Prologue: A Tree to be Desired
Gefahr was a small town that curled up around itself and blocked out the darkness that was ever squeezing in. It hid inside its quietness and shaded its eyes from the looming shadow of the Dunkel Woods that gazed over the fields at the town. Whatever mystery lurked inside those shadows, waiting to steal the peace of the town and thrust its simple citizens into the wilderness that was the outside world, was blissfully ignored as its people went from dawn to dusk contentedly with their day to day delights and their circadian sorrows.

Despite their perfected blindness there was still a tickling anxiety that stayed on the edge of town and watched them sleeplessly. The ancient ruins that had been unexamined and off-limits as long as anyone could remember and from the beginning of Gefahr's memory, their origin was unknown and their depths unexplored. All that it bore was an unspoken superstition that each member of the town bore for the archaic monument. This fallen structure hung onto the eastern edge of town and though many of the small houses that were closer to it had been abandoned in an effort to expand westward, it still managed to haunt the citizens when they went to sleep and were surrounded by only the blackness of the night and their great isolation.

For, in spite of the ever-present friendliness that pervaded the people and their interactions, the town almost never had travelers who passed through and so found itself caught in an insularity that left many people feeling an unconscious disconnect that twisted in their stomach when they found themselves with the unlikely opportunity for introspection. Indeed, there was only one side road that passed through the quaint little village and that could only offer the irregular, lost traveller, for the most part. Outside of these infrequent, unexpected and unintended tourists there was only one other visitor and that was the yearly visitor sent from Fritz Henrike to make sure that the Gefarhans were still happy and more importantly, doing their duty in supporting the ideals and lifestyles propagated by Atheim and King Alaric Waldemar.

These yearly delegates were always pleased by the eager and earnest upholding of Atheim’s principles that Gefahrans ardently believed and lived. The small school on the south-side of town had been turning out steadfast, patriotic citizens of Atheim for years. Simple mathematics were taught and reading and writing was learned but the focus of those six years of education was to hammer in the axioms that upheld Alaric Waldemar’s kingdom and had done for nobody knew how long. The myths of the hero, Claus Dieterich filled the minds of the young, excited and imaginative children that were soon to be loyal servants of their ever-expanding kingdom. Claus Dieterich had raised men up to fight injustice and evil and bring a shining light of goodness and valor into Edaphos.

One of the great attractions of the town was the beautiful marble statue of Claus Dieterich that adorned the small town square. The magnanimous sculpture depicted the handsome, angular standing at a towering seven feet, which was said to be to scale. He had a face flushed with enthusiasm and confidence, even in the stone you could see the charisma of this legend shining through. With his short curly hair rippling over his skull and his big eyes that, though they were lifeless, seemed to be two bright beacons that one could stare into for hours. He had a gargantuan frame and, it seemed, even through the plate mail that was crafted over his body one could see his massive, bulging muscles. One arm was by his side holding his helmet, which was a gorgeous ornament, and the other was thrust into the air with an enormous sword in hand that seemed to still shine with an inspiring light. One foot was planted firmly in the earth and the other was pressed up against a rock with a resounding sense of victory.

This marble resemblance of Claus Dieterich looked over the business hub of the small town. The square was an intersection of the two through paths of the town: Haupt Road and Sachlich Road. And on the corners here were the two general stores of the town, the tavern and the town hall.

The first general store was owned by Duarte and was the place where all Gefahrans went if they needed anything done. Duarte performed all the needed tasks from cutting hair to curing wounds, he was the man with the answers in Gefahr and was the pride and joy of the town. He usually had some insightful observation, some nugget of wisdom that would be donated with whatever service he was asked of.

The second general store was a family store, owned by the Calderons. The father who ran the store was Alamaro and was always keen to find the quickest deal. He encouraged an unquestioning acceptance of the way of life they’d been born into and found it hard to understand an existence that wasn’t based on the pursuit of wealth. His son Alfonso was the opposite, an inquisitive young boy who was curious about bigger questions about purpose and life. Alamaro was commonly disturbed by his son but kept his mouth shut and made the boy work the store and waited, believing fervently, that any day Alfonso would realize the joys of money and settle himself into the simple life.

The tavern, The Weary Warrior, was a battered, old establishment owned by a well-meaning man who was kind and accepting. Abelardo Izador has done his best to keep a happy family on his own. His daughter, Belia, was a beautiful girl who was the attraction of the young Gefahrans and the lecherous desire of the older Gefahrans. She did much of the serving to assist her father. Abelardo had also been compassionate enough to welcome his distant relatives, Sirion Alaric Baltasar and Catalina Juliana Baltasar, into his own home when the siblings had been orphaned. He struggled to support the family but has been a source of strength for the four of them and for the town in its entirety. Catalina, also a pretty, young woman in the town, helped to serve with Belia and usually, depending on how much they flirted, could rake in a good amount of money in tips. Sirion had taken on an immense bulk of the work for Abelardo as time had moved on and had demonstrated his incredible intelligence for keeping books, playing chess and idle debates. He was seen as something by an oddball by many of the others in Gefahr but wasn’t disliked and had a strong relationship with Alfonso.

The town hall was rarely used but was a large building that could support the whole population when the mayor, Ramone Indalecio, had some innocuous and uninteresting speech to make. On holidays the town would cram themselves into the structure and celebrate together, usually spilling out into the square after some time and spending much of the night drifting between the hall and the tavern.

The local guard, which consisted of five men, would train on a weekly basis. Though they never had any real work other than their unnecessary patrolling, the armsmaster worked them rigorously and expected a high degree of commitment. The armsmaster was well known and well respected in the town simply because around fifteen years previously he had come from Steurung, the mainland of Athiem, to train in the Ubel islands and had quickly ended up on Zerstung. No one understood why such a renowned trainer and warrior had ended up in a small rural village but nonetheless he had now lived there for more than a decade. He was fairly amiable and participated in most local celebrations but beyond his superficial attitude of warmth was somewhat aloof and would deflect questions about his past or why he had ended up in Gefahr.

He had a daughter who was also seen to be a bit of an outsider and hadn’t yet been readily welcomed into the community. Rowena had not yet made friends and should an strange exuberance for battle and for animals that was looked in with slight distaste by the majority of the older Gefahrans and the younger ones were simply mystified by her nature. She even looks slightly awkward and gawky, with a boyish countenance and clothes that lean more in the direction of a male’s wear.

Past the town square is the small area taken up by the tiny homes that house various families who make up the population of Gefahr. Just past these houses are the five farms of the village. These supply a large portion of the food eaten by the citizens although there are two farms that don’t donate any food to the town and are often looked down on by the community.

One is the Revera farm. This little plot of land holds the broken family of Cristobal and his father, Domingo. When Domingo’s wife, Maribel, had been alive they were both well-liked and well-appreciated for their generosity and were the highlight of all the farms. People loved to go out to the Revera farm to visit with the family. They all had a knack with people and being in their company had always been enjoyable. But in the three years after Maribel’s passing Domingo has become a selfish and miserly man who keeps to himself and is seen by no one except Cristobal. Domingo still farms but no longer gives any of his food to the town but simply lets the excess rot. Cristobal, eager to maintain the family name, has worked harder and harder each year to harvest the whole farm and give some of it back to Gefahr. He has also taken Domingo’s nightly journey out to the tavern as his own. In the days before Maribel’s death the father and husband would make a trip to the Weary Warrior on a daily basis to swap stories and share beers and based on his magnetism he had become a popular part of going to the tavern at all. Domingo has shut himself in, in the wake of his wife’s passing and left the duty of charming the other Gefahrans to his earnest son, Cristobal. Cristobal makes his way down with his hand-made guitar and flute and plays his music as long as he wants to. He is always welcome to the tavern and has become a recent attraction to the town, not to mention to the young ladies enchanted by the handsome, young man’s talent.

The other farm is the Prudencio farm. This family has been discriminated by all in the Gefahr community. Rafael and Preciosa are eccentric, awkward and ominous. Many will take a longer route, just to make it around the house. The boy, Matias is beginning school with the coming of fall and the whole town is nervous to see how a Prudencio will fit in with their comfortable little village. Their crops are always plentiful but still they keep if for themselves. A mutual agreement has been made that they will keep to themselves and others won’t bother them. Many are concerned that the autumn has blown in trouble as Matias joins the other boys in classes, but there are some who are convinced that this bodes well and that there is a brightness that shall come from this new encounter.

The autumn winds have brought gusts of foreboding however and there are shivers down Gefahrans spines as they walk through the streets and nightmares clutching their minds as they dream. Most have shuffled it off into the back of their minds but no one can shake off the feeling that there is a darkness creeping towards them swiftly and that their peaceful existence is at stake.
-Dragonblood

Chapter 1: And the Eyes of Them... Were Opened
September 4th Gefahr woke slowly with the rising sun. The town had enjoyed an exciting Samstag and many were waking up with enough of a head ache to remember the previous night's enthusiasm, but none were plagued enough to feel much regret for the drinking and debauchery.

There wasn't anything particularly special about this specific weekend except that it was the last weekend of summer before school started. The students were between the ages of eight to fourteen and so there wasn’t a single boy or girl who wasn’t seen in the streets through out the night. The younger ones were heard squealing with delight until very late, each was so excited simply to be allowed out so late. Walking to or from the tavern many saw small shadows scurrying down the streets, one chasing another as they played elaborate capture the flag and hide and seek games. Filled with a burning adrenaline and fresh courage the games spilled over the entire town, including the abandoned district of houses and some kids even snuck into the Weary Warrior from time to time.

The older boys had mingled and partied, together, a small group had snuck into an abandoned house in the east section of town and had brought with them a vat of ale, which had been sold to them by Abelardo who had worn a old and knowing look, feigning disapproval as he made the exchange. Morning discovered the seven kids asleep in each other’s arms in the abandoned house with pleased looks on their faces.

Like their students, the teachers were found at a table together in the Weary Warrior pulling back pint after pint in an effort to forget the fact that they had to return to work after one last day of peace.

In reality, no one was really that unhappy about the coming of school. The children were all diligent students, even if they did get carried away in their disobedience from time to time. For the most part, the lessons were actually enjoyable and all the work was fairly simple. But there was still some sorrow to see that only one day of freedom was left.

So the sun rose on Gefahr and the people groggily pulled themselves from bed to meet a lazy Sonntag. No one intended to work very hard and most were planning on passing the hours sleepily with good food, pipe tobacco and perhaps some banter over an evening ale.

The sunrise came with a splendid show of colours splashed over the sky. Deep crimsons spilled into the warm oranges and friendly yellows that dominated the rest of the sky and painted the clouds. The sun was bright and glaring and woke with a freshness that could not be found in the Gefahrans that it greeted.

The summer had been hot and sweaty, which was uncommon for the town, more accustomed to mild climates. Farmers had come home wearier and had woke a little earlier this year, to beat the assault of the day at its height. Children had come home drenched with perspiration and had gotten to bed later than ever, enjoying the warm, sticky nights that had brought beautiful breezes to them as they played long into the evening.

For the first time since spring, the day brought a chilling breeze through the town that pricked men’s skin up as they walked out into the nippy, morning air. The sun was still bright but with a cool clarity that gave the day a certain calm alertness. Shivers past themselves down the town as the citizens dove back into their homes for a sweater before they ventured on a morning walk.

As the sun climbed higher, Alamaro and Duarte stretched and yawned before opening up their general stores to the public and perching behind their counters with smiles of a leisurely and relaxed countenance.

The higher the sun drove itself the more people could be seen emerging from their houses and puttering around the town. Men could be seen meeting in the Tavern as the afternoon came around. Women were found in their gardens working away. Porches filled up as people came out to greet the day and their neighbors.

The day held its own odd ambience that crawled itself into each member of the community. They had woke with a lazy contentedness and as they emerged into the cold air a certain prick of caution had prickled across their spines. Their cheerful, complacent attitudes remained but the serenity of the day was stolen away and replaced with a watchfulness that niggled in the back of everybody’s minds. It was no longer the peace of another quiescent day but the calm that came before the storm.

-Dragonblood

Sunday, September 4th
8:00 am
Cristobal found himself standing in the middle of the Revera field. His decrepit, crumbling house behind had toppled over. The only thing that lay amongst the scrap of molding wood was the memories of his childhood. The rain pelted his face as he stared at two objects on the ground. Both of which were tombstones. One read, Maribel Revera. This was not surprising to Cristobal, he had seen it before on many occasions. The other one however was. It read, Domingo Revera, his father. Cristobal did not know how to feel about this as his relationship with his dad had become very complicated after the passing of his mother. He continued to stare the graves before him as the torrent of rain threw itself against him. He had nowhere to go, his house lay in shambles.

Time passed very slowly for the next few hours, thunder could be heard consistently following the bright flashes in the sky. This frightened Cristobal and he decided to find some sort of shelter. The moment he turned from the tombs it was if someone had flicked a switch and the world went black.

Suddenly he was in a small boat, caught in the middle of a huge maelstrom. Wave upon wave hammered against the insufficient wooden ship. They grew bigger and bigger, finally capsizing him. With no idea how to swim Cristobal sank to the bottom where all became dark once more.
-cock-a-doodle-doo-
-cock-a-doodle-doo-

Cristobal awoke with a start to the sound of the family rooster, his body and blanket drenched with sweat. He remembered the dream and cursed himself for having it again. It was the fifth time in the last week. A cold breeze rolled through the ajar window and was only intensified hitting the perspiration on his skin.

"I've got to fix that..." he mumbled to himself, jumping out of bed and putting on some clothes. Cristobal had a matt of messy brown hair atop his head. No matter how much work was done it could never be straightened. His eyes were a deep brown that matched his tanned skin quite nicely, the hot sweltering son had taken quite a toll on him throughout his work in the field.

The Revera farm was about three acres of the land, and slapped right in the middle of that land was the Revera household. Back in the day it had shined with the coat of fresh paint and the aroma of wonderful stews could be smelt three farms over. But no more did this structure sparkle. Within the last three years the paint had peeled off, it had taken a hard slant and was on the verge of collapsing. It stank of rotten wood and decomposing crops. Whatever wasn't stored was now just left to rot. Cristobal took it upon himself to try and harvest what he could and give it to those in town who needed it for the upcoming winter, learning from his mother that generosity could take you much farther than greed ever could.

8:30 am
Cristobal walked downstairs to see his father already at the table, eyes lost in a book. "Morning pop", Cris said cheerfully to his dad, grabbing a glass of water and a slice of bread. His father looked up at him and was about to say something when he was cut off by the sound of the rooster.

-cock-a-doodle-doo-!

Grabbing a hatchet from the wall he walked out the back door right towards the rooster cage. Cristobal didn't mind, it was about bloody time the thing was put down anyways and he had no desire to confront his dad with a sharp weapon in his hand. After downing his water and cramming a couple slices of bread into his mouth he spent the rest of the morning fixing loose ends around the house. Every day more problems would arise then he could handle. The floorboards had begun to rot, the house was falling over, windows and doors could no longer easily be opened, and the list dragged on and on It was almost as if the house had given up on life, just like his father.

1:00 pm
After spending a couple of hours on the house Cristobal decided to get away from the farm and his father; whose mood did not seem to improve over the murdering of the family rooster. Throwing his guitar over his back and shoving his flute in his pocket he took a light jog down the country road into town humming a little tune as he went. While in town, Cristobal enjoyed talking to the locals from topics like the weather, to the new school year. At first people would bring up his father but after finding that it was a soft spot they started avoided bringing it up all together. Cristobal enjoyed talking to Duarte the most, owner of one of the two general stores within the town, his knowledge was expansive on almost every issue they talked about and Cristobal would get lost in the words he spoke.

Cristobal stopped in the other general store as well, greeting Alamaro with a huge grin. He knew the nicer he appeared to be the better deal he could grab on a few items he needed for jobs around the house. Cristobal needed everything he could spare, there family had become very poor after the death of their mother; who had dealt with all selling/trading of their crops. After purchasing what was needed to he decided to sit under a tree and plan a set for tonight at the tavern. One of the only things he did enjoy was playing his instruments for the drunken locals on weekends and having drinks with his friend Sirion, as the sun began to set and evening was upon him he walked down the street towards the Weary Warrior, opened the door and walked inside, ready to give the people of Gefhar quite the show.

Fears

A Day in the Life:
As usual, Sirion got up early and went out to the stables to take care of the horses currently being stabled at the inn. There was a knight passing through who had stopped for the night and was thus staying at the inn. The knight’s animal was one of the most beautiful horses Sirion had ever seen, although the scars on his front legs made him wince. As he brushed the animal down he ran his hands over the scars and tried to imagine how they could have gotten there – and how the horse might have reacted. It pained him that the animal should have been made to suffer so. The animal was a large stallion and seemed to have a lot of energy and fight in him. But he was also well trained and sensed the patience in Sirion, allowing him to do whatever was needed.
Taking care of the animals was the way every day began for Sirion. The animal in his care made this day a bit unusual, although this was not the first war horse to have stayed at the inn. He got the animal ready so that as soon as Lord Axel Waldgrave had eaten he would be ready to leave. Only after preparing the Lord’s animal did he continue on and feed and care for the more common fare in the stable. As he finished his task his sister, Catalina, poked her head into the stable to let him know that the noble was finishing up and would need his horse shortly. When Sirion led the horse out front the Knight examined the animal thoroughly, appeared to consider the care to be satisfactory, nodded towards Sirion and tossed him a copper. With that he pulled himself onto the horse and rode off.
Over two hours after rising, Sirion finally went inside to have his own breakfast. His sister joined him – she had been working all morning in the kitchen and common room, which had begun to empty out for the morning. The two chatted briefly and then moved on to their next appointed tasks.
Branduin returned to the kitchen to clean up while Sirion moved to the office in a small room at the back of the tavern where he would work on the books. On most days there wasn’t much to do other than make sure that the receipts from the evening before matched the cash in the cash box. In a small town this did not add up to much. However, once a week Sirion also needed to make sure he had the order ready when the local farmers brought their produce into town. Plus, this was the week that the tinker came through and Sirion and Abelardo Izador would need to make sure they had all of the “extras” that would keep the tavern running for the next year. Although he did most of the books, this was still an important enough task that the tavernkeeper mostly kept it for himself.
Because the tinker was not due to arrive in town for another couple of days, the books took less than an hour of Sirion’s time. Since he had finished so quickly he had to go upstairs and help the others put the guest rooms in order.
With the morning behind him, Sirion crossed the main street and went into “Calderon’s General Store” where his best friend Alfonso lived and worked. As expected, Alfonso was about done with his morning duties and the two would be free through the heat of the afternoon. They each gathered a lunch, saddled their horses and rode out of town for a days wandering. They east across the plains until they found a small rise. It wasn’t much of a hill, the lands around Gefahr being mostly uninteresting plains, but this particular pile of stones offered a couple of features that had made it a favorite resting spot for the two young men. A small natural rise had been added to as local farmers piled boulders they had pulled clear of their fields creating one of the highest points in the area. This “hilltop” offered the best position from which to sit back and view Dunkel Woods, the forest to the east of town. A few trees at the top of the rise even provided those using the perch with shade against the afternoons heat. Although the young men had been drawn there since boyhood by the mystery of the woods, and they still chose the spot secretly hoping something would come out of the woods, they had never seen anything. This day was no different. After a leisurely lunch they reclaimed their horses, rode to the nearby stream and got a drink for themselves and their mounts. Discussing the visit of the knight the day before the two headed for town.
The afternoon typically provided the best opportunity for the two to get away because people came to town in the evening (for either the store or tavern) and the morning was spent cleaning up from the previous night. Thus the boys went back to work as soon as they reached town. Alfonso went to the store and Sirion to the tavern, where he helped out in the kitchen unless there were horses to take care of for travelers. Some nights there were, many others there were not. This particular evening turned out to be a slow night, as the only guests in the tavern were some local farmers who did not need to stable their horses. As the tavern had Belia the tavernkeeper’s daughter and Sirion’s own sister Catalina to care for the needs of the farmers, both of whom were far more attractive than he, Sirion was left relatively free for much of the evening.
Finding himself free, Sirion moved to his favorite table just off the corner of the bar. From here at the back of the room he could see anything going on in the room and help out if trouble arose. Technically that was why he was required to stick around most evenings. This always amused Sirion a bit as he knew he wasn’t much of a bouncer. But most of the locals liked him and wanted a nice place to stay, so the few times people had made trouble Sirion had found plenty of backup. The sight lines also provided Sirion with the opportunity to watch any strangers who came into the tavern. There weren’t any this night, but Sirion loved the small glimpses of the greater world such people provided and frequently sought them out for conversation – at least until the tavernkeeper was convinced he was annoying the guests.
Being close to the bar also provided enough light to read by should things be slow as they were this evening. He enjoyed it when Cristobal came in to provide entertainment, but tonight was not such a night. So Sirion settled back and opened his copy of “Poor Dmitri’s Almanac.” It wasn’t much of a book, and it was pretty old and tattered, but his options were limited. Not long after he began reading Amroth wandered in and joined him at the table. Amroth ordered a pint, something he did about 50% of the time, and set up the chess board. Sirion was white as he had won their last game, and the two began to play and chat.
“It is a slow day today – you should have come in here last night. I wouldn’t have had the time to beat you at chess, but you would have seen a real knight – not just a game piece. Lord Waldgrave was in town.”
“Yeah, I did see that,” Alfonso commented, “or at least I saw it this morning when he rode through town on his way out. It’s a shame I didn’t seem him coming into town instead of leaving. We don’t get many Lordly knights around here. Any idea what brought him here?”
Sirion had never been allowed to approach the man by his uncle and thus had no real answer for his friend. “No. No clue. His horse had clearly had a long day, but it didn’t seem as if he had seen any action – no running or anything. Just a long days walk. I wonder what brought him to the plains?”
“I suppose your uncle wouldn’t want you asking questions, would he? No, but that usually doesn’t stop you! I can’t believe you let that opportunity pass!”
Sirion could only defend himself by saying, “I had no choice! He kept me so busy I hardly even saw the man. I guess Abelardo knew I’d talk to him. But Sir. Waldgrave did give me an extra copper for my efforts with his horse – and it was a beautiful animal.”
Their discussion continued along those lines – trying to identify the stories a knight of Lord Waldgarve’s standing might be able to tell. They could only speculate, but that exercise kept them busy through two games of chess, with each young man winning one. As they started the rubber match, the conversation began to shift as Sirion wondered aloud what Lord Waldgrave had done to be worthy of being a knight.
Alfonso stared at him in surprise. “What did he do? He was born! All it takes is being born into the right family. Where do you think that title “Lord” comes from?!”
“Well, yeah, I don’t really mean that. I meant more generally. Has he earned it, somehow? Not just possessed the title, but earned it? But maybe that doesn’t matter. Have the right family, have a good horse, and tada! You’re a knight. Or he is. We aren’t.”
“Earn it? No, I don’t think that matters. But when that horse marched out of town it looked like he could earn it. It is what you said – family. That’s all. “
“Do you think that’s fair? I mean, if all he did was get born? He gets to travel all over and do great deeds, and we get, what?”
“You get a nice quiet life in Gefahr with a long standing tavern to ensure that you and your family have food to eat. Don’t question such things, young man, it’ll do you no good. The powers that be like the system as it is, and don’t want you questioning it. Besides, it seems to be working pretty well for you – what do you think your uncle would think of such talk?” The speaker was Juan Toldeo, a local farmer and friend of Sirion’s uncle, the tavern owner. From his tone it was clear he thought the two young men were entering into subjects they should not.
“Huh? Well, yeah, I suppose, I have a lot to be thankful for. But I think I am thankful for a kind man like my uncle, not for the “system” that puts men like Lord Waldgrave in power.” Seeing Toldeo’s scowl grow, Sirion hurried on. “But I’m not complaining! Waldgrave seemed like a good man/Lord/ whatever. We were just talking about it, wondering why things happen this way, not saying they shouldn’t.”
“Not “whatever” – his Lordship. And not “Waldgrave.” Sir. Waldgrave or Lord Waldgrave. Use the title. And such men help pay for this tavern. And buy my crop. Don’t question it. Just accept it. You can’t change it anyway, and they don’t like questions.”
“Ok, Ok, Juan. Don’t worry, and don’t go running to my uncle. I’ll behave – just let me focus on beating Alfonso in this last game.”
Juan Toldeo looked at him, nodded, and wandered back to the other farmers near the fire. After he left Sirion couldn’t help but quietly mumble to his friend, “Waldgrave does not pay for this tavern – how often has he been here? Tinkers, farmers and storeowners keep this place in business. And what noble ever paid for a farmer’s crop? This tavern buys what the Toldeo farms produce!”
Alfonso just shook his head and held a finger to his mouth. Nodding to the game he moved his knight up to support his king’s pawn. He knew they would continue this discussion on the next days ride when no farmers would be around to eavesdrop. And Alfonso knew he would likely be defending Juan’s position because in a debate somebody would have to do so.
Sirion won the tie breaking game that night when Alfonso was too aggressive with his knights and pushed them forward without enough support. Quickly behind a couple of major pieces, the game got away from the shopkeeper. After that Sirion helped clean up after the farmers and went up to bed. He liked the days when the tavern was quiet, although he recognized the benefits of a full inn.

Rowena was up early and washed and dressed quickly, she seemed not to need as much sleep as her father and Maria the house keeper. She had a couple of thing to do before her father had morning drill practice. She ran to Pedro De Silva’s stable and climbed the fence and whistled. Her father’s warhorse came trotting across the corral and the two of them shared an apple she had brought from the house. She jumped over and the mare’s back and rode her round the corral, guiding her only with her knees. After she dismounted she brushed off the hairs sticking to the inside of her pant legs and climbed back over the fence to race to the bakery just as it opened.

There she bought a loaf of hot bread and then she raced back home to have it on the table before breakfast. It was a common sight to see Rowena running through the village commons, she always seemed to be in a hurry to be somewhere else. Most of the villagers thought her a bit odd, wearing male attire and not having made friends since her father moved here a few years ago. Unlike the village girls about her age, she was lean and tall. But then she was only 13, so she would fill out later. Because she was not full figured she did not attract the attention of the teenage boys, and because she held herself away from the boy crazed girls of her age she had few friends.

Maria, the old woman who lived and worked for her father, was up cooking breakfast. Rowena set the bread in a basket on the table and then sneaked over behind plump Maria and grabbed a couple of pieces of bacon. Maria’s wooden spoon was fast, but not fast enough to connect with Rowena’s hand.

“Ow” she cried as she flipped the hot bacon from hand to hand. She raced out of the house with her prize and fanned it about until she could take quick bits of it.

Maria finally called them to breakfast and Rowena washed quickly and joined her Father and Maria at the table. She gave the grace and then hurriedly ate the meal of eggs, bacon, fruit, and yesterdays bread toasted with cheese.

Breakfast ended and Johan rose to walk to the drilling field Rowena followed in his wake. After her father moved into the sally she donned padding and took up a wooden sword and shield to begin practice, not that her father wanted her to practice, but as he was busy drilling she would follow his instructions and go through all the sword movements that her father taught to the militia and to the Town Undaunted, she worked on swordsmanship until her father finished the session.

Sweating and damp, Rowena left the drill field and headed for the river, there was a nice quiet and secluded spot where she could bathe. Most of the girls her age had big breasts and wide hips and the boys drooled after them. One of the reasons she stuck to male attire. She washed her clothes at the same time and let them dry on the bushes. It was noon when she redressed and headed back to get something for lunch.

She usually went around the main area of town to get home but today she cut through because she was hungry. As she came to a corner she heard the sounds of yipping and the raucous noise of boys’ voices. They were holding down a young dog and tying sticks to its tail, ready to let it go. They never got to. Rowena dove into their middle and grabbed the pup in her arms. They tried to hit her, but using her feet and body she blocked some of the blows and then got some good kicks off before kicking her way free. They gave chase and Rowena knew to run, and like a deer she bounded off cutting thought alleys with them on her heals. They were getting close when she spied a sanctuary, Master Diaz’s wine shop

“Sorry Sir,” she murmured and looked back outside and the boys were getting closer. Master Diaz was a good friend of her father’s, they loved to chat an play chest in the evening at the tavern. He walked to the doorway and glared at the boys. “You young troublemakers get home before I report you to the Watch.” Rowena left after the boys disappeared. “Strange child,” Master Diaz muttered and went back into his shop.

Ok, life in Gefahr was not very exciting and the townspeople seemed to like it that way, but for Rowena who was always wanting to….well go place and see things it was boring. Many days she would sneak away and lay on a grassy knoll not far from home, or sometimes up a tree laying out on a branch, looked up into the sky and dream of different places and people.

Rowena, had untied the sticks and was soothing the dog by the time she got home. Maria was outside peeling potatoes.

“Oh no, not another homeless animal?”

Rowena gave her a rueful smile and said nothing. She went and got it a bowl of water and a hunk of bread for now. She had always felt an affinity to animals and they seemed to like her. She watched the dog lap the water and hungrily eat the bread. Maria just shook her head, Rowena was a strange little girl, not grown up physically but in other ways older that her years. “Rowena, please pick me out some tomatoes,” Maria call out as Rowena went off to her garden.

The garden was her sanctuary, the earliest memories she had of her mother were being with her as she tended her flowers and vegetables in a garden she had grown wherever they were living. Now Rowena tended the garden, she weeded and watered singing a little song that her mother sang when working with the plants. Like her mother she talked to her plants using their names as her mother had taught Rowena in her strange language. Rowena’s garden was a riot of colorful flowers and bountiful vegetables. The surplus they sold or traded for things they needed.

After dinner Rowena went to the cupboard and took out a wooden case and opened it to reveal her mother’s lap harp. It was a beautiful piece of workmanship that someone had spent hours carving trees and vines and hidden about them were animals. A few peered out from behind a bush a bird flew between the trees, there was a deer, a howling wolf, an owl, and others. When she was smaller her mother would have her search for all the hidden animals. Rowena rubbed a finger over the tiny field mouse she had found after her mother had died. Her mother’s harp and her garden became Rowena’s refuge as she grieved.

She began to play the music and songs her mother had taught her, songs with words no one understood, but just the sound of the harp and the Rowena’s clear rich voice made up for the fact that no one understood the words. As she played the young dog came over and laid down at her feet, the two household cat were old enough to ignore him and also found places to snuggle up against Rowena, each on their own side on the chair where she sat and played.

Afterward her father went to the tavern for socializing, Rowena was left to herself and Old Maria went off to bed. She put the harp away and took out her father’s longsword. She went outside and began to do her sword practice with a real sword. Early that day she had tied up bundles of straw and weeds she had pulled from the garden, these were the enemy which she slashed and pierced with quick, well time movements. She knew it was not the same as fighting a real enemy who would be dodging and striking back, but……the day would come when she could realize her dream of becoming a warrior. Why was it only boys became heroes in the stories.

When her keen hearing detected footsteps on the cobbled path to their house she raced back inside to put the sword away after giving it a quick wipe with her tunic. She silent footed it up the stairs to the loft that was her bedroom and slipped out of her clothes and into bed.

Chapter 1: And the Eyes of Them... Were Opened
September 4th The day was spent in quiet preparations for school and in contented relaxations. Kids spent the morning sleeping long, late and deep and woke to the chilled wind with a sighing acceptance. And despite the darkness that watched over them, the people managed shuffle aside the ominous suspicions that tickled their spines when they walked down a lonely street or when they looked out over the fields.

*

The Weary Warrior was largely empty that night because the teachers and students were getting a good night’s sleep in and the rest of the town was worn out from the previous night. This night passed with a simple pleasure as the regulars drifted into the rustic, homely tavern that was the centerpiece of the town.

A mix of pipe smoke and carefully rolled cigarettes burning drifted through the air as men hungrily devoured their tobacco, leaning back into their chairs with long sighs of satisfaction. Gefahr was not known for its tobacco. The climate wasn’t apt to the plant but a shipment would come every couple months. Men would rush to the general stores and snap up the small, watered-down supply that had found the town on its journey across Zerstung. By the time, the crop had wound its way up to Gefahr so many other household spices had been thrown in to bulk up the delivery that it could barely be called Tobacco. Of course, the Gefahrans had no clue and snatched all they could to squirrel away for nights like these where they could peacefully spend their saved tobacco on good conversation and friendly company.

For the first time since the spring time, the lamps and candles scattered through the main room were not the only source of light. From the beautiful stone-hewn hearth came the warm light of flames licking away at a small gathering of logs. The The fire usually wasn’t set until October but the night had brought chills with it that demanded some form of warmth.

On a stool at the far end of the tavern Cristobal was playing upon his guitar and singing quite nicely, he projected well over the sound of his guitar and the balance of his voice and instrument had a warm, welcoming sound that took the attention of some of the patrons for a while. He performed quite well and he was happy so see that he had some impact on some of the audience. He ended up collecting ten silver pieces - a whole gold piece! It wasn’t his best night but he couldn’t complain, it was a scarce room that evening and more than half of it had plucked a coin from their pocket.

A few of the tables were occupied by men who had dropped by for a quick drink before they headed home to their wives and their beds. They all kept their light jackets gathered around them, grabbed a small glass of ale and walked around the tables looking for a familiar face with whom they could wile away five minutes.

The short time they dropped by with was usually spent being mocked for their small quantity of drink and their early night, but they didn’t mind and liked to spend some time keeping face and catching some guffaws with their companions. If Cristobal was at a particular good moment in his set they may have stayed to watch him finish the song and one or two even dropped a coin at his feet.

The fireplace was surrounded by the nightly regulars who passed the hours with stories and smoke, sending bellows of laughter out the door and into the empty streets of Gefahr. They were all older and had heard each other’s stories again. They would muse on the younger generation, gossip about whatever small scandal they had caught scent of and rumor about the news about Steurung had drifted over the Ubel Islands. They were all kindly men who had seen winter after winter and had gained both a wisdom and a self-righteousness from their age.

Cristobal’s father had once been the cornerstone of this tight-knit group. They had tried to be supportive toward Domingo when Maribel had passed but had developed a grudge towards the Revera’s when he had shut them out and excluded himself from Gefahr as a whole. Now to see the boy, Cristobal, struggling so hard to make up for his father’s hard-heartedness something moved in them and his enjoyable songs added to his reputation. Cristobal had grown to be a well-loved young man by the group, who usually all gave some silver to him and invited him over to have a drink.

There was a group of four younger men and women who had come on a double date to spend the night with drink and frivolity. They had begun the evening with a couple beers each and some rigorous dancing together. Their high spirits had given Cristobal some energy and had made his performance much more earnest and excited.

Finally, tired and sweaty, the couple retired to a table that only had three chairs gathered around it.The couple who had already spent months in each other’s arms, lip to lip, sat on one chair. The girl was perched on the boy’s knee, smiling and joking with the group. At first the whole group was animated and laughing hard and loud.

As the night progressed, however, the girl who had been sitting up on the boy’s knee ended up draped over him, giggling at and admiring everything he said, quite clearly tipsy. She had enjoyed one beer too many. The boy who was blanketed by his girlfriend was involved in an intense dialogue with the other boy’s date. The other boy was sitting in his chair fixing his gaze on some point in space, attempting to bring the tavern back into focus and enjoying the music thoroughly. He had enjoyed five beers too many.

Aside from this the only other activity was Sirion and Alfonso chatting amiably over a chess game on a table to the side. Alfonso slowly drank his beer as they discussed the knight who had drifted through town on undisclosed business. As usual, there was a suspicious Gefahran who wanted to shut down any inquisitive talk that even implied a challenge to Athiem as a nation. The good-natured discussion became quick whispers before they found a new topic of conversation. The evening passed well and Cristobal joined the two for a couple beers before walking home.

*

September 5th
The sky was thick and heavy wearing a dark coat of clouds the next morning. The chilled breeze seemed to have abandoned the town for the Dunkel Woods and left it with a hot, humid day without any sign of wind and an ominous electricity in the air. The town woke to a storm brewing for their first day back to school.

September 5th
8:30
Cristobal awoke with a slight headache. It seemed there might have been one to many drinks in the mix from the previous night at the Weary Warrior. It was the first day of school for the kids of Gefahr, normally Cristobal would have dreaded this day but seeing as he had already graduated, it was like any other. Hopping out of bed he stumbled over to his closet and put on a fresh shirt and a pair of pants. Putting a hand on his brow he wandered over to the mirror, this seemed to help the consistent drumbeat of pain that battered his forehead. His attention was then focused to the window. It was still stuck open but had begun to crack over the pressure from the ever slanting house. The sky was dark and ominous, a storm was clearly brewing and he hadn't seen anything like this for a long time.

Storms were one of Cristobals biggest fears, when he was but at the age of five he had gone for a walk with both his parents. They had wondered quite far from any recognizable landmarks when a storm emerged instantly. Thunder roared from above them and the sky shone from the streaks of lightning that filled the air. Being five Cristobal had never seen such a storm like this, let alone be caught out in the middle of it. The raindrops the size of gum balls pelted his face and his cries could not be heard over the banging of the thunder. They were stuck for 2 hours before they found a house they could reside in, Cristobal could only remember the intense cold and shivering, his mother wrapping him in multiple blankets and singing lullabies to try and calm him down.

Snapping back into reality Cristobal decided that he would get as much housework done as he could before the storm hit. He feared that the house was on its last limb and that the storm might take it down all together. Cristobal pulled on the door but it didn't budge, had the house slanted that much over a single night? After about 2 minutes of pulling and yanking on the handle the door finally swung open. With a sigh of relief he walked downstairs.

9:00 "How would you feel about leaving the house for tonight dad? Maybe stay at the inn until the storm passes, just incase something happens. The house isn't built like it once was". This struck a chord with Domingo and Cristobal regretted saying it aloud as soon as he did.
"The house will be here tomorrow, the day after that and the day after that!" his father replied bitterly, clearly remembering how it used to sparkle when Maribel was still around.
"I'm just saying... one night out of this place might do you a lot of good, I know the locals are just dying for you to a have a drink with them." This wasn't true at all but he knew that if his father went out the towns people would forgive him.
"No. If you don't think the house is stable enough to stand a little storm then you can walk yourself down to the tavern and stay there yourself!" And with a quick grunt he left the table to leave Cristobal by himself, trying to mull over how he might have changed the conversation.

10:00 After a light breakfast Cristobal went outside and looked up. When he had looked up at it in the morning he didn't think there was a darker shade of black, he was mistaken, it had gotten a lot darker. If he shut his eyes he didn't think he could tell the difference. However this was stranger than usual. There was no wind to go with the menacing clouds, it was perfectly calm. Knowing that this surely wouldn't last Cristobal spent the next couple hours harvesting the left over crops and loading them up. Preparing to bring them into town and offer to the locals free of charge, however always accepting donations. After acquiring quite a healthy stack he loaded up his bags and trotted into town. Before leaving taking a quick glance at the house. It looked terrible, the side boards seemed like they were about to split in two, what was his father doing. Surely he wasn't blind... if only the man wasn't so darn stubborn Cristobal thought to himself. If the house did survive the winter next year he would begin to rebuild it. Even if it was just by himself, he would spend all summer working on it.

Sept 4th.

The evening in the tavern was one of those Sirion most enjoyed - quiet enough that he and Alfonso could enjoy a relaxed game and chat while Cristobal sang, yet just busy enough that the busniess side of him could relax and know the tavern would remain viable. The best of both worlds in Sirion's mind - peace and prosperity.

The only annoyance for him was the quartet of young lovers. The people didn't really matter, he'd known them all his life, but rather seeing them completely sloshed left a slightly sour taste in his mouth. It wasn't a big deal, but he had never really liked seeing people embarass themselves. He did realize that it was a rather silly trait in a tavern keeper.

Sept 5th.

When Sirion woke the following morning the weather was the talk of the tavern. He couldn't have missed the oncoming storm if he had wanted.

It made for a busy day at the Weary Warrior. Storms were odd from a business point of view. Half of the town would likely stay huddled in their homes to wait it out. But the other half frequently crammed into the Warrior - looking for community in the face of nature's fury, it seemed.

For Sirion and the rest of the staff at the tavern what that meant was a busy day. There would be no ride with Alfonso today, not that there would be with the storm anyway. Everyone would be busy making sure the tavern had all the goods it needed for the evening and that everything was tied down for when the weather did hit.

Sirion, for example, went out to the stable to look after the animals while the weather held. As he worked he periodically looked up at the sky and scowled. He didn't like the look of things.

Chapter 1: And the Eyes of Them... Were Opened
September 5th Some students had been hoping that the looming storm would shut out all notions of school and postpone education for a couple more days. The older ones thought maybe they could get away with staying home on account of worried parents and the younger ones were simply scared of going out into the dark day but classes weren’t cancelled and disappointed students filed into the small school house.

The day was spent beneath a black sky that brewed and built through out the day. It was apocalyptic in its scope and yet it did not break all day. The students sat in their rooms listening to the teachers snatching glances out the windows. Everyone was on edge and their nerves were racked from the storm that sat outside waiting to pounce on them.

The young students enjoyed the luxury of playing games for their first day and simply talking. It would be a week before the teacher went to the board at the front of the class and began teaching arithmetic and history and literature, right now she wanted them to feel comfortable and enthusiastic about school. She wanted eager students who appreciated the days the spent in the school house.

The older students leapt right into reviews of the years they’d spent previously in the school house. They discussed the glory of humanity and their noble dynasty and legacy that they were all lucky enough to be a part of. They went over simple mathematics addition, subtraction and briefly delving into the ideas of multiplication and division that would be a core aspect of the education of the year.

The teacher showed them some of the literature and poetry they’d be studying. Some of the more intellectual students perked up to see if they’d already read the books, keen as they were. Some of them had read the books of adventure and conquest, of good humans and of good allegiance to Atheim. Some students had let the poetry of their nation drip off their tongues already and were excited to display their expansive intelligence.

The teachers were happy to be back in the class room before the students they loved. They had all been planning out how to start the class and now it came easily as they had all spent years in this position. They were charismatic and smart and it showed as they took their place before the students.

Master Indalecio stood before his fourteen year old students. He was renowned as the best teacher in Gefahr and they were all eagerly awaiting how he taught. He had said nothing yet and he simply observed them. Finally he picked up a book from his desk. The book was the Conquests of Claus Dieterich by the famous poet Rupert Klocia.

With a deep, beautiful baritone voice Indalecio began to read. His words poured over the students who closed their eyes and saw the tall, glorious frame of Claus Dieterich stand and take them down the halls of history. Revealing glory and fame to them. Their golden dreams cloaked them as they wrapped themselves in these magnificent thoughts, digging deeper into their roots. Prouder and prouder to be humans they felt their hearts pump as Claus stood before armies of elves, vile and villainous come to take the noble man’s life. But their thin, long swords were crushed beneath Claus’ swinging war hammer and the frail bodies of the weaker race were stuck upon the blade of Claus’ broad sword. Heads fell beneath the shining steel’s might and the evil lives of elves were extinguished by the exceptional strength and valour of Claus.

As the poem ended their eyes opened and Master Indalecio stood before them smiling from ear to ear, “And what can we learn from such a beautiful web of words that the master of language Rupert Klocia weaves for us?” And so began the class.

In the youngest classroom, kids sat nervous and eager. Amora Demetrio smiled at them gently and kindly. She had such a warm, motherly face they felt cared for and comforted by her and much of the anxiety slipped out of the room.

“We’re going to play a game, as that’s what you’ve spent the summer doing, there’s no need to stop now!” The children’s faces were illuminated instantly. She had them lie down in a circle and inter lock their hands. “Now if I slap the ground then Valeriano will be the next to slap the ground and we’ll pass it around. But if he slaps it twice then it goes backwards. Make sense?” And all the children nodded eagerly. The game went around quickly and excitedly and the kids were worked out of the circle as they made mistakes fairly rapidly, sitting disappointedly and watching curiously. The only child who made no mistakes was Matias Prudencio. None of the other children, who didn’t like how odd he is appreciated his ability at the game.

At one point, Matias cleverly tripped up Rico who was so frusterated that he slammed his fist down on Matias’ laid out hand. The outcast boy yelped painfully and Rico laughed cruelly. The teacher was unsure of how to deal with the child’s malice.

“Rico.” She scolded, and then let it go, not wanting to exacerbate the problem. Besides, she was a little frustrated that Matias was better at the game than even her. He was supposed to be some odd ball freak who was probably a gimp of some sort. She felt shamed to be losing to stupid child.

Finally, class was let out and the kids eagerly left the school house to run home and tell their parents all about the day. The older students hung around outside for a while discussing what they’d learned interestedly.

Matias walked out of the school and looked around. He didn’t want to be going at all. He was lonely and irritated. His hand still hurt a bit and he was disgusted with how the teacher had dealt with the situation. His mind spun around the problem as he grew more and more angry.

Hot tears started streaming down his face and he was ashamed to be so weak in front of so many people. He just wanted to be home, away from all the mean people. Safe with his parents. He felt completely lost and disoriented.

Parents were milling about to walk home with their children. Other Gefahrans were going for a stroll or asking the new students about how they liked their first day. The teachers were standing outside. Matias was completely alone in this sea of people. Where were his parents? But he knew that they would just be mocked more if they walked home together - a whole family of freaks.

He felt the push from his back and he stumbled forward his heart started racing. He became instantly alert. He spun around quickly. Rico was standing there with two other kids, Matias didn’t know their names. Nervous tension filled up his body. He wasn’t strong, and definitely not enough for someone like Rico. The boy was tall and bigger and broader than most of the other kids. He had a hard look in his face but he grinned now at his scared class mate.

“Hey Matias. Where’s your mommy and daddy?”

Matias looked around, his heart was pounding and he was breathing quickly. He wanted his mommy and daddy to be there for him. To come for now reason. But it wasn’t going to happen. Matias was scared. He didn’t want to fight Rico. He didn’t have enough control, not yet... anything could happen.

“How’d you like that game today?”

“Good.” Matias said nervously, maybe he could talk Rico out of it...

“Wanna play again? These guys wanted to see how good you are!” The boys with Rico were a year older than Matias.

“Okay...” Matias got down and put his hands out nervously.

The first thing Matias felt was just startling. Then a smarting pain. Then warm liquid oozing down his face. For a few seconds Matias’ head was spinning from the punch that Rico had connected with his nose but things came crystalline within moments.

“No! Rico!”

But Rico was running at him already.

“I don’t want to fight!”

The impact knocked the wind out of Matias as he hit the ground. Things whirled around Matias.

“No... please!”

The fist was in the air.

It hurt instantly this time. A lot more.

Again the fist was in the air.

“Rico!”

Matias screamed this time. Things were fuzzy. Tears were streaming down his face and blood poured out of his nose.

Rico was laughing through gritted teeth.

“You freak!” Rico yelled.

Behind him Matias saw the two boys laughing.

Another fist was in the air.

Matias screamed. But the scream came whirling out was not just a string vowels but came out in a burst of words from another language. Matias’ hand swung up and grabbed the fist that was going to come down. Rico was stronger but it didn’t matter because the a glow of blazing energy exploded from Matias’ hand and latched onto Rico’s arm. The electricity blazed through Rico’s tiny body.

A blood curdling scream was heard through the whole courtyard and into the main market square. Rico shook inhumanly screeching as the elecricity powered through his small frame. It blasted him back off of Matias and he writhed on the ground. The current could be seen jumping across his skin that was left charred and blackened.

When it finally left him, he was a mass of blood and burned skin. His body smelled wretched. One of his nearby friends threw up. Rico’s hair was charred off and his lids eaten away by electricity. The eye that remained was wrenched open in terror. His mouth was stretched apart without lips, into a silent scream and he was mangled and contorted. His clothes were torn and burned. Flesh was bright red and bleeding or black as the sky. The nose was melted down. The fingers burned into claws. One of his eyes had been scorched away and was now a gooey mess. He was barely recognizable.

Matias sat there motionless sobbing in terror. The boys that had been with Rico started running, screaming in absolute mortification. Everyone nearby had frozen in horror and the people who had been chilled by Rico’s final scream were now running over. No one had any idea what had just happened.

Sirion heard the screaming from where he was working in the tavern. He quickly joined the mad scramble of townsfolk who were headed in the direction of the school.

When he got there . . . he . . . didn’t know what to think. What had happened? The stench was palpable. He thought he recognized Rico in the burned mess. How?

“The weird kid attacked him!”

“Hit by lighting”

“From the kid!”

"Lightning? From the storm?"

“Rico attacked the boy!”

“Murderer!”

“…was beating him!”

Sirion had no idea what had destroyed Rico, but it didn’t take him long to figure out from the yells what events had led up to these circumstances. He had known Rico for a long time. In fact, in school Rico’s older brother had been a bully during Sirion’s school days. While the bullying had never been terrible for Sirion because he had always had Alfonso to fall back on and he and Alfonso had relatives who were major business owners, he still knew what it meant to be a bit different and smart. Bullying seemed to run in that family.

His heart immediately went out to young Mathias. But even as it did so, it skipped a beat. Certainly Rico had deserved something - punishment of some sort. Just as his older brother had deserved the plots he and Alfonso had constructed. But this? This frying? And HOW? He saw the young boy sobbing and his heart went out to him, yet . . .

He couldn’t help himself, as others stood around scared and yelling, Sirion stepped forwards and knelt down by the sobbing boy. He didn’t touch him. He carefully left a couple of feet between them. He didn’t know what had happened.

“Mathias. Relax Mathias. Did Rico attack you? What happened?”

The boy was crying, Sirion didn’t know what to do, but realized as he looked up at the crowd that was gathering that they might soon have a lynch mob on their hands. No matter what he had done, or how he had done it, he was just a boy . . .

He stood up. “Alfonso!”

His friend jumped at the sound of his name, but stepped forward instinctively. “Uh yeah. Should you be that close, Sir?” (Sir is pronounced Seer, not Sir. It is a shortened version of Sirion's name.)

“Run. Go get the Prudencios. They need to be here. They can help.” Seeing him hesitate, Sirion added hurriedly, “Go! Run! Get them!”

“The Prudencios? But, they’re his parents! What happened? They just hide out on that farm. Go near them? Now?! Is that . . .”

“Cat!” Sirion was disgusted with his friend at that moment and called to his sister, who quickly emerged from the crowd. “Quick, get Mathias parents. Let them know he is in trouble – something happened. Now. Run.”

Catalina looked frightened, but after only a moments hesitation, nodded and turned on her heels and sprinted towards the Prudencio farm. Sirion smiled after his sister. Alfonso seemed to know he had just failed some inner test and was staring at the ground.

Sirion turned back to the crying boy on the ground. “Mathias? Can you come with me? I think you should go inside the school. Can you do that?” He reached out to help the boy up, but hesitated, never quite touching him, before pulling his had back. He encouraged the boy to get up and go into the school.

Cristobal was discussing the current weather with one of the locals when he heard the high pitch screams of children followed by what sounded to be the crack of thunder just a few streets down. All of his attention quickly changed from the conversation to the noise. Cristobal had never heard a scream anything like that before. With a quick handshake and goodbye he dashed towards the school.

Rounding the corner he almost gagged at the site held before him. On the ground lay a burnt, smoldering corpse of what looked like to be a child. The disgusting smell that protruded off the body was that of burnt flesh. It was the most pungent smell Cristobal had ever smelt in his life. Already a crowd had gathered and Matias sat by himself; looking downwards motionless, tears streaming down his cheeks.

While the adults murmured amongst each other some of the children yelled out remarks.

"Murder!"

"Rico started it!"

Parents quickly hushed there children and began to back away cautiously.

After taking a couple steps towards the bubbling remains Cristobal recognized who the child was; it was Rico. A school bully who had no idea at his age what his actions could do to hurt someone's feelings. A strong wave of sadness swept through Cristobal, it was no secret that the Matias family was different, and the fact that Rico was so young and not unable to comprehend differences left Cristobal with mixed emotions about the incident.

Sirion emerged from the crowd and cautiously approached the boy. This gave Cristobal a strong appreciation for him. While everyone else whispered and did nothing Sirion had taken control of the situation. He noticed him calling for his sister to retrieve the boys parents, after a pause she dashed off towards the Prudencio farm.

Cristobal knew Rico and Matais' teacher, Amora Demetrio. She was well known as she taught the youngest grades. Surely she would have some insight on the situation. While Sirion dealt with the Matias, Cristobal would do a bit of investigating to see if he could find out whatever he could about this strange situation. Pulling away from the gathering he ran inside the school hoping to run into Amora. He would attempt to find out if any bad blood had boiled between the two children during the first day of school. With Matias in such a state of shock and being only a child his story would be hard to believe without some background history of todays events.

Fears

Rowena was coming back from the market place with a basket of oranges when The screamiong caught her attention.
Rowena slowed at the sight to parents and children hanging about the schoolhouse and there seemed to be a bit of consternation on their part. AS she came up she heard snatches of what the others were saying. She looked at the charred body and winced She might have said her deserved it, he was a known bully like his older brother and as he was the instigator of the tormenting of the young dog, now trotting dutifully at her feet, clean and tail wagging happily, but seeing him like this was blood curtling.

"Rico, started it." one of the kid yelled.

Sirion a boy a bit older than her, if not by years, was comforting a distraught Matias and young boy who had always stood out as different. Sirion emerged from the crowd and cautiously approached the boy. While everyone else whispered and did nothing Sirion had taken control of the situation. Sirion then called hi sister sister to run and get Mathias's parents and she dashed off towards the Prudencio farm.

Rowena’s heart went out to Matias and she moved forward to where Sirion stood with the boy as Cristobal went off toward the schoolhouse.

“Sirion,” she said walking up and then picked up an orange out of the basket and peeled it and gave part to Matias. “Here, Matais, it is as a sweet as honey.”

Nothing like something mundane and sharing some fruit to hopefully help settle the boy. She had learned that by acting as if nothing were wrong, that many situations figured themselves out a lot easier. She waited patiently for more to be revealed about on what had perpetrated this unusual event. Thought from Mathias's bloody and bruised face she guessed the Rico had possibly been beating on him.

Chapter 1: And the Eyes of Them... Were Opened
September 5th The people of Gefahr stood stricken in the schoolyard. They surrounded the scene that had drawn all the citizens’ to the town’s centre. The air stood dead and the fear drew in close like shadows, lurking over their shoulders. This horror robbing the men of their breath, their thought, all that they held to be true, all that they held dear.

Each member of the mob bore the same bemused look. They were baffled and mortified and couldn’t muster anything but the devastated demeanors that they bore on their faces. They had been stripped of the jovial expressions that had overcome the storm of the morning and carried them through to the evening.

The figures that now filled the schoolyard were men and women stripped of the civilized masks that carried them from dawn till dusk. The memories that they bore could never have prepared them for the spectacle that they now witnessed. Their minds leapt to possible excuses, reasons that would explain away the phenomenon that had left a child of the community charred and sprawled on the ground.

Thoughts raced through the minds of the Gefahrans. Desperately they tried to find the source of their terror, tried to excuse the holes they felt in their hearts. Their lives came up now gapingly incomplete. The icy claws of the fear and awe had sunk themselves into the people and bound them to their positions.

Sirion burst through the muddled mob and made his way to Matias who seemd to be shaking with nervousness. The tavern keeper’s nephew attempted to take control of the situation, sending his sister off to bring the boy’s parents to the scene after his friend refused to comply, frozen by the horror and frightened to be singled out as a supporter of the weeping child.

Slowly stuttered conversation started rippling through the citizens spread through the school’s courtyard. Each member wished to wash away what they had witnessed. Scrambling for excuses, one spat out, “He was struck by lightning!” Whispers skipped through the crowd. “It’s the storm!” The confusion hung like a cloud over the baffled crowd, haunting them with thoughts and images of horror that they had never experienced before.

Cristobal rushed through the petrified people, who were slowly starting up sluggishly to seek out a glimpse of the cause for their attention. The young farmer was determined to understand the circumstances of the occurrence that had achieved a stranglehold on the town. He briefly made sure that Sirion had control of the boy, filled with newfound respect for the young introverted man. The school doors flew open before him as he barreled through them, searching for the teacher who had provided both Matias and Rico with their first lesson.

The crowd was growing increasingly agitated as they realized their inability to account for their ignorance. The horror of the reality that faced them had sunk its fangs deep into each towns person and filled them with a poisonous desperation and frustration. Each person had a growing violence inside of them, a desire to find justice for this boys death. More importantly, a desire to ease their own guilt built up by their inability to handle the situation properly.

Rowena forced her way through the throngs of people and went up next to Sirion she knelt down beside the child who was finding some small comfort in Sirion’s protective presence. She extended her hand, holding an orange from her basket. Matias looked up for a second as as she held out the orange before tensing up. He shrank back from both Sirion and Rowena, growing more aware of his own loneliness in the crowd.

The crowd pressed in further, encroaching in the little bubble containing Matias, his comforters and the corpse he had left charred and unrecognizable. There was a growing intensity and aggravation as the people came closer, desiring to see the horror. Their grew almost a lust to see and to know. To prove themselves to the terrors of reality.

From the mass, there suddenly rang out a voice, above everything else. The voice was filled with an thrilled eagerness, mingling both fear and excitement as they fought for precedence. Both fascination and fright shot through the crowd. Like a virus, each member was consumed by the adrenaline of the situation. The voice above all other things exclaimed “The boy... The boy did it... Matias killed Rico!”

There was a silence that suddenly consumed the crowd. The words hung in the air with a deadly violence that hungered for blood. The words crept into the hearts of the people imprisoned by petrification, moments earlier. The lust for retribution coursed through their veins now as they stood around the child, now utterly alone.

“He killed him!” Soared into the air to hang with the other statement, and the sentence called up similar sentiments out of the all the spectators. Soon the silence was smashed by the screams and shouts of people thirsty for revenge. “Murderer!” “Freak!” “He’s a killer!” “He deserves the same!” The energy was electric now and throbbed with a malevolent animosity.

In almost an attempt at quieting the storm that was building and was spinning headlong towards a sinister end, Duarte shouted loudly, “Bring him to the town hall!” The general store owner leapt out of the crowd and pleaded with the men around him. There were cheers and approval for the man’s suggestion and the crowd surged in, as if each member of the mob sought to have a hand on the boy as he was brought through the doors.

Sirion and Rowena were swept aside by the pressing people. They were pushed to the ground and was all that they could do to dodge the onslaught of feet that were stampeding through the schoolyard in search of the small boy who had shook each citizen to his soul. Matias was snatched up and was carried by a number of people, each trying to hold onto a limb as he was passed and pulled between people towards the town hall.

It was, naturally utterly unnecessary, considering the boy was limp and compliant, being both scared and lonely. He was consumed with the thoughts of his coming persecution that he could only imagine ending in death. His parents had warned him night and day of the penalty he would face if he were to reveal his nature and now he faced that fate. His mind raced wondering what he could do, how he could escape the terrible end that he now hurtled towards, because of the awful ignorance of the townsfolk.

The town hall doors were flung open. The people crashed into the big room filled with pews and headed by a podium. Alamaro Calderon and another man, Arnau Guillermo (a carpenter, quite respected in town for his handiwork), held Matias with an aggression and powerful grip on each arm. They threw him down onto a pew and sat on either side of him. The other benches were rapidly taken up by all the town members.

Ramone Indalecio stood before the malicious crowd. His legs shook beneath him, behind the podium as he watched his citizens nervously, frightened of trying to deal with the situation adequately. There was nothing but blood that would satiate the mob that the town had become. He was always joined by the Duarte, Abelardo and Johan as a kind of city council or group of “wise-men” that could contribute when Ramone was at an utter loss. Now he stood with only Duarte.

Ramone walked over to Arnau, who was at the front of the room and whispered to him, “Could you find Johan and Abelardo? I don’t know how we could ever explain away their absence in a crisis such as this. They must be here to support the town.” Arnau looked over at Matias before sighing and nodding and rushing out the front doors in search of the rest of the respected men of Gefahr.

*

Cristobal ran through the small school, searching desperately for the teacher. He was almost sure he had checked every room as thoroughly as possible to no avail. Amora Demetrio was nowhere to be found in the school, in fact no teachers were. Then the thought came to Cristobal’s mind, if the scream was loud enough to call out all of the town then why would the teachers have remained in the school, when they were right next to the incident?

As Cristobal went to leave, filled with frustration for his failure in deduction he heard the click of the school door closing. Someone else had come in! Cristobal went rushing through the halls to the entrance, to find Amora standing in the doorway with tears in her eyes. She looked broken and lost. As she saw Cristobal, he smiled gently at her and she sobbed.

Cristobal approached slowly and rested a head on her shoulder. She threw herself into his arms sobbing into his shoulder. The young man patted her on the back, quieting her quickly so she was breathing softly again before to long. She looked up at him and blushed violently pulling away, wiping the tears out of her eyes.

“I’m sorry... I’m just shook up... you know? How could...?” She muttered she was lost but as she looked into Cristobal’s soothing eyes, she felt that she could truly reveal herself and her anxieties, “I’m scared Cris. They’re taking Matias over to the town hall and... I feel its my fault. We were playing a game... I’m sorry its not important.”

Cristobal smiled kindly, “It is important Amora. You can tell me.” She looked up at him and did not doubt his words for a moment. He had a trustable face and had been a fantastic student when she had taught him. He had struggled a bit with a lot of concepts and hadn’t done well intellectually but everyone in class and all the teachers had always loved him.

“I know... I’m sorry... We were playing a game and Rico had been so mean to Matias. See, Matias had his hand on the ground and Rico punched the hand, slammed his hand right down on Matias’! I was so shocked and I should’ve done something. I should’ve punished him or something but... I didn’t! It’s all my fault. I’m too blame, not Matias... he’s only a boy. Now he’s out there paying for my failures as a teacher!” She cried, as renewed tears flowed down her cheeks.

Cristobal brought her in for a hug and said to his former teacher, “Its not your fault. How were you to know what was going to happen, besides we still don’t know what happened. You can’t blame yourself, not for a second Mrs. Demetrio.” She smiled warmly up at his caring face and thanked him. “Don’t worry... it’s going to be okay.” She nodded quietly as he reaffirmed everything.

They walked out of the school now, the teacher wiping away her tears. The yard was now empty, the crowd had disappeared somewhere, to the town hall as Amora Demetrio had mentioned inside, Cristobal thought. Whatever they were going to decide on inside those four walls, was not going to be something born of compassion, the young farmer knew.

From behind, Cristobal Catalina came running up, “Crissy!” She shouted out at him. She had always been a bit dazzled by the muscular, young man’s good looks but that thought didn’t enter into her mind at all as she rushed towards him with the Prudencios following her a few paces behind, “Where the hell is everyone?! Seer told me to bring Matias’ parents here!”

*

Inside the town hall everyone waited anxiously, eager to see justice performed on the young freak who sat at the front of the hall. People were talking amongst themselves complaining and expounding on their own versions of the vengeance that should be enacted. The mayor watched nervously as the whole room was captured by chaos, waiting for Arnau to return with Abelardo and Johan.

Finally Arnau came in with Johan. Arnau, Johan, Duarte and Ramone gathered together talking rapidly in furious whispers. Ramone was demanding where Abelardo was, with Arnau explaining that he couldn’t find him anywhere and he had scoured the town. “But...” he whispered conspiratorially, “I saw the Prudencios and Amora Demetrio out in the school yard still...”

After Arnau had said his bit, Ramone turned to the topic of explaining what had happened in Johan’s absence. He was trying to find the words and turned to point at the boy who was under Alamaro’s supervision to see that the general store opener was sitting frozen in his position, staring blankly forward, drool dribbling down his chin and beside him was only an empty pew. Suddenly Alamaro’s shook himself and his gaze was refocussed to see the real world. He turned beside him to see that the boy he was supposed to be watching was missing and the mayor with Johan, Arnau and Duarte were looking at him angrily.

The mayor hurried over to Alamaro and forcefully whispered, “Where the hell is Matias!” Alamaro could give him nothing but a blank stare, he was palpably confused and had no clear reason for losing the boy who he had been given charge of. He mumbled and fumbled for words, desperate not to look like a fool in front of the most respected men of the town, he worried he had a life of shame before him now.

Finally he strung a sentence together and coughed it up for the council, “I... was just sitting here and then all of a sudden I blanked out. Like I was frozen or something, I couldn’t move or anything, but it was like my mind was frozen too... I don’t know everything was stopped and then it started again and... and he was gone and you guys were staring at me! This hasn’t ever happened before, I must have blacked out or something...”

“Well great! We find out now that you black out under pressure!” The mayor snapped. But Johan put his hand out and silenced him quickly. Though Ramone had legal power of the town, he was vividly aware that both the armsmaster and Duarte were infinitely more capable of dealing with the situation that was before them.

“We have to find the boy.” Johan said, “We can’t have him out and about. He could be dangerous to the well-being of the town. Now, I will deploy the guard and they will search the town as completely as possible.” The others nodded and Johan strode out at a quick clip that left heads turned, watching the man who had just entered, exit.

The crowd had been growingly impatient but this new mystery left them rowdy and irritated, “What’s going on?” “What’s taking so long?” The calls rang out in the hall coupled with a chorus of agreement and reiteration. One man stood up and as he stood he saw the boy was no longer there. “Where’s the boy! The boy’s gone!” He shouted and this lead to a ruckus as everyone rose and looked to see that the cause for all the commotion had disappeared.

The mayor ran to the podium, filled with desperation, “No... no... Everything is under control. We have just sent Johan to inform the local guard and they will search for the boy, in the meantime I ask all of you to be calm and patient, everything is under-” But he was cut off with angry screaming and jeering that drove a new brand of fear shivering down his spine.

One man stood up, “You moron! I’m local guard! That means that almost half the local guard is right here!” The cry brought a new anxiety and aggravation to the crowd who was filled now with a wrath that left the mayor silent and incapable of response. Chaos had taken the podium and now ruled the town, each and every member was filled with aggressive passion and wanted to satiate their bloodlust.

Another man stood and shouted above the din, “Why don’t we go find him!” This suggestion was taken up with passion and cheers. People poured out into the streets with energy and eagerness, each man hoping to find the boy that was hiding somewhere in the streets. Small groups got together and planned the places they would investigate first. Inside, the mayor stood in horror, watching all control he had fought for sliding away into a torrent of madness that gripped Gefahr.

Sirion barely managed to avoid getting trampled as the crowd stormed past and dragged the crying child off towards the town hall. By the time he had regained his feet most of the villagers were long past. He wanted to shout to them to stop, but it clearly would have done no good. He hadn’t been fast enough. This was exactly what he had feared would happen. What he knew would happen. And he hadn’t been quick enough to prevent it. What had happened? He still wanted to know. He was still afraid for the small, strange, boy that seemed to be at the center of this whirlwind.

Sirion quickly jumped to his feet and ran after the crowd towards the town hall. When he got there the people were still milling around unsure what to do. He wormed his way through the crowd attempting to get to the town elders. He knew the town would want blood – they were scared. But he also knew that . . . what did he actually know? Not much. And that was the problem. They were going to act before they knew anything. Did Mathias deserve punishment? Maybe. Maybe not. And for what? If he had killed Rico, how had he done it? Shortsighted violence would prevent their ever learning the truth and doom a poor, picked on kid to death.

Sirion attempted to reach the leaders but could not get through the crowd. He attempted a couple of time to yell at them to get their attention, again to no avail. In fact, as he thought about it, he was glad no one had heard his calls for patience. He certainly didn’t want the mob to turn on him. He didn’t understand the blood lust. He wanted to understand, not just lash out.

Frustrated in his attempts to speak with the town elders, Sirion began to work his way over towards the silent and slumped form of Mathias. He reached a crack in the crowd just in time to see the carpenter given guard duty on the small boy go slack jawed. One moment the man was sitting their attentive, and then the next the light was gone from his eyes.

(Sirion will follow Mathias, assuming he is leaving)

Rowena keeps hold of the unwanted orange, and looked down a Mathias.

I suppose, if I were in a similar circumstance, I might not take an orange either. She thought to putting a hand on his shoulder to show her support of him, but he might shake it off. Well there was one thing she could give him that he could not refuse. She smiled at the boy while calmly putting away the unwanted orange in her basket.

Rowena looked about and the faces of the townspeople slowly changed from stricken by the horrible death of Rico. Even she tried not to look at the blackened body of the boy. Even she was at a lose to put meaning to what had happened, but unlike the others she had lived longer then any of her seeming age and living many place and with her father being a trainer of fighters, she had seen more than most. Did it mean she understood all of this, no, but unlike the townspeople she was not dumbfounded by it. In the quiet times when soldiers reminisce about battles, when the boasting and bragging was done, they spoke is hush tones of the horrors of battle. Never seeming to need the sleep of other children of her seeming age, she would creep out and listen around the campfires. Had she even seen horrible death first hand, no, but at least she knew of it, so maybe that was why she was not bemused and baffled.

Slowly the expression of the people was changing, seeming to be puzzled and then thoughtful then thougful became spotted with fear. Rowena had seen the faces of fear on soldiers going into battle, not that the citizen of Gefar were going into battle, but it could be an inner battle or, just the fear of not knowing what or why. Her father would have been able to understand the growing looks of fear, but he was at the training grounds

Cristobal, who had gone to Mathais with Sirion was now off the the schoolhouse leaving only Sirion and Rowena to protect the boy and Rowena was getting the feeling that he was going to need their protection.

First in small groups the townspeople began to speak, bits of conversations rang out “He was struck by lightning!” More conversation, “It’s the storm!” The more they spoke in hushed tones the more agitated that became, Rowena read it in their faces and hand movements and in the way they kept looking over their shoulders. The crowd began to press into where they stood with Mathais

From the mass, there suddenly rang out a voice, above everything else. The voice was filled with an thrilled eagerness, mingling both fear and excitement as they fought for precedence. Both fascination and fright shot through the crowd. Like a virus, each member was consumed by the adrenaline of the situation. The voice above all other things exclaimed “The boy... The boy did it... Matias killed Rico!”

“He killed him!” Soared into the air to hang with the other statement, and the sentence called up similar sentiments out of the all the spectators. Soon the silence was smashed by the screams and shouts of people thirsty for revenge. “Murderer!” “Freak!” “He’s a killer!” “He deserves the same!” The energy was electric now and throbbed with a malevolent animosity.

In almost an attempt at quieting the storm that was building and was spinning headlong towards a sinister end, Duarte shouted loudly, “Bring him to the town hall!” The general store owner leapt out of the crowd and pleaded with the men around him. There were cheers and approval for the man’s suggestion and the crowd surged in, as if each member of the mob sought to have a hand on the boy as he was brought through the doors.

Sirion and Rowena were swept aside by the pressing people. They were pushed to the ground and was all that they could do to dodge the onslaught of feet that were stampeding through the schoolyard in search of the small boy who had shook each citizen to his soul. Matias was snatched up and was carried by a number of people, each trying to hold onto a limb as he was passed and pulled between people towards the town hall.

Rowena finally pushed herself up into a space and saw Sirion next to her already up and moving. “Stupid, dumb, thoughtless cattle,” she cursed, running to catch up the Sirion.

The townspeople had suddenly changed into a seething mob and mobs were dangerous, she had to get to Mathais, the poor boy must be frightened out of his wits. By the time they got there the crowd had blocked the doorway and the aisles, but Sirion plowed through as best he could with Rowena in his wake. They were trying to get to Mathais.

Suddenly the Mayor could be seen hurrying over to a front bench

“Where the hell is Matias!”

“I... was just sitting here and then all of a sudden I blanked out.:” said Almaro “Like I was frozen or something, I couldn’t move or anything, but it was like my mind was frozen too... I don’t know everything was stopped and then it started again and... and he was gone and you guys were staring at me! This hasn’t ever happened before, I must have blacked out or something...”

“Well great! We find out now that you black out under pressure!” The mayor snapped. But Johan put his hand out and silenced him quickly. Though Ramone had legal power of the town, he was vividly aware that both the armsmaster and Duarte were infinitely more capable of dealing with the situation that was before them.

“We have to find the boy.” Johan said, “We can’t have him out and about. He could be dangerous to the well-being of the town. Now, I will deploy the guard and they will search the town as completely as possible.” The others nodded and Johan strode out at a quick clip that left heads turned, watching the man who had just entered, exit.

(Did I see anything as the Mathias disappeared? )