| Chapter 1: Beginnings |
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At six, Raistas was first allowed out of his house, when the family went to a Yule-time gathering. He had quickly learned the importance of the season. Snow was on the ground—and snow was much more fun to play in than dirt was. Everyone was always happy, and one night you get to open all these gifts that people give you. And there was the food. There were plenty of sweets: from taffy’s to cookies, cakes to fudge. He understood that this meeting was of importance. He had watched his mother make a fuss over his father’s suit. And she was beautiful, dressed up in all her splendor. At the gathering, he was surprised to find other kids his age, and a few older and younger. It was strange, though, he found himself sitting suddenly around six others, listening to an older gentleman tell a story of dragons, and knights of old questing to find relics within such creatures’ lairs. It was all so entrancing to them. The man’s voice was rough, yet strangely melodious, and within Raistas’s mind the pictures were livid. Strong, brave, wild-eyed knights—great champions and warriors fighting against insurmountable odds. That allured him. But he was quick to look around. Each of the boys around him seemed as enthralled. They felt as he did. A couple more hours of storytelling, and it was time to leave. He felt a small note of remorse that his time with the other kids, and the old man who he had grown quite fond of was cut short, but the promise of gifts wiped that away before too long. During the trip home he laid his head in his mother’s lap, though those eyes were wide. The mixture of anticipation of the gifts, and the allure of the stories were enough to keep him awake for he hoped some time. Strange, though, the trip home seemed long this night, and the slow rocking of the wagon, and the softness of his mother’s fingers coming through his hair knocked him out. He awoke the next morning in his bed, and in the next instant his eyes were wide, his self awake. Quickly he stepped over to take up his pants, sliding a leg through each before socks were decided upon. The floor was cold. He rushed downstairs and into the kitchen in time to find rolls basted in cinnamon being pulled from the oven. They smelled delicious! He was now torn, but the presents drug him into the living room, where he was beset by his parents, who ceased their talking to look down at the their son. A grin was shared between the two, and soon he walked up to his first present. He almost shook with anticipation. Most of the gifts were clothes. Though he was delighted to find a small cape—just like the great warriors always wore. He found a belt—and a number of toys, including a doll of a warrior. He seemed to be wearing armor, but at the touch he knew it was wood. But it was defiantly the thought that mattered, and at the very instant he held it, he cherished it. It became his most prized possession. Breakfast that morning was the best he could remember. Everything he wished for was on the table. And another family joined them, their neighbors he thought he heard his mother say. To his surprise, their son was one of the ones he sat with the previous evening. He was, in the beginning, nervous. Until his mother introduced him—the boy’s name was Dart. Instantly they clicked, and taking their food off to the side they began talking about the stories from the previous evening. Raistas did not believe how similar they seemed. Even their plates were filled with the same contents. The boy said he had a sister, but that she was with his mother. She was three, and far too young to be about. And as all youth tend to, when a bond of friendship is created, promises are sworn. Each swore the other was the other’s brother. Raistas did not realize, then, how long that oath would hold. After breakfast the two children, armed with a full stomach and a new friendship, were released from their homes. The gate surrounding his home was opened, and both were allowed into the cul-de-sac, where, to their surprise, they found four more children already immersed in a game. When the two joined the others, it was revealed that they were present at last evenings gathering as well. They’re parents must know each other. Immediately the boys joined in. Apparently, they were about to go hunt for some dragons. The larger of them all, Cynthar, held a great plank of wood trimmed at the end so as to give a grip. He looked at least three or four years older, but later Raistas found out he was actually born a couple weeks after him. The second largest, Nathan, was the one talking. It was actually quite humorous, how after every sentence he continued saying “I’m the leader.” “You can be a great knight, and hold Flamebrand, I don’t care.” …“But…I’m the leader.” He must come from the rather large house on the right. His garb was a level or two better then most. But the boys indulged him. He would be the leader, the great and daring knight who led the band into dragons’ caves, and against dark fortresses of mighty orcs, or into the wild, mystic groves of elves. It took a while for each to choose who they’d be. Raistas chose Brogan, the knight that single handedly slayed the great black dragon Onyssia. He was far from the most fearsome and wondrous hero, but he would defiantly do. Dart chose to be Magius, the great sage. During the later of Brogan’s quests, including the enslavement of The Cor’mazrum, Magius had accompanied Brogan, usually by dragon back, and assist. When each chose they shared a knowing grin, and prepared to set out. The smallest of the group, Steven, chose to be Vincent Nimblefingers, a most renowned thief. It was said that he once robbed a king’s fortune right from under his nose, from his riches to his stockings. My but Steven looked the part, skinny as a twig, and already wearing his hooded-cloak. Mark, a rather quiet member of the newly-created band of hero’s did not look too interested, but Nathan’s constant goading persuaded him to choose a part. He would be the elvin archer Nithillendoras, who, it was said, never missed a target, and later acquired the silver bow and arrows which added to that fame. Raistas wondered where the kid was that they saw that night of Yule. He was the smallest, and last night had kept to himself. He, if anyone, seemed older than anyone else. Perhaps they would meet him later. In any case, the time had finally come to begin their questing. With the knowledge of their real bounds, they set out, snatching up sticks or broken limbs that seemed appropriate. Cynthar played his part perfectly, following Nathan around as a drone, running at a flock of birds and scattering them. Raistas enjoyed conversing with the other boys. And soon, they were on the other clearing, opposite of their homes, across a field, which quickly became a perilous forest. And so it went. Not every day, but once or twice a week each child was let out of their homes to gather, and always there was some new character to play—though the roles were generally the same—and some new adventure to act out. One day a wagon rolled up to the gates of the cul-de-sac. Within the driver’s seat were a man, and a child. It was the seventh youth, Luthien. By chance it was the time of the week all were released. A kind of ending of one week, and beginning of another. It took a moment to explain to him, for him to understand. He seemed to know exactly what game it was they were playing. He chose to be a dwarf, which made everyone look around in surprise. They were just myth’s. And even in those did they come out of their mountain or hill kingdoms only very rarely. Nathan didn’t like the idea. It seemed that having a dwarf, in some way, pulled the shine from his character—but after setting an all new set of rules, he finally gave in, and the crew was able to play once again. |
