...push...!
"PUSH!!"
He could hear the words, but he was far too young to understand them, the situation, or indeed anything much at all. He had no concept of what it meant to be born. All he knew was that he was upset at the pulling and pushing, at the unfamiliar sounds and colours, and at the fact that the world had suddenly gotten much larger, and less comfortable.
He felt himself being moved, wrapped in something, and laid in someone's arms. After a few moments, the need to cry faded, and he opened his eyes. Through the rush of unfocused colours, he could see someone large looking down on him. Again, he heard the unfamiliar words.
"My little one. My Malek..."
***
Malek slumbered in his crib, occasionally awaking and staring at the flowers on the nearby window ledge before dropping back into a light sleep. He was dimly aware of activity around him. Two voices, the ones that called themselves "mother" and "father". And then a third voice, unfamiliar to him.
"Aren't you..?"
"Yes. I am Agwain, the Guardian of Balance."
"But what do you want with us?"
Malek sensed a tall figure in light clothes standing above him, gently smoothing a hand over his thinly-haired head. "This one here. A few weeks ago, one of our number was killed, the Guardian of Conflict. Perhaps you do not know how Guardianship is passed on, but when one of the Circle is killed, the Pillar chooses a successor to be born. Destiny has chosen your son to guard the Pillar of conflict."
"But does this mean...?"
"I know what you are about to ask, but the answer is no. He will grow up as the Pillar's protector, and as the Guardian of Conflict, he will be the protector of the Circle also. But he is also your son, and the Pillars will not, indeed, can not, take this away from you. We are not in the habit of snatching children from their parents. But for you, this should be a proud moment. Your son will grow up to be the finest warrior in Nosgoth..."
But the future warrior grew bored with listening to grown-up chatter. He drifted back to sleep, the Guardian's words lying deep in his mind, forgotten. For a time.
***
Malek was six years old, and today was his first day at school. His parents had just disappeared over the horizon, and he looked around the yard. There were children playing games, standing around, eating. All of them seemed to be comfortable in the yard. Malek would have rather been at home with his parents, or training with one of those Sarafan people that visited every few days, teaching him how to fight. He'd never told anyone, but fighting felt strange to him. When he trained, he felt clumsy and slow. The trainers had encouraged him, but he felt he'd never be the warrior that everyone excpected him to be. Except...that time when he'd wandered away from his parents during that trip to the farm. When he'd disturbed a pack of wolves on the prowl. One of them had jumped at him, and he'd never felt so scared in his life. But then his fist had been balled, impacting almost of its own accord into the wolf's skull, and killing it almost instantly. Only one of the rest of the wolves had challenged him, and he had dispatched it with similar ease. As he'd watched the pack run off, he'd felt a strange but comforting presence inside himself. For a moment, he'd felt like he'd been another, stronger person. Though he hadn't told anyone, he'd always wondered about that little incident.
Lost in his daydreams, Malek didn't notice a group of older children approach from behind him. They only caught his attention when one of them grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.
"Looking a bit lost there, kid." The one who grabbed him was a well-built boy, about five years older than Malek, with a sneer on his face. "Well? You dumb or something?"
"No...I was just thinking..."
"Yeah? Well I was too." The boy pointed at the silver seal that adorned Malek's tunic. "I was thinking about you giving me that. Looks like I could swap it for something good down town."
"Sorry, I can't. It's got my family's crest on it, my dad gave it to me. I have a ham roll you could have instead..."
"I have a ham roll!" the boy laughed mockingly. "How about a punch to the face instead?"
Malek saw the boy's fist flying towards him, but instead of fear, a strange calm came over him. He leaned to one side, allowing the fist to pass just to the side of his head. In one, fluid movement, he grabbed the boy's wrist, flipped around, and embedded his elbow into the bully's stomach. His would-be tormentor gave an almost silent gasp, and sank to his knees. He looked at Malek in suprise and rage.
"Why you..." The bully charged at Malek, who sidestepped and delivered a swift kick to the rump. He didn't stop to watch his enemy trip, sensing that the rest of the gang were starting to move in on him. He turned to face them, only to see them suddenly scatter and flee. From behind, he heard his bully swear in angry fear.
Malek turned to see another boy, a year or so younger than the bully but built like a minature knight, holding the bully to a wall, his forearm in the boy's neck.
"I thought I'd told you not to pick on the younger kids, Nathan!"
"Gkkkk...sorry...I won't....again..."
The new boy grinned. "See that you don't. You remember what happened a few weeks back, don't you?" He pushed the bully away, and watched him run before turning to look at Malek. "Not too bad, kiddo. Most of the shrimps around here couldn't throw a good punch to save their lives."
Malek grinned. "Thanks! I train real hard at home!"
"Join the club. The legacy of being a Sarafan son, I guess."
"Sarafan son..?"
"Yeah, only son of a Sarafan general, believe it or not. I'm not quite at Vampire-killing level just yet, but I can handle the rabble around here."
"I've got a teacher from the Sarafan too! It's where I learned to fight, I think."
The older boy looked a little suprised. "Yeah? You a Sarafan kid too?"
"No. I'm Malek."
"Pleasure. The name's Turel."