Spellscribed Tales: First Refrain (3 page)

"Are you all right?" Daelen asked. "Are your hands the only things that were hurt?"

Joven stared at his hands, the look of bewilderment remaining on his face. He looked to the dog, then back at his hands. "I... Yeah," Joven finally replied, his voice shaky. "I killed it."

"Yes you did." Daelen replied, watching his son over carefully. "How do you feel?"

Joven looked up at him, confused. "Weird. And my hands hurt." He replied carefully, thinking.

Daelen checked the boy's eyes and hair. They remained the same. Sometimes the Furie could come upon someone when they made their first kill. It would be beyond his comprehension how Joven could have been affected by the spirit of rage, but he had to check. The boy's response was promising though.

"All right. Leona will bandage you up. You two, get back to your exercise." Daelen commanded, scooping up the dead dog and flopping it over his shoulder casually. "I'll talk to our neighbor about the dog."

He crossed the training yard where Leona was still shouting back and forth with the family clustered on the other side. As he approached, he could pick out several angry voices demanding that she return their animal.

"Leona, go take care of Joven." he said. Leona looked to him, saw the look in his eye, and went straight to her son.

Daelen grabbed the dead beast's hind legs with both hands, swinging the
dog back and forth at his side.

"Here's your damn dog!" he roared, releasing the dog in an underhand throw, arcing it over the wall and into what he estimated was the middle of the crowd on the other side. "And if this ever happens again, I'll do the same to the one in charge!"

There was an indignant reply, but someone else in the group hushed the speaker. Daelen wasn't known for being kind to those who offended him, and the head of a Guardian line could almost assuredly fulfill his threat without batting an eye. Hell, even the watch wouldn't have batted an eye.

"Joven's done for today." Leona reported, finishing dabbing up the bloody cuts and starting to wrap a bandage on his hands. "But the cut is
shallow, he should be able to return to training tomorrow if he leaves the bandages on."

Daelen turned, nodding. "You two!" he exclaimed. The other two sons had moved to the side of the yard, watching the event unfold around them. They snapped alert when he directed his voice at them. "Get back to training!"

Daelen went back to overseeing their training, and the two sons tried to finish as soon as possible. He knew they were going to find Joven afterwards and ask him all manner of questions. But in the end, they would all make their first kill, and it ultimately was significant without being important. Life on Balator was harsh, and those who couldn't fight and kill, got killed themselves.

He wasn't going to let them grow up weak. If he had to be hard, he was going to be as hard as he needed to make them strong enough to survive. His own father had done the same for him. It was how he could show them he loved them.

Chapter 03: Sixteen Years Ago

Joven stood among the rest of the ten-year-olds at attention. The youth training grounds were a small part of the open air area that was used to train the actual military, split from their training grounds with only a few hammered in wooden pegs with rope strung between them. Smaller versions of target dummies took up one corner of the grounds, and metal banded trunks of wooden weaponry were within easy reach. They were currently closed and locked; the key swung on a thin strip of leather hanging around the instructor's neck.

The rest of the trainees had made an attempt at being in formation, but they lacked any precision, and many of them were chatting with their neighbors instead of paying attention to the instructor. Even though Joven’s family had special training regimens, basic weapons training was given to all children at the age of ten.

That didn't mean that Daelen didn't have other things for him to do after class; which would drag out longer if the other kids kept causing problems. The instructor would want to discipline them, but the other kids would have to watch to learn the lesson too.

The instructor shouted at a few of the louder chatting students, calling them to attention. Joven sighed and rolled his eyes. "Morgun!" the man barked. "Frey, Prakka! You must think you have something more important to do than pay attention to me, huh?"

"Well-" the boy Joven recognized as Frey started to speak, he was big, but his voice was still childish.

"You're wrong!" the instructor interrupted. Joven tried to suppress a smirk. He was starting to like this man. Instructor Gunther was a friend of Daelen’s, and a subordinate in Balator's military. Daelen told him to trust the man as he, himself, trusted him, and now Joven was starting to see why.

"There is nothing more important than learning to handle a weapon properly!" Gunther shouted, his impressive lung capacity booming out over the training grounds. Several soldiers on a run glanced their way and smiled as they passed.

"I am only going to teach you this one week, so pay attention! Your enemies won't care if you didn't pay attention in training. In fact, I'd bet they'd love it if you didn't!" Gunther continued. "Then you’ll accidentally kill yourself for them! Now pay attention!"

Joven recited the speech Gunther went into, word for word, as he was saying it. He'd heard the speech both times when he watched Balen, and then Talen, go through their basic weapon handling, though Talen had been the one called out in his batch of children. Joven had learned
almost the entire speech, but there were differences in the way that Gunther said it, so he paid attention anyway.

The first day was going to cover the basic rules about weapons handling, then each day after that would go into specific weapon types; swords, axes, spears, clubs, knives, thrown weapons, and bows. It wasn't real weapons training, but it was meant to teach the children to not cut their arm off when they pick up a real weapon, as well as the basic care and maintenance of their equipment.

Hours later, as the suns were almost entirely set and the last rays of daylight shot out across the mountain, Joven looked up at the night sky. The stars were brilliant so high up the mountain. It was no wonder that the peoples' totems were so very important. Joven scanned the darkening sky and immediately identified the constellation of the bear, his totem. He walked up the road towards home, and casually picked out the others. There was the mountain, his brother Balen's totem. The scorpion and the fox were involved in Talen's totem. They were both fighting for dominance during the night of Talen's birth, so it was unsure which it was. Talen had taken on a vision quest, but he refused to tell anyone which it was. Joven was certain it was the fox. Why else would he get into so much trouble?

Something quivered in the night sky, causing Joven to stop in the street and stare. He didn't see that everyone on the streets that evening also felt the change happen, as his sight tracked across the sky. A shiver passed down his spine as the chill of the cold mountain air sluiced through the streets, but he didn't care.

Stars fell from the sky.

The constellation Fjallar, symbolizing the three birds of the end, fell from the sky. They seemed pulled down towards the earth, and the twelve stars streamed down one after the other in a brilliant trail of silver and gold fire. A keening, shrieking noise slammed into the mountainside, and Joven flinched alongside the others as the screech of the stars’ deaths pierced his ears even with his hands clapped over them.

And just as quickly as it came on, it was over. An empty blankness remained where the stars at the center of Fjallar had once sat in the sky. The void was flanked by the remaining two birds, which only made the empty space all the more disturbing. People began murmuring to each other, a few wails of babies screaming and the particularly superstitious citizens of Balator crying out their protective charms against evil broke the silence of the night.

Joven stared up at the blankness. What did it mean?

A woman in a white dress, one of the Ergkinoa, stood only a few yards away. Several of the other people turned to her with questions. Joven approached, straining to hear her voice over the clamor.

Brunette, with blue eyes and sharp cheekbones, the woman tried to get a word in through the panicked voices of the people crowding her. Her frustration grew, and she shoved the closest man away from her.

"Quiet!" the woman shouted, and suddenly there was several feet of clear space around her. Many still remembered being taught by the Ergkinoa as children and her authority still carried some weight.

"The
stars falling has only one meaning. When the fire bird falls, the suns and moons shall meet." she began. "For the first time in ages, the soul of the hero will return upon this great meeting, and a hero shall be born; and from the mouth of the wiseman be declared. He shall be raised alone, and yet surrounded on all sides by those who care for him." she recited, pulling the story from memory. "Upon his twentieth year, he shall face the darkness, the dragon, and the demon, and conquer them."

All Ergkinoa learned their histories and prophecies, passing them down by word of mouth to the next generation. Whether by virtue of the owl totem they were born under, or some kind of memorization trick, every Ergkinoa had excellent, if not perfect, memories.

"This is the prophecy spoken by the first Spengur, and confirmed by the great King Rothel himself." She continued. "The time of the eclipse is upon us. Within our lifetime shall the hero be born."

“But when?” a voice from the other side of the woman called. “When will the eclipse happen?”

 The Ergkinoa shook her head. "I know not when. But it will be soon. The closer we get, the more accurate a picture we shall have. But one thing is certain."

"What's that?" another person asked.

The Ergkinoa looked grim. "We will need a Spengur to interpret the rest of the signs, and he must declare the chosen child."

A murmur passed through the crowd. While fear and worry may have consumed the general populace, a shiver of excitement ran through Joven. It was going to happen! There was going to be a Spengur!

* * * *

"What do you mean someone else is going to be the guardian?" Joven demanded. He was standing in the kitchen, his fists on his hips as he argued with his father. Daelen was reclining in one of the chairs, his feet up on the dinner table while Leona carefully stitched a cut over his eyebrow. A small border skirmish with some wolfmen had left that mark as well as half a dozen other cuts and one puncture in his left forearm from a thrown knife. Overall, it was a very successful battle. Many wolfmen died and the rest were routed, fleeing to the south. Such minor injuries were often treated at home and Leona had plenty of experience stitching up her husband.

Daelen sighed. "You know that the Rathe guardian line will be in charge of the Spengur this time."

"But... it's the eclipse!" Joven exclaimed. "This Spengur could be the most well known since the first! Wouldn't we gain lots of honor by protecting him?"

"We would, son. But it's not our turn to do so." Daelen replied. "I can only hope that this brings back the tradition of the Spengur so that we can have the one after this."

Joven's hopes fell. "But... I trained so hard for this already." he complained. "What does it mean?"

Dalen's face hardened. "It means nothing's changed." he replied, his stern appearance partially obstructed by Leona's arm as she put in another stitch. "You're going to continue training. The eclipse is likely a long ways off and you're far too young to do it now. Even if it fell on us, right now, I'm the only one fully trained to guard a Spengur."

"Oh." Joven replied. "So I keep training then?"

"Yes," Daelen replied. "
and I'm trusting in you to follow it through."

Joven thought for a moment.
"But what about my brothers?"

Daelen tried to shake his head, but Leona expertly clamped her arm around his head to hold it still while she lined up the needle for the last stitch. "Hold it." she muttered, concentrating.

"Balen's too interested in taking over my place in the military." Daelen replied once she released his head. "And Talen...he doesn't have the heart to do this duty."

Joven saw a flicker of sadness cross his father's face. "So, then it's up to me!" Joven exclaimed. "I'll keep preparing. And if something changes, I'll-"

A knock pounded on the door, cutting him off.

"Go get the door, child." Leona muttered. "I'll finish this."

"Isn't it done already, woman?" Daelen replied testily.

Leona slapped the top of his head.
"Of course not!" She replied. "I haven't tied my signature bow yet."

"Gods, can we please skip that?" Daelen grumbled as Joven went to the front door. "It's embarrassing."

"It's only embarrassing if you're ashamed that your wife loves you enough to put her heart into her work stitching you up." She replied, levering his head up at a painful angle to look him in the eyes. She looked sorrowfully into his eyes, pouting. "That's not the case, is it My Love? You're not ashamed of me are you?"

Daelen suppressed
 the urge to try to yank his head free; he knew he'd fail. A blacksmith had a powerful grip. "Of course not, Love." He replied, feigning nervousness. "I just didn't think of it that way before."

She smiled, letting his head go. "I'm so happy to hear that, My Love!" she replied. "Now, take off your shirt, I know you have a cut on your side you've been hiding."

Joven opened the door, and squinted as the light of several held torches shined back at him.

"Is Daelen home?" The large man in the black iron armor of the king's elite guard
 asked. "I have orders from the king."

Joven looked up at the man, and the five others of the guard behind him. "Uh
.. Yeah." Joven replied, turning and leaving the door open. "Dad!" He cried out. "King's messenger's here!"

There was a scramble from the kitchen, and Daelen walked into the main hall, the wound on his side half stitched. The needle dangled off the thread hanging from the wound, and Leona followed angrily behind him. Two decades of military service had kept his father in excellent physique, as well as covered in dozens of scars from injuries taken on the field.

"The king has orders for me urgent enough to call upon me in my home?" Daelen asked. He raised the arm over his wounded side without looking, and Leona shook her head as she went back to work.

"Indeed." The elite guard replied. "You are to prepare
 your next guardian to the Spengur. The king has graciously decided to revoke the ban. There will be a Spengur again."

Joven, standing behind Daelen, pumped his fist in excitement.

"Won't Rathe have the next charge?" Daelen asked.

The messenger shrugged. "There are conflicting records as to who was the last to watch the Spengur. Some of the Ergkinoa say your family is next, some say that Rathe is. The king decided to have both families prepare their guardian, so long as the Ergkinoa figure it out before it's too late.

"I see." Daelen replied. "My son Joven will be taking the responsibility, but he's still young."

The guard looked down at Joven, unimpressed. "He's the oldest you have?" he asked.

"No, but he's the most prepared of my three sons." Daelen replied quickly. "He's almost half way through training already."

"Halfway done, eh?" the guard looked down at the child. "He
take a life yet?"

Daelen nodded.
"Made his first kill when he was six."

"Six?" the man replied, disbelieving. "That's an impressive achievement, if it is one."

"Are you questioning my honesty?" Daelen replied, his tone suddenly threatening. "I won't let any challenges to my honor slide in my home."

Joven looked up at his father, wondering if he really intended on taking on six elite guardsmen of their king, all fully armed and armored, wearing only pants and unarmed. Leona straightened from where she was bent over stitching his side and slapped the back of his head.

"The hells you are!" she exclaimed, leaving Daelen scowling. "You'll pop a stitch."