And he left, no goodbyes or anything of the like. They were a pair of few words.
The moment his black horse disappeared over the hill, Keira pulled together a pack and set off down the road in the opposite direction towards home. She had studied maps of the lands bordering the Firewoods with the very intention of using them if the opportunity came to her. Of course, she had not known how to find her family’s farm on a map even when she had lived there, but she knew the area from having walked it and made a hearty estimate. Hopefully, she thought, when she got closer, she would recognize something that would lead her the rest of the way.
After many hours of walking over country roads, through rolling hills and grain fields, Keira reached a small town. She asked the merchants there about her parents, but they had not heard of them. Since she was a child with no money, she could not hope to buy a room for the night. Still she held no objection to sleeping outdoors. Keira found a pleasant spot to rest just as the sun began to set in earnest. She would continue north at first light. Ignatius would likely not realize she was gone until he returned, but she wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. With the aid of his magics, it would be all too easy for him to find her once he knew she was gone.
Yet it seemed for all her caution, she had underestimated her guardian. No sooner had she laid down her head than she wassurrounded by a ring of fire. Keira knew at once that this meant Ignatius had found her. There would be no escaping him tonight. Still, she stood tall and defiant as he emerged from the flames.
“You foolish girl,” he growled.
Keira was almost taken aback as he had never raised his voice to her before, but she was far too stubborn to let that sway her now.
“I want to go home!” As her skin heated with anger, black thorns began to sprout from her clenched fists, trailing up her arms all the way to her shoulders, and with it a sense of satisfaction, of power.
Ignatius’s eyes narrowed at her display. “You’ve just left your home behind.”
“That’s not my home!” she raged. “I want my parents!”
“You can’t go back there,” Ignatius said stiffly.
“Only because you won’t let me!” Keira’s eyes filled with hot angry tears as he just stood there, even faced beneath his untamed brows.
“Your parents don’t want you back,” the wizard said calmly. “They summoned me, bid me to take you in. Your magic frightened them.”
“You’re a liar,” Keira forced out as the tears blurred her vision. She could feel her anger, her pain harmonizing with her magic. Its power radiated from her, thorns sprouting from the dry ground.
Around her, the circle of fire dimmed until only glowing embers remained to illuminate the night. The old man watched her carefully, but said nothing in his own defense.
Memories played unbidden through her mind. Moments she had thought at the time were nothing but good fun, and all at once she could see it, the genuine fear in her mother’s eyes when snakes had spilled from her cooking pot. She could hear the gentle lies in her father’s voice as he told her it was alright thatshe had caught the barn on fire, that he understood it had only been an accident, that he wasn’t angry.
“Come, Keira,” the wizard said finally.
There was a final stubborn moment before the thorns fell away, before Keira allowed acceptance to wash over her. Her family had been frightened of her, her magic. It was unpredictable, untrained. They hadn’t known how to control it, how to help her. Perhaps it was still true that they had sent her here to give her a chance at a better future… even if it was one without them.
Keira wiped her eyes and followed Ignatius back to the dark horse, leaving the last piece of her old life behind her.
Days Past
Caspian grew under the watchful gaze of Fate in quite a literal sense. A great obsidian rendering of the Fate’s eye hung over the door of the abbey orphanage, its distant sight keeping unblinking vigil over the woven path of destiny. He could not recall the first time he saw the abbey, the first time his own dark eyes had become lost in its watchful stare. Though soon enough, he could barely recall anything of his life before it.
However hard or often he tried, Caspian had no memory of his parents whatsoever. In his earliest memories, Caspian had lived on a farm. There had been a mother and a father (though he knew without a doubt they were not his own) and their children, who were all nearly grown. Yet he was unsure whether these people were relatives or simply kindly strangers who had taken him in. By the time he was old enough to ponder such things, they had long since gone.
Late at night when the dormitory was lit only by moonlight, the others would spin fantasies of leaving the abbey. Some hung their hopes on their rightful family coming back to claim them, while the rest awaited the appearance of rare, kind strangers to usher them into a new life. While it would have been nice to have a real family again, Caspian put little hope in such things. He’d learned from a young age that his look unsettled some. His hair was white as winter, and his skin almost impossibly fair even after hours in the summer sun. While the other childrenhad eyes of blue or brown, his own were purely black all around. Strangers would look down on him in a moment of surprise or even fear before moving swiftly on.
This did not trouble him as much as one might think, partly because Caspian simply didn’t share the others’ desire to leave. The old stone abbey was like a castle, with the most exciting places to explore and an untended courtyard where they would play swords with discarded branches. He would climb the bell tower to see the doves and sneak into the dank catacombs of the cellar as far as he dared. The sisters of the abbey were kind. They taught him that the Fate worked in mysterious ways, that sometimes one’s path takes a darkened turn, but that is why no one is meant to walk it alone. On nights when it was too cold to sleep alone, they would gather all together in the hall and light a fire in the big hearth. They would tell stories of heroes triumphing over dragons and ghouls and all manner of fell creatures until they all drifted to sleep in a great huddle. And they always made the best of things when there wasn’t enough food to really fill their bellies (which was more often than not).
It was this difficulty that led to the abbey’s most sacred unwritten rule. When you were grown enough to take care of yourself, you left. There were too many little ones who needed the abbey’s hearth and food. Staying longer than you needed was lazy; moreover, it was wrong. Of course, the sisters never said such things, though they knew well enough that when their charges came of a certain age, they would sneak out the window and not be seen again. Caspian couldn’t recall if anyone had taught him this rule or why it was in place. It was quite simply the way things were done.
Though Caspian had never been sure exactly how old he was, when he reached the age where many of his playmates had gone, and the rest were beginning to discuss when they would follow, he decided it was time for him to do the same. Caspian hadalways held high ideals of nobility and therefore harbored no desire to overstay his time at the abbey, though he would miss it dearly. As much as he tried to kindle hope within him that he would find a new life out in the world, a profound sense of parting came over him as he slipped through the abbey window in the dead of night. He scaled down the eaves with nothing more than a loaf of bread and a spare shirt to make his way and tried not to look back.
By morning, Caspian had walked all the way to the nearest town. He’d been there many times before. The notion of finding work as a farmhand had taken root in his mind. He was certainly strong enough for farm work, and though he knew very little about the workings of farms themselves, he was a fast learner. He spent many hungry days in the market, asking farmers who came to sell if they could use the extra hands, but they all refused him. A few were kind enough to spare him an apple or even a loaf of bread.
On one dreary night after an especially hungry day, Caspian concerned himself with where he might find shelter. The weather was taking a cruel turn, and he did not want to risk a fever added to his troubles. As he wandered, wondering if the innkeeper might allow him to spend another night in the stables, Fate smiled down on him in the form of an old friend. Roland had always spoken of traveling after leaving the abbey, going out to seek his fortune at the Crossing or even Stormhaven. This made it double the shock for Caspian to find him here, not two days’ journey from where he’d begun.
Their reunion was hastily made as the first flecks of rain fell around them. Roland led them through streets and alleys until they reached an abandoned shop. The doors were boarded shut, but Roland went to the ivy that was slowly growing over the old place. He produced a rope that reached up to the second story window. They scaled it one after another, coming into awarm common room. There were four other boys there. Well, some were boys. Others were bordering on manhood. Caspian recognized two faces from the abbey, though they had both been older than himself.
The most senior of their company, whom Caspian did not know, offered him a mug of hot soup and told him that a friend of Roland was a friend of them all and was welcome to stay with them. Caspian was the happiest he had been in weeks as they stayed up late into the night talking and joking. His stomach was full, and when he slept, it was on a soft cot by a warm hearth. And while it wasn’t fit for kings, it was certainly good enough for him.
The next day, Caspian woke early with the others, and it occurred to him to ask what they did for work. Clearly, they had the means to afford food and good clothes, even if they were clearly squatting in an abandoned tailor’s shop to do so. The oldest, named Warren, told him they would be getting to work right away, and that he was welcome to join them. And in that moment, it all felt like the most wonderful stroke of luck.
