made sense how?”

“It makes sense because here, against untrained school kids and maybe some adults you can fight and you can win. After all, who trains to fight anymore? We live in a peaceful society without the encouragement to learn defence, especially with the Neototes being so influential. This is just naivety though as the rest of the world doesn’t feel the same. Outside these walls is a dangerous world where only the strong can prosper. Out in the open world you’ll be facing trained soldiers with real weapons who won’t think twice about killing you, and they will kill you. No doubt in that. I haven’t even mentioned what the Forukks would do to you. Now do you want to train so you can win in the big wide world? If so take your places here, if not, bugger off.”

Billy still looked sceptical. Garvel huffed and snatched the sword from Trey. “Score a hit on me then if you are so skilled. I’m seven times older than you so you should have the advantage.”

The teen wanted nothing more than to show the old man up. He took in his rigid stance and shaking sword arm. Billy laughed and charged, swinging a well-aimed blow to the side. Mr Malma stepped away from it as though Billy was moving in slow motion. Billy swung again and again but each time the old man flowed around the attack like water around a rock. Billy put all of his strength into a final attack and Mr Malma disappeared. The teen collapsed when he was hit across the back of his head from behind. Mr Malma stood smugly over Billy’s moaning body.

“See my point now? This is your last chance, you want in?” Trey glanced towards Billy and as their eyes met he knew what Billy was thinking.

“What’s the point in life if you pass up an opportunity to train in a secret underground base with your best friend and a strange old man? No offence.”

“Just get into position,” Garvel answered bluntly.

Trey and Billy took up their positions and carefully listened and watched the man as he drilled them through all kinds of techniques. Some Trey recognised but many others seemed alien, clearly originating from far-off lands. They practiced for hours upon hours until they were so tired, bruised and disoriented that they simply couldn’t continue. They had trained a lot at home but this was on a whole other level. Muscles burned which had previously never found a use in life. Across Trey’s hands, even his blisters had blisters.

So much was down to reflexes, Trey quickly realised. If he made strong attacks, the old man would dodge, if he tried speed then his blade was deflected by the smallest of wrist movements. If Trey’s guard or feet positions were even an inch off, he was instantly punished with pain. Everything was so precise. He considered himself skilled but compared to Mr Malma he was nothing but a blundering child.

“Remember, you need a strong mind to complement a strong body. What good is a sturdy defence if you don’t register an attack until it is too late? Why learn many tactics and stances if you don’t know which to use and when,” Garvel explained to them.

The hours passed by until Trey guessed that it would be dark outside. He decided to call it a day. “We’d best get back home, Mum will be getting worried,” Trey said wearily. Billy grunted his agreement. “We’ll be off now. Thanks for the training. We’ll be back here tomorrow,” said Trey as he yawned loudly.

They started towards the door then stopped. The ground had started to shake violently.

“What the hell’s going-”

Billy didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. The roof exploded into hundreds of giant rocks that rained down, destroying everything in sight, closely followed by a giant lump of stone. The ruined rubble that had been the training room became deathly silent as the dust settled.

Previous – Chapter 4. A Dangerous Encounter.

Next – Chapter 6. Goodbye to Peace.

A wolf howled in the distance. The monstrous creature was close now. It shifted from the gloom of the forest to the shadow of the derelict wall. Trey panicked and ducked behind a crate of salted fish that had been caught in the fast waters of the River Rike. A few feet away the thing stopped. Trey could smell it even above the stench of the fish. It was like the odour of putrid flesh. Every breath Trey inhaled seemed to curdle in his lungs. It took all his strength not to throw up.

The monster sniffed deeply like a dog. Had it caught Trey’s scent or just the fish? It started to head toward where Trey was hiding. The wolf howled again from the woods. The booming footsteps sounded close now. Trey was certain that those stalking steps could not be that loud and that it was just his mind amplifying the noise from terror. They continued for a moment then fell silent. A deep breathing came from just the other side of the crate.

A cold drop hit his face, then another and another. Images of the creature leaning over the crate, staring down at Trey as saliva dripped from hungry jaws raced through his head. With a barely suppressed sigh of relief, he realised that the drips came from the heavens and not the monster as he had feared. The sound of the breathing was drowned out by the pelting of the cool rain as the skies suddenly opened.

Trey’s heart stopped as he looked up. A large, black skinned hand was reaching over the crate to him. It’s found me. I’m going to die. Nothing I can do. He suppressed another shiver as he pictured himself dying. I’m going to die. I’m going to die, he kept chanting in his head. All rational thought had left him by this point.

There was a savage growl but the hand never reached him. A few moments passed. Trey realised he was holding his breath. He slowly stood up to see where the beast was. To his surprise it was on the floor wrestling with a large, grey furred wolf. Other canine shapes darted through the trees around them. The axe had fallen a few feet away from it. Trey didn’t need telling what to do.

He turned and ran. His heart was beating so fast that it felt like it would explode any second. He chanced looking back and saw that the monster had the first wolf in its gigantic hand. With a mere flick of its wrist it threw the canine into the woods. The wolf hit a tree with crippling force. Two others jumped at the demon with fangs bared. Trey couldn’t bear to watch any more. He just ran. He didn’t care where; he just wanted to get away.

The next thing he knew he had tripped and was flying through the air. He smashed into the floor, grazing his hands and knees. He lay there panting for a few moments as he tried to pull himself together. His blood mingled with the rain, his clothes and hair sodden. Rationality gradually began to return to him. 

“I’ve got to go back. If that thing gets into the city who knows what it would do,” he said to himself, more to calm himself down than anything else. The sound of his own voice gave him courage and confidence. “I’ll find a weapon then go back and stop it. Yeah.”

He rose to his feet and started to head back to where the beast had almost confronted him. As he passed the deserted market area he found a discarded crowbar near some crates and decided it would be a good makeshift weapon.

When he came near the spot again he started to realise the flaws in his plan. The first was the creature was huge, strong and had a giant axe. Secondly was that, while Trey was good with his training swords, he was now using a heavy iron bar. Third was he was absolutely terrified of the monster. It was too late to turn back now though. He was at the crate of fish again. Trey stood without moving as he looked around for the beast. 

He couldn’t see any sign of the monster, only blood specks that Trey suspected belonged to the wolves alone. Just as he was about to turn and go home a hand tightly grabbed his shoulder. He was on the verge of lashing out with the crowbar.

“Trey, what’s up, you’re acting kind of weird? Weirder than normal anyway.” It was only Billy.

  Trey emptied all the breath in his lungs in one deep sigh of relief then turned to face his friend. “I think I need to sit down for a bit, I’ve seen some really strange stuff today.”

“Why are you even up? You’re not at school so I would have thought you would be in bed all day.”

“I needed to clear my head. You?”

“Some people make the most of their time. I was out jogging. Come on. Let’s go to your house and get some dry clothes.”

Only then did Trey realise his clothes were absolutely sodden. The rain had slowed to little more than a drizzle. His hair hung in damp tendrils over his eyes. As they walked back to Trey’s house he filled Billy in on all that he had seen. His hand shook slightly as he spoke and his face was pale. As they reached his door the morning bell rang.

Billy shook his head with a frown. “This sounds dangerous.” He knew Trey well enough not to doubt his words.

Trey opened the door and stepped inside. His mother was stood waiting for him.

“Typical. It rains so you stay out and get soaked. Oh, hello Billy, thanks for bringing him back.” Her face hardened as she saw the look on Trey’s face. She took Trey gently by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “What’s the matter? You look ill.”

Trey told Sarah what had happened over a hot drink and, like Billy, she believed him straight away. Trey had several faults, but he was honest. She stood in silent thought for a few minutes before she said anything. “I don’t know what it is but I think I know who might. Garvel Malma.”

Previous – Chapter 3. Expelled.

Next – Chapter 5. The Reality of the World.

Trey slowly opened his eyes and looked around his room blearily. Daylight was flooding in even though his thick curtains were closed. That was not normal, he thought groggily. He bolted out of bed and threw them open, nearly blinding himself in the process as harsh light entered through the window.

The sun was high in a clear blue sky and all of the shops around the city seemed to have people already going about their daily business. Blacksmiths were hammering away, the market looked crowded and over at the church a burial appeared to be in progress. 

Trey opened his window and leaned slightly out to look at the school. There were no students but he could see movement through the distant windows. “I must be later than usual, Mum must have overslept or something,” he mumbled sleepily to himself. “I might still be able to get to school if I hurry.”

The bell tower suddenly started to chime. The sound was almost deafening this close. Trey jumped and almost fell head first through his window. There was only one chime.

“What! It’s one already!” Trey shouted with surprise.

He quickly threw his uniform on, skidded out of his room and jumped down the stairs, hurting his foot in the process. He limped into the kitchen and found his mother sitting on a wooden stool, her fists clenched around a crumpled letter. She raised her head as Trey came through the door. Her hair was frizzy and her eyes were slightly bloodshot. Water was built up just above her bottom eyelids. She had a look on her face that was a mix of anger and frustration.

“Mum, what’s the matter?” Trey asked, concern in his voice.

Sarah opened her mouth to talk, then shut it again, unable to find the right words. Instead she shakily passed him the letter and closed her eyes. She looked torn between whether to explode with anger or to sag into her chair. Trey took the paper and straightened it out on the table. It was an official looking letter with a bright red seal at the bottom. He sat down then started to read.

Dear Mrs Sted,

We regret to inform you that eyewitnesses have come forward and given us information ascertaining to yesterday’s school ground riot. Eight pupils and one teacher have stated that they saw your son, Trey Sted, throw the first punch. This then progressed into the senseless violence that has shamed all involved. We at the school and throughout the community are very disappointed by his barbaric behaviour. As punishment he is expelled from the school until further notice.

Regards, T. Aslon.

The room was silent as Trey read the letter. Only the old grandfather clock in the corner broke the quiet with its rhythmic ticking. He laid the letter slowly on the table and turned away from his mother.

“Well, at least I can stay in bed now,” he said with a weak laugh. He turned back to face his mother again. “I didn’t do it. You believe me, don’t you?”

Sarah stood up and embraced her son. “Of course I believe you. It’s just it made me so angry. You have a good behaviour record except in languages, and that’s the teacher’s fault because he doesn’t like you. Yet they believe him and that horrible little thug. I should go up there and give them a stern talking to.”

“It’s alright. I somehow doubt that I’ll miss school,” replied Trey passively. He knew that displaying emotion would only upset his mother further. That would certainly not be a good idea. Sarah had a fiery temper and Trey knew that she could easily snap and go on a vendetta against the school. Despite her low social status, Sarah Sted was not a woman to cross.

Sarah released Trey and started to pace around the small room. “Yes, but what about your education. You have to have one or you’ll be stuck with a job you hate, or worse, no job at all. Things aren’t as simple as they were back in my day.”

“No worries. I’ll just help you.” He started to pour himself a mug of tea from the pot that had begun to rattle and hiss from above the fireplace.

She stopped pacing. “No. You’re better than that,” Sarah answered, her voice shaking slightly.

“You’re better than that too, but you still do it,” replied Trey simply.

Sarah faltered. “I’m not going to win this am I?” she asked.

Trey lightly slammed his mug down like a judge’s gavel spilling hot tea onto the table. “Nope. Not a chance.”

Sarah threw her arms into the air in submission. “Fine. You win. You can help me, but I’ve decided I’m going to educate you myself.”

“Deal.” Trey raised his cup in a toast and then drank.

“Work starts at seven every morning,” she stated bluntly.

Trey choked on his tea. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope. You can start now by cleaning up that tea, not that you should be wasting it.”

Trey made a salute to his mother. “Yes ma’am.” He picked up the letter and wiped it across the tea spilled table then screwed the sodden paper and threw it into the nearby bin. “What do you want me to do first?”

“Well you can do the washing and the shopping, while I do the cooking and cleaning, then tomorrow we can start the lessons.”

“Can’t wait,” Trey replied sarcastically. “I’m going to regret choosing to help you aren’t I?”

“Yep. I’m going to get my Vim’s worth out of you. Now off you go. Chores wait for no man.”

* * *

After a hard day’s work, Trey settled down for an early night. As usual, sleep took him in mere seconds but he found little rest. His dreams were full of strange monsters and a warm, blinding blue light. Lizards and birds raced across his brain until fire consumed his entire vision. Then he was falling through endless nothing as a huge, semi-transparent creature flew straight through him, leaving him in a shivering fit.

Trey awoke suddenly. He was soaking wet with sweat, laid on his floor shaking violently with cold and fear. The room was cloaked in darkness. His vision was blurry. All he could see was a shadowy figure standing over him. He was under attack. The person was holding Trey by the shoulders and was shaking him more than he was shaking already.

Instinct kicked in as he urgently felt around him for something to defend himself with and found a large leather encased book. He grabbed the book and tried to lift it up but his arms felt as heavy as lead. He struggled for a moment then mustered all his strength to swing it towards his attacker.

There was a dull thud followed by a pained grunt. “Ouch my head!” The voice was that of a woman. It sounded familiar. Trey’s vision started to become clear again. Sarah was laid out in front of him holding her head, mumbling under her breath. He looked at the book in his hand. It was titled ‘Advanced Self-Defence’.

“I guess that book really works then,” Trey said groggily. Then he snapped back to his senses. “Mum, are you okay?” he shouted running over to her side.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she answered, motioning him away. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Trey replied, slightly confused.

Sarah sat up and looked at Trey worriedly. “You were thrashing around in your sleep and then started shouting at the top of your voice. I couldn’t wake you up. I tried shouting you, throwing water at you and shaking you. Then you woke up and hit me with a five hundred page, hardback book.” As she spoke, they made their way down into the small kitchen.

“Oh. I know I had a bad dream but I can’t remember what it was. I vaguely remember strange lands and lots of different people. I felt trapped and tried to escape but I just couldn’t break free. Everything else is just foggy.”

Sarah locked eyes with her son, her emotions untellable in her dark eyes. “Maybe it’s a sign from your subconscious. You could be telling yourself to go out and see the world, to make something of yourself. You can’t weigh yourself down with me forever.”

“I’d never leave you like that!” Trey exclaimed, fire in his voice.

Sarah smiled softly. “Wanting to go travelling is nothing to be ashamed of. When I was young, I travelled the land as a courier. My parents didn’t want me to, they said that it was too dangerous, but adventure was in my blood. It was that hot-bloodedness that made me join the army at the outbreak of the Ghibok war.”

Trey looked taken aback. “You fought in the war? Why have you never told me?”

“It was not a good war to remember,” Sarah sighed. “Our forces did some terrible things.” The dark glint left her eyes and the smile returned to her lips. “I didn’t fight in the battles anyway. I took letters to and from the soldiers and their families. That is when I wasn’t keeping your father out of trouble,” she laughed reminiscently.

Trey frowned. “He was involved too? I thought he stayed here as a city guard.”

“He was a guard but when the call to arms came he joined the other men in their march North. He fought for a while but hated what they were doing. He saved many men’s lives though and was given several honours after the war.”

For a moment Trey sat in silence, contemplating all he had learned. As he thought, Sarah left the room and returned several minutes later carrying an old backpack. She placed it on the table.

“This was my old travel pack,” she explained as she searched inside it. A moment later she pulled out a folded piece of grimy cloth. Carefully unfolding it revealed a detailed map of Farava. “Even if you don’t intend to travel, I’d like you to have this. You’ll learn more from it now than I will.”

Trey took the map gingerly, his eyes wide as he took in the woods, mountains, villages and sea. There was so much even nearby that he had never realised existed. Occasional notes in Sarah’s hand dotted the landmarks. 

“Thank you,” he said before refolding the map. He looked around. “What time is it?” 

Sarah glanced out of the open door to the clock above the stairs. “It’s just past five. I’ll prepare some drinks to clear our heads.” 

Sarah poured two cups of tea and passed one to Trey. They talked quietly as Sarah examined the other contents of the rucksack. Trey finished off his drink and stretched, feeling life inch its way back into his body. His mind still felt groggy though so he decided to go for a walk in the early morning air. Sarah watched him leave as she continued to sip at her tea thoughtfully.

He walked along his favourite path past the school and church. A wake was being held around the ancient structure that was guessed to be the oldest building in the city. A child had gone missing the previous week and gnawed bones had been discovered just outside the city the day before. Judging by their size, the worst was assumed. The girl’s family stood around the casket that contained the bones with lit candles in their hands to light the path to the Sprites and guide the spirit into their open embrace. Wolves had been presumed the culprits and hunters were likely preparing to hunt down the beasts. 

Trey didn’t know what had done it, but all the same he offered up a prayer to the Sprites for the girl. He was not particularly devout of faith like some fanatics but he knew to respect the guys that ran the world. The Sprites were not viewed as gods, more like spirits of nature that made the seemingly chaotic world function in an orderly manner.

Not wanting to interrupt the mourners, he left and walked to the edge of the city on the west side. The ever-present aqueduct blocked the view of the stars but Trey knew that the western edge of the city was revealed to the sky as the water was drawn from the east. The city seemed so peaceful without its inhabitants. The simple white facades of the houses and shops that he passed seemed to glow when hit by the sparse moonlight. All of the structures were practically designed, all being cramped square buildings made of the readily available white stone from the massive quarry just to the south of the city.

Through wide gaps in the old wall he could see beyond the city to the forest outside. Without any threats, repairing the wall had been seen as a waste of valuable resources. He stared off into the distance for a few minutes, watching the last few stars vanish and the moon slowly setting behind the distant horizon. 

Then something caught his eye. At first he thought it was just a wolf or some other animal of the night, but after a few seconds he realised it was man-shaped. It clung to the shadows of the woods, making it hard to see in detail, but it was clear that the figure was steadily moving towards the city.

The shadows parted suddenly as the sun rose above the church’s steeple. What Trey saw sent a cold shiver of fear down his spine and a strange sense of deja-vu rattling through his head. It was about seven foot tall and twice as broad as a blacksmith, had a jet black leathery hide covered by dark plates of iron armour, and what appeared to be human skulls hanging from its waist. Two large crimson horns jutted from where its temples should have been. To Trey’s horror it carried a huge axe, easily as big as Trey himself. Despite its humanoid appearance it looked more like a beast than a man, the snout and fangs easily marking it as some kind of fearsome creature.

With a start, Trey realised that this was the monster that had flown at him in his dream. How was that even possible? he screamed to himself mentally. The thing jumped back into the shadow of the woods once the sun had flooded the area with light but is fiery red eyes could still be seen, like small holes leading into the dreaded Abyss. They continued to advance forward.

Fear took hold of Trey for a moment but he managed to regain control. I can’t move or it will seem me and if it sees me I’m dead but it’s getting closer every second so if I stay I’m dead too…

Previous – Chapter 2. Things go Astray.

Next – Chapter 4. A Dangerous Encounter.

As soon as Trey and Billy had been recorded, they were ushered quickly through the stone corridors to the Language room. A tall, dark skinned, broad shouldered figure stood at the door. His shiny bald head was almost blinding as it reflected the morning sun. It was their teacher, Mr Xion. He wore fine clothes of subtle hues that fit him perfectly, while his face was handsome and his body well-toned. Everything about him was well kept and luxurious.

“Everyone enter the room in silence and seat yourself at your designated desks,” the man ordered the class in a stern voice. This was his usual before class speech.

Trey took his place at the very centre of the classroom. He preferred a back corner near the window and Mr Xion knew it. He didn’t like Trey and was always trying to make his lessons unbearable. All because of an accident involving a stray arrow nearly hitting him through an open window the previous year. Trey hadn’t intended the arrow to ricochet. It just went to prove that practicing archery while suffering through a bout of hiccups was not a good idea.

The test dragged on and Trey’s attention found itself straying to the different shapes on the floor. It was like cloud watching, but more varied.

“Trey!” barked Mr Xion. “What have I just been saying?”

Trey looked up slowly. “Something in the language of the northern desert tribes,” he replied.

“Yes, but what?” sneered Mr Xion through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know.” Trey shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

Mr Xion had been expecting this and had his next words planned. “You don’t seem very interested in my lessons, any reasons?” There was a long silence, then Mr Xion spoke again. “Well?”

Trey thought for a moment. “Well sir, I can’t say that I don’t like this lesson or you, because it is rude and you’ll give me a caning, and I don’t really want one.”

“Then why don’t you say that you are interested in my lesson, that should work,” said Xion with a smug look of satisfaction.

“I was taught never to lie,” Trey replied simply.

Xion’s face turned from tan to red in a second. “Trey!” he growled, barely holding in his anger. There was a piercing ding sound. The break bell rang and everyone started to file out of the classroom, including Trey.

“Talk about saved by the bell, Trey,” laughed Billy as they walked down the corridor. “I’ve got to do some stuff now for the archery team so I’ll see you later.” He turned a corner and left Trey by himself. 

Trey weaved through the ambling crowds of pupils and found his usual breaktime spot, a small table on the edge of the school grounds looking out at the bell tower and his house. He sat down, made himself comfy, and started to lose himself in one of his trance like thoughts.

“Oi! Move, I’m sitting here now!” came a sneering voice. 

Trey turned his head to see who was ordering him to move. It was Derrick Rol, or ‘Sharkey’ as his friends called him. He was about Trey’s height, thin, with ape like arms. His short brown, spiky hair looked like a hedgehog that had been swimming in grease and his eyes were a dark brown that sat in sunken sockets.

“Shift now or I’ll shift ya myself,” threatened the boy in a deep voice that was clearly fake.

Sharkey was meant to be the ‘big dog’ around the town, even though he was only a year older than Trey. His father had been convicted of war crimes after the infamous Ghibok war, and had spent several years in the Lord’s dungeons. He had been released and Sharkey had been born but it had been only a few short years until the man was back in the dungeon for domestic violence. Sharkey had grown up sharing his father’s violent temperaments. 

“Come on, you better move before you get hurt, kid,” said one of the older students who had placed a hand on Trey’s shoulder. Sharkey’s reputation preceded him.

“No, I’m alright where I am thanks,” Trey said casually.

“What?” Sharkey shouted in disbelief. His voice was petulant, clearly unused to not getting his own way instantly.

“I said that I am okay, thank you,” Trey repeated calmly.

Sharkey grabbed Trey’s neck and shoved him off the bench. Trey stood up, walked back to the bench and sat back down. Sharkey’s face turned red with rage. He swung his fist towards Trey’s face but Trey merely swayed to one side and Sharkey missed him. Sharkey then lunged his full body at Trey. His arms flailed around him in blind anger. Trey’s leg shot out and kicked him in the stomach, sending him staggering backwards. Sharkey recovered then charged again, this time getting ready to hit Trey with all his strength. Trey anticipated this move so he stood up, hit Sharkey in the throat, kneed him in the gut then turned slightly and elbowed him in the cheek. Sharkey collapsed to the floor.

Unknown to Trey’s peers, he’d had a lot of training and was stronger than he looked. His father had been an officer in the city guard and had been a skilled warrior. Even though Trey had never met him, he still felt a longing to live up to the man’s legacy. His practice sessions with Billy were the highlights of his week.

Trey felt a hand on his shoulder that pulled him around, immediately followed by a fist to his nose. He fell backwards, but as he was falling he remembered a move he had seen once used by performers at a travelling circus. He lifted his right leg up, placed it on his attackers thigh, grabbed his jumper, and as Trey hit the floor, he kicked up and flipped the thug straight into Sharkey.

Trey struggled to his feet and looked around. Sharkey’s friends surrounded him. They started to close in. He knew that he didn’t stand a chance against all of them. Suddenly, someone broke the tight ring of thugs.

It was Billy. He must have seen the trouble and ran there. The gang charged at the two friends. They started well, winning every thug that came at them, their basic training serving them well, but they just kept coming. Billy’s strong arms ensured that those he hit stayed down while Trey, who was a swordsman at heart, dodged most of the clumsy attacks. The bullies only used strength, knowing nothing about how to fight with skill, but soon both Trey and Billy became tired.

“Looks like we’re beat,” grunted Billy through gasping breaths. A purple bruise was already forming on his cheek. Trey sighed. They were only going to be beaten up, but it was going to be a defeat that caused them both a lot of pain and humiliation.

“Woo hoo! This is gonna be fun!” came a crazed shout from behind the crowd that had gathered around the brawl. A figure dashed forward through the observers, cackling madly. It was a boy from Trey’s class called Zak Malma.

Trey had never really talked to him. To put it lightly, he was insane. He had once voiced his opinion that sheep had been the rulers of mankind and only awaited the chance to retake that position once again. But here he was coming into the fight for no reason. His messily spiked hair was a mixture of mostly darkest black with odd streaks of vivid blond that flew around his face wildly as he ran. His blue eyes looked ecstatic as he smacked the first thug in the face. His jumper was on backwards.

He had a long ruler in each hand that he used like swords. The thugs couldn’t fight back against his reckless attacks. The cracking sound of the wood mixed with the pained shouts of his victims. During his rampage he also managed to hit some of the crowd as well, causing chaos as the bystanders attempted to stop him. Like a chain of dominoes, more and more of the students began to lash out. Soon there was a riot spreading across the entire school grounds.

Social groups had joined together, creating factions among the chaos. What had started as simple reactive violence rapidly became a full-scale battle with Zak at its centre. Teachers attempted to control the situation, but could do little to stem the fighting. Within the hour it had spread, spilling out into the city itself. 

A dark figure smirked, watching it all unfold from his window. 

The city guards in their polished armour eventually stormed the school and put an abrupt stop to the fighting, but everyone in the city was appalled by the children’s behaviour, and they had to point the finger at someone.

Previous – Chapter 1. Another Day

Next – Chapter 3. Expelled.

Birds scattered as the old morning bell began to toll. Its deep echoes rang throughout the city of Pastrino. The noise was met by stirrings as the city below began to awaken, and the people rose from slumber to begin their day’s work. All except one: Trey Sted. He was still fast asleep like most mornings.

People were amazed how he could sleep through the morning bell since his house stood in the shadow of the bell tower on the wide hill that marked the centre of the city. It left any who were that close to the tower with ringing ears when it chimed, but Trey never stirred from his sleep.

“Trey, wake up! Trey, get out of bed!” his mother called from the doorway. Trey didn’t move. His cover was wrapped tightly around him like a cocoon even though it was the middle of summer. His mother called again. “Trey, get up now or you’ll be sorry.” Still he lay motionless. “I warned you, Trey.”

She went down stairs and left the house. A large aqueduct snaked its way across the city overhead, from which a pipe led down into the Sted’s garden, like similar pipes did for every other house in the city. You were always under the shadow of the aqueduct in Pastrino.

Sarah Sted had a way of waking up her son. She grabbed a wooden bucket and turned on the tap. A steady flow of water poured into the container. Once it was full she staggered back upstairs. She reached Trey’s bed and managed to lift the bucket just above his head. In one big movement she tipped it upside down. Water cascaded over him, and much of the room around it.

Trey’s eyes opened but his body barely moved. The remnants of water weaved through his long, dark brown hair, then soaked into his thin mattress. His green eyes looked tired, but they always had a shine deep within them. 

“Morning, Mum,” he said, moving his dripping hair from his eyes. He’d gotten used to his unusual wake up but could never go back to sleep because his mattress was soaked. He yawned again and rubbed his eyes.

“It’s almost time for school so I want you dressed and downstairs in five minutes.” Sarah instructed him briskly.

“Yes, Mum,” muttered Trey as he eyed the soaked bed longingly. 

Sarah left his room to carry on with her jobs, leaving Trey alone to get dressed. Getting up, he glanced around the narrow room. Between his bed, a chest, and a small bookshelf, there was little space left to move. He walked over to the chest where his school uniform was and just stared at the dull grey trousers and jumper.

Trey didn’t like school; that was, he didn’t like getting up at first light, he didn’t like crowds, and he didn’t like the uniform. The actual subjects were enjoyable enough, other than languages with Mr Xion.

Motivation was a hard thing to find for someone like Trey. Day after day he was forced to learn things that he would never need, all under the premise of future success. This meant little to Trey though since he had no grand ambition for fame or fortune. All he wanted from life was to live a quiet existence with enough money in his pocket to allow his mum the peace that she deserved. Learning a language from a country he would never visit just seemed a waste.

He got dressed then had a quick glance through his window at the city around him. That was what he liked most about his room; since his house was on a hill at the centre of the city, he could see nearly all of Pastrino. Not that there was a great deal of beauty to be found in the gloom of the aqueduct.

He could see the squat school off to his right and the tall shape of the old Sprite church to his left. He could also see the farmers’ fields in the distance, just past the city’s crumbling, once white walls. The winding aqueduct disappeared beyond the horizon to join up with a distant river that provided the city’s water supply. A crowded mass of grime coated white stone buildings lay below him like sea foam washing up on a beach.

With a yawn, he hopped down the stairs into the kitchen to get his breakfast. Trey loved his food and the thought of breakfast was the only thing that encouraged him to stay awake. The only time he could really eat until he was full though was at big events when he didn’t need to pay for the food. His mother had to look after him and the house by herself. She did other people’s odd jobs to get by.

His father had disappeared just before Trey was born and no one knew where or why. Some thought he was dead while others believed that he had just run away from his responsibilities. Trey had even heard some people call him a murderer, pinning the death of a young girl on him. Trey didn’t know the answer, and he never asked too much about it as he knew how much it hurt his mother to talk about it. 

Trey grabbed some food and began to eat. Sarah had just finished wiping up the water that had fallen through the floorboards from Trey’s room and stopped to look at her son. His mother couldn’t work out why Trey was treated like he was. He just didn’t seem to fit in. He was distant, always in a dream, wandering through life without a direction or purpose. It was like Trey had his own little bubble and just couldn’t connect with the world beyond it. 

He did have one friend though, Billy Delb. They had been friends all of their lives, even though Billy was more popular than Trey. They spent most of their school time together but didn’t see each other much outside. Billy had lots of clubs to go to and Trey enjoyed staring out of the window for hours on end just relaxing. Billy’s parents had been in the same class as Sarah during their school days and the friendship had been passed down to the next generation.

There was a series of knocks upon the front door. Sarah opened it and Billy stood just beyond. His short, light brown hair shone in the light of the sun and his brown eyes looked bored. He had a well-built upper body because of the hours of archery practice he did every day. His father was the school’s archery instructor after all.

“Are you ready, Trey?” he asked. “I’m really looking forward to school today.” Sarcasm dripped from his every word. He rolled his shoulders absently. Unlike Trey, Billy was never happy unless he was moving.

“Why?” Trey asked, thinking over the day’s schedule. “Oh.” He sighed. He remembered he had a language test first lesson with Mr Xion and then no good subjects afterwards. 

If only he’d been born sooner, Trey thought. Back when his mum had been at school they had still taken practical subjects like swordsmanship. Then the former lord of Pastrino had passed away and was replaced with a man involved with the Neototes. They were a group that saw the past as nothing more than a hindrance to the evolution of society and tried to cut all ties to the more ‘barbaric’ ages. 

“Come on then,” Trey said wearily, dispelling his sour thoughts as he pulled his school bag onto his shoulder. “Bye Mum. See you later.”

“Bye Mrs Sted,” said Billy.

“Bye,” she replied with a smile. “Be careful.”

“I’ll try,” Trey answered as he closed the door behind him. Trey had a strange feeling about today. He got this feeling whenever something was going to happen. Was it something good or bad, he pondered to himself as they walked to school along the same path they had used since their first day there. Maybe he would pass Language, that would be a strange miracle, he mused cynically.

Previous – Prologue: Time of Troubles

Next – Chapter 2. Things go Astray.