Noah Phoenix
Occasional Idiot
Book One
Chapter One
In the dark, stillness of the night, they moved. Silently they pushed on towards the light. There were six of them, and they were hungry. Slick shapes darting across the fields and hedgerows of the countryside, unseen and unheard. The lead shape would pause every now and then to sniff the air, and then dart onwards. They were searching, hunting. The enticing light of the farmhouse was getting tantalisingly nearer; the smell of fresh meat growing more pungent. Their fur thick with sweat, they had not stopped for days. The insatiable ever-constant hunger was all they could think of, it consumed their every thought. Every muscle and bone in their evil, twisted bodies screamed in hunger. Their razor sharp teeth glistened like knives in the light of the moon. As they reached the outer hedgerow of the farm, they stopped. Again the lead shape sniffed the air for a few seconds and then signalled to the others to follow. Hunched low, ears flat to their heads, tails down, they moved in cautiously.
Inside the farmhouse, in the sparse back bedroom, Noah Phoenix lay sleeping. The small window was open and swayed a little in the calm night breeze; the light curtains flowing every now and then as the breeze picked up. A couple of owls could be heard way off in the distance calling to each other. The second after the breeze died, Noah opened his eyes. It didn’t pick up again, and the owls had stopped. He lay motionless for a few seconds, stuffing the fear deep inside him. His heart began to race; he could feel his heartbeat in his ears and felt the short dark hair lying over his forehead gently brush his head with each beat. He could hear them, scuttling about in the yard. Four, maybe five, he guessed. His father’s voice floated into his head as he lay; Always listen for the noises that aren’t there, son; always be ready. There was little comfort in those words now. He shook the thought from his head, as his eyes darted to his sheathed sword by his bedside table; it bought him a moment’s comfort before he heard the terrible crash of broken glass from downstairs.
They were inside.
Noah woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in a cold sweat. He was a tall, muscular young man, with dark eyes and even darker hair. The light coming in from the window stung his eyes and told him rather harshly it was morning. His eyes then darted to the bedside table; his sword still sat where it always had..
‘Another bad dream, eh? You’ve got issues, Noah, real issues,’ said a small but firm, well spoken voice from the end of his bed.
Rubbing life into his eyes, Noah focused on the foot of his bed, and saw the familiar image of a ten-inch high fairy wearing a leather jerkin, dirty brown trousers and boots, standing arms crossed, an accusing look upon her fair face beneath curls of long blonde hair, ‘Morning Madison,’ he said, ‘It was just a dream; what time is it?’
‘Time you got rid of that useless lump of meat you asked to move the woodpile yesterday, I’d say.’
‘What?’ he said.
‘He burnt it; useless blinking lump. Do us all a favour and sack him! Your brother would have done it there and then, but I can’t find him!’ Madison pleaded, pacing up and down the end of the bed.
The farm stood two miles southwest of the twin villages of Locke and Paddletoe, which sat opposite each other on the shores of Lake Orsead. The lake stretched almost all the way across Endershall, and separated the capital city of Kernost and the Palace from the rest of Endershall. The country itself stood like the prow of a ship from the Varsil Mountains, as if reaching out into the vast ocean that surrounded two of its sides. At the point where it stepped out from the mountains, the country was just over sixty miles wide, thinning to a point at the very ‘prow’ to just a mile wide, forming a ragged triangle of desert, farmland and forests. Endershall had once been part of the country of Ascarin, but six hundred years ago, the War of the Titans separated them forever.
‘Alright, alright, I’ll go talk to him, but I can’t sack him. And Ethan wouldn’t have either, he knows better than that. Go and get the milk ready for Golding, please. I’ll be down in a minute.’
Madison unfurled her wings and glided out of the room, grumbling under her breath as she descended the stairs and made her way out to the cow shed.
Noah sat on the side of his bed for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. It was the fifth night in a row he’d had the same nightmare. It was always the same, and it always ended at the same point. The thing that made it worse was that it wasn’t just something his mind was making up to tell him in some unconscious way that he had ‘issues’ as Madison put it, but he was remembering a night he so longed to forget. He had no idea why the dreams were tormenting him now; it had been four years since they had attacked. It had happened three months after his father, Alderaan Phoenix, had been finally convinced to go to war. Alderaan had put up a fight as long as he could after he promised his wife and family that this time he was staying at home. There was always a war on; they were always trying to keep that Vandaal character out of Endershall. Every time he reared his ugly head, there was a war. But this war was going ill, and locals were either coming back from the front lines in pieces, or not at all. They were running low on skilled soldiers and Noah’s father was the most feared and respected warrior in the land, and had fought in the last war and almost won it single-handedly; his skills were badly needed. On the night his beloved father left, Noah had said things he shouldn’t have said. He hated his father for breaking his promise, more for his mother than anything else, and in one day had gone from idolizing his father and his skills, to loathing everything Alderaan and the ridiculous army stood for. He vowed never to step into his father’s shoes, and scorned him for leaving them when he should have been at home, protecting the thing that should have mattered to him the most.
Ethan, Noah’s brother, felt differently, however. He still revered his father, and had always wanted to be just like him. Noah worried that the admiration would turn him into his father the older he got.
Noah felt that he should have been at home in case something happened. Ethan was eager, but didn’t have the skills of Alderaan. Noah however did have the skills, but not the will. There was no way that they could protect the farm if anything happened. Three months later Noah was proved right when a pack of wolfbanes managed to sneak through the forts on the front lines of the border with Kadan, and trek across the fields and forests of Endershall unchecked. That is, until they reached Noah’s farm. He would never forget that night, or the days and months that followed. He learned that the night the wolfbanes attacked was the very night his father had died on the front lines. It hurt Noah to know that whilst his father was off playing soldiers in a useless and unwinnable war, his family was literally being torn apart. That decision to leave for the war not only cost him his life, but the life of another on the farm that night.
And that was just one more reason for Noah to hate his father. He loved his mother with all his heart and he hated to see her like she was then. It still tormented him now to think of all that heartache she had to go through after that fateful night. He had been a good son and brother, and kept his feelings about his father hidden from her and Ethan, and did his best to console them. But even Noah soon realised it wouldn’t be enough. He very quickly saw what a loss too great to bear did to the purest of people. Ethan too was just as distraught. He could not bear the thought that his hero, the hero of Endershall, was dead. Ethan was a clever young man, and soon realised Noah’s true feelings on his father’s decision. It had come between them often, but the strong brotherly bond that had been nurtured by a loving family had kept them from tearing each other apart. And now, even after all this time, he still felt the cold rush of pain slip up his spine, and the cold, empty feeling still haunted him almost four years later.
Which was what made the dreams even harder to understand, it was over years ago, and he had dealt with it; hadn’t he?
Right now, though, there were other things to worry about, like how the farms helper had managed to burn all the firewood. Again. And where was Ethan? He was supposed to be helping Oz.
Noah got out of his bed, washed his face in the water bowl Madison had provided, and got dressed. It was going to be a long day.
When he arrived downstairs his mother, Tilley, was preparing the morning meal. She was never away from her oven, and the constant smell of cooking and baking was one of the many reasons Noah had never even thought of leaving home. He took a couple of seconds to take her in; the nights dreams had brought back to him the deep sense of loss he wished would leave him. At the times he remembered those feeling, he always took the time to take in the things he cared about. He always wanted to know that the people he cared about knew how he felt. He never wanted to have the feeling that there was someone in his life that felt uncared for or not looked after. She was especially radiant this morning for some reason. Perhaps it was how Noah was feeling, perhaps, he thought as he stood, his own feelings projected some new light onto her that made her glow even brighter than normal? Her long, golden hair plaited tightly down almost the full length of her back swayed gently as she moved, like long golden stalks of corn moved by the gentlest of summer breezes. She wore her usual long light blue dress and pinafore, which was gratefully stained with years of good old-fashioned home cooking. Her frame was slight and well looked after, her appearance was her pride. She always made time to walk and take in the local views, which were second to none. Tilley was one of the kindest people Noah had ever met, and her generosity bought them nothing but debt, and, of course, eternal gratefulness from the locals. She would feed anyone who came to see her, from the most noble of barons to the roving nomads of the plains in the north. And she would bend her ear to anyone willing to talk, and thought nothing of sitting for hours listening to anyone who would take the time to talk to her. Perhaps that was the loneliness coming out in some way; something Noah had always known had troubled her, although neither of them would ever say as much.
Her radiance at that moment comforted him, forcing away the thoughts of dreams. Her smile as she turned to him warmed him in a way he could never fully describe.
‘Why do you stare at me?’ she said in her usual cheerfully light tones. ‘I have something on my back, don’t I? If I catch Ethan…’
‘No, mother, you don’t have anything on your back; I was just looking. I love to see you cook; you look so…content.’
‘Thank you, Noah, but enough or you’ll make your poor old mother blush, so you will,’ she smiled again and turned back to her frying pan. ‘Eggs and a rasher or two for you? We’ve got no milk though; Madison is sorting out Mr Golding at the moment.’
‘I know, I can hear her ‘sorting him’ from here,’ Noah sighed.
‘He won’t take any notice of her tone; he knows her bark is worse than her bite. Now, eat up,’ she said as she passed him a plate.
Noah looked down at the food in front of him. Bacon, fresh as daisies and as tasty as anything he’d ever had before. He knew how to rear the best pigs. Noah had learned his skills with animals from his father. Although that was something he drove from his mind the minute it entered.
He looked up at his mother, who was inspecting him, ‘Is something wrong?’ she said. ‘You looked a little pained just then; nightmares again?’
The look on her face told him that there was no point even trying to say there was nothing the matter, as Madison had obviously said something on the way out the door, ‘The same one I always get, but it’s nothing; just dreams.’
‘Don’t make light of your dreams, Noah. Dreams are what make us who we are; no matter whether they are good or bad. Our dreams drive us, they shape our decisions. Don’t let it get to you, please. Your father wouldn’t have wanted you to dwell.’
‘There are lots of things he wouldn’t have wanted, and lots that he wanted, but he’s not going to get them, is he? He made sure of that.’
‘Now, Noah, don’t let’s start that again, you argue enough with your brother. I don’t want to fight with you. Please, eat, and don’t worry so much.’ With that she left him to his food before he could argue any more. Damn her, he thought, how can she be so right and so wrong at the same time? He knew she was right, he shouldn’t dwell on the past, but unfortunately his dreams were something he had little control over. What he decided he must get control of, though, was Madison’s worryingly ever-increasing volume.
* * *
Chapter One
In the dark, stillness of the night, they moved. Silently they pushed on towards the light. There were six of them, and they were hungry. Slick shapes darting across the fields and hedgerows of the countryside, unseen and unheard. The lead shape would pause every now and then to sniff the air, and then dart onwards. They were searching, hunting. The enticing light of the farmhouse was getting tantalisingly nearer; the smell of fresh meat growing more pungent. Their fur thick with sweat, they had not stopped for days. The insatiable ever-constant hunger was all they could think of, it consumed their every thought. Every muscle and bone in their evil, twisted bodies screamed in hunger. Their razor sharp teeth glistened like knives in the light of the moon. As they reached the outer hedgerow of the farm, they stopped. Again the lead shape sniffed the air for a few seconds and then signalled to the others to follow. Hunched low, ears flat to their heads, tails down, they moved in cautiously.
Inside the farmhouse, in the sparse back bedroom, Noah Phoenix lay sleeping. The small window was open and swayed a little in the calm night breeze; the light curtains flowing every now and then as the breeze picked up. A couple of owls could be heard way off in the distance calling to each other. The second after the breeze died, Noah opened his eyes. It didn’t pick up again, and the owls had stopped. He lay motionless for a few seconds, stuffing the fear deep inside him. His heart began to race; he could feel his heartbeat in his ears and felt the short dark hair lying over his forehead gently brush his head with each beat. He could hear them, scuttling about in the yard. Four, maybe five, he guessed. His father’s voice floated into his head as he lay; Always listen for the noises that aren’t there, son; always be ready. There was little comfort in those words now. He shook the thought from his head, as his eyes darted to his sheathed sword by his bedside table; it bought him a moment’s comfort before he heard the terrible crash of broken glass from downstairs.
They were inside.
Noah woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in a cold sweat. He was a tall, muscular young man, with dark eyes and even darker hair. The light coming in from the window stung his eyes and told him rather harshly it was morning. His eyes then darted to the bedside table; his sword still sat where it always had..
‘Another bad dream, eh? You’ve got issues, Noah, real issues,’ said a small but firm, well spoken voice from the end of his bed.
Rubbing life into his eyes, Noah focused on the foot of his bed, and saw the familiar image of a ten-inch high fairy wearing a leather jerkin, dirty brown trousers and boots, standing arms crossed, an accusing look upon her fair face beneath curls of long blonde hair, ‘Morning Madison,’ he said, ‘It was just a dream; what time is it?’
‘Time you got rid of that useless lump of meat you asked to move the woodpile yesterday, I’d say.’
‘What?’ he said.
‘He burnt it; useless blinking lump. Do us all a favour and sack him! Your brother would have done it there and then, but I can’t find him!’ Madison pleaded, pacing up and down the end of the bed.
The farm stood two miles southwest of the twin villages of Locke and Paddletoe, which sat opposite each other on the shores of Lake Orsead. The lake stretched almost all the way across Endershall, and separated the capital city of Kernost and the Palace from the rest of Endershall. The country itself stood like the prow of a ship from the Varsil Mountains, as if reaching out into the vast ocean that surrounded two of its sides. At the point where it stepped out from the mountains, the country was just over sixty miles wide, thinning to a point at the very ‘prow’ to just a mile wide, forming a ragged triangle of desert, farmland and forests. Endershall had once been part of the country of Ascarin, but six hundred years ago, the War of the Titans separated them forever.
‘Alright, alright, I’ll go talk to him, but I can’t sack him. And Ethan wouldn’t have either, he knows better than that. Go and get the milk ready for Golding, please. I’ll be down in a minute.’
Madison unfurled her wings and glided out of the room, grumbling under her breath as she descended the stairs and made her way out to the cow shed.
Noah sat on the side of his bed for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. It was the fifth night in a row he’d had the same nightmare. It was always the same, and it always ended at the same point. The thing that made it worse was that it wasn’t just something his mind was making up to tell him in some unconscious way that he had ‘issues’ as Madison put it, but he was remembering a night he so longed to forget. He had no idea why the dreams were tormenting him now; it had been four years since they had attacked. It had happened three months after his father, Alderaan Phoenix, had been finally convinced to go to war. Alderaan had put up a fight as long as he could after he promised his wife and family that this time he was staying at home. There was always a war on; they were always trying to keep that Vandaal character out of Endershall. Every time he reared his ugly head, there was a war. But this war was going ill, and locals were either coming back from the front lines in pieces, or not at all. They were running low on skilled soldiers and Noah’s father was the most feared and respected warrior in the land, and had fought in the last war and almost won it single-handedly; his skills were badly needed. On the night his beloved father left, Noah had said things he shouldn’t have said. He hated his father for breaking his promise, more for his mother than anything else, and in one day had gone from idolizing his father and his skills, to loathing everything Alderaan and the ridiculous army stood for. He vowed never to step into his father’s shoes, and scorned him for leaving them when he should have been at home, protecting the thing that should have mattered to him the most.
Ethan, Noah’s brother, felt differently, however. He still revered his father, and had always wanted to be just like him. Noah worried that the admiration would turn him into his father the older he got.
Noah felt that he should have been at home in case something happened. Ethan was eager, but didn’t have the skills of Alderaan. Noah however did have the skills, but not the will. There was no way that they could protect the farm if anything happened. Three months later Noah was proved right when a pack of wolfbanes managed to sneak through the forts on the front lines of the border with Kadan, and trek across the fields and forests of Endershall unchecked. That is, until they reached Noah’s farm. He would never forget that night, or the days and months that followed. He learned that the night the wolfbanes attacked was the very night his father had died on the front lines. It hurt Noah to know that whilst his father was off playing soldiers in a useless and unwinnable war, his family was literally being torn apart. That decision to leave for the war not only cost him his life, but the life of another on the farm that night.
And that was just one more reason for Noah to hate his father. He loved his mother with all his heart and he hated to see her like she was then. It still tormented him now to think of all that heartache she had to go through after that fateful night. He had been a good son and brother, and kept his feelings about his father hidden from her and Ethan, and did his best to console them. But even Noah soon realised it wouldn’t be enough. He very quickly saw what a loss too great to bear did to the purest of people. Ethan too was just as distraught. He could not bear the thought that his hero, the hero of Endershall, was dead. Ethan was a clever young man, and soon realised Noah’s true feelings on his father’s decision. It had come between them often, but the strong brotherly bond that had been nurtured by a loving family had kept them from tearing each other apart. And now, even after all this time, he still felt the cold rush of pain slip up his spine, and the cold, empty feeling still haunted him almost four years later.
Which was what made the dreams even harder to understand, it was over years ago, and he had dealt with it; hadn’t he?
Right now, though, there were other things to worry about, like how the farms helper had managed to burn all the firewood. Again. And where was Ethan? He was supposed to be helping Oz.
Noah got out of his bed, washed his face in the water bowl Madison had provided, and got dressed. It was going to be a long day.
When he arrived downstairs his mother, Tilley, was preparing the morning meal. She was never away from her oven, and the constant smell of cooking and baking was one of the many reasons Noah had never even thought of leaving home. He took a couple of seconds to take her in; the nights dreams had brought back to him the deep sense of loss he wished would leave him. At the times he remembered those feeling, he always took the time to take in the things he cared about. He always wanted to know that the people he cared about knew how he felt. He never wanted to have the feeling that there was someone in his life that felt uncared for or not looked after. She was especially radiant this morning for some reason. Perhaps it was how Noah was feeling, perhaps, he thought as he stood, his own feelings projected some new light onto her that made her glow even brighter than normal? Her long, golden hair plaited tightly down almost the full length of her back swayed gently as she moved, like long golden stalks of corn moved by the gentlest of summer breezes. She wore her usual long light blue dress and pinafore, which was gratefully stained with years of good old-fashioned home cooking. Her frame was slight and well looked after, her appearance was her pride. She always made time to walk and take in the local views, which were second to none. Tilley was one of the kindest people Noah had ever met, and her generosity bought them nothing but debt, and, of course, eternal gratefulness from the locals. She would feed anyone who came to see her, from the most noble of barons to the roving nomads of the plains in the north. And she would bend her ear to anyone willing to talk, and thought nothing of sitting for hours listening to anyone who would take the time to talk to her. Perhaps that was the loneliness coming out in some way; something Noah had always known had troubled her, although neither of them would ever say as much.
Her radiance at that moment comforted him, forcing away the thoughts of dreams. Her smile as she turned to him warmed him in a way he could never fully describe.
‘Why do you stare at me?’ she said in her usual cheerfully light tones. ‘I have something on my back, don’t I? If I catch Ethan…’
‘No, mother, you don’t have anything on your back; I was just looking. I love to see you cook; you look so…content.’
‘Thank you, Noah, but enough or you’ll make your poor old mother blush, so you will,’ she smiled again and turned back to her frying pan. ‘Eggs and a rasher or two for you? We’ve got no milk though; Madison is sorting out Mr Golding at the moment.’
‘I know, I can hear her ‘sorting him’ from here,’ Noah sighed.
‘He won’t take any notice of her tone; he knows her bark is worse than her bite. Now, eat up,’ she said as she passed him a plate.
Noah looked down at the food in front of him. Bacon, fresh as daisies and as tasty as anything he’d ever had before. He knew how to rear the best pigs. Noah had learned his skills with animals from his father. Although that was something he drove from his mind the minute it entered.
He looked up at his mother, who was inspecting him, ‘Is something wrong?’ she said. ‘You looked a little pained just then; nightmares again?’
The look on her face told him that there was no point even trying to say there was nothing the matter, as Madison had obviously said something on the way out the door, ‘The same one I always get, but it’s nothing; just dreams.’
‘Don’t make light of your dreams, Noah. Dreams are what make us who we are; no matter whether they are good or bad. Our dreams drive us, they shape our decisions. Don’t let it get to you, please. Your father wouldn’t have wanted you to dwell.’
‘There are lots of things he wouldn’t have wanted, and lots that he wanted, but he’s not going to get them, is he? He made sure of that.’
‘Now, Noah, don’t let’s start that again, you argue enough with your brother. I don’t want to fight with you. Please, eat, and don’t worry so much.’ With that she left him to his food before he could argue any more. Damn her, he thought, how can she be so right and so wrong at the same time? He knew she was right, he shouldn’t dwell on the past, but unfortunately his dreams were something he had little control over. What he decided he must get control of, though, was Madison’s worryingly ever-increasing volume.
* * *
