Chapter1: The First Turning Point

Valar pulled the rope with both hands as the skiff rose with the swell and slammed against the wooden pier. Seawater sprayed across his face, and the knot slipped from between his fingers before he could finish tying it.

From the neighboring boat, Sam called out,

"Try tying it properly this time."

Valar wiped the rain from his eyes.

"Do you think this is the first boat I've ever tied up, idiot?"

"No," Sam said. "I remember the time you forgot to secure your father's boat."

"I tied it perfectly well. I still don't know how it got loose."

"And when your father found out, he went swimming after it while cursing the whole way."

Despite the cold, Valar smiled.

"Get out of here before I throw you into the sea myself, you fool."

Sam laughed and jumped onto the pier. He picked up the bundled fishing net at his feet and threw it over his shoulder with a groan.

"I'm leaving before you. My mother will shut the door in my face if I'm any later."

"Tell her you were teaching me how to tie boats."

Sam waved a hand and headed home.

Valar returned to the knot. He pulled the rope tight the way his father had taught him. He knew well enough that the sea could steal an entire boat because of a single careless moment.

The fishing boats had returned before nightfall, when the wind had strengthened and the waves began rising at the mouth of the bay. The men had been busy dragging the smaller boats onto the sand, and Valar's father had left the remaining work to him and Sam—securing what was left at the pier—before returning home to repair the window damaged by the storm the previous week.

The work had taken longer than either of them expected.

By the time they finished, the fishermen had already left the shore.

And after Sam departed, Valar was alone.

He lifted the crate of fish into his arms, adjusted his grip, and started toward the road.

Beyond the trees, slightly uphill from the beach, stretched the houses of Amraj—a small village at the far southern edge of the continent of Eastuza. Its people lived from fishing and from what they could sell to the caravans traveling along the coastal road.

Valar's father often said they belonged to the lands of Kadna.

Then he would remember that the tax collector now came bearing the seal of the King of Dorth and would bitterly correct himself.

Kadna had been torn apart between twelve kingdoms. The names stamped upon royal seals changed with every passing war, yet the people of Amraj were always the ones forced to pay the price.

None of that occupied Valar's thoughts as he climbed the road.

All he wanted was a dry set of clothes and something hot to eat.

And he hoped Lorin had left him his usual place beside the hearth.

The wind rose between the trees.

Valar turned his shoulder against it and stopped beneath a leaning trunk to rest from the weight of the crate.

That was when he saw it.

An orange glow flickered above the road.

Then it widened behind the branches.

Valar raised his head.

Lightning split the sky, and for a brief instant it illuminated a thick pillar of smoke rising above the houses.

His first thought was that the firewood shed had caught fire.

He took several steps forward.

Then a sharp cry came from the village.

Another followed.

A long scream—

cut suddenly short.

The crate slipped from Valar's hands.

It struck the ground on one side, spilling fish into the mud.

Valar was already running.

The closer he came, the stronger the smell of burning wood became.

Then came the sounds.

Screams.

Horses neighing.

Heavy blows striking again and again somewhere beyond the houses.

Valar burst through the last row of trees and nearly crashed into the fence.

A man lay nearby.

The baker.

Valar recognized him by the apron still tied around his waist.

The man pressed one hand against his side and stretched the other toward Valar.

Then he collapsed into the mud.

Two riders passed in front of him.

One of them shouted toward two armed men beside a nearby house,

"To the square! Stop wasting time!"

Valar saw a woman and a young boy being driven down the road. The woman tried to cover the boy's head with her cloak.

Behind them walked an armed man carrying a torch.

Valar ducked behind a stack of timber.

He saw the fire moving inside one of the houses before the man emerged.

A curtain behind the window had caught flame.

The fire climbed toward the wooden beams while rainwater streamed down the outer wall.

Valar looked toward the road leading to his home.

Three armed men were driving villagers from that direction.

If he ran through the center of the road, one of them would see him long before he reached the well.

He turned instead toward a narrow passage between the bakery and the grain store.

He and Sam had crossed it dozens of times.

He knew it led to the small orchards behind the houses.

Valar climbed over a low wall, scraping his knee against a jutting stone, landed in the mud on the other side, and kept running.

Where was Sam?

He looked toward the rooftops he knew so well, but he could not see his friend's house from there.

He hesitated for only a moment.

Then heavy blows sounded from the direction of his own home.

"Father!"

Valar stopped thinking.

He sprinted through the orchards until he reached the house, then pounded on the door.

"Mother! Open the door!"

The bolt shifted.

A hand shot out, grabbed his clothes, and pulled him inside.

It was his mother.

She lifted the weak lamplight toward his face and ran her fingers across his cheek as though making certain that he was truly there.

Then she slammed the door shut.

"Where were you?"

"At the boats. What is—"

A violent blow struck the front door and cut him off.

His father stood before it, bracing a thick wooden beam against the entrance.

Valar saw spilled stew across the floor and an overturned chair nearby.

They had been preparing to eat when everything began.

Lorin was hiding between the table and the wall.

The moment she saw him, she rushed forward, wrapped both arms around his waist, and began crying without a word.

His father looked toward the back door.

"Did anyone see you come inside?"

Valar shook his head.

"The path behind the houses is clear. We can reach the net shed, then get down to the shore."

"We're not going out to sea in this wind."

"There's a cellar near the rocks. We can hide there."

His father stared at the door for a moment before answering.

"All right. Take your sister and your mother. Stay close to the walls, and don't make a sound. I'll find something I can use as a weapon and follow you."

His mother took Lorin's hand.

Valar drew the small knife from his belt—the knife he used for cutting rope and cleaning fish.

He slowly opened the back door.

Rain struck his face.

He looked left.

Then right.

"Go."

His mother stepped into the garden.

Lorin followed.

Valar had almost reached the corner of the wall when a man suddenly emerged from the neighboring passage.

The stranger froze when he saw them.

Then he reached out, grabbed Lorin by the hair, and yanked her toward him.

Lorin screamed.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

Their mother rushed at him and struck him with both hands.

"Let go of my daughter! Let her go!"

The man released Lorin and took a step backward.

For one brief moment, Valar thought he might simply leave them alone.

Then the man drew his sword.

The blade flashed.

He drove it into their mother's chest.

Everything stopped.

Lorin stood frozen, staring as though she could not understand what had happened.

The man pulled the sword free.

Their mother staggered backward until her body struck the wall.

One hand pressed against her chest.

She looked at Lorin.

Her breathing had already become shallow.

"Lorin…"

Her voice trembled.

"Keep living, my dear."

Valar could not move.

His mind tore itself apart between his mother and his sister.

His hands trembled violently.

His heart hammered against his ribs.

He tried to breathe, but every breath caught in his throat.

His mother saw him standing there.

She saw his shaking hands.

"Valar!"

His eyes snapped toward her.

"Look at me!"

He did.

"Take Lorin and run!"

Valar sucked in a broken breath.

"Mother…"

"Valar! Now!"

He ran.

Valar reached Lorin, seized her hand as tightly as he could, and pulled her away.

Before the swordsman could follow, the back door burst open.

Their father charged outside and swung a wooden club down across the man's arm.

The sword flew from his hand.

The attacker stumbled backward.

Valar's father grabbed him and drove him back into the house, buying them time to escape.

Valar turned.

"Father!"

A crash erupted from inside.

Another armed man entered through the back door.

Valar's father turned too late.

A blade plunged into his side beneath his arm.

His body jerked.

Then he staggered and collapsed beside the doorway.

Valar saw his father's open hand lying beneath the rain.

Then his mother.

Motionless against the wall.

For a moment, he simply stood there.

Lorin pulled at his arm.

That finally brought him back.

Valar grabbed his sister's hand.

And they ran.

This time, he did not look back.

They rounded the edge of the garden and rushed into the narrow path between the orchards.

The knife remained clenched in Valar's right hand.

His left was locked around Lorin's.

She stumbled behind him, struggling to keep up.

Her sobs came broken between desperate breaths.

Then Valar heard shouting from the houses.

Footsteps followed.

Coming closer.

He tightened his grip on Lorin's hand.

"Faster."

At the end of the path, Lorin's foot slipped in the mud.

She nearly fell.

"I can't…"

She struggled for breath.

"I'm tired."

Valar looked behind them.

Torchlight moved across the walls they had passed only moments before.

"Please, Lorin. Just a little farther."

He did not wait for her answer.

He crouched in front of her.

"Get on."

Valar lifted her onto his back and carried her toward the net shed.

Beside the wall was an old overturned skiff. Fishermen often left damaged rope and broken pieces of wood behind it.

Valar slipped behind the boat with Lorin and crouched low.

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and lowered his head beneath the edge of the hull.

"Lorin, keep your head down."

The footsteps stopped.

Right in front of them.

Torchlight spread across the mud only a short distance away.

Valar could not see the man holding it.

Only the long shadow of his legs stretched across the ground.

A voice came from somewhere near the beach.

"Over here!"

The man moved.

The light slowly faded away.

Valar remained motionless.

He waited until he could neither hear nor see anyone.

Then he felt Lorin tugging weakly at his clothes.

"Mother…"

Valar looked at her.

She was staring toward the path they had come from, trying to stand.

"We have to go back. We left them there. Please, brother."

Valar grabbed her arm and held her beside him.

He opened his mouth.

No words came.

He lowered his head for a moment and wiped the rain from his face.

"We need to reach the cellar first."

"And Mother? Father?"

Valar tightened his grip around the knife.

"I'll go back for them once you're safe."

Lorin nodded.

But she did not let go of his sleeve.

Valar wanted to return to his parents, even if only to move their bodies out of the rain.

But torchlight suddenly approached their hiding place.

One of the armed men was searching the boats.

Valar slid the knife back into its sheath and helped Lorin to her feet.

"Hold on a little longer. The cellar is close."

They moved along the side of the shed.

The moment they stepped out toward the rocks, a voice rang out behind them.

"You two! Stop!"

Valar pulled Lorin toward the steps.

Her legs were failing her.

He knew they could not outrun the men much farther.

They reached the cellar.

Valar shoved Lorin inside, closed the door, dropped the bolt into place, then dragged a heavy crate against it.

The men followed.

Valar pressed his shoulder against the door.

The blows came one after another.

Then an axe tore through one of the wooden boards.

Valar stumbled backward.

He drew his knife and placed himself in front of Lorin.

Through the hole in the door, he saw two armed men.

One shouted,

"Drop the knife and open the door!"

Lorin clutched the back of his clothes.

"Valar, don't leave me!"

He looked down at the small blade.

The same blade his father had taught him to sharpen.

His grip tightened around it.

Then he felt Lorin's trembling fingers against his back.

"I'll open it," Valar said. "But please… don't hurt my sister."

"Then open the door and throw down that fish knife."

Slowly, Valar raised the blade and tossed it through the opening.

Then he dragged the crate away from the entrance.

The instant the door opened, one of the men lunged inside.

He seized Valar, dragged him toward the steps, and twisted one arm behind his back when he tried to turn toward Lorin.

"Lorin!"

The second man pulled her outside.

She struggled against him until she saw the pain twist across her brother's face.

Then she stopped.

"I'll walk…"

Her voice broke.

"Please. Don't hurt him."

Valar was shoved against the wall.

Rope was wrapped tightly around his wrists.

He forced himself upright so he could see Lorin.

She held out her hands to the other man while keeping her eyes fixed on her brother.

She bit her lip as the knot was tightened.

Tears began spilling down her cheeks, mixing with the rain.

She did not seem to notice.

Lorin moved closer to him and raised her bound hands.

Valar caught her fingers between his own and held them gently.

"I'm here. Don't be afraid."

The armed man jerked the rope.

Lorin stumbled.

Valar caught her as best he could with his bound hands.

Then he raised his head toward the village.

He searched for anyone he recognized.

Anyone at all.

But all he saw was fire.

Smoke.

And ash.

The man pulled hard on the rope.

"Don't you dare slow down, you insolent slave."

Slave.

Valar lowered his eyes.

Then he walked beside his sister.

He had no idea where they were taking them.

To be continued…