I think it best if I just jump straight into it!
God loves and cares for all of us, he found himself thinking. Yeah right.
Astra Sperare was having the worst day of his life. His arms were battered and bruises swathed his body like monstrous zits after the fencing tournament, which he had lost after years of practice. His legs were aching from his horse-riding test, which he had failed hopelessly. His coin sack hung limp after he had lost half his pocket money in a bet, and his cheek was still cut from the fight he had started when he lashed out at a friend in his tantrum. Caught by the local pastor he had been reprimanded with a sentence of cleaning the sinister basement of the temple and which had left his hands rough and his arms feeling like liquid after hours of mopping. He had finally made it home and had been hoping for some sympathy when he had realised that it was his sister’s fourteenth birthday – and he had forgotten to buy a present. Everyone was angry with him and accused him of “trying to spoil her special day”. Overcome with fury he had dragged his hammered body to his secret hideout – the top of a steep hill that was covered with soil, the only bare patch in a mile.
He often hid there when life was becoming too strenuous. He could count on being alone – no one else ever bothered to climb the sharp slope, which was rumoured to be haunted. If they did, though, they would find a worthy reward. The hill soared above any tower and even some mountains. The cool air was refreshing and the view from the peak was breath taking. Everything could be seen from it, from the smoke of distant battles to the peaceful farmlands outside the town walls.
It was the view that comforted Astra the most. When he saw that the world was so big, all his troubles seemed small in comparison, and the thought was somehow consoling.
It was made even more spectacular under the starlight, but he wasn’t interested in that tonight. As he sat down, his hand slid beneath his shirt in search of the necklace. Finally he found it – a white sparkling gem, shining in the evening darkness. He held it close to his eyes, for the sight of it comforted him. He had had it from birth, a gift from someone he had never known. He had long suspected that the necklace was enchanted; how else could it have such power? He kept it secret though, knowing that if he told anyone about it, it would be gone within minutes. Wartimes were rough, and neither integrity nor honour could be traded for food.
Astra sat there for a few minutes feeling his pulse calm, feeling the magic slowly drain his self-pity and anger inside to the enchanted gem glowing in his hand. He was just starting to feel better again when a noise nearby stirred him. He hastily buried the necklace back into his shirt as he looked up to find the source of the sound.
It was Mica, Astra’s best friend. He was the one who had beaten Astra in the tournament finals.
Astra attempted an unsuccessful smile and mumbled weakly, “Well done on winning the trophy, Mica.”
They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Then Mica responded, “Yeah, about that, we need to talk.” He climbed up the last of the slope to sat beside Astra. For a few moments he glanced at the surrounding lands in wonder from the spectacular vantage point. “Wow, I’ve never been up here before. What a view!” As he looked more carefully, his eyes narrowed. “Who are all those people coming this way?”
Irked by his attempt at small talk, by his mere presence, Astra jerked his head violently and glared at him. “Why are you here?”
Mica’s gaze did not falter. “I know you wanted the–”
“Wanted?” Astra found himself yelling. “I’ve been practising for years! Why have you come here anyway? Why aren’t you at the party?” he asked, gesturing wildly to the town plaza where villagers were dancing to rhythmic music, celebrating the harvest.
“I wasn’t in a merrymaking mood,” said Mica. He began again. “Look, I’ve been thinking about it. You’ve always been a lot more committed–”
“That’s an understatement,” said Astra through gritted teeth. “How did you know I was here? Have you been spying on me?”
Mica sighed. “I was going to declare that you were the rightful winner, that I’d cheated or something, but–”
Astra snorted. “As if.”
“I know how much it means to you, Astra. But to me, it’s just another way to attract attention.”
Blinded by anger as he was, Astra knew that that was the truth. Still, he was not about to admit that he was wrong so easily.
“ ‘Just another way to attract attention’,” he sneered. “It’s the town’s most honoured position!”
“Astra, you’re pretending as if you don’t know me at all. You know that I’ve never cared much for glamour and fame.”
“Then why did you participate?” Astra spat, though he knew exactly what the answer was and it only made him feel more sick.
“You said that you wanted a friend to come with for support. We are still friends, right?”
Astra opened his mouth to make an angry retort, but found nothing. For a few moments he was still; then he dropped his head and ran his fingers through streaks of his long black hair as he tried to control his emotions.
Was this going to be the end of the best friendship he had ever had? Mica was being so kind, he realised, and he was behaving like a spoiled prince. He had been living for this day, for that medal, but he would have to accept, now, that he had lost. Was he going to lose his best friend too?
For a long moment he was silent. Then, in a slower, calmer voice, he began, “I’m sorry–”
But just then, an immense shattering sound cut him short.
The deafening crash whipped through the air and for a moment nobody moved. Then their heads spun around to find that the town gates had exploded.
From his eagle-eye view, Astra now saw men in black cloaks – the dreaded Shadows – emerge from the evening darkness. They marched into the streets swiftly yet orderly, setting houses alight and killing anything before them.
Then came the screams of terror, the yelps, the shrieks…
Chaos descended on the plaza where hundreds of people stampeded over each other, their sense of humanity gone as one instinct overrode all other emotions: survive; and that meant reaching the other side of the town before ravenous blaze caught them. The young and the weak were crushed and left behind to the fate of the shadows, their moans of agony only just audible over the howling fire. Even the town guard joined the wild rout.
Dying men’s screams pierced Astra’s ears.
The fire was taller than the highest waves and swamping the village, unstoppable, devouring the sleeping and the weak. The town was reduced to ash in seconds.
The eyes of the dead… their faces writhed in agony…
Astra realised that he would have to move fast if he was going to live – but to where? He was wedged between strongest river, the longest cliff fall and the most terrible tyrants in the world.
The fire raging nearer… his skin boiling… smoke scouring his eyes… the booming crashes as houses collapsed…
He realised that it didn’t matter where they ran – as long as it was away from the terrible scourge before them.
But he couldn’t. His legs refused to budge. His body was frozen.
“There!” shouted one of the shadows above the roaring flames and shrieks. To his horror, Astra realised that they were pointing at him.
He could feel Mica tugging at his arm. Realising that he was not alone, sudden relief overcame his fear. Mica gave another strong pull and, the feeling in his legs returned, they fled together.
He was sprinting faster than ever before, so fast that he thought he would fall over himself. He heard boots thumping against the ground, couldn’t help but look back, and found himself staring straight into the face of the leader of the Shadows, who had leapt into the air and was soaring toward them.
Those chilling black eyes held no mercy.
He looked back in front of himself just in time to see his foot hit a loose stone and in horror found himself crashing to the ground. He lay there helpless, in terror awaiting his fate.
And then Mica’s hand had found his, and he was being pulled to his feet, and they were running again…
But the hand suddenly loosened and fell free, and Astra could only scream in horror as he watched Mica’s body collapse onto the earth with a dull thud, the life drained from his eyes and his face twisted. A dark bolt of magic had struck a gruesome hole through his chest, leaving a sight too ghastly for Astra to truly register.
Tears soaking his face, he could only stumble onward clumsily until he reached the western edge of the town: a two thousand foot plummet to a jaw of jagged rocks.
There was nowhere left to go. He could only turn back and face death.
The rest of the Shadows had caught up with their leader, whose lips were twisted into a devilish smile. In a cold whisper he uttered, “He’s mine.”
The words hardly penetrated Astra’s ears as utter hopelessness and dread filled him.
Two hundred feet above him, a brawny man fully clad in battle gear was riding swiftly across the skies to the same cliff. He glanced quickly up at the stars to check his path and made a slight adjustment while mumbling a short prayer. As he looked down again, the raging fire caught his eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he gaped at the scene. The destruction transfixed him for a few moments, the horror of it all beyond anything he had seen before. A veteran of war, he had watched as entire armies were annihilated in minutes, but this… Helpless innocents crushing against each other to get away, the slow ones killed with casual flicks of the wrist, the burning, the ashes, an entire town in ruin, corpses everywhere… His heart skipped a beat as he saw a dead boy lying on the hill, but he quickly realised that there was another child being chased to the edge of the cliff. Praying that this was the boy he was searching for, he pulled his cloak tightly to his chest and urged his mount onward. Then he saw the Shadows surrounding the boy and his heart gave a jolt – he was going to be too late.
With nowhere further to run, Astra had given up and, having almost accepted death, he turned to face its bringer. Cruvis, the leader of the Shadows, the man all children were taught to fear and dread, began to raise his hand, inspecting Astra as he did. His smile broadened as he fired the deadly blast, aiming for the heart.
Not quite knowing what he was doing, Astra found himself quickly raising his left hand to meet the blast, and just before he was struck he unleashed a magic of his own, a far stronger warm blue pulse which repelled Cruvis’ attack, sending it straight back at him. Cruvis dove just in time to avoid it, and the bolt sliced sharply through the side of his black cloak. Quickly he climbed back to his feet, pushing away uncertain men who had come to his side to assist him. His eyes had widened and he no longer wore a smile now, only intense concentration showing on his face as he once again raised his hand.
Although he had no idea of what he had just done, Astra’s head was pounding, his breath short and his arm frozen, and he was certain that he could not repeat it. Convinced that this time he would die, he closed his eyes, just in time to see Cruvis fire a stronger, solid black beam at him.
But before it struck, a hand, warm and firm, grasped him from behind and he felt himself being wrenched off the hill and down the cliff-face. He still had his eyes tightly shut, but he could feel that he was falling… falling…
Finally their bodies hit something. Not the rocks though; this was far too soft. In fact, he felt almost no pain at all. In wonder, he tweaked open an eyelid. What he saw gave him such a shock that all his other fears were instantly scattered…
He was floating in the clear night sky, slowly ascending, already far away from the devastated village. For a moment he had the terrible thought that he was dead; that this was his rise to the heavens, but as he regained the feeling in his legs, he soon realised that he was sitting on a layer of feathers – he was riding a magical beast!
As he made that realisation, a bitter wind smacked him and he began to shiver, until the same warm arm that had just rescued him reached out from behind him and wrapped him firmly in its comfortable grasp. The peril of the past few minutes not forgotten, Astra quickly turned to see the stranger, and was met with a warm, smiling face. He was wearing white-blue armour… that was the colour of paladins. He had been saved!
“You should try to sleep,” whispered the stranger. But with the only world he had ever known destroyed, with everyone he had ever known massacred, and having faced death himself, he doubted that he would ever sleep again. He was about to say this when a warmth began to emanate from his saviour’s hand, spreading through his body, dispelling his terror and filling him with tranquillity. Finally realising how tired he was, what a rough day it had been, he closed his eyes and slipped away into blissful slumber.
Chapter 1: Two Mice and The Eagles
God loves and cares for all of us, he found himself thinking. Yeah right.
Astra Sperare was having the worst day of his life. His arms were battered and bruises swathed his body like monstrous zits after the fencing tournament, which he had lost after years of practice. His legs were aching from his horse-riding test, which he had failed hopelessly. His coin sack hung limp after he had lost half his pocket money in a bet, and his cheek was still cut from the fight he had started when he lashed out at a friend in his tantrum. Caught by the local pastor he had been reprimanded with a sentence of cleaning the sinister basement of the temple and which had left his hands rough and his arms feeling like liquid after hours of mopping. He had finally made it home and had been hoping for some sympathy when he had realised that it was his sister’s fourteenth birthday – and he had forgotten to buy a present. Everyone was angry with him and accused him of “trying to spoil her special day”. Overcome with fury he had dragged his hammered body to his secret hideout – the top of a steep hill that was covered with soil, the only bare patch in a mile.
He often hid there when life was becoming too strenuous. He could count on being alone – no one else ever bothered to climb the sharp slope, which was rumoured to be haunted. If they did, though, they would find a worthy reward. The hill soared above any tower and even some mountains. The cool air was refreshing and the view from the peak was breath taking. Everything could be seen from it, from the smoke of distant battles to the peaceful farmlands outside the town walls.
It was the view that comforted Astra the most. When he saw that the world was so big, all his troubles seemed small in comparison, and the thought was somehow consoling.
It was made even more spectacular under the starlight, but he wasn’t interested in that tonight. As he sat down, his hand slid beneath his shirt in search of the necklace. Finally he found it – a white sparkling gem, shining in the evening darkness. He held it close to his eyes, for the sight of it comforted him. He had had it from birth, a gift from someone he had never known. He had long suspected that the necklace was enchanted; how else could it have such power? He kept it secret though, knowing that if he told anyone about it, it would be gone within minutes. Wartimes were rough, and neither integrity nor honour could be traded for food.
Astra sat there for a few minutes feeling his pulse calm, feeling the magic slowly drain his self-pity and anger inside to the enchanted gem glowing in his hand. He was just starting to feel better again when a noise nearby stirred him. He hastily buried the necklace back into his shirt as he looked up to find the source of the sound.
It was Mica, Astra’s best friend. He was the one who had beaten Astra in the tournament finals.
Astra attempted an unsuccessful smile and mumbled weakly, “Well done on winning the trophy, Mica.”
They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Then Mica responded, “Yeah, about that, we need to talk.” He climbed up the last of the slope to sat beside Astra. For a few moments he glanced at the surrounding lands in wonder from the spectacular vantage point. “Wow, I’ve never been up here before. What a view!” As he looked more carefully, his eyes narrowed. “Who are all those people coming this way?”
Irked by his attempt at small talk, by his mere presence, Astra jerked his head violently and glared at him. “Why are you here?”
Mica’s gaze did not falter. “I know you wanted the–”
“Wanted?” Astra found himself yelling. “I’ve been practising for years! Why have you come here anyway? Why aren’t you at the party?” he asked, gesturing wildly to the town plaza where villagers were dancing to rhythmic music, celebrating the harvest.
“I wasn’t in a merrymaking mood,” said Mica. He began again. “Look, I’ve been thinking about it. You’ve always been a lot more committed–”
“That’s an understatement,” said Astra through gritted teeth. “How did you know I was here? Have you been spying on me?”
Mica sighed. “I was going to declare that you were the rightful winner, that I’d cheated or something, but–”
Astra snorted. “As if.”
“I know how much it means to you, Astra. But to me, it’s just another way to attract attention.”
Blinded by anger as he was, Astra knew that that was the truth. Still, he was not about to admit that he was wrong so easily.
“ ‘Just another way to attract attention’,” he sneered. “It’s the town’s most honoured position!”
“Astra, you’re pretending as if you don’t know me at all. You know that I’ve never cared much for glamour and fame.”
“Then why did you participate?” Astra spat, though he knew exactly what the answer was and it only made him feel more sick.
“You said that you wanted a friend to come with for support. We are still friends, right?”
Astra opened his mouth to make an angry retort, but found nothing. For a few moments he was still; then he dropped his head and ran his fingers through streaks of his long black hair as he tried to control his emotions.
Was this going to be the end of the best friendship he had ever had? Mica was being so kind, he realised, and he was behaving like a spoiled prince. He had been living for this day, for that medal, but he would have to accept, now, that he had lost. Was he going to lose his best friend too?
For a long moment he was silent. Then, in a slower, calmer voice, he began, “I’m sorry–”
But just then, an immense shattering sound cut him short.
The deafening crash whipped through the air and for a moment nobody moved. Then their heads spun around to find that the town gates had exploded.
From his eagle-eye view, Astra now saw men in black cloaks – the dreaded Shadows – emerge from the evening darkness. They marched into the streets swiftly yet orderly, setting houses alight and killing anything before them.
Then came the screams of terror, the yelps, the shrieks…
Chaos descended on the plaza where hundreds of people stampeded over each other, their sense of humanity gone as one instinct overrode all other emotions: survive; and that meant reaching the other side of the town before ravenous blaze caught them. The young and the weak were crushed and left behind to the fate of the shadows, their moans of agony only just audible over the howling fire. Even the town guard joined the wild rout.
Dying men’s screams pierced Astra’s ears.
The fire was taller than the highest waves and swamping the village, unstoppable, devouring the sleeping and the weak. The town was reduced to ash in seconds.
The eyes of the dead… their faces writhed in agony…
Astra realised that he would have to move fast if he was going to live – but to where? He was wedged between strongest river, the longest cliff fall and the most terrible tyrants in the world.
The fire raging nearer… his skin boiling… smoke scouring his eyes… the booming crashes as houses collapsed…
He realised that it didn’t matter where they ran – as long as it was away from the terrible scourge before them.
But he couldn’t. His legs refused to budge. His body was frozen.
“There!” shouted one of the shadows above the roaring flames and shrieks. To his horror, Astra realised that they were pointing at him.
He could feel Mica tugging at his arm. Realising that he was not alone, sudden relief overcame his fear. Mica gave another strong pull and, the feeling in his legs returned, they fled together.
He was sprinting faster than ever before, so fast that he thought he would fall over himself. He heard boots thumping against the ground, couldn’t help but look back, and found himself staring straight into the face of the leader of the Shadows, who had leapt into the air and was soaring toward them.
Those chilling black eyes held no mercy.
He looked back in front of himself just in time to see his foot hit a loose stone and in horror found himself crashing to the ground. He lay there helpless, in terror awaiting his fate.
And then Mica’s hand had found his, and he was being pulled to his feet, and they were running again…
But the hand suddenly loosened and fell free, and Astra could only scream in horror as he watched Mica’s body collapse onto the earth with a dull thud, the life drained from his eyes and his face twisted. A dark bolt of magic had struck a gruesome hole through his chest, leaving a sight too ghastly for Astra to truly register.
Tears soaking his face, he could only stumble onward clumsily until he reached the western edge of the town: a two thousand foot plummet to a jaw of jagged rocks.
There was nowhere left to go. He could only turn back and face death.
The rest of the Shadows had caught up with their leader, whose lips were twisted into a devilish smile. In a cold whisper he uttered, “He’s mine.”
The words hardly penetrated Astra’s ears as utter hopelessness and dread filled him.
#
Two hundred feet above him, a brawny man fully clad in battle gear was riding swiftly across the skies to the same cliff. He glanced quickly up at the stars to check his path and made a slight adjustment while mumbling a short prayer. As he looked down again, the raging fire caught his eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he gaped at the scene. The destruction transfixed him for a few moments, the horror of it all beyond anything he had seen before. A veteran of war, he had watched as entire armies were annihilated in minutes, but this… Helpless innocents crushing against each other to get away, the slow ones killed with casual flicks of the wrist, the burning, the ashes, an entire town in ruin, corpses everywhere… His heart skipped a beat as he saw a dead boy lying on the hill, but he quickly realised that there was another child being chased to the edge of the cliff. Praying that this was the boy he was searching for, he pulled his cloak tightly to his chest and urged his mount onward. Then he saw the Shadows surrounding the boy and his heart gave a jolt – he was going to be too late.
#
With nowhere further to run, Astra had given up and, having almost accepted death, he turned to face its bringer. Cruvis, the leader of the Shadows, the man all children were taught to fear and dread, began to raise his hand, inspecting Astra as he did. His smile broadened as he fired the deadly blast, aiming for the heart.
Not quite knowing what he was doing, Astra found himself quickly raising his left hand to meet the blast, and just before he was struck he unleashed a magic of his own, a far stronger warm blue pulse which repelled Cruvis’ attack, sending it straight back at him. Cruvis dove just in time to avoid it, and the bolt sliced sharply through the side of his black cloak. Quickly he climbed back to his feet, pushing away uncertain men who had come to his side to assist him. His eyes had widened and he no longer wore a smile now, only intense concentration showing on his face as he once again raised his hand.
Although he had no idea of what he had just done, Astra’s head was pounding, his breath short and his arm frozen, and he was certain that he could not repeat it. Convinced that this time he would die, he closed his eyes, just in time to see Cruvis fire a stronger, solid black beam at him.
But before it struck, a hand, warm and firm, grasped him from behind and he felt himself being wrenched off the hill and down the cliff-face. He still had his eyes tightly shut, but he could feel that he was falling… falling…
Finally their bodies hit something. Not the rocks though; this was far too soft. In fact, he felt almost no pain at all. In wonder, he tweaked open an eyelid. What he saw gave him such a shock that all his other fears were instantly scattered…
He was floating in the clear night sky, slowly ascending, already far away from the devastated village. For a moment he had the terrible thought that he was dead; that this was his rise to the heavens, but as he regained the feeling in his legs, he soon realised that he was sitting on a layer of feathers – he was riding a magical beast!
As he made that realisation, a bitter wind smacked him and he began to shiver, until the same warm arm that had just rescued him reached out from behind him and wrapped him firmly in its comfortable grasp. The peril of the past few minutes not forgotten, Astra quickly turned to see the stranger, and was met with a warm, smiling face. He was wearing white-blue armour… that was the colour of paladins. He had been saved!
“You should try to sleep,” whispered the stranger. But with the only world he had ever known destroyed, with everyone he had ever known massacred, and having faced death himself, he doubted that he would ever sleep again. He was about to say this when a warmth began to emanate from his saviour’s hand, spreading through his body, dispelling his terror and filling him with tranquillity. Finally realising how tired he was, what a rough day it had been, he closed his eyes and slipped away into blissful slumber.
