Rowan woke with a start, his heart pounding a rhythm of warning in his chest. His eyes darted around the moonlit room detailing familiar shadows that once bore the shapes of monsters when he was just a boy. He studied each in detail trying to convince himself he must of just had a bad dream but the dread coursing through his veins did not abate. The forest around he and his father's small cabin was quiet, no animals scurried, no trees swayed in the wind. It was as if the entire mountain range beyond their valley held its breath. Icy tendrils of fear crawled up his spine compelling him to move, to find and eliminate this threat.
Rowan crept out of bed and the dread mixed with irritation as he found his massive bear pelt strewn carelessly on the floor. The pelt was a symbol of his hunting prowess, a culmination of the skills of the forest his father had taught him. Rowan reverently placed it back on the bed thinking of the lessons that bear had forced upon his young mind and body. He quickly dressed adorning his bow and the sword his father had given him when he completed the training and trials to earn it. As he buckled the leather belt of the scabbard a loud thud broke the eerie silence. He lunged across the small hallway that separated his fathers room from his to find it empty. He headed to the front door finding it wide open and stepped outside gingerly, the moon illuminating the grassy knoll and the forest beyond, its pale light cresting just above Mount Celestine.
Reigning in his quickening breath he edged to the side of the cabin in the direction the sound had come from taking care to place each step as gently as possible. With each step his heart raced faster and his breath felt as loud as a bears heavy grunt. He peaked around to the side of the cabin finding a menacing looking figure standing over a prone form. Rowan could not make out who was on the ground but the figure standing over it was smiling with glee holding a large club in one hand and pulling out a knife in the other. Rowan strung an arrow and stepped further out to get a clean shot on the man as he was about to strike drawing the string back to his chin, exhaling, then releasing in one smooth motion. The arrow flew true finding its mark in the mans back. The man whirled and grunted instinctually swinging his club eyes bulging in fear as he fell over dead. Rowan ran over to find his father unconscious but breathing. "thank the gods" he whispered as he knelt to his side.
Rowan's father had a large head wound that was swollen and leaking blood, Rowan tore his left sleeve off at the shoulder and wrapped it carefully and began trying get him into the cabin. It felt wrong to drag him but it felt worse to leave him alone while he made a stretcher. The father was far to big for young Rowan to carry so he grabbed both ankles and dragged him into the house breath heaving with the effort. Rowan managed to get him next to the fireplace and added some kindling to reignite the coals. Once he was settled in and the fire high Rowan headed back out to investigate who this mystery assailant could be. They were deep in the northern forests a weeks walk from the nearest village.
Stepping outside in the cold nights chill Rowan rounded the corner of the cabin and stopped in his tracks. The body that had just been shot was gone. Could the man have survived and stumbled away? No. Rowan had watched him die, he was sure of it, he had hit him directly in the heart. He readied another arrow realizing the man had an accomplice. It was the only logical explanation. Rowan crept toward where the body fell seeing the drag marks he made moving his father. He found where his father had tread and where his assailant had crept up behind him. The ground was slick with blood but Rowan was able to find the fresh tracks of someone entering the clearing from near the same area as his father's assailant. Rowan thumbed the ground checking the depth of a particular set of tracks heading in the same direction still, as if the man had doubled in weight. The tracks led to a trail he had frequented with his father. The trail led to one of their favorite hunting spots, a small clearing with a large boulder that reflected heat from a fire perfectly.
He set off in pursuit, following the deep boot prints in the soft grass. He raised his hood and scarf he had been taught to use to keep cold winters breath from being seen while hunting. Rowan stayed just off the trail his soft soled shoes finding roots and soft patches of dirt with practiced ease. It was not long before the stillness of the night was broken by a mumbling voice deep and gruff. Rowan had caught up to the mysterious accomplice.
“One fucking job. Just one. All you had to do was kill the father and nab the kid. But now I have to carry your heavy ass back to the boss and explain how a child killed you. Selfish bastard. Gods you’re heavy.”
The man grunted and rearranged his dead friend across his shoulder, almost dropping him in the process. Rowan stayed focused on listening to the man, trying to gain information but his mind was racing. Why would anyone want to capture him? He was a nobody from a simple family. His father was a forest ranger and was no one important. What was going on? Was this mans boss here in the forest or back in the village to the south? The mans mumblings and grunts turned to complaints once more and Rowan refocused
“He’s going to have my ass, where were you Damon, how could you have let this happen” he said in a mocking tone. “and the fucking mage, gods above she’s going to kill me”
Ears pounding Rowan stopped in his tracks and allowed the man to gain some distance on the trail, his mind was reeling. The Magi of the Empire were spoken of with fear and reverence, they trained at the academy in the Empires capitol and swore oaths directly to the Emperor. Why would a mage be party to the murder of my father and my capture. Rowan had to find out more, but he couldn’t allow this man to reach his accomplices. He quickly caught back up to the man his complaints now silent, replaced by the hard breathing and grunts from carrying his burden. Rowan unsheathed his sword with reverence and crept back onto the trail behind his target. The man wore leather armor like his accomplice, Rowan wasn’t confident he could penetrate it with enough force to kill him. His legs however were shielded by leather grieves in the front and simple linen pants in the back. Rowan slashed the sword across the back of both of his legs and he grunted in pain and surprise dropping his accomplice. As he turned pulling out his own sword Rowan's was already flying towards him in a backhand slash. His sword cut through the front half of the man's unprotected neck and he went down in a pool of blood. Rowan heaved an adrenaline laden breath and proceeded to drag his body off the trail and then that of his partner. He took a few minutes to cover the disturbance on the trail created by the kill but didn’t have time to make it perfect. He had to find the rest of the accomplices.
The clearing was a short run away, less than three miles. His heart raced and he worked to keep my breath a steady rhythm as he jumped over fallen trees and weaved through dense brush. Rowan began to smell smoke mingled with the familiar earthy pine of the forest. As he approached he saw the flickering orange light of a fire. He crawled on his belly sweat beading down his back in fear and adrenaline. The light of the fire revealed two men, one sitting on a log next to the fire another pacing back and forth.
“They should have been back by now, something went wrong.” The man pacing said. He was tall with black hair and bushy eyebrows the orange light igniting dark brown eyes that flicked around constantly searching. The man sitting on the log made no response and looked into the fire with dead eyes. He was bald and his severe face showed no expression, he poked at the fire sending embers into the air. A female voice spoke and Rowan's eyes darted to find her, she sat slightly out of the fires light legs crossed red robes flowing over her. Rowan's stunned expression on missing the woman's presence would have been comical if the situation hadn't been so dire. Even knowing where she was his eyes seemed to slide right off of her.
“Do not fear Henderson, they will complete their task and bring the boy. It has been seen by the Emperors best Seers.”
Henderson scoffed and halted his pacing looking toward the mage. “No one can see what fate has hidden witch”
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The woman hissed contorting her face underneath her cowl “Watch your tongue”
She made no movements but Henderson began to float off the ground as if being pulled. His arms and legs stretched apart and he groaned in pain.
“You need me witch do not forget that!” He growled in between ragged breaths.
He dropped to the ground in a heap “that I do, but for how long I wonder?” She said with a chuckle.
Rowan watched the bald man discretely slide a knife back under his shirt sleeve.
“The Seers do not pretend to know what the fates hold, but see they can. They see eventualities and what may cause them. For example in every eventuality where I am directly involved in the child’s capture he escapes. That is the only reason I need you. But you are correct it seems, Peterson and that drunkard Damon should have been back by now. Go, see what troubles they found and remember, kill the father. No matter what.” She said with authority.
The two men left the clearing and headed down the trail leaving Rowan lying on his belly in the thick brush watching the mage. It became easier to focus on her the longer he stared, but his mind raced with possibilities. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t allow those men to kill his father who was now helpless and unconscious but Rowan also knew he had roughly three quarters of an hour if they walked. He had to deal with the mage. The surreal fact of that thought was not lost on Rowan but this was not the time for allowing the impossibility of the situation he found himself in to stay his hand. "Action is the single greatest feat a man can do." His father said so frequently it was engrained in his every thought. Fear racked his body as the visual of the man floating in the air plagued him. Rowan took a long breath in and closed his eyes focusing. She had to be dealt with. Rowan couldn’t leave her here to come find them and he had the element of surprise. Using a technique his father taught his called the box breath he regained control over his breathing and frantic emotions. A four count inhale with a four count pause, then a four count exhale and another four count pause.
Minutes passed as Rowan slowly rose from his belly, making sure that not a sound was made. He readied his bow and knocked an arrow finding it harder and harder to focus on her. His eyes slid off of her like water. The more Rowan's intent was to kill her the more violently he could not see her. He strained and focused but it was no use. He knew where she was, his bow had no problem facing that direction just his eyes. So he closed them. One teaching his father seemed to reiterate at every turn was to trust in oneself and one’s training. His body knew where she was, Rowan just had to let it work. He drew back to his chin and then stopped, a gut feeling telling him that he needed a more powerful shot. A shot like he used against the bear, he turned his hand around on the string and pulled all the way back to his ear and let loose. It was a beautiful shot, and he didn’t open his eyes until he heard the tell tale thud of the arrow hitting flesh. The moment Rowan's eyes opened his ears rang with a terrible scream. The arrow had taken her through the eye and half stuck out the back of her head. She flailed her arms fire spewing from her hands scorching the dirt and grass around her. Rowan ducked as the heat grew too much to bare. His heart pounded and he didn’t know what to do, she should be dead. Fire reigned all around her as her screams grew. Minutes passed waiting for her to die but she refused. Rowan looked up as the light and heat faded and saw she was flailing with her back toward me. Now was my chance. He ran out of the brush unsheathing his sword piercing her through the spine. He heard bones crack and she immediately went limp pulling off of my sword. He cleaned her blood off with her robes and heaved a sigh of relief turning to sprint back up the trail. To much time had been lost.
He ran through the woods not caring for how much noise he made knowing he would be hard pressed to beat them back to the cabin. He jumped a root misjudging its height and smashed into the ground his momentum carrying him heavily into a jagged rock. His ribs screamed with fire and he felt blood drip from a scraped knee. He cursed his stupidity and the pain that stemmed from it, he had ran these woods a thousand times and allowed his fear to blind him. He headed off once again praying to the gods that he was not too late. He reached the forests edge and watched the cabin and the trail the men would come from. He saw no movement and hope began rising to replace the dread. Then a loud crash came from the cabin and then another and he saw the front door shatter from the frames hinges Rowan's father being the instrument of its demise. He rolled onto the ground grunting in pain and spitting a mouthful of dirt onto the ground. It took everything in Rowan not to cry out, to scream for him to run. Two men walked out of the opening, the man Rowan knew now to be Henderson taking the lead. His tall bald companion held an expression of pure pleasure as if Rowan's father was the tastiest meal and he a starving wretch. The look filled Rowan with disgust. Tears began rolling down Rowan's cheeks at the helplessness he felt. If he ran out now his father would surely die and Rowan would be captured.
The tall lanky man grabbed Rowan's father and then looked toward the tree line scanning while Henderson spoke “you out there little boy?” he looked at his captive continuing “has he abandoned you like the coward we know him to be.”
Rowan's father began to chuckle spitting a mouthful of blood “keep hunting him in these woods and he will pick you off one by one, I can feel the weakling of a mage if you can even call her that has already been taken care of.”
Henderson snapped his head back to the trail then to the father “bullshit, he may have got lucky with Samson and Damon but the whelp is no match for any of us, let alone the mage.”
Rowan's father laughed long and hard “I have trained my boy from the moment he could open his eyes in all forms of warfare, his will is iron and his mind nimble. You will not see the suns first light. Kill me now and cement your fates.”
Rowan was torn at feeling pride in the confidence his father had in him and fear of the look he held. It was the look of certainty, certainty of his death and of Rowan's vengeance.
“You speak of fate, yet the Emperors own Seers have seen him placed into our hands.” Henderson said looking into the smiling face of my father, he continued “we will drag him from whatever hole he has hidden himself in, cowering and shaking with fear” this made his father begin to laugh hysterically and he feared they would strike him down.
“No oh no, he watches now, his eyes are upon you both, and his vengeance will be swift. He is a ghost of the forest, a ghoul in the night, every sound you hear will be his coming and yet his coming will be silent. I have taught my boy in the secrets of my ancestors as my father taught me. A few more years and he will be ready, ready to find the hidden path, the path that cannot be found.” He said with the weight of a premonition.
They looked at each other then, and Rowan's expression matched their own. Confusion, wonder, and a little fear, for the path that cannot be found was spoken of in only legend and myth. A Mage above Mages a Lord above Lords. Did his father truly believe him capable of such feats or was he manipulating them? Henderson obviously thought the latter as he backhanded him across the face. Rowan inwardly groaned at seeing him in pain yet he knew he was strong. A cut revealed itself in a line of blood that slowly grew across his cheek.
“Enough with the games, do you honestly think a thirteen year old boy can resist the Will of the Emperor?” Henderson said as his father smiled, it was filled with pride and his eyes lingered on Rowan's position.
“My boy will not only resist the Will of the Emperor but break it entirely. I served the Emperor loyally for decades and how was I repaid? He imprisons my wife to let her rot and die in the dungeons because I would not divulge my families teachings on the hidden path. Our son is the culmination of both our families knowledge of the path. The Empire will tremble under the name of Rowan Pierce.” He said with pride raising his chin.
Henderson stared and eventually gave a slight nod to his companion who, in one violent motion, jabbed a knife through the neck of his father. Tears ran down Rowan's face in hot rivers as his soul screamed in agony, but not a sound was uttered from his lips. His hands clenched in the dirt anger rising to a fury. So much had been said, so much had been learned and yet his father was still dead. He knew from the moment they had him it was inevitable as his father had said. He watched his blood slowly pool reflecting the light of the moon and his mind set on vengeance. For his safety neither man could leave this forest alive to tell of what happened. He watched and waited trying to calm his tumultuous emotions. Henderson looked around the tree line glancing over to his position but could not see him.
Rowan looked down at his hands, dirt caked between fingers that were worn above their years. He had no one left, no family to guide him, his mother had been gone now for three years and tonight he learned why. The Emperor. Had his father always known? Why had he never told him? His family had secrets they would not share and for that she died in a dungeon? But what secrets, his life was not that out of the ordinary, it was true he did not spend his days on the farm like the boys in small village to the south. It was true Rowan trained in the sword, bow, and spear for as long as he could remember, read stories of war and tactics and was taught their lessons, but that was not out of the ordinary, was it? Surely Noble children had similar education, He knew the peasantry did not spend time reading and only thought about war as something other people and places engaged in if they were so lucky. So what was the secret path that he was headed toward, this path of legend that both of his parents died for. One thing he knew, he would bring truth to my fathers words. The Empire would tremble under his name.
“We need to head back to the witch, if she truly is dead we can track the boy from there.” Without waiting for a response from his tall companion Henderson turned and headed back to the trail, the dead eyed man staring in eerie pleasure at his work before he too began down the trail. Rowan's hunt began, he had a feeling these two would not be as easy targets as the first three.
