Brightflame Accension (Book 1)

by D. B. Penner

  “What was he talking about? Your destiny? You’re a farmer,” Will asked, confused.

  “Do not insult your own intelligence, Will,” Matthew chided. “We are destined to be more than farmers. In our veins runs the fire of a warrior’s blood.” Shaking his head slowly, his father grinned at his lovely wife. “By relating this tale, I mean to help you see that you made your choice, your choice to save us. Your mother and I owe our lives to you, hero.” Will reddened at the title. Elizabeth giggled as Matthew hugged her. His parents’ happiness was beginning to make Will feel uncomfortable.

  “And now you’re going to Bladebeard Academy!” Elizabeth beamed.

  “Why were we attacked?”

  “Fear not; they will not return,” Matthew said abruptly, his brow furrowed. Will wished, at that moment, to hear his father’s troubled thoughts so that he might actually understand the situation.

  There are so many things they dare not tell me. But why? Will wondered.

  “You depart tomorrow,” said his mother, now welling up. “Our little boy, Matthew, our boy,” she sobbed into Will’s father’s shoulder.

  “Yes, our boy, our son.” Matthew’s grin grew wide as he stared excitedly at the still baffled Will.

  “I cannot leave. No, I will not leave you in this state. Our house is burnt down,” Will argued feebly, frustrated and gesturing at the ruined house.

  “I’ll have this old house repaired soon enough,” Matthew responded curtly. “You’ll go,” he finished with a tone of finality.

  Elizabeth explained that Will’s clothes and equipment would be sent ahead to the Academy and that Will himself was to depart the next day by horse to a tryst from which he and his fellow recruits would move together to the school. The family then rummaged through their burnt home for any undamaged belongings.

  After washing the black ash from his hands and face that had accumulated in his search, Will spent the rest of his night sitting beside the small bonfire, listening to praises from his father, and enduring long hugs from his mother. In spite of his parent’s unbearably saccharine displays of pride, however, it was an enjoyable evening. When Will crawled beneath the blanket in an attempt to find rest, he overheard his parents talking and laughing late into the night.

  Not only was Bladebeard Academy a prestigious military training facility for young Imperial knights, the Academy housed the eldest sons and daughters of all the lords in the Empire. The Academy was a place of grandeur and riches Will could not imagine. Had Will not lived in that secluded plain away from most cities and towns, he would have aspired to go to such a legendary place. But as it was, Will was reluctant to leave his comfortable life and his loving family.

  Awaking the next morning to the smells of biscuits, sizzling bacon, and the scent of fresh milk, Will ate heartily and was wiping the creamy milk from his upper lip when his mother was upon him again with a new barrage of hugs and kisses.

  “Take this,” Elizabeth smiled. Will unfolded the parchment. It was a crudely drawn map, labeling Bladebeard Academy, the Imperial Capitol, and… “So you can always find your way home.”

  “Mum,” Will said, choking with emotion. He threw his arms around his mother. She sobbed into his shoulder. Will gave a squeeze and reluctantly slipped from Elizabeth’s hold.

  Will embraced his father. His father murmured something along the lines of, “no wonder he got accepted” and “I’m so proud, son,” but Will could not decipher his exact wording. Will might have thought his father’s voice thick with emotion, but when he broke the embrace, Matthew’s gray eyes were clear and bright with happiness.

  Will hugged his mother one final time before following his father to the stable. “You’ll ride Soulfire,” Matthew said, leading Will to the far side of the small stable, “He’s yours; take good care of him.”

  As if for the first time, Will gaped at the red draft whose shaggy, black mane hung long and wild. Soulfire tossed his great head anxiously and stamped the ground with large, feathered hooves. As Will approached the animal, it calmed, standing stock-still. Will reached out towards him and could feel the heat emanating from his horse. His own horse! Will beamed at his parents, who were both now telling him to get a move on or he would be late. At the entrance to the stable, Elizabeth began to sob as Will climbed into Soulfire’s saddle.

  “Will, I must tell you something before you leave us,” Matthew Stormhand said solemnly. “I have taught you to fight and ride, but you have to learn how to deal with people on your own.” It was true. Will remembered his not-so-patient father attempting to teach him the art of swordplay. And Will knew few enough people outside of his own family as they rarely entertained company. Matthew continued, “Not all men are friendly. Keep an eye open. I am not telling you to be wary of everyone, but there are enemies in the Academy. Remember who you are, do not forget the ones you love, and return to us whole,” Matthew paused. “Embrace your power and learn to use it.”

  “I am not ready,” Will protested. “I need more time.”

  “It has never been safe to practice magic here with only your mother and me to watch over you. If the wrong man was to ride close and pick up the trace… Well, we had a taste of what that could mean for us, yesterday.”

  “Father! I’m about to leave; yet you refuse to teach me a skill that I could use to protect you. When I go-”

  “Your mother and I will be all the safer!” Matthew interrupted, anger flashing on his face and in his eyes. His eyes are red! “You cannot see it, you cannot sense it yet, but the magic that runs in this family’s veins can be felt. It’s intoxicating. The air all about this field is rife with pulsations of power. With you gone, the traces will lessen, and your mother and I will be all the safer for it. We will miss you dearly, with all our hearts. Indeed, it breaks mine to see you go, but you were destined for more than this life. This meager existence is less than we all deserve, but it was the only way we could raise you in safety.”

  “Father, what are you talking about?” Will saw the passion in his father’s eyes. The love for Elizabeth and Will was there, but so were shame and guilt. “I love this life.”

  Matthew smiled weakly, “Look at me, I speak of old regrets on a day that, by rights, is yours. Your mother may be more right than I give her credit for; I am becoming an old man, sentimental, sharing my fears with those who have not a thing about which to worry. On this day and all the days to come, William, may you enjoy yourself and know no pain. Being recruited to the Academy is an honor to this house and one not wholly undeserved, I think,” Will’s father finished with a wink. Matthew gently led Soulfire out of the stable.

  “Goodbye, William!” his parents called after him, Elizabeth in Matthew’s arms. They waved farewell to their only child. Will’s own emotions were touched with uncertainty. The snippets of fear rattled around his head annoyingly.

  What am I getting myself into? This school, what is its purpose? Why were we attacked? Because of my magic? Will pushed these doubts to the back of his mind and attempted to replace them with excitement and a sense of adventure.

  Sensing the change in mood, Soulfire whinnied, shaking his head causing his black mane to whip wildly about. The great horse was pleased to be in the open air, free to run and prance.

  Will laughed, looking back at his parents standing before their broken home one last time before yelling, “Ayah! Soulfire, ayah!” The horse slightly reared before bolting away through the ripening fields.

  New Faces

  The mid-autumn sun shone down on Will’s neck as his horse, Soulfire, tirelessly trotted towards their destination. Eventually, as the doubts that Will had stowed in the back of his mind reemerged, Will was forced to ponder the thoughts that were floating around in his head like so many restless ghosts.

  Among them was his fear of the distance the school was from his home. Another of the uncertainties that occupied his mind was the loneliness he felt. Without his family, Will felt naked. He had no friends, nor had he ever, he supposed. At least, no tr
ue friends of age with him. Long ago, there was the miller’s youngest daughter who had been friendly to him, but Will could not recall if he ever knew her name. The next time he had visited the market, she had gone, married to a swarthy widower who kept a tavern along the river.

  Will did not know how people would treat him in this new place. Would he be ignored? Or worse, hated?

  It won’t be as bad as all that, Will thought. How hard can it be to find a friend anyway? Everyone and his brother will be the same as me: freshly recruited and looking to befriend their comrades.

  Will was so deep in thought that he hadn’t realized that Soulfire had come to a stop before a boy riding a weathered palomino. The boy had freckles on his nose, which seemed to have been broken several times in the past. His long, brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

  The boy had said something, but Will did not hear. However, the noise brought him out of his reverie. “Hullo?” Will blurted out. He stared at the unknown rider and smiled awkwardly. “Riding to the Academy meeting?”

  The boy frowned at Will. “Typically, one does not so quickly reveal his destination to a stranger on the road.” Will looked horrified at his mistake. The boy broke into an easy laugh, “Fear not, friend. I recognize you from the fair in Jaohn. I make for Bladebeard as well. My name is Arthur,” the boy offered. “Call me Art though, everyone does.”

  “Right, Art. I’m William Stormhand. Will for short,” Will added hesitantly, for now Arthur was gaping at him with utter astonishment.

  “William Stormhand, son of the Matthew Stormhand, famous champion of the Empire, part-time adventurer, and renowned general of the Imperial Army?” Art rambled.

  “Well, I suppose so... but my father is a farmer, not an esteemed warrior,” Will lied weakly.

  “What farmer’s son is accepted to the Academy? Ponder that for a moment. I’ll bet your father is rather handy with a blade.”

  “He is,” Will admitted. “But he remains a farmer.”

  “Aye, I heard something about that. He met a beautiful lady in his travels. Then, he settled down somewhere quiet to... um, well I don’t know exactly, but he settled down. I suppose he settled down to farm and whelp a clot that doesn’t know his family’s history,” Art laughed good-naturedly at the insult.

  Will smiled. “What’s your story then? The artist who spawned you mustn’t have been very good; he got the nose all wrong.”

  Art threw his head back, laughing long and loud. “Not half bad for a farm boy. Aye, the nose. One of the pitfalls of having seven hedge knights in the family; they’re constantly finding themselves requiring a tilting partner.”

  “Seven older brothers?”

  “And four lady sisters each married to a landed lord, as they are so proud to bleat. They’re always quarrelling over which of their rump-fed husband’s lands yield the most coin, or livestock, or grain, or this that and the other.”

  “I’m the only in my house,” Will said, for once almost glad that it was true.

  “Lucky to be. Me, I’m the youngest. Got all my brothers’ clothes and dinted up armor waiting for me when we arrive at the Academy. I suppose I should be thankful, most twelfth children get piss for porridge. That’s what my old man says anyway. A broke bloody nose is nothing compared to the conditions in which the peasants live, though. I’ve seen it. One day, when I earn my knighthood, I’m going to set things right by them. ‘Gallant Sir Arthur, the Twelfth Son, come to save us,’ they’ll shout as I ride past on my own destrier. I suppose I’m only the eighth son, but Twelfth Son has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed,” laughed Will. “How will you come by such fame?”

  “You’ve now hit upon the heart of the matter, farm boy. If I knew, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.” Art saw Will’s expression at that and smiled, “I guess it’s our job then to forge our own paths to fame. You and me, what do you say, farm boy? You’ll be my trusty squire?”

  “Certainly, if you think you can best me.”

  “With a sword, maybe, but you look like you could pull a plow circles around a team of oxen, so maybe not. And with a lance? Blast that! Old Sam here can’t outpace your charger,” Art eyed Will’s mount jealously. “Red as a flame and looks as if he can move faster than wildfire.”

  “Soulfire,” Will corrected.

  “Aptly dubbed, farm boy. You must realize that your father is more than an udder-tugger.”

  “We harvest wheat,” Will interjected.

  “Grass-mower, udder-tugger, sheep-lover, makes no difference. No farmer could afford such a beast.”

  Will considered his words and knew them to be true.

  “I’m going to stick close to you. If you have a quarter of your sire’s skill, only a fool would make enemy of you.”

  “Shall we continue on together then, oh master of the joust, Gallant Sir Art the Bootlicker?” Will japed.

  “You won’t see me kiss ass, farm boy. Until I see what ability you possess, your filthy boots will remain untongued.”

  “Would that they remain so. I wish no man to call me friend then proceed to grovel at my feet.”

  “Did I call you friend? I suppose I did.” Art smiled warmly.

  The two rode together in silence, though not the kind that is born of hostility or discomfort. Will was amazed that his father could have struck such an illustrious figure, but was disconcerted as well because Matthew had concealed so much from Will. Art seemed to have not sensed Will’s troubled contemplation as he hummed a merry tune, and from time to time, took a swig of a skin dangling from his saddle.

  They came across a sluggish river, stopping to water the horses and eat a morsel. Resting beneath a lone tree on the riverbank, Will asked about Art’s family. Between bites of hard bread, Art responded freely.

  “Youngest of twelve, as I’d said. My father was a second son of a minor lord in the Hinterlands. He squired for a knight of the Emperor’s own guard as they were distant relatives by marriage, a great honor at any rate. He warmed the heart of a maid born far above his station, but on the day he was knighted, her lord father gave his only daughter’s hand to my father. My grandfather had a right litter of sons so giving away his only daughter to a knight she loved seemed not such a loss.

  “Soon after their wedding, my father begot a son, but, owning no lands, Father began a career as courier rather than settling down. He delivered messages from one lord to the next and sometimes from the Emperor himself. My Father, the Messenger Knight, feasted and drank with all in their castles and palaces before he set out to deliver their word. Father used to say that he was the greatest lord of all, because to him, every portcullis in the land was open. ‘The Lord of Many Castles’ he called himself in jest. He was granted a small fortress in Duskane when he retired from delivering letters. It’s nothing compared to the strongholds of the Bloodlines Triben or Payne--or even Berkdale, but it’s an agreeable location on the river delta Bourkes all the same. That’s where I learned to ride and fight with a sword, though I prefer my axe. Aye, and where I broke my precious nose as well. My mother said it used to be a handsome nose. Don’t know what she means by used to; I think it looks just fine.”

  “It’s got a regal look to it. Yours is the nose of a mighty king,” Will teased.

  “Who’s the beslubbering bootlicker now?”

  They had a laugh and mounted once again. Passing beyond the rolling grasslands of Will’s home, they rode across flat prairies. The flatness of the terrain felt strange to Will, but Art was too well-travelled to be cowed by the bare landscape. To pass the time, Art told of his elder brothers and their years at the Academy. He also spoke more about his father’s long journeys as a courier. Will was intrigued by the descriptions of the massive buildings and foreign cities. He wished to hear all about them, pelting Art with questions. “… And the Emperor’s palace stands on a mountain cliff four hundred feet above the city. The enormous window of his solar allows him to observe the city below and gives him such a view the surrou
nding countryside that he can see beyond the horizon.”

  “You speak as if you’ve seen it yourself,” Will said.

  “Me? No, not yet. I but relate my father’s own observations. He has seen it himself enough times to count upon two hands, a great honor to be sure. But enough about all that; it bores me to speak solely on matters with which I am well acquainted. What of you? How is living with the General Stormhand?”

  “I suppose we live a typical life. Wake up, tend the animals, toil in the fields, eat, and sleep. Not much to it,” Will admitted.

  “Surely the existence of a farm boy is of more import than that sad routine. Tell me all, I would know more about you.”

  At Art’s request, Will talked about his life on the farm and answered wave after wave of questions about his father and his work helping the people who ask for his aid. Surprisingly, the boy from the Duskane was fascinated more by Will’s accounts of working in the fields and with the animals than of the tournament in Jaohn. “I’ve always wanted to know how bread gets to table. My giglet sisters would have me believe it was magicked to my plate,” he said.

  The two rode on at a leisurely pace, stopping every so often to let the horses drink or to eat an apple. The sun started to set, dying the sky and the surrounding landscape a deep pink. Will and Art admired the beauty in comfortable silence.

  The two traveled together like this for several weeks, keeping mainly to the Piper’s Way, the road that, according to Will’s map, spanned from Jaohn in the north to the Mor Forest on the southern border of the Empire.