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  Prologue

  Condor watched the sunrise from his balcony the same as every morning. Those first moments when the sun painted the sky with color were his favorite. The endless array of color reminded him of the possibilities hidden inside each day. Normally those moments filled him with excitement, but today there was no excitement. The only emotion Condor felt was an overwhelming sense of dread.

  Condor pulled himself away from the sunrise to scan the city around him. Most mornings he watched as his people began their day, going to work in the fields or opening their shops and storefronts. But this morning was not most mornings; the only thing he watched was people climbing into one or another of the city’s many fountains. They climbed into the fountains, slipped under water, and disappeared. One after another, people he had known his entire life. Men and women, young and old, sick and healthy, they all just disappeared. He watched the faces of everyone he had ever loved disappear. He would never see them again, not for a single passing second.

  When the last person was gone he went to his own private fountain and sat next to it watching the ripples bounce around the surface of the water. Today was just one of those ripples, one of the possibilities that was hidden inside a day that had long since passed. He had cast the stone that caused this ripple and revealed this possibility. And today he was casting another stone, creating another ripple, revealing a lifetime of possibilities.

  “Is that everyone?” asked Condor.

  “Yes, they are all gone. Are you ready?” asked Lily.

  “Not yet, I want to see him one more time,” answered Condor.

  “Look into the fountain,” said Lily.

  Condor watched the ripples stop as if the water was suddenly turned to a sheet of ice. He watched his own reflection shift as Lily showed him his son. Every second spent looking at his son’s young face made it more difficult to pull away. But he needed this reminder to give him strength. He needed the strength to carry today’s burden for an eternity. That strength came from only one place. It came from love.

  “I’m ready,” said Condor.

  “Climb in the fountain and brace yourself,” said Lily.

  Condor did as she instructed, the water was warm and inviting as always.

  “I’m sorry, child. This will be painful,” warned Lily.

  “I know,” said Condor.

  “Close your eyes,” said Lily.

  “Lily, please keep them safe,” whispered Condor as pain consumed his entire world.

  Chapter 1

  A Stone’s Throw

  “FUCK…I need you to check on Fort Reed,” he said. “Cocksucker! He said nothing about this chaos, nothing about helping people. Just take this fucking message and bring back a fucking response.”

  “Wait, Master Rocious, where are you going? We need to help these people,” said Sergeant Chaplin.

  “What am I supposed to do, Chaplin? I’m attuned to fire! You want me to burn the fucking river?! Besides, they don’t seem injured,” said Master Rocious.

  “We… I… But we need to do something to help them!” said Chaplin. Rocious let out a frustrated breath. Chaplin was recently promoted to the rank of Sergeant and was supposed to be in charge. But it seemed whenever trouble popped up everyone turned to Rocious.

  “Fine. Send your men downstream, there is a shallow spot where they can start pulling them out of the river. Tell whoever can walk to head east to Dominion.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Chaplin.

  “Where is that pompous twit Werval and his beautiful horse?” asked Rocious.

  “It’s Lord Werval, and I’m right here.”

  “Oh, well get your horse. Ride back to Dominion and tell Dominick to prepare for a lot of people. Have him send supplies to meet us on the road. These people are going to be starving in no time,” said Rocious.

  “We left Dominion two days ago, now you expect me to ride back?” asked Lord Werval.

  Ignoring Werval, Master Rocious continued, “I’m headed to the Fort to find Count Reed and figure out why thousands of his people are floating down the fucking river.”

  “Yes, sir, but how do you know these people are from Fort Reed?” asked Chaplin.

  Master Rocious continued ignoring his companions, “Oh, and start questioning people, see if anyone knows what happened.”

  “Yes, sir, but what if we need you here, in case something happens?” asked Chaplin.

  “In case something happens?! I know you are young but don’t be stupid! Something already fucking happened, and I mean to find out what. Now get your head out of your ass and start solving problems instead of asking questions,” said Rocious in exasperation.

  Chaplin took a breath to order his thoughts, “Yes, sir, blond hair, warm clothes. They are likely from the mountains. The river here flows from… Fort Reed?”

  Master Rocious swirled his hand encouraging Chaplin to spit out his answer, “Yes, it flows from Fort Reed. The real question is how thousands of people got this far down river, but that’s my worry. Focus on getting them out.”

  With a salute Chaplin took off shouting orders to his men.

  Master Rocious closed his eyes and began to focus his magical senses.

  “You really expect me to ride—”

  “FUCK, Werval. Yes, I expect you to stop wasting time and ride,” barked Master Rocious.

  Rocious’s vulgar nature often made it difficult to distinguish between simple irritation and true rage. But Werval had known the man for a long time and was well aware that he could turn his rage into a bloodbath if pushed too far. Hell, Werval had seen him incinerate countless men when King Dominick unified the Duchies. Werval simply bowed his head and took off riding down the road.

  Rocious, satisfied with the Lord’s obedience, turned his attention back to the road. Instead of controlling his rage, he opened himself to it. Letting the rage grow and grow, once it intensified enough it called to magic from all around. He could feel magic rush to experience his rage, intensifying it and fighting him for control. But with decades of experience he easily mastered his rage and claimed the reward: magic to do as he wished.

  Master Rocious made his way west to the mountain city known as Fort Reed. Even after a life spent travelling the realm of Lora he had never been to Fort Reed, nor had he met Count Reed. That was why Werval was on this trip. Count Reed and Lord Werval were peers of a sort. Even though he did not know the Count well, he did know that his people loved him. Early in King Dominick’s reign he had tried to replace the Count with someone more loyal to him, but the whole county rebelled in support of the Count. Few men possessed that kind of loyalty, Dominick included. So even though he never met the man, Rocious respected him.

  Using the magic he gathered earlier Master Rocious created small explosions, just big enough to create a concussive force to push him forward. He could use the explosions in many ways but right now all he needed them for was to move as quickly as possible. He was able to make it to Fort Reed in a matter of hours instead of days. He stopped on a small hill beside the road and scanned Fort Reed. He searched for anything that might indicate what had happened. Smoke from fires could mean a dragon or a raiding army. But these looked more like the normal fires from hearth and home.

  “It’s almost peaceful,” said Rocious to himself.

  As Master Rocious approached the city, he paused to focus on drawing more magic. This time he used the serenity he felt looking at such a beautiful place tucked between the mountains. Compared to rage, the feeling of serenity took much longer to control, as was typically the case with pleasant emotions. But the reward was far greater. Rocious lingered a few moments longer than he needed to, just enjoying what remained of the feeling. Slowly he
opened his eyes and focused on the task in front of him. Find Count Reed and figure out what the hell happened.

  As he approached he realized the gates were open and unguarded. Even if a raiding army took the city they would not leave the gates open. He decided to take a closer look. Keeping his senses focused, he proceeded inside the city. His senses, both magical and mundane, revealed nothing.

  As Rocious took his first step through the gate he was stopped cold with sudden pain, blinding, intense pain. It was the pain felt when another of the attuned tore magic from their control. This did not feel like another attuned though.

  The attuned could pit their will against each other if they called magic from the same source. But this was no contest of will. Rocious had been broken as if he were a drop of water trying to control the tides.

  The pain left him panting and sweaty. Time passed as the pain faded and he slowly pulled himself together. One breath… another…

  Fuck… have I forgotten how to breathe? he thought. Covered in sweat he took a second step inside the gate… nothing. Senses alert he took a third step – before his foot hit the ground he was struck in the chest by a wave of energy knocking him back up the hill.

  “Fuck,” he breathed as he blacked out.

  Hours later Rocious woke to see the sun had moved across the sky indicating mid day. Testing his body, he was sore but relatively unharmed. Rocious walked the perimeter of Fort Reed, careful to not step inside. Now that he knew what to focus on, he found the barrier around every entrance to the city. Wanting to be thorough, Rocious went back to the hill he approached from and threw a few balls of flame above the wall of the city. They were simply extinguished when they hit the barrier. Seeing no reason to linger he set off back to where he left his companions earlier in the day.

  Using his explosions he got back to Chaplin and his group as the sun hit the horizon. Rocious found Sergeant Chaplin setting up a camp by the river where he had left the younger man not even twelve hours ago. If nothing else, Chaplin was resourceful and organized. He had recruited some men from Reed and set them to guard the camp in pairs every twenty meters, tents in neat rows surrounding a large group of people.

  “What can you tell me, Sergeant?” asked Rocious.

  “Not much, we’ve spent most of the day just pulling people out of the river. There was a group of just over 2,000 people that left already. I decided to have the rest set camp when the sun started to go down. We’ll send them to Dominion in the morning. I’ve ordered the men to be ready to march on Fort Reed at first light,” said Chaplin.

  “Cancel that last order, you’ll escort them to Dominion,” said Rocious.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Has anyone been able to tell you anything useful?” asked Rocious.

  “It seems that nobody knows what happened. The most anyone has said is that they climbed into the water. The next thing they remembered was us pulling them out. We did confirm that they are from Reed,” said Chaplin.

  “Climbed into what water, the river?” asked Rocious.

  “Fountains, lakes, heck, that old guy,” Chaplin nodded towards an unkempt man sitting nearby, “claims he climbed into a privy. Might be true by the smell of him.”

  “The kids say the same?”

  “I only asked a few, they said mostly the same but you know kids. Active imaginations.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. Good work, Chaplin, you saved many lives today. And the Count?” asked Rocious.

  “Yes, sir. 12,237,” said Chaplin.

  Rocious wrinkled his forehead and looked at Chaplin, “12,237?” he said slowly.

  “Roughly. Yes,” answered Chaplin.

  Rocious pinched the bridge of his nose, “Count Reed?” he clarified.

  “Oh, sorry. Yes, many claim to know him and assure me he isn’t here.”

  “That’s odd, I’ll need to think on it,” said Rocious dismissing Chaplin.

  Rocious approached the refugees. Looking in their eyes he felt the hopelessness of men and women who have lost something very dear to them. He could do little to ease their suffering. But he might add a little joy to a difficult day. With that small gift he hoped they would be more inclined to answer some questions.

  Centering his thoughts on the joy he could bring these people, Rocious used his sense of pride as a Praetorian Master of the Path. Once he had more magic under his control he created two small balls of flame, and sent them dancing around the camp. Quickly igniting the camp’s curiosity, he split and multiplied the flames sending them farther into the camp until he reached everyone. As if creating a countdown, he shifted the flames’ color from red to orange then to blue and finally to an intense white. With a sliver of effort Rocious brought the flame back to his left hand, first one then another and another. With the dancing flames came the camp’s attention. With a little effort he had lit up every face in the camp. The stage was set.

  Rocious dimmed the flames lighting the camp and raised his own ball of flame into the air. First the flames were just flames, then slowly they took the shape of a small rabbit. Rocious changed them into a puppy, then a doe. Entranced by the show, the camp watched as the flames took the shape of animals they knew well, and then took the shape of great beasts few men had seen outside of statues and books. And finally, the flames took the shape of a great bird. The bird flew around the camp, once, twice. On the third pass Master Rocious let the flames break apart into little flickers of light in the sky. Releasing his control the small sparks rose into the sky as if to join the stars peeking through the twilight sky.

  As the show ended soldiers and refugees returned to their business, but a small group of children lingered. Now that he had their attention Rocious turned to the children.

  “Did the fire scare you?” asked Rocious.

  “No,” a few of the children answered.

  “Were you scared in the water?” asked Rocious.

  “No,” more of the children answered.

  “How did you end up in the river?” asked Rocious.

  “The Lady she—” answered one of the boys.

  “Shut it, Fal! It doesn’t matter,” a larger boy cut in.

  The group was silent in an instant. This must be the leader or the bully of the group thought Master Rocious.

  “Fal, is it? Will you tell me what happened?” asked Rocious.

  “Umm,” Fal hesitated to answer.

  “I will tell you, Master,” an older girl answered for him.

  It appeared the other children looked up to her. She is the leader; the boy was just the bully thought Rocious.

  “Shut it!” the older boy cut in again, with a tinge of fear in his voice.

  “He could help, Paul,” answered the girl.

  “She won’t like it, Mary,” warned Paul. “Let’s go. Good night, Master. Thank you for the show,” Paul bowed and left, some of the children following close behind.

  “I’m sorry Master, we should go,” said Mary before she left with the rest of the children. Only the young boy Fal lingered. He had the typical look of the people from Reed, golden: blond hair, slightly tan skin and the unmistakable blue eyes. His seemed to almost glow in the dim light, similar to the attuned when they were filled with magic.

  “Don’t worry boy, I don’t want you to get in trouble. Can you tell me anything about what happened?” asked Rocious.

  Fal looked up and slowly nodded yes.

  “The Lady, is she your mother?” asked Rocious.

  “No,” answered Fal definitively.

  “Is she attuned?” asked Rocious.

  The boy hesitated for a moment.

  “No.”

  “Did she help you get out of the city?”

  “She saved everyone.”

  The boy paused, “And my name is Falcon,” he added.

  “How old are you, Falcon?”

  “Eight,” Falcon answered showing his fingers.

  Falcon shivered and looked toward the river.

  “Is the Lady here?” asked
Rocious.

  Falcon looked at Rocious suspiciously, “No. She can’t leave the city.”

  “We are at least fifty miles from Fort Reed. How could she help get you here if she can’t leave the city?” asked Rocious.

  Falcon rolled his eyes and looked at Master Rocious. Falcon let out a frustrated breath and picked up a stone. He showed it to Rocious and threw it into the river. “Like that,” said Falcon, again shivering.

  “Thousands of people were thrown into the river?” asked Rocious.

  Falcon blew out an impatient breath, “I don’t know.”

  Falcon’s patience was running out. He had been through a lot today and was probably scared. Rocious had more questions that needed answers but they would need to wait. There was just one more thing and he would not let it wait.

  Rocious focused his magical senses, for him it was like listening. He could sense the magic of the woods nearby, not unlike the gentle creak of the trees in the wind. He could sense the magic in the river, like a low whistle. Rocious drew magic from the river and the moment before he had it under his control, he released it. When he opened his eyes Falcon was gone.

  Chapter 2

  Not My Style

  The next morning Master Rocious woke early, his body stiff and sore from the day before. Most would have thought it was signs of age, but he knew better. His close-cropped white hair was the only part of him that showed signs of his age, the magic kept his body far younger than it had any right to be. Even the vision in his red-tinged black eyes stayed crisp from his constant use of magic. The soreness came from the lingering affects that came from losing his magic at Fort Reed.

  After taking care of the necessities Rocious buttoned up his double-breasted white shirt, wrapped himself in his red-lined grey cloak and walked to the River. There were a few people from Reed standing on the shore holding hands. Probably hoping or praying for friends and family that could have drowned or left for Dominion the day before. Maybe they never even made it here. A little farther upstream he spotted the boy, Falcon, sitting alone. The boy appeared to have stayed awake all night, crying.