Chapter One

Chapter One

Storm clouds raged overhead, sending torrents pounding against the weather barrier above the small camp in the woods. A few guards huddled near the fire in the center of the tents, keeping the cold away. They waited anxiously for the meat to cook in their small stove.

The man they were protecting, Rembold, sat on a log nearby, writing a report about their venture to Sailenen Kaupunki. This remote mountain village had an audacious and stubborn leader, Akrold, who had opposed King Leijon's request for draftees for the royal army. As punishment, Rembold had been sent to first assess, the decide the fate of the village. In the end, he had stripped the magic from every inhabitant after seeing Akrold's insistent anger toward his liege and empty threats against his life. It had not helped the situation that one of Rembold's guards had had his gun stolen while in the inn.

Scouts began straggling in to give reports and send out the night watchmen. The guard captain approached Rembold twenty minutes after the last scout arrived.

“Steward Rembold, there is a problem,” he said urgently.

Rembold looked up and put his pen down. The captain wore the vests worn by most soldiers, and only the patches on his chest designated him as a superior.

“Scout Borli has not returned yet,” he said. “We was watching our rear, and I fear something has happened.”

“What will you do, captain?” Rembold asked.

“I'm going to find him with another guard. If we are not back within the hour, break camp and move on. And tell the men to take defensive measures.”

Rembold nodded and wished the captain safe paths, then immersed himself back into the report. Minutes passed as the men ate and joked. No alcohol was allowed on these trips, to ensure security, and so their joviality was not as loud as it may have otherwise been. This helped his concentration.

Ten minutes later, Borli came limping as fast as he could toward camp, shouting and waving.

“Steward! They... Chae...fol...” was all Rembold heard over the rain and thunder. A few men ran out to meet Borli and brought him back to the fireside. As soon as he was in the camp, he called to Rembold.

“Steward! There were spies following us! I caught one and questioned him, but was forced to dispatch him and run before getting any answers,” Borli panted. He held his side and Rembold could see blood on his fingers. He removed the hand and put his own on the wound.

“Sir, don't worry about that now. We need to go!” Borli insisted.

“You are hurt. It will only take a few seconds,” Rembold said calmly. He closed his eyes and focused, seeing in his mind the tear in the flesh and the damage done to the muscle beneath. He found each blood vessel and saw them repair. He willed the muscle to mend together, then the skin to do the same. Taking a deep breath, he sent a small amount of magic into the wound, protecting it from infection.

“Continue, Borli,” he said, wiping his hand on his breeches.

“The spies, they are Chaelestan! The man wore the insignia. I was able to overhear a few things as he spoke to his comrade. I heard your name, and the king's, and something about a blood ritual! I followed the man and ambushed him, but I had to slit his throat when he started shouting.” Borli sat near the fire with his head in his hands as he explained.

Another soldier leaned over to Rembold and spoke quietly.

“The captain is not back yet, but Borli is. Do we move on?”

Rembold considered for a moment. If he had enough time, he could divine where the captain was. As it was, he knew they needed to get out of danger.

“Do you know if they are coming this way?” he asked Borli.

“I killed the man not far from a camp of Chaelestans. I can only assume that they will find him. Surely they already know we are here.”

Rembold nodded. “Men! Pack it up! If we leave before the captain returns, we leave without him. Let's move!”

Within ten minutes, the company was ready to move out. Rembold took the opportunity to send a quick missive to his family, telling them what was happening. He placed a shallow bowl of water in his lap as he sat down. Swirling it slowly, he gently hummed a tune that reminded him of his wife. An image of their bedroom appeared in the water's reflection. A moment later, Ainu appeared, looking worried.

“Rem, what is it?” she asked, brow furrowed.

“My love, we have a report of a plot against my life, as well as King Leijon's,” he said quickly. “We are fleeing Chaelestan pursuers, but someone must inform the king.”

“Rem, King Leijon fell ill tonight. A terrible fever and bloodshot eyes. Rumor is that there was an attempt on his life yesterday.” She started tearing up. “Rem, be sure you come home. More than the steward, you are my husband. I need you here.”

“Ainu, I will be home soon. I trust these men with my life, and they trust me with theirs. We are halfway from Sailenen Kaupunki. It is no more than a day at most by horse.” He tried his best to console his wife, though in truth he was not sure what the night would bring.

Ainu wiped her eyes. “I know you're in good hands.”

“Love, tell the king, but only the king. If there was an attempt on his life, we do not know who to trust. Also tell our children that I'll be home soon.”

“I will, Rem. Be safe. I love you,” Ainu sobbed.

“I love you, Ainu.”

Borli placed a hand on his shoulder. “We are ready, steward.”

Rembold nodded and looked once more at his wife, who smiled sadly and waved. He waved back, then stood, dropping the connection and tossing the water from the bowl. With the captain gone, he would have to lead the men back to Suuri. He mounted his horse and rode to the front of the procession. Guards were sent to watch their flanks, rear, and front. They kept a steady gait, hoping to outrun the Chaelestans.

Rembold had Borli ride alongside him in order to ask him more about what happened.

“I was keeping the right distance between the group and myself, watching for any signs of unusual activity in the trees. I noticed a sound to one side that heard like somebody talking. When I drew near, I found a small encampment of Chaelestans in a clearing. Two men stood to one side, talking. I remember them saying your name and King Leijon's. I don't know what they had planned for the king, but from what I heard, they want to kill you to take your powers as steward.” Borli looked over at Rembold, but the steward did not react. “One mentioned the meteorite ruins.”

Rembold's family had been the stewards of Neljan Joen since magic was given back to mankind over two hundred years prior. Magic was first discovered by Rembold's ancestor, and so he had become appointed by the gods to be the first steward. Rembold's oldest son was currently training at the academy to hone his own magic and become the next steward.

“The ruins are less than a day's ride southeast,” Rembold observed. “They must have been trying since we left the village to capture me.”

“But why are the ruins important?” Borli asked.

“It is the only place I can transfer my powers as steward to another. I plan to do it with my eldest son after his graduation from academy.”

“They mentioned a blood ritual,” Borli said quietly. “Do they plan to kill you to take your stewardship?”

Rembold looked at the reins in his hands and replied, “It would seem so.” Looking up and forward with determination, he added, “But first they will have to capture me. And that will be no small feat.”

Night had fallen and the stars were bright above the Akademia Magia. Most students had retired to their quarters. The walls surrounding the complex were manned by the occasional guard. Some nights Holden felt like a prisoner, but he understood that basic precautions were necessary. The academy housed thousands of students, all learning magic. Anything could go wrong, and did on at least a daily basis.

Holden sat on top of the music house, waiting with his arms around his knees. The wind was chill, so Holden took out a small brass box from his pocket and opened the lid. The box was no bigger than his palm and had a small wick in the middle. He held up the box and found the small switch on the side, pushing it in. A flame like that of a candle came to life on top. Humming softly, he sang to the small flame. Although it grew no bigger, he felt the heat increase as he hummed. He smiled and set the box down next to him on the gentle slope of the roof.

“Won't the guards see the light?” came her whisper in his ear. He grinned at the tickle of her breath, then turned quickly and gave her a peck on the lips.

Liseal did not jump back. She sat down next to him, the flame between them, and rested back on her hands.

“I designed this one to only be visible to myself and those I care about,” he replied with pride.

“Of course you did, prodigy,” Liseal teased. Holden liked when she called him that, even if it did feed his ego. He looked at her for a few seconds, not believing how good she was to him.

“It is not my fault my family is talented. Thank Jot for that,” he said.

“Yeah, Jot,” she said absently. She was looking into the sky, watching the stars that spread across the firmament like so many drops of dew in the sunlight.

Holden knew why she has dismissed Jot, but did not want to ruin the moment. He let it go for now and instead moved closer to her. She rested her head on his shoulder.

Neither was sure how much time had passed. Neither had bothered to bring a time-keeper. They let the wind swirled gently around as they pointed out the scenery to each other, visible by the light of a mostly full moon. Even from so far, the Giganski Mountains were plain to see, snow-covered and majestic. Liseal mentioned that she would like to go to those mountains one day, just to see if they were really as big as people said. Holden pointed out the clouds far to the east, obvious thunderheads that appeared to cover the capital.

The flame started to sputter.

“The fuel is low,” Holden said softly, not wanting to break the moment.

Liseal sighed. Holden picked up the brass box and closed it, then stood and reached down for her hand. They walked back to the ladder and climbed down, skirting the courtyard and reaching the housing area. Climbing onto a ledge, the couple pushed open a window on the second floor and entered Holden's room. His roommate was still sleeping, snoring into his blanket.

Holden held Liseal's hands, bending slightly and kissing her. He ran one hand through her hair, long and golden brown, and released the kiss. She smiled affectionately at him, then walked quietly to the door and left.

Holden laid down, contemplating how wonderful his life has been since meeting Liseal last year. Only the maestros and a few very close friends knew he was the steward's son. Not even his roommate knew yet. But after having dated Liseal only a week, he had told her. And since then, it seemed as if he was always happy.

Sleep was just coming to him when he noticed a light shining on the wall near his dresser. Next came the jingling of bells, indicating an incoming missive. He stood and stepped up to the dresser, facing the shallow bowl on top. He took a nearby vial of liquid and poured it in, then swirled it around gently. The jingling stopped, and he looked over at his roommate. Still asleep.

“Holden,” came his mother's voice.

“Ma?” Holden said, surprised. “It's really late. What are-”

“It is urgent,” Ainu cut him off. “The king is ill, and your father is being chased by Chaelestans.”

“Wait, what?”

“We are not sure who, but your father and I suspect somebody in the castle has turned traitor to the king. I have told his majesty the situation with your pa, but in case anything should happen, we needed to tell you.”

Holden was not sure what he was hearing.

“Are you saying something might happen to Pa and you?”

“We don't know what will happen. Your pa is a capable man, and so are his guards. I'm sure he will be fine. But if there is indeed a traitor here, then myself and your siblings may be in danger.”

“Do I need to come home? I'll catch the first-”

“No, I don't want you here. I wanted to let you know we may be coming to the school for refuge. There has already been a party sent out to help your father.”

“What about the king?”

Ainu looked worried. “The healers are trying everything they can. Nothing seems to be working. Even with magic and technology. But my concern right now is for our family. I need to tell Head Maestro Sulgur. Will you take your missive bowl to him first thing tomorrow morning? We should be on an aership by then on our way to you.”

“Uh, yeah, I'll take it to him. Ma, is there anything I can do?”

Her face softened for a moment. “I am sorry to concern you. It may be nothing. But yes, there may be something. We need to make sure nobody enters or leaves the academy. Borders are already closed as a precaution after what happened to the king. Let the head maestro know as soon as you see him.”

“What happened to the king?”

“He is ill, but it may be intentional. A Chaelestan envoy came to the castle yesterday, but never left the castle. Servants are saying one tried to kill Leijon, and the envoy was killed in the process.”

Holden tried to take this all in. This was throwing the perfection he had felt not hours before into chaos. He took a couple deep breaths.

“Holden, were you already awake?” Ainu asked. He remembered he had not yet told his mother about Liseal.

“Well, yeah, but I'll tell you why when you arrive to the academy,” he replied.

His mother nodded, then looked behind her. “Go back to bed, Drogun,” she said.

“Is that Holden?” Drogun asked.

“Yes dear, but we are just ending the missive.”

“Hey Drogun!” Holden called to his little brother, trying to see him in the image.

“Hey Hold!”

“Bed, Drogun. Please,” Ainu said firmly.

“Yeah, fine.”

She waited a moment until the boy had left, then turned back to Holden.

“I will tell your siblings on the ride to the academy, but not everything,” she said. “I don't want them to fear for their pa's life.”

Holden heard his roommate stir.

“I should go, ma,” he said softly.

“Yes. Be sure to take your bowl to the maestro,” she reminded. He nodded, and they said their 'I love you's.' He emptied the liquid back into the vial, then went back to his bed. Sleep has fled, and he stayed awake most of the night, thinking about his family and the king and Liseal's warm breath.