The early morning light peeked up over the horizon when a father went to wake his child. Shuffling into the little bedroom room, he sat on the edge of the bed and began to gently rub circles on the small boy’s back, coaxing him awake.
“Pay. It’s time to get up, buddy.”
Payton opened his eyes and nodded silently. He lay on his stomach, burrowing deeper into his covers as his father continued his soothing gesture.
“Can I sit with momma before school?” he finally asked quietly—timidly, as he thought about the previous day.
“She’s sleeping now, I’m sure it would be fine,” his father assured him before adding, by way of apology, “Yesterday was just a rough day for her, we knew it would be—the anniversary of Ana’s death will always be hard.”
Payton slowly nodded, not daring to speak past the tightness in his throat. He finally pushed out a sigh and sat up on his knees, stretching sleep from his limbs before climbing out of bed, bare feet padding against the hard-wood floor, following the scent of honeyed oatmeal.
He speedily ate his portion as his father covered the steaming pot to save the rest for later, though he didn’t take any for himself, and Payton didn’t question it—it didn’t even register with him as he gulped down a cool glass of milk before scurrying back to his room to change.
His father came into his room to use the mirror, just after Payton had finished tugging a clean shirt over his thick, unruly hair. Payton meticulously scrubbed his face and hands, and brushed his teeth while his father neatly shaved prickles of hair from his face.
Payton gingerly tip-toed to his mother’s room—formerly belonging to both his parents, but his father had for months now been sleeping on a cot in the kitchen—and opened the door with feather-light touch. The room was dark as the once light, shimmery curtains had been torn down and replaced with thick curtains of a dark, scratchy material that blocked out all light where they hung, securely shut. The only sound was that of his mother’s steady breathing as she slept on her stomach, face half-buried in her pillow. Payton carefully took a seat on a stool at his mother’s bedside, quietly watching, and waiting for the healer’s apprentice to come watch over his mother while he went to school and his father went to work in the smith.
His mother’s eyes slipped open, and Payton tensed up as she blinked, her gaze settling on him.
“Payton,” she breathed, tears pricking her eyes, and she sniffled, weakly raising a hand to wipe at her nose. “Oh Pay, baby, I’m sorry,” she stretched out a hand, and Payton relaxed, taking hold of it, rubbing circles on the back of his mother’s hand. A silent sob bubbled up from her throat as she squeezed his hand. “I was so mean, and here you are, taking good care of your momma. You’re such a good boy, mommy is so proud of you.”
“It’s okay momma, I’m not mad. I know…I know you just don’t feel good,” Payton promised.
His mother smiled. “You have school today, don’t you baby?” she asked.
Payton nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “I have to give a report on the founding of Arcadia—Sara and I painted a picture of the capitol building, it turned out really nice. Professor Jalen saw it and said it was beautiful, and I must get my artistic ability from you.”
“Professor Jalen is such a sweet old man, did you thank him?”
“Uh-huh,” Payton nodded. The front door to their house could be heard swinging shut, and two muffled voices—his father’s and the healer’s apprentice—filtered in from entryway.
“It sounds like Apprentice Laurna is here,” Payton said, squeezing his mother’s hand reassuringly.
But then, his mother’s entire demeanor flipped. Her warm, teary gaze turned so cold the tears froze where they were, her expression rigid, the hand in Payton’s hold was snatched away as she pulled it to her chest.
“Oh, her,” his mother hissed, turning to lay with her back to the door, to Payton. “Why is she even here? I told your father I’d be fine on my own for a day or two. He’s always here, you’re always here, she’s always here—I just need to be left alone!”
By the end she was shouting, and Payton was on his feet, unsure if he should just leave, or stay and soothe his mother.
There was a quiet rap at the door, and Payton opened it to see Apprentice Laurna and his father standing in wait. Laurna bobbed her head in silent greeting to the young boy, and his father sighed as he placed a hand on his son’s head—a reassuring gesture, another apology.
And it seemed there would be a third, as his mother hurriedly sat up in bed, and twisted around to face her son, tears streaking her face. “Pay. Pay, baby I didn’t mean you need to leave me alone—I didn’t mean like I said yesterday—I just meant it would be nice to have some time to myself. I always love spending time with you, with your father. I’m just…I’m just frustrated. I love you, baby, I do.”
Payton looked at the floor, not turning back around as he said, “I love you too momma. Feel better.”
His father stepped aside so his son could leave the room. Payton watched from the hall as his father kissed his mother on the forehead and wished her a good day.
As father and son left the house, they could hear Apprentice Laurna asking if she would like to have her breakfast at the table, instead of in bed, and just like every morning, the sickly woman offered her unsavory opinion on that.
It was Apprentice Laurna who came to walk Payton home from school, instead of his father—who usually took a break from the smith to get Payton home with dinner settled before he returned to work—with word that his father had taken the rest of the day off, and that an old friend from the Orc Wars was visiting all the way from Atheria.
“We just talked about the Orc Wars today,” Payton said, excitedly. “Professor Jalen had us discuss the impact of the Mages Rebellion on the war, and Centorian’s relationship with Beyon.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you think?” the young woman asked warmly as they walked up the dusty road.
“I think it is surprising that Beyon and the Centorian Empire get along so well. Centorian Mages refused to participate in the war until their rights were invoked—the treaty of Beyon’s March lent Beyon’s Mages to Centorian’s aide and his Mages sat safely in their protests, away from the war until it was over, and then after all was said and done, Centorian set all the Mages free and enacted rights to protect all Centorian Mages. Centorian could have had his own Mages fighting in the war if he’d just done so sooner. It seemed like a big slap in Beyon’s face.”
“That is a very well thought-out opinion,” Laurna said, “It’s also shared by quite a few Mages. Centorian isn’t quite as ruthless as his father, but his tactics during the war were less than benevolent.”
“So you agree?” Payton asked.
“Not quite,” Laurna said, “Centorian’s alliance with Beyon had been a long time coming—Queen Téa is a Centorian, she wasn’t born in Beyon like her Queen, the former Princess Chelsea. Years before their marriage, Beyon was actively seeking to be part of The Centorian church—their people had no suitable form of afterlife. Their union with Centorian gave them the spiritual stability their people so craved,” Laurna continued, “While his motives are questionable, I don’t believe he would have allowed the Beyonian Mages to stand without the aid of their Centorian brothers and sisters, if it could have been helped. The Mages were being unreasonable in their demands—demands which lifted after the war, those are the terms to which Centorian complied.”
Payton shook his head. “Like you said, Centorian is ruthless in battle, and it’s obvious to everyone he wishes to fulfill the Centorian Prophecy. I doubt there’s very little he wouldn’t do to accomplish that.”
“But such behavior wouldn’t win Beyon’s favor—the favor he needs if he wants to further add to his Empire. All the world was watching the formation of their alliance, and how it went would effect their futures with other human nations.”
“That’s what makes it so perfect,” Payton said, “Beyonian soldiers are a force to be reckoned with because their Mages buff them, making them reach their full physical potential, but when those Mages die, their soldiers are returned to their weakened state, on top of losing a powerful magical ally. Centorian keeping his motives seemingly pure did lend to Beyon joining his Empire, but weakening them enough so that when the war was over, they would have to rely on the Empire for protection is just another backhanded way of appealing to other nations--making Beyon weak so that the Empire could look strong.”
“Very good,” Laurna complimented, “just because I’m older than you, that doesn’t mean I’m necessarily correct,” she said, looking at Payton. “When you know the truth, do not fear speaking it—don’t waver when speaking your mind. There is a difference between the wisdom to accept when you are wrong, and the foolishness to submit when you meet opposition…however, also keep in mind that the story of what happened will always matter more to people than what actually happened. Pick your battles.”
She wrapped an arm around the young boy’s shoulders and pulled him into her side as Payton’s arm looped around the small of her back, and they continued up the path, speaking quietly of how his mother had been that day.
When they reached the house, there was a large black, horse-drawn carriage parked in front. A well-dressed man sat in the driver’s seat, more like a palace servant than a carriage driver, long black hair tied behind his head. He looked at Payton and Laurna as they went to enter the house, Payton meeting his cool gaze. The boy huddled closer to the woman at his side as he felt a shudder—a pure chill—pass through his body.
“Alright?” Laurna asked quietly as she opened the door.
“That guy…”
“He gives me the creeps too. Don’t let him scare you,” she said, crouching where she stood to be eyelevel with Payton. “I have to go now since your father is home. Your mother is feeling better today—she even ate all of her lunch and she said she’d like to see you before you go to bed, once you’re done with your chores and homework of course…” Laurna grinned as she continued, “but you’ll find you have only homework to do.”
Payton smiled brightly. “Really?”
Laurna shrugged. “I realized your mother was truly in need of some alone time. So I cast a subtle monitoring charm on her room—which I’m telling you for your peace of mind, it is to be kept between you, your father, and me. Anyway, I had to find something to do”
Payton hugged her tightly. “You’re going to be the best Healer someday.”
“Thank you, sweet boy,” she said, pulling away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Payton closed the door behind Laurna when she left, and stood there for a few moments, alone in the entry way, organizing the rest of his night in his mind—how quickly he could get his homework done so he could go see his mother.
“…perhaps I should tell you why I’m here,” said an unfamiliar voice from the Kitchen.
“We’ve been over this, Vallen. You know my wife loves our life here too much to uproot and move to Herra—all the way to Kadrol’s Rise. This is the only home she or our son has known. Miera is too sick for such a journey. I’ll not bring it up to her again, not now.”
Payton stood in the entry way, creeping closer to the kitchen so he could hear better.
“You presume too much, my friend. I understand why you couldn’t accept my job offer after the War—admirable reasons, you must take care of your family first and foremost. I heard of Miera’s illness. It was also brought to my attention that you have a mere Healer’s Apprentice treating her.”
Payton’s father made an uncomfortable grumble, like he was embarrassed he couldn’t afford better for his wife.
“I’ve brought a professional—the most renowned specialist on…such ailments…in all of Centorian’s Empire. She’ll be joining us shortly,” Vallen said.
Payton went to stand in the doorway of the kitchen and watched as his father sunk down into a chair, staring into the space before him.
“It’s conflicting, I’m sure—but think of your wife,” Vallen insisted, “She needs this; don’t worry about the cost to me, its well worth it if Miera is healthy again.”
“I’ll pay you back, things have been tight but I will pay you back.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, my friend.”
That earned Vallen a suspicious glance from Payton’s father. “Do you expect that once Miera is better we’ll pack up and take your offer?”
“You saved my life on more than one occasion during the Orc Wars, and I must say your work has protected me for many years after. Still to this day I use the sword you crafted for me. I’m more than over due to pay my debts.” Vallen looked up from where he’d gone to stand with a hand placed on his friend’s shoulder. “Ahh, it would seem we are not alone,” Vallen said as he saw Payton standing in the doorway. The large man crossed the kitchen and came to stand before Payton, he looked down at the boy and offered him a hand. “You must be Payton.”
Payton’s father rose to his feet and turned to look at his son. “Pay, this is my friend, Sir Vallen. We fought together in the Orc Wars—he’s come to visit. He found a Healer who can help your mother.”
Payton shook Vallen’s offered hand. “Pleased to meet you, Sir Vallen. It is very kind of you to help us.”
“Call me Vallen, and think nothing of it, my boy,” Vallen said, clapping Payton on the back. “You’ve got a fine looking son, Jacob. Strong handshake, and he seems smart, are you smart, son?”
Payton nodded.
“Good, good,” Vallen said. “I’m sure you and I will be fast friends, Payton. Fast friends indeed.”
It wasn’t until just before dinner that Payton finished his homework. His father let him be the one to tell his mother that Vallen was visiting and was bringing her a Healer, one that could help her get better. Payton was nervous about her reaction, but she seemed…pleased, hopeful for recovery.
Vallen dined with them that evening—all of them. He sat with Jacob and Payton around the kitchen table, and Miera sat up in bed with her bedroom door opened-wide so she could hear and join in on the conversation. She even got out of bed once dessert rolled around, and ate at the table, holding Payton’s hand in one of her own as she carefully scooped bites of sweet melon ice with the other.
After dinner, word arrived that Vallen’s Healer was in Arcadia, awaiting Vallen to pick her up from the harbor, and the man left them with a grin and a wave to retrieve her in his carriage. Miera returned to bed, but Jacob and Payton sat with her, the family huddled close together as they waited for Vallen to return.
“Miera…” Jacob said quietly as they lay together. “I…I don’t want to get your hopes up. If it doesn’t work out…”
“Vallen seems sure she’ll be able to help…help me,” Payton’s mother said, “If it doesn’t work out, we’ll deal with it then. Right now, I have to believe she can help, or I won’t want to see her at all. Right now…just let me sit here with the two people I love most in all the world, and enjoy it.”
Payton scooted up to kiss his mother on the forehead, and then snuggled closer to her, receiving a kiss to the top of his head as she held him close. Jacob’s arm wrapped around his wife and son as he lay on his side, and he rubbed his son’s shoulder, and waited.
Jacob and Miera had fallen asleep, together in their bed for the first time in months. Payton lay awake, watching his parents, too wired to sleep.
His parents stirred, however, when their bedroom door swung open, and Vallen strode in, a tall, slender woman dressed in stark-white robes at his back.
“Jacob, Miera, this is Healer Slater, from the Mages Temple in Varlden’s Kant. She’s worked directly with members of the royal family, and has been a specialist in her field for many years.”
Jacob rose to his feet and extended a hand to Healer Slater, who shook his hand briskly and nodded her head in greeting. “I am sorry my services are necessary, but I am pleased to assist you.”
“I believe we should give the good lady the room, let’s leave her to her patient,” Vallen said, gesturing towards the door. Jacob kissed Miera’s forehead and Payton gave her hand a small squeeze before the two of them left the room. Vallen turned to look at Healer Slater. “I’m certain you’ll make sure Miera is taken care of.”
Healer Slater had stayed a few days, working intensively with Payton’s mother, who made steady progress over the course of those few days—to a point where she ate all her meals with her family, and didn’t need to be monitored 24 hours a day. Jacob even removed the cot from the kitchen and was able to sleep in bed with his wife once more.
It was just within those first few days, though, that Jacob had an all-out argument with Healer Slater when the woman began implementing Centorian Religion in her healing methods, the Healer giving Miera a Centorian amulet—baring the mark of Centorian’s sword rising to Theia’s defense.
“I’m very hopeful for Miera’s long-term recovery, but it is a very difficult thing to do alone. Religion will give your wife routine and the comfort she needs that she will one day be reunited with lost loved ones. Do you think she’d prefer to take the memory of Ana with her the rest of her life, or have the hope of being reunited with her when her time has come?”
Jacob had relented at that, and said no more of the subject, not even when he came home from work to find the door to the room—a room none of them had dared enter since his wife had first fallen ill—thrown open and the once-bedroom was turned into a shrine to The Centorian.
But he also found his wife smiling with joy for the first time since she grew sick.
Before the Healer left to return to Atheria one evening just after Payton and Jacob returned home she sat the family down to speak of how certain she was of Miera’s full recovery, how pleased she was with her progress.
And progress continued to be made. Miera had even reached out to friends she’d long neglected to see, she even went to see Healer-Apprentice Laurna to apologize for any unwarranted insult, and to thank her for her patience and loyalty in caring for her while she was sick. The house filled with the smell of the bread she was so good at making, and sometimes Payton would hear her humming to herself—not quite singing like she used to—but it was more than she’d been able to do in so long. The following week she even walked Payton to and from school alongside her husband, the three walking the path side by side, hands joined with Payton in the middle, squeezing both of his parent’s warm hands, tightly.
And so that morning, when Miera was found, it was like the world itself cracked in half. Her body was limp in the rocking chair in the corner of the shrine-room. Payton would never forget his father’s voice screaming out in the first of the morning, “Oh Miera what did you do? What did you DO?!” the sound of a kitchen knife clattering to the floor as his father, body wracking with sobs, took his wife into his arms and wept until his voice was hoarse with the effort.
And now, father and son stood with heavy hearts over a set of graves. One for his mother, and the other, that of the baby girl, Ana, lost to them the previous year.
“Do we have to leave them, papa?” Payton asked, as hot tears rolled down his face, more trickling over his lashes as he sniffled.
“We do,” Jacob said with finality. He placed a hand on Payton’s shoulder. “Kadrol’s Rise will be a fresh start for us.” When his son didn’t respond, Jacob crouched down, both hands covering Payton’s shoulders. “Pay. Words like awful and horrendous don’t even begin to cover what life has been like for the past year, but things can get better. They will get better. I promise—taking Vallen’s offer and moving to Kadrol’s rise, it’s the best thing for us right now.”
“Will we come back to see them?” Payton asked quietly.
His father paused for a moment, squeezing-tight the Centorian amulet his wife had once worn. “We take our memories with us—they will forever be part of our minds.” And then, after a moment, “I gave Laurna our new address. She says she wants to keep in touch, and write to you. Would you like that?”
Payton looked at his feet, and nodded.
“Dad,” Payton said, “is it okay if we stay, just for a few more minutes?”
His father nodded.
As the two walked down the slope from the graveyard, they saw a black carriage driving towards them, kicking up clouds of dust from the road. They met the carriage and the door swung open, Vallen seated inside waiting for them to join him. He offered a hand down to pull his friend and Payton into the carriage and with one final glance back to the cemetery, Payton took his seat and Vallen closed the carriage door.
This post is a piece of backstory of the character, Payton, from the fantasy, action-adventure novel “Heroes of Theia” by T.R. Galyean, available for digital download on Amazon.com.
The past few months in the field had been grueling for the four hundred Centorian soldiers, and the battle-rangers and scouts who cleared the path ahead of them the entire way across the expanse of Centorian’s empire, from Varlden’s Kant, heading to Kadrol’s Rise, which lay just on the border of the Banishment Lands, wiping out the Thralls that came as courtesy of the Drurhara—a curse inflicted upon the world by a deal made with the Kahn, which allowed him to take the people of Atheria for his Knostic armies, so long as he stayed on his side of the Mist.
But the endless Thralls, they were everywhere, growing stronger, with more numbers as the soldiers progressed south. Centorian’s warriors were growing weary. The streets were filled with ash from fallen Thralls, wooden posts and railings had fresh sword-inflicted nicks. Soldiers sat receiving medical attention from their Mages.
Drake sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb; his head was pounding from the mix of exertion and lack of rest.
“Commander?”
Drake turned to look at the approaching Ranger, Antony, the dark-skinned Romani man assessing the blue-eyed Commander as he joined him.
“Everything cool here?” Antony asked.
“I’m fine,” Drake said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Where’re the others?”
“First squad and I finished our sweep of the town, Sam and Zander are giving the all-clear to the locals,” he said, “Jason’s got second squad, doing another sweep of the perimeter—some of those Thralls headed for the woods.”
“Good,” Drake said, nodding.
“Hey Commander! Your people done yet?” a gruff voice griped at Drake. From out of the town’s bar, a small, slender man stomped up to him, getting directly in his face, looking up at Drake with fire in his eyes.
“Cool it, asshole,” Antony said, dark eyes glaring at the intrusive man.
“My darlings gotta work—all this Thrall nonsense is killing my business,” the local man snapped.
“I’m sure a bunch of Centorian Soldiers saving your lives is a real mood killer,” Drake said dryly. “It’s safe now. Everyone can go about their day, just stay clear of the forest until my men come back with the all-clear.”
Sam and Zander had already reached the other houses and were coming up to meet Drake and Antony as the townspeople began emerging from their homes, eager to be out in the world after waiting for someone to come put a stop to the Thralls invading their town. The man that had been complaining to Drake looked pleased as a handful of suggestively attired men and women filed out of the bar and started heading for their assigned stations to wait for business. One of the women was followed after by two children who hastily kissed her goodbye as they scurried down the street ahead of their mother to go play outside, one of the children wearing an old Ranger’s cloak over his clothes.
“Everything looks good on our end, Commander,” the petite female Ranger, Sam, said as she and Zander joined Drake and Antony.
“Yeah, Sam didn’t even scare the locals too bad when we were giving the all-clear,” Zander chimed in.
“Good job. The ‘It’ should be joining us soon.” Drake said; the ‘It’ being Centorian’s chosen code-name. “We should secure the perimeter while Jason finishes up in the forest. Sam, Zander, you two take Coleman and his group to the South and West corners of the town. Antony and I will take Prindle and the rest to the North and East.”
“Yes sir,” Sam and Zander said in unison, Sam letting off a loud whistle to signal their scouts as they began walking away from Drake and Antony.
Together, the four Battle Rangers quickly placed Scouts in strategic positions around the town’s perimeter to secure the area for Centorian’s arrival.
In the northern end of the town there was a small area behind a workshop where a few targets were set up—wide wooden posts with paper targets pinned to them. The children from before, one with the old Ranger cloak, stood in this practice area. They turned out to be brother and sister. The brother wore the ratty cloak while he threw old, dulled Ranger knives at the targets, occasionally hitting the posts, and scurrying to pick up the ones that sloshed into the mud-ridden, half melted snow. He would then hastily wipe them off on the threadbare fabric of his cloak before throwing them again. The sister sat on a tree stump, boredly watching her brother who wouldn’t let her have a turn with the knives.
The old Ranger’s cloak caught Drake’s eye—partially because he wondered how a kid ended up with one, and also because the winter months were harsh in this area and there was no way that ratty thing was worth wearing in defense against the cold.
Antony shook his head, grinning as he saw Drake watch the boy practice, and predicted exactly what his Commander was about to do.
“Whoa, cool cloak, it’s kind of like mine,” Drake said, getting the boy’s attention. The boy quit throwing knives and turned to look at Drake, his sister’s head perking up in interest as she watched. “Where’d you get it?” Drake asked.
The boy’s chest puffed up as he proudly declared, “My ma says it’s from a man who probably might be my dad!”
“Mine too!” the little girl piped up.
“We don’t know that for sure! You shouldn’t say things you don’t know for sure—that’s lying,” her brother chastised. He looked to Drake. “I’m Caleb, and this is my little sister Cassie.”
“Cassidy!” his sister insisted.
Drake came closer and crouched down to be eye-level with the boy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Caleb, Cassidy,” he said, looking to the siblings in turn. “My name is Commander Drake, and since that cloak of yours has sentimental value, how about I offer you double what I was going to.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “You mean, you want to buy my cloak?”
“I want to make a trade,” Drake said, removing his own cloak and offering it to the boy. “You take this one, and I’ll throw in some food to make up the difference.”
“But your cloak is new,” Caleb said, confused at why his old cloak would be more valuable.
“And that’s just it!” Drake said, “Your cloak is much more valuable. They don’t make cloaks quite the same way they used to.”
Antony rolled his eyes, grinning as he watched the exchange. At Drake’s look, Antony dug through their supplies in his rucksack, and handed Drake a loaf of dried bread and some fruit to give to the kids. Cassidy hopped off the stump and untied the small apron she wore around her waist, using it to bundle up the Ranger’s offered food.
Caleb undid his own cloak and handed it off to Drake, who immediately put it on over his shoulders before putting his old cloak around Caleb’s shoulders, fastening the shiny golden clasps together at his neck before pulling the hood over the boy’s head.
“There you go,” Drake said, rising to his feet. “Now you look just like a Ranger.”
“I want to be a Ranger when I grow up!” the boy proclaimed excitedly. He took his knives back into his hands and began waving them about enthusiastically before flinging them at the target where one just caught a nick in the wood and stayed there while some bounced off the wood by the flats of the blade to fall into the snow. Caleb looked proud of his accomplishments regardless.
“I want to be a Ranger too!” Cassidy exclaimed, jumping with excitement.
Her brother rolled his eyes. “No, Cassie, you’re a girl! Ma’s boss says you gotta work for him when you’re older!”
Cassidy’s face grew red and her eyes pooled with tears as her bottom lip jutted forward, trembling as she said, “B-b-but I want t-to be a r-Ranger!”
Five knives cut straight into one of the targets, with one unanimous thwack as they sunk into the wood, perfectly in line with each other. This caused both children to gasp, a few fat tears spilling over cheeks when Cassidy blinked in surprise, turning to look at the person who’d thrown the knives.
Ranger Throwing knives.
Sam stood with hand outstretched, smirking at her work as she lowered her arm and sauntered up to the target, and began pulling her knives from it.
“It’s a good thing such matters aren’t up to your Ma’s boss or your brother,” the female Ranger said as she then sheathed her knives. “It’s up to the Wood-Kin. And if you have any small hope of becoming a Ranger,” she continued as she turned to face the little girl, pulling her arms from the holsters that held her sheathed knives and kneeling down, holding the weapons out for Cassidy to take, “then you’d better start practicing.”
Cassidy stared in wide-eyed awe at the woman before her, and she whispered, “You’re a Ranger?”
“Picked by the Wood-Kin themselves,” Sam assured her. The little girl reached out and gingerly ran a finger across the golden oak-leaf clasps that secured the woman’s Ranger cloak at her neck, before she took the holster and knives that Sam offered.
Sam rose to her feet and went to stand next to Zander who had trailed after her to meet Drake and Antony.
“Good luck kids,” Drake said to the children, as he and the other three Rangers left the siblings to their practice.
“Dude, you can’t give kids knives, that’s dangerous,” Zander said to Sam as they made their way to the center of town.
“Dude, our world is dangerous, kids should have knives,” Sam shot back.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Zander said, “because I couldn’t ask for a better friend than you, but I’m glad you aren’t my mother.”
“That makes two of us,” Sam said, scoffing as she jibed, “you were probably even uglier as a kid.”
Drake and Antony snorted as Zander gave a boisterous laugh, clapping Sam on the back as they went to stand with the other soldiers that had gathered in wait to see Centorian meet his troops.
“Hey Jason! Check it!” Zander suddenly yelled—seeing Jason over the crowd as he was the tallest of the group. The large Ranger waved at the other man until he came to join them.
“The forest is all clear, sir,” Jason said to Drake. “I set up second squad for the ‘It’ arrival.”
“Good,” Drake said.
“Man, I don’t really even buy this crap,” Zander said, “I mean Cen—the ‘It’ isn’t going to come see an army as small as this. He’s got more important shit to do.”
“Our reports instructed us to prepare for his arrival,” Drake said, “Until I hear otherwise, that’s the plan.”
They didn’t have to wait long for Centorian’s people to arrive.
Meaning disappointment didn’t take long to reach them—starting with the scouts. The new scouts.
“Damn it,” Jason cursed under his breath as he put a hand up as if to hide his face from someone, only to quickly put it down as he realized that looked foolish. “Josh? Seriously?” he asked. Drake looked into the group of oncoming scouts, and sure enough, two new recruits were among their ranks—Josh, Jason’s younger brother, and his friend David.
“It’ll be good to add more to our numbers,” Drake reasoned aloud, but then fell silent as his eyes landed on the person in the midst of all the hubbub—the man that was bringing all these soldiers and scouts to join them as they continued on to Kadrol’s Rise.
And it most certainly was not Centorian.
“Did Lloydiar seriously refer to himself as the ‘It’ in those reports to you?” Sam asked Drake. “What a…”
“Royal pain in the ass,” Zander supplied.
“You’ve got that right,” Drake said, as he nodded yes to Sam’s question. Lloydiar, son of Centorian, Prince of the Humans of Herra, was the one joining them. Not the Emperor.
Drake couldn’t even hear Lloydiar’s complaining over the sound of the soldiers bolstering, giving greetings to the newcomers, but he could feel fresh exhaustion setting in. This tour was going to be longer than expected.
This post is a piece of backstory of the character, Drake, from the fantasy, action-adventure novel “Heroes of Theia” by T.R. Galyean, available for digital download on Amazon.com.
It was a slow afternoon in the Southern Shore Pub when Birfaiz entered, seeking his favorite seat, and a drink. There were few patrons, all sitting at the bar, except for one who sat at Birfaiz’s usual table, in the chair across from his chair. The haughty Elf sauntered through the small establishment and went to stand beside his seat, pleasantly surprised that his companion had already ordered for him.
Well, not ordered for, he realized, once he caught the scent of the exotic drink. He reached down and brought the drink to his lips.
“Aloha Spirit’s spiced rum, my favorite,” he said as he took a sip. “I didn’t realize Rollin expanded his menu to include Island Elf breweries.”
His tan skinned companion smirked at him from where she sat with her arms on the table, fingers laced together. Her brown eyes practically twinkled with mischief as she shrugged. “He didn’t. That’s a thank you.”
“Oh, really?” Birfaiz asked, taking his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back in his chair and nursed his drink.
“Yes,” the blonde woman said, leaning forward, a few of her braids spilling over her shoulders with the motion. She lowered her voice and said, “I hear the Goddesses’ Temple is closing for the week.”
Birfaiz quirked his lips into a pleased smile as he set his empty glass down, and the woman pulled a tall-necked brown bottle from off of the floor and set it on the table, refilling his drink before capping the bottle and sliding it across the table to him.
“Yes. It seems some impurities were found in their sacred spring,” he said.
“Convenient.”
“I thought so.”
“We’ll meet at the Temple tonight. Cullun will be providing us with an alibi.”
“Very good. I’ll be able to unlock the chamber, but you’ll have to already be in place—you’ll only have a short moment to do your part.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the Elvin woman said, “Unlock the chamber and then get out of there. I think you’ve spent more than enough time in prison. We’ll meet up at the spot when we’re done. If you get caught, stick to the story; last you heard I was with Cullun.”
“I’m hardly an armature, Cal,” Birfaiz scoffed, pouring himself another drink. “Just make sure you don’t get caught either. You’re already in deep with the Guard Captain.”
Cal smiled, and rose to her feet, speaking loud enough to be heard by the other pub’s patrons, “Cullun and I will see you tonight,” and then, quieter, “enjoy your meal.”
Later that evening, the moon was beginning to drop in the sky, and the suns would rise in a matter of hours. Cal stood, leaning against a tree as she waited for Cullun. Birfaiz should be joining her soon, as he’d left the Temple before her to stop by the college and pick up a few things and told her to go on ahead once she’d finished retrieving the relic.
The Heist had been, all in all, a success. The guards had been quick to respond but Cal was resourceful, and with the relic obtained, all she had to do was wait for the others before crossing the Banishment lands.
“Captain’s got nothing at the College, let’s look through here.”
“She might have gone this way!”
Guards, Cal realized, and silently slipped further into the forest, away from the approaching voices.
Entering the Banishment Lands alone.
Click Here for The Heist--Part One
This post is a piece of backstory of the character, Cal, from the fantasy, action-adventure novel “Heroes of Theia” by T.R. Galyean, available for digital download on Amazon.com.
Here is the Heroes of Theia Masterpost, which will be updated with all current and future blog posts.
The Dream
Tags: Fantasy, Adventure
TW: Fantasy Violence, Minor Language
This is an introductory piece to acclimate new readers to the Heroes of Theia Universe.
The Heist--Part One
Tags: Fantasy, Romance/Fluff. Relationship: Cal/Cullun
TW: None
Here we meet two of our Heroes of Theia characters. The morning of the big Heist is here, Cal and her beloved discuss their plans.
The Heist--Part Two
Tags: Fantasy, Adventure, Friendship Cal&Birfaiz
TW: Alcohol
Cal and her best friend Birfaiz meet for drinks at a local pub. Plans are formed and carried out, when a minor complication occurs.
The Old Ranger’s Cloak
Tags: Fantasy, Adventure, Friendship--Drake, Antony, Sam, Zander, Jason
TW: Mentions of Fantasy Violence, Minor Language, Sexual Themes
Here we meet yet another Heroes of Theia character. Commander Drake and his scouts save a town from a Thrall attack. People young and old learn some life lessons. Also, dealing with sibling rivalry is never fun.
Honeyed Porridge, Honeyed Words
Tags: Fantasy, Family, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Character: Payton
TW: Mental Illness, mentions of child death
A glimpse of what life is like for Payton back in Arcadia, before the events at Kadrol’s Rise.
The Witch Across the Lane
Tags: Fantasy, Family, Supernatural
A family hailing from the lands of Beyon move deeper into the heart of the Centorian nation when their matriarch, the mage, Mariana of Rainier, is called to join an upstarting Mages Guild with designs on founding a new Mages college. Joined by her husband and their two children, the move does not go as smoothly as planned, the local Barron is selfish in his desires to boost his lands notoriety, and a strange Witch named Elva makes a disconcerting neighbor to the family of four.
Cal stretched and groaned as she rolled over in bed, sunlight streaming through the window beamed right into her eyes, eliciting a soft curse to cross her lips as she sat up, pulling up the fallen sleeve of the white linen shirt she wore.
The Elvin woman blinked and stared blearily around the room as she rubbed sleep from her eyes, before her gaze fell on the shirtless man sitting beside her, his back to her, feet touching the floor, elbows on knees, his fingers laced together before him.
“Did you sleep any, vanýen?” she asked.
The Elvin man chuckled mirthlessly. “No, not really.”
Cal scooted over to be behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, resting her head in the crook of his neck as she gently pressed a kiss to his jaw. Her fingers traced over the silver scars of her beloved’s chest—lines, like lightning bolts, that went up one arm, to stop at the flesh just above his heart, only to start on the other side of his chest, and cross over his shoulder and down the other arm, stopping just below his elbow.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, forcing a smile as he joked tiredly, “You can’t help it that you snore like an Orc.”
Cal’s eyes widened and she smiled, giggling as she reproached him, “Cullun! I do not!” she insisted, sitting up straighter to kiss the back of his head before ruffling his thick dark curls.
Cullun smiled, genuinely this time. “So, you and Birfaiz are meeting later?”
“Yeah,” Cal said, “we’re meeting at the pub to discuss the plan. We hit the Temple tonight.”
“You’re going to discuss your plan to steal a relic from the Goddesses’ temple in the middle of a pub?”
Cal smirked, resting her chin atop his head. “No, we’re going to publicly display me reuniting with our best friend to celebrate his recent release from prison.” She chuckled. “We’ll have a few drinks, discreetly pan-out the details, and everyone will hear us talk about the three of us meeting up tonight,” she paused. “You sure you’ll be okay without us?”
“I’d rather do this alone, and it provides the perfect alibi for the two of you,” Cullun said, sighing. “I understand that you have to do this. We can’t move forward until you get the weapon. Wait for me at the spot, okay? Don’t return to the Banishment Lands alone. Please.”
“Worried?” Cal asked softly.
“You have no idea,” Cullun admitted, grunting as he lumbered to his feet and Cal’s arms slipped from his shoulder. The tawny skinned woman sat back with legs curled beneath her, as she watched her beloved cross the room, looking for something. “Have you seen my shirt?” he asked.
Licking her lips, Cal cleared her throat to get his attention as she flipped a few of her blonde braids over her shoulders. Her brown eyes twinkled with amusement when the male Elf turned to look at her; first at her smile, and then he noticed what she was wearing.
“Oh. Yeah. Any chance I’ll be getting that back?” he asked.
Cal shook her head. “Not a one.”
Cullun shrugged as he went to the bed with a casual stride, and wrapped his arms around Cal’s waist. “That’s just fine with me.”
Click Here to read The Heist--Part Two
This post is a piece of backstory of the characters, Cal and Cullun, from the fantasy, action-adventure novel “Heroes of Theia” by T.R. Galyean, available for digital download on Amazon.com.
At break of dawn, a woman, cloaked in a shield of lingering night, stepped out into the pale gray-pink of the early morning sky. She stood upon a high balcony, the oncoming sunlight made the white silks she had wrapped around herself shimmer; the ocean air caused them to billow out from behind her frame with the sound of Mermaids laughing in the waters below. A Dove feather lay luminescent in the backdrop of her dark hands.
“Heroes of Theia, Awaken,” she whispered as she sent a pulse of magic through her hands and into the feather, setting the feather aflame.
The feather became a living Dove, which sprung into flight, marking a journey that had yet to begin.
The Dove circled around the Oracle’s Tower—the Eye of Theia—flying high above her Island, over the caves and pastures inhabited by the many Harpies that protect the cluster of islands upon the inland sea. The Dove flew away from the Island, transforming into a Seagull as her wings met the harsh sea-winds which allowed her to coast above the water.
She landed on a large rock that lay within view of one of the smaller islands. She looked closely at the water and could see the outlines of a few translucent Mermaids as they played beneath the water’s surface. One shot into the air, her hair and skin taking color as it met the surface and she flipped back into the sea returning to her translucent form, heading in the direction of the rock where the Seagull sat in wait.
The Mermaid breached the surface, her face and upper body taking color while her lower half, still submerged, remained translucent. She flipped her thick, dark hair over her shoulder and out of her face and lay her arms upon the rock, resting her chin on her wrists.
“Your Mistress has sent you—has she not?” she asked.
The Seagull bobbed her head in reply.
“Very well, just a moment.” The Mermaid dropped down beneath the water swimming deep into its depths before coming up once more, this time bearing a large purple box adorned in pearls and intricate designs made of sand. “All of the materials she requires are here.”
A crystal around the Seagull’s neck began to glow, and the box glowed as well before it vanished into light that was absorbed by the crystal.
“Give your Mistress my regards,” the Mermaid said before taking her leave and diving into the water.
The Seagull flew from the rock, heading south toward the great mountains that formed a circle around the inland sea—the Impassables.
Well. Not quite Impassable, if you could fly high enough.
The air, however was starting to thin, and before long the Seagull had to change her form, into that of a great Haste Eagle. She headed for a large cave, far higher than any man could reach on foot or steed alone. This cave was just big enough for her to fly through, the wind pushing her, helping her to glide straight through the cave quickly, and she shot out the other side within mere minutes, heading to Veteria, the land of the Elves.
The Eagle soon entered Veteria. She flew high over the marble buildings and straight to the palace. The Elvin palace gleamed with rays of colored light as the bright morning sun shined upon it.
The Eagle perched upon the banister of a balcony that branched off of one of the large towers. On the balcony an Elvin couple stood holding each other; the man’s hands on the woman’s waist, the woman’s hands lay on his shoulders, her head back so they could look into each other’s eyes as their painter instructed. However, the man and woman could not stop laughing at each other as they'd turned their portrait pose into a competition—each staring intensely into the others’ eyes in a standoff of wills, making each other laugh and occasionally ending in a "Stop!", "No, you stop!" dispute. This of course was much to the painter’s frustration.
“Your Majesties, would you please just hold still?” he asked for the umpteenth time as he gave them a reproachful glare over his easel."This is so much easier when they do not marry for love,” the painter said, exasperated with the young couple’s mirth.
“Oh Leo, look!” The woman turned away from her betrothed, only to rest her back against his chest as she pointed. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
A crystal worn around the Eagle’s neck began to glow. The ring on the woman’s raised index finger and the medallion her beloved was wearing began to glow as well.
The man laughed heartily before gesturing to the bird. “Yes, Reina, she’s a majestic creature isn't she? Add her to the painting!” he said jovially, looking at the painter who looked up at the Eagle, but seemed wholly unimpressed, and he huffed in frustration as he continued his work. Reina and Leo shared a look before he winked at her in reassurance. Reina smiled and nodded to the Eagle in farewell.
The Eagle nodded her great head to the young couple before she sprang from the banister, into the mid-morning breeze.
The Eagle flew across the meadow that lay between Elvin lands and the hidden Faerie-Realm of Rua. She traveled through the thick forests, coming to land atop the portal that led to the Faerie World. On one of the short steps that led to the portal platform sat a Grover—a species of four-inch-tall men who protect the realm of Faeries. The Grover rose as the Eagle landed.
“Good morning friend,” the Grover said as he bowed. “With the Blooming Season in full swing, things have been rather hectic. Ahh, but never fear, I was able to complete your Mistress’s order.”
The crystal around the bird's neck glowed and a crystal in a golden circlet the Grover held in an outstretched hand glowed in kind. The circlet disappeared, vanishing into the Eagle's crystal.
“I wish I could be of more help," the Grover said, "but I believe the Dwarf, Nasir, will be of great use to you.”
The Eagle bobbed her head in reply before taking flight.
The Eagle flew away from Rua and to the Kingdom of Vatra, a land as dangerous as its inhabitants—a deadly mix of Vampires and Werewolves; all ruled by the Firebloods. In its midst stood a single Druid Monastery.
The Eagle made her descent into the courtyard of the Monastery, where a Dwarven Monk sat in meditation, the Eagle landed on a tree stump in front of him.
A ring on the Dwarf’s hand began to glow.
“Ahhh,” he said, as he opened his eyes. “I see what needs done.” The Dwarf rose to his feet.
“Nasir!” a loud, angry voice bellowed from the Monastery.
A taller, broad-shouldered Dwarf emerged, clad in only a loincloth, arms crossed over his bare chest as he stood at the top of the stone steps, looking down at the Monk.
“Van,” the monk said to the other Dwarf.
“Do we have business or not?” Van snapped.
“Of course, of course; have you completed the Rites?” Nasir asked.
“I've been through your ‘Cleansing Rites’ and I’ve had enough Religion. I didn’t come here to kick spiders.” Van glared at Nasir.
“Patience my good man. Our friend here has brought yet another piece of the puzzle—you will understand your purpose here after I’m finished with her,” he said, gesturing to the large Eagle. “Go inside and prepare—I assure you, you will be departing shortly.”
Van grumbled to himself and stalked back into the Monastery.
“Wait here,” Nasir said to the Eagle. He quickly entered the Monastery and a moment later, a large window to Nasir’s office opened in the second story of the Monastery and Nasir waved down at the Eagle.
The Eagle flew up to perch on the strong branch of the tall oak tree that stood just before the open window, and it was from there the Eagle watched and waited for Nasir’s work to be done. The Dwarf began to scurry from bookshelf to bookshelf, pulling out scrolls, bits of paper, and books from them. He ran to his desk and set some things down and then back around the room to put some things back where he'd gotten them, while some things he dropped to the floor in abandon.
Finally, he pulled out a fresh, untouched scroll. He began jotting down thought after thought, vital pieces of information, anything that could be of use.
At last he dropped his quill and rolled up his work.
The Eagle stood at attention as the Dwarf crossed the room to reach her, holding out the scroll to her through the open window. The crystal around the Eagle's neck began to glow and the scroll vanished into a light that floated into the crystal.
“Take that to Roderick, he’ll know what goes next.” After a pause he added, “Eagles aren’t common in the skies where you’re headed—and your size alone will attract unwanted attention. Sparrows, however, are migrating that way this time of year.”
The Eagle took off and transformed into a Sparrow in mid-flight, heading to the Dwarven lands called Borros.
The Sparrow flew until the sun was setting over the Dwarven Capital of Sparbossa, coming to land on the windowsill of a large Dwarven home. She pecked at the window, but no answer came. She feared she’d come to the wrong place.
“Why hello little friend,” said a voice from above the Sparrow’s head.
The Sparrow looked up to see a rosy-cheeked Dwarf standing in the now opened window.
“Do you have something for me?” the Dwarf, Roderick, asked.
The Sparrow nodded, hopping into Roderick’s hand. The Dwarf took her into a small workshop within the home. The Sparrow perched on a high stool. Roderick grabbed a hammer from a side table and walked over to his workbench. A crystal embedded in the hammer’s handle glowed and the Dwarf nodded and began his work.
The Sparrow’s eyes began to grow heavy as she watched Roderick work. She fell asleep to the sound of light hammering and the clinking of glass.
When the Sparrow awoke, the Dwarf was standing there, looking down at her.
“Ahh, it is about time you woke little friend. I hope you've rested enough. Your journey must now continue into the night,” the Dwarf said. His expression grew solemn. “I have already relayed the information she requires to your crystal. Take it to Zanost, he knows what to do. If there is anything else needed, your mistress knows where to find me.”
The Sparrow nodded, and the Dwarf led her to an open window where she took off, becoming an Owl as she met the night sky.
The Owl flew in peace for a while, joining in the flight of other owls. The sounds of the other night-creatures echoed through the air as they flew. It was when all noise and companionship stopped that the Owl became uneasy. She looked down and saw why no other creature dared to fly near her.
The Mist, a place of torment where many souls of the dead reside.
As the Owl flew over-head, she could see a small fleet of Gorgon ships racing to get away from the Mist. Arms and hands were reaching out from the Mist, trying to grab hold of the ships and pull them in. The Gorgons—Humans that are Orc-like in size and strength—were towering over their Cirkin slaves. Whips came down harder to quicken the pace at which they were rowing the large ships. With each strike of the whip and row of oar the Cirkins changed form. They are beast-Humanoid creatures who can hold the appearance of a Human, and transform into an animal-Human Hybrid with the ease one has with breathing.
The Cirkins rowed hard and strong, but still, the arms of the Mist caught one of the ships and pulled it in. Yet it was not the hands and arms they feared the most, but what lay beyond the Mist, what the Mist kept at bay. Knostics: the Kahn and his legion of Death Knights who vowed to bring forth The Most Terrible Thing to devour the world in blood and fire.
Finally the Owl passed over the dreaded Mist and found herself in the land of the Orcs, entering the capital city of Warwick. Flying high above the stone and copper plated buildings to the castle, the Owl entered one of the tall towers through an open window. She flew straight into a laboratory where the Orc Alchemist, Zanost, was busy at his work table.
The Owl’s crystal began to glow as she perched herself on the back of a chair, a faint light coming from somewhere in front of the Orc.
Zanost grumbled, “Fickle woman…” and, “…Elvin witchery…”, and even at one point “…needs more Cowbell”, as he kept working, mixing, writing, reading, and mixing some more. Zanost turned after a few hours of his working; cursing, and grumbling.
“Here, this should be what that woman wants,” he said. The vial in his outstretched hand began to glow along with the crystal around the Owl’s neck, the vial disappearing into the crystal.
“Now, if you’re done here, leave. I got things to do,” Zanost said, turning away from the bird. He shouted as to be heard in another room, “Xzisirus, get off your ass! We have business.”
The Owl flew from the laboratory, back into the night sky, and became a Raven as it was nearing daylight.
Her next destination took her over the land of the Humans. She came across a Murder of crows, and decided it was best to blend in, and so the Raven joined them.
The Murder soon came upon the Human capital of Varlden's Kant. A man below was being chased down a busy street by a pack of guards. The group was so large it seemed the man had gotten into trouble during shift changes. The man raced down the street, turning into an alleyway. The Raven cawed at him as she flew overhead.
“I don’t have time for this!” the man snapped at the Raven. He ran down the alley that led to a large lumber yard behind a carpenter’s workshop.
The Murder perched atop the wooden fence surrounding the lumber yard; the gate was open. However, just as the man was reaching it, the Raven cawed again, and the gate slammed shut.
“Damn it!” the man shouted, kicking the gate, pounding on it with his fists, but it wouldn’t budge. “Do we really have to do this now?”
The Raven cawed again as the group of guards rushed through the alleyway, coming to stand like a wall behind the man.
“Stop!” a young guard shouted at him, though his voice wavered and the hand holding his flintlock pistol shook as he aimed at the man.
The Raven cawed again, and the crystal around her neck lit up; the crystal in the man’s bracer began to glow as well.
“Magic!” a guard shouted. The guards panicked, and began firing their weapons at the man. The man dropped to his knees as a mixture of crossbows and pistols fired at him, hitting their mark.
But the man appeared uninjured.
“Oh gods,” murmured a guard.
“Reload!” shouted another in panic.
The man chuckled humorously. “Let me help you with that.” He rose to his feet, turning towards the guards with hands outstretched.
All of the bullets and bolts he'd absorbed blasted forth from his hands at once, the guards dropping lifeless to the ground in unison.
The man looked at the bird. “I was only running to spare their lives. Whatever your Mistress is looking for, it had better be worth it,” he sighed, rubbing at his forehead as if to squeeze a headache away. “The place she seeks, I know where it is.”
The crystal in the man’s wrist band glowed, and the crystal around the Raven’s neck glowed.
The Raven nodded at the man, and then cawed at the gate, which swung open. The man bowed to the Raven and ran through the gate before more guards could come.
The Raven took off again and quickened her pace as she entered the Banishment Lands. She wanted to spend as little time as possible in this dangerous place.
Mistress? The Raven called out in her mind, The mission is a success. I’ve gathered everything you require.
Good, her Mistress’s voice soothed, return to me at once.
The Raven was struck hard and fast by something that sent pain rippling through her form. She began falling from the sky. A feeling of dread and torment filled her as her body screamed in the need to take flight and return to her Mistress. She could not fail!
Her body hit the ground with a lonely thump. Waves of energy rippled out from around her impact—those waves collapsed back in on themselves, sending a single, white Dove's feather floating into the air.
